Date: Mon, 13 Feb 1995 01:20:19 -0500 Reply-To: NancySSCH@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: "N.L. Cleveland" Subject: Aloha Epilogue.p13-18 c 1995 N.L. Cleveland * * * * * "Damn it, Mac, what's the point of taking the scenic route home if you're just going to sit here in a cloud of gloom all day?" Richie's exasperation came through clearly. Far too clearly, as his shadow fell across the hot tropical sun beating down on Duncan's face. He opened his eyes and stared blandly up at the young Immortal, who hovered over him like a flustered mother hen with an erring chick, a hen sporting a livid sunburn, and wearing a brand new pair of fluorescent green swim trunks. The painful contrast of color and tone almost made him close his eyes again. He merely winced, and hoped either the burn, or the trunks, would fade soon. "We might as well be back in Seattle. At least you'd blend in with the scenery there...cold, wet and inert." Richie gestured with his arms, determined not to let his Immortal friend slip back into his reverie. "Look around, man. This is babe city. How can you let this opportunity go to waste?" Duncan knew that the youth's irritation was just a sign of concern, of friendship and care, but right now....right now, after two months of almost constant traveling, island hopping across the Pacific rim in what they had planned to be a leisurely return to the west coast of the States...just right now, he'd be more than willing to get on the next plane home and forget the next two weeks of their itinerary. Maui's golden sands and buxom bikini clad female children masquerading as women simply left him cold right now. He regretted not having come back sooner. Regretted not having come back straight to Oahu after his securing the necessary identification papers to allow him and Richie to slip quietly out of Japan. Regretted spending those last two weeks attempting to get in touch with Kenrei and the Shikoto. Regretted waiting for that so unsatisfying last interview, grudgingly granted, held at a deserted cemetery, in the bone chilling drizzling spring rain, standing over a recently erected gravestone marking the empty spot where Hideyoshi's body was supposed to lay... That last interview, in which Kenrei had coldly informed him that as far as she knew, Hideyoshi was dead, killed and his body incinerated in the helicopter crash at the Dragon's compound. As a result of an electrical disturbance that she understood was part of what Duncan was. What all Immortals were. She had stated, her voice and eyes like ice, that Duncan knew what her wishes had been in the matter. That he knew she had intended to settle the affair with honor. And that as she had now, already paid in blood with the last of her own children, thus she had no further interest in hearing any more of the details of Hideyoshi's betrayals. Against her, or the clan. They were dead history now. Like his body. Like his name, in the clan. And, Kenrei had informed him that as far as she was concerned, the scales were now balanced between them. The books were closed. She had lost both her sons, and had no more tears, no more compassion left in her for the Dragon clan's dead. No more interest in further exploring Duncan's relationships or history with the clan. Her face was turned only to the future now, to the future she would carve out and leave to her grandson to inherit. A future that would be untainted by the bloody deeds from the past. And, she had added, if Duncan ever came back to her country, or near her clan again, ever tried to disturb them in their future business or affairs, she would let the enforcers, her muscle boys, know how he could be killed, and have it done. He'd been hustled out and left on an abandoned street, his ego and his pride bruised, his last, personal promise to the Dragon clan, to avenge their dead, unfulfilled. He'd decided to cut his losses, at that point, and to leave. Decided that no good could be served by his remaining to demand vengeance from the dead, for the dead. Who could be held accountable? There was no one, truly no one, to blame. No one to repay. Raven had taken the only survivor of the Dragons away. To raise the child as his own, Duncan understood. To try to teach the boy love, instead of hate. There was nothing more for Duncan to do, here. Anything he did, now, would only cause more harm, more grief, would open wounds that now, finally, had a chance to heal. But still, the whole situation, everything about it, had been so frustrating...made him feel so helpless, so useless...so used..... And he regretted the decision he'd made then to take the slow route back, to try to leave behind some of the anger, the grief and the rage he'd been carrying inside himself like a time bomb, over his role in this whole catastrophic plot, which had ended in the destruction of