Date: Fri, 24 Mar 1995 17:48:18 -0500 Reply-To: JillMari@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Jill Spetoskey Subject: A dirty Job (3 of ?) c.1995 by Jill Spetoskey ******************************************** * * * A Dirty Job-Part Three * * * ******************************************** San Jose, California, 1993 "You killed his wife? How did that happen, Trent?" "I had no choice. She was an immortal, and she was coming at me with a sword. I didn't want to, but she left me no choice." He began the story. Paris, 1924 He hurried along the street carrying a bottle of wine. There was a small party for Doug, to celebrate him selling a number of his paintings to a wealthy Dutch banker, and according to Patrice, the party would be well under way by the time he actually arrived at the couples' small apartment. He started to round the final corner on his route, and felt the presence of another immortal nearby. Trent tensed for a moment, and then relaxed, after all, he was going to visit a pair of immortals. He came fully around the street corner, and barreled into a slightly built woman in a pink dress and a grey coat. They fell to the sidewalk in a tangle, Trent on his side, and the woman landing nearly on top of him. He recognized the slight fair woman with the troubled blue eyes as he attempted to brush himself off, and get himself and her back onto their feet. "Patrice. I'm sorry about that. Are you all right?" "No, I'm bruised and I think I tore my dress. How do you think I'm doing? I guess I'll live, but I'm going to make Doug go out and get his own darn bread. It's dangerous out here." She managed to force a weak smile on her lips. The two began to walk back toward the apartment. Trent noticed that Patrice was wobbling on her feet. She almost seemed drunk, but he could smell no alcohol on her. He stopped and turned to her. "What's wrong, Patrice? You should be happy. Doug's just gotten a trememdous break, and you're living in the greatest city in the greatest era the world's ever known?" In response, she began to cry, her whole body shaking with the effort. He pulled her into a nearby alley in an attempt to shield her from any curious eyes passing by. "Oh God, he's going to send me away. He says I'm not well, and that now he has the money to send me to this doctor who will make me well. I can't go, though. I won't be locked up like some fancy beast in a zoo. ....... That's what he wants me to do, and I can't go against him. He says its only for a year, two at the most, but I can't. I can't." Trent took the woman in his arms as she cried. With surprise, he realized how thin she was. As she pressed against him, sobs racking her body, he could feel her ribs through her dress. He tried to comfort her, making soft noises designed to soothe. As her tears continued on, he thought back to the Patrice he had seen in recent months. He remembered the haunted look that she seemed to often carry, as though she were a rabit being chased by a cougar. The drinking she seemed to need to make it through the day, the strange powders she seemed to consume, and the forced, frantic air she had created in an attepmt to portray happiness. It had been getting worse, he thought. When he had first met Doug's fair, delicate woman, she had merely seemed timid, but sweet, a person who needed taking care of. Lately, there had been something worse, like there was something inside her that was dying. "Maybe you should listen to Doug. Something's hurting you. We all want you to be happy, and it seems like there's something that's stopping that from happening. Maybe Doug's friend can help you feel better. Maybe.." "Nooo!" she cried as she wrenched away from him. "I can't do it. They'll lock me up, and never let me out. I'll die in there somehow. No!" She shoved past him, and ran further into the alley. "Patrice, come back. We just want you to be happy and well. You know we could never leave one of us in such a place for long. Even if we didn't care about you, too many questions would be asked." He chased after her into the alley, and found her almost cowering where the alley dead ended. He was facing her now. Tears fell from her eyes as she trembled with her back against the brick buildings. "Okay, we won't take you asywhere you don't want to go. I promise. Just calm down and come back with me, and I'll talk to Doug for you. I don't want to see you hurt." He moved carefully toward her, arms away from his body as he tried to not look threatening. "No! I can't trust you. You're Doug's friend. He probably even sent you to spy on me here. I won't. Let. You. Lock. me up!" To his surprise, she pulled a rapier from her coat and drove the blade into his shoulder. In shock, he fell to his knees in pain. "I thought you were kind, but you'rejust like all the rest" Her voice trembled as she brought