Date: Wed, 21 Feb 1996 00:02:22 -0500 Reply-To: KaiSteph@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Steph Lutz Subject: A Little Night Music (1/7) WARNING: This story contains minimal action, maximal mush (just a *little* late for Valentine's Day), but no adult scenes - I'll leave those to your perfectly capable imaginations.... This one's for Joe - I owe him one ;) And, as Lori says - Duncan can't have *all* the good women. All praises, flames and virtual haggis to KaiSteph@aol.com A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC (1/7) By Stephanie Lutz It was New Year's Eve. After alternately raining and snowing for the past two weeks, the ground was covered with layers of slush and ice. Today was cold again - bitterly so, and a light new layer of fresh snow was slowly being added. Duncan and Richie were drilling with their swords, working off two weeks of cooped up energy on the floor of the dojo. Joe sat in the doorway of Duncan's office, tapping his cane against the doorframe in time with the rhythm of their movements. He'd stopped in for a short while to warm up on the way home. He had a million things to do in preparation for tonight's party at the club, but he was not in much of a hurry to face the weather again. Suddenly, in perfect synchronization, both Duncan and Richie straightened and stiffened, a strange look coming over their faces. "Another Immortal?" Joe asked, leaning forward curiously. His question was answered as Duncan gripped his sword tightly and turned toward the elevator. "Hello?" called a light, musical voice with a more than a trace of a Scottish accent. "Anyone at home?" The green elevator gate rose to reveal a young woman standing there. "Silly question!" Duncan grunted, dropping the sword and moving toward the door, a broad smile on his face. "No more silly than knocking would be, as ye already know I'm here!" she retorted, stepping out of the lift. Duncan swept her into him arms, hugging her tightly. Releasing her, he pulled her into the center of the room where Richie and Joe stood waiting not so patiently for an introduction. She was petite, barely reaching Duncan's shoulders, with dark brown hair hanging loosely to the tops of her own. "This is Kate Stuart," he said. "She's..." he paused and looked at her "What *are* you doing here?" "Thought I'd check out the other side of the ocean for a change," she replied with a wink. Richie stepped forward, not standing on ceremony. "Richie Ryan," he said, taking her hand and giving her his most winsome smile. Behind her, Duncan rolled his eyes. "Good to meet ye, Richie." Kate matched his seriousness, and looked past him to smile at Joe. As her dark eyes met his, Joe realized he'd been staring, and felt his face flush slightly. "Joe Dawson," he said awkwardly, offering her his hand. "Hello, Joe," she said, taking his hand in a warm tight clasp.. "I'm - an old friend of Duncan's." "Quite old," Joe replied with a smile, awkwardness gone. "You met Mac in 1746, on Culloden Moor." Kate's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. Dropping Joe's right hand, she reached for his left and turned it over to reveal his tattoo. "Aye," she nodded with satisfaction. "Enjoy watching Immortals, do ye?" she asked in a friendly voice. Now all three men stared at her. "You - know about the Watchers?" Duncan asked incredulously. "Of course. It only took *you* what? Some four hundred years to figure out you were being watched? I've been around a wee bit longer than that." She grinned. "Besides, long ago 'twas easier to spot a stranger lurking nearby." Joe swallowed hard, not sure what to say. This was the last response he'd expected, and she knew that - he could tell by her dancing eyes. "I shouldn't be surprised," Duncan muttered, shaking his head. He raised an eyebrow at Joe. "Looks like she beat you at your own game, Dawson." He picked up his shirt and pulled it over his head. "Come on, let's go up and have some coffee." "Sorry, Joe" Kate said, not at all contritely. Her accent made his name sound short, clipped. He liked it. She took his arm as they walked to the elevator. "Just between you and me," she confided in a low voice, "I put on a bit of a show for mine now and again. But you won't be telling her that, aye?" "So, this place where you met Mac," Richie said, as they stepped into Duncan's apartment. "That was a fight of some sort, right?" He perched on the arm of a chair, and leaned forward, looking back and forth between Kate and Duncan. "Of *some* sort," Duncan said, dryly pursing his lips together as he eyed the coffee maker balefully. "It was the last Scottish stand against the English, Richie," Joe explained, going into history textbook mode as he rescued the pot from Duncan's hands. Deftly, he flipped the handle of his cane over his elbow and measured ground coffee into the filter. "Duncan was busy killing the English, and I was busy patching up the Scots," Kate took up the story. "And, pretending to patch those who others thought should need it. There were quite a few immortals fighting that day - on both sides." As the rage of the battle moved away, Kate made her way carefully across the uneven muddy ground searching among the bodies for those who were not beyond help. Most she could do nothing for, some were even beyond recognition. She had just closed the eyes of her hundredth soldier, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, when she felt the buzz. All that day they had been there, faint and disorienting, dancing about her. She knew there were others of her kind there - among the English as well as the Scots. But this one was strong, and it was coming from a soldier lying a few feet away. He was young, dressed in the dark tartan on the MacLeods, and he had taken a fatal shot to the chest. Kate knelt beside him. He was still breathing, but barely. As she touched his arm, he gave a last shuddering cough, blood trickling down the sides of his mouth, and lay still, dead. Quickly, she grasped him under the arms and dragged him over the sodden ground to the only close shelter, behind the outcropping wall of a small stone cottage. Others were roaming the field looking for survivors, and Kate looked carefully around as she rejoined them. Across the field, kneeling beside another body, she saw a man glance quickly up at her, then away. Ignoring him, she returned to her task. Rain was streaming down, the dark clouds pressing in close. The green grass and bright heather were ground under by a mixture of dark mud and crimson blood. Those whom she could get to their feet she bandaged hastily and sent away, knowing in her heavy heart that they would only return to the battle to die. When the time was right, she hurried back to the wall. The other immortal gave a shuddering gasp as she knelt beside him, uncannily similar to his last breath. She place a restraining hand on his shoulder as his eyes snapped open. Disoriented, and eyes wild, he pushed her away, and reached for his sword with a trembling hand.. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod." he said hoarsely. She grasped his arm, more firmly this time. "Easy, lad," she said as his breathing calmed. "No one is taking heads today. Though," she added in a lower tone, "a quickening might just be what is needed to drive off the bloody sassenachs..." He let go of his sword, and started to struggle to his feet. "The fight, I must get back-" "In a moment," Kate hissed. Pulling a bloodstained cloth from her pouch, she bound it tightly across his chest, under the holes the English bullets had torn in his tartan. "Someone may have seen you fall." Finished, she allowed him to rise, and pushed him off in the direction of the fray. He took off without a backward glance. Slipping back to the field, Kate felt a cold chill as she saw the same man who had watched her before brush past her, supporting a wounded man. His head was bent, watching the ground, but she saw his give her a glance out of the corner of his eye. She looked quickly at where his hand held the arm of the wounded man about his shoulders. On the inside of his wrist was a familiar dark mark. "That was Gavin Cameron you saw," Joe said, taking a sip of coffee. "And he recorded everything just as you said." He was seated next to her now, on the couch. "He wasn't the first I'd spotted," Kate said, "or the cleverest." She settled back against the cushions. "Though," she mused, " he *was * trying to do two jobs at once." "You know," Duncan said, leaning casually against the counter," you never did tell me your name that time." You didna give me a chance!" she retorted. _ "True," he admitted. "And then it wasn't till years later that I saw you again." "Ah, but that's another tale," she said, "And a happier one at that." She winked at Richie, who had been listening in fascination. He leaned forward eagerly, and she shook her head laughing. "I canna tell my whole story in one day, lad. It would take much too long." Speaking of long," Joe put down his coffee cup, and grasping his cane, pulled himself to his feet. "I'd better be going. You're all coming to my party tonight, right?" "Wouldn't miss it, Joe," Duncan assured him. "Got a good band?" Richie asked. "Just you wait and see!" Joe grinned at him and turned to Kate. "You're invited too," he said. She smiled at him, and he felt himself flushing again. Thank God for the beard. "I'd love to come," she said softly, "it sounds like fun." She glanced over at MacLeod. "Duncan, I have a wee favor to ask..." He nodded, eyes twinkling. "Of course you can stay here." She followed Joe to the elevator. "I'll just get my things, won't be a moment." Outside, the sun was already setting. The snow had stopped, but flakes swirled around in the cold wind, shifting the patterns of the shallow drifts. Kate's rental car was parked just behind Joe's. Rubbing her hands together, she pulled out one bag and flung the strap over her shoulder. She grabbed a second one up in the same hand, and then more carefully, a worn violin case. Joe eyed it with interest as he slammed down the trunk lid for her. "Do you play,?" he asked, realizing what a dumb question that was the moment the words left his mouth. She nodded seriously. "Why don't you bring it along tonight?" She raised her eyebrows "Really?" He shrugged, smiling. "You never know." She smiled back, "All right." She carried her bags to the door, then stopped and turned around. "Bye just now!" she called, waving. Waving back, he watched as she disappeared inside. He stood there for a few moments longer, before realizing he was cold and hurrying to his car. To be continued.... =========================================================================