her blade up to take his head. As the blade started to come down, Trent rolled out of her swing's way, and brought his own sword out. "Patrice we can talk about this. No one wants to hurt you." In response, she started a flurry of blows. Trent parried her strokes easily, as she struck with more desperation than skill. "Please, stop. No one needs to get hurt here." "No, Trent, you betrayed me. You have to hurt, too." He tried to turn himself around in the alleyway, to position himself so that he could run and leave the nightmare, and allow his shoulder, which was starting to throb, to heal. She tried to keep him cornered, though, and she seemed to be gaining strength instead of losing it. The latest blow, he had barely deflected in time, and she got in a slash that left his right thigh bleeding. He parried another string of furious blows, marveling at the strength of her madness. He had committed to a slash toward her when she suddenly stumbled, and he watched his sword cut through her neck. "No! Patrice. I didn't want this!" He cried as he was surrounded by the swirl of blue energy. A few glass windows began to tremble in their frames as her quickening drove him to the ground. He felt her life enter him as he tried to move away from him. The energy transfer slowed to a stop,and he was able to peel his eyes open to see Doug charging into the alley to gently gather her body in his arms. "Go. If I ever see you again..." Doug screamed as his own tears began to flow from his eyes. San Jose, 1993 "That's how it happened, then?" "Yeah. I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not terribly proud of, but this was the thing that probably hurt the most. She never had things easy in her life. I think that Doug was the first person she met that treated her well, and I was the one that took her away from the only happy time of her life." He pushed his face back into his hands and offered tears of his own. "Trent, sometimes things just happen and seem wrong like that. No one can explain them, or give a reason. You just have to keep going on, and hope that there is some sort of method in the madness." "I guess, so, Joanna." She quietly left him to his thoughts as she got him a drink of scotch. He sipped on his drink, comforted by his old mentor's presence for a few minutes, as they talked on for a few minutes. A few drinks later, he stumbled back to his room, and slipped into the darkness he sought. ------- Los Angeles After the confrontation in San Jose, Trent kept expecting to see Doug Marinaro at every turn. Instead, Doug was nowhere to be seen, and Trent began to let the memories of a dark part of his life slide into the background of his mind once again. The book tour worked its way down the west coast to Los Angeles without incident. Trent had just finished his shower when the knock at his door came. He reached for his sword, assuming that it was Joanna, but taking no chances that it was not. He looked through the peephole to see a worried-looking Joanna poised to pound on the door again. He quickly moved to let her in. "Bad news, Trent. Brad's mother had a heart attack today, and she's in critical condition. He wants me to fly back to Savannah as soon as I can." Trent paused for a moment to think. "Of course you have to go and take care of your husband and your mother-in-law. I'll take care of the rest of the tour. You just go and be with your family, and I'll do the rest." He offered Joanna a sympathetic hug. "Are you sure? I hate to leave you in the middle of things here. Even though you haven't seen him, Doug's probably still out there, and you know how long our kind can bear grudges." "I know. I'll be careful, though. Hopefully Doug only got my name off of the book's dustjacket, and doesn't know about Lisa and all. Still...Well you know. Do you need me to help you get over to LAX?" "That would be good." They fell into silence as Trent helped Joanna gather her things up, and then drove her toward the airport. He pulled into the dropoff lane when Joanna spoke. "Trent, one last thing I should have told you before. Sometimes when you think you feel an immortal from far away, but it doesn't quite feel right, it's one of us who hasn't died for this first time yet. I don't think you realized it before, but its something you should look for." She paused to give him a peck on his cheek. "Thanks for everything on this trip, and I hope that you can work things out. I wish I didn't have to leave now, though. Give me a call when you want to start working on volume three of the series." And with that, Joanna disappeared into the airport among the crowd, leaving Trent to puzzle out her parting words. ------ comments/flames/ bad puns should be sent to Jill Spetoskey at: jilkey@umich.edu jillmari@aol.com =========================================================================