the entire Dragon clan...regretted his decision to try to work it out in a regime of sun and sand and tropical nights in different exotic locales, with different, willing women. It had worked...sort of...he'd felt a bit more at ease, a bit relaxed and distracted by the sights and sounds, the language and dances, the songs, and art and food, of all these tiny island nations...but it was only superficial..it had not yet penetrated to his guilt-ridden conscience, to his restless, angry heart.... And now he regretted it all, as a total waste of time...because when he'd finally come back to Oahu, yesterday, with Richie still in tow, as he'd once again approached the Hilton hotel where he'd first met Raven, first become embroiled in this whole drawn out tragedy,...he had finally realized that the one positive aspect of this adventure was waiting for him, here...he realized that none of the women he'd met on this journey, had slept with, had shared a moment of passion and pretend love with, were what he'd been looking for. He'd been finding imitations, parts, pieces of the original, in all the island beauties...and the original was here, the manager of the hotel, the woman who'd caught his fancy, and stirred his imagination with her smile....her enigmatic, elusive, sensual and reserved smile....those two long months ago.... His step eager, he'd approached the desk. Even Richie could see the anticipation in Duncan's face, and his stride, and had followed, a curious look on his own face, clearly wondering what had inspired such barely submerged happiness in his normally taciturn friend. She'd been behind the desk, working with a computer, her back to the lobby. He'd recognized her from the set of her shoulders, the stylish chignon of her hair, and had prepared his best smile, for when she turned around. He had shared that charming, boyish grin with the undeserving registration clerk..then felt it slip and fall from his face as the manager did turn, as Duncan noticed the large, brilliantly sparkling diamond engagement ring on her previously bare left hand. He wasn't sure whether to be glad or sorry. If she wanted to marry, to have children, she'd found her man. Found love and a mortal lover...and who was Duncan to stand in her way, to block her from pursing that so normal route to happiness....who was Duncan, indeed, to dare to love a mortal woman at all, to lure her away from her ken, to offer her his undying love...for as long as she could live...and in exchange, to never give her the chance to have progeny, to bear and raise a family, of her own....never create her own posterity, to leave behind...or the comfort of growing old with her loved one... Still, he would have liked to have had a chance...a chance, just a chance, to be a player in this game of love.... The manager saw him as he was filling out the registration card. He caught her glance, noted the flicker of recognition in it... Coolly professional, she greeted him at the counter. "Mr. MacLeod. So good of you to return." She extended her hand, and he took it. The strong, slender fingers resting in his own. The fire, banked now, that could have roared between them. He knew she felt it, as he did. He gave her hand a warm, short clasp, and returned it to her. Gave up his hopes and plans for winning her heart, and returned all future claims on its fidelity to her unknown fiancee. Duncan was, after all, a gentleman. And gentlemen are good losers. He'd quit poaching in love over a hundred years before. Women with two men in their hearts...they were only trouble. Trouble, and heartache, and pain, for whoever loved them. He'd spent the night. It was a matter of face. He'd come to the island, come to this hotel, he could hardly just turn and leave, now. It was too much to ask him to enjoy himself as well. Waikiki had been a total waste. Richie, prowling the evening sands, had returned to the hotel regularly, one or two female companions in tow, only to meet Duncan's total disinterest, throw up his hands, and depart to the nearest night club, to work out his own romantic pursuits, elsewhere. The young Immortal had dragged himself to the door of his room the next morning, his sword in hand, half expecting a sunrise challenger, when Duncan had come knocking bright and early, eager to be away. Richie had rubbed bleary eyes, further smearing the lipstick stains still visible around his face...but had given in to the inevitable and began to pack when he woke up enough to realize Duncan was serious. He'd probed a bit, while stuffing his extra swim trunks and a large painted coconut into his nylon sports bag. "We only just got here yesterday, Mac. What's the big rush?" and then let his questions slide when Duncan's only response had been a glare and a low voiced, half- muttered snarl. "Ok, this hotel is out...how about another hotel?" He'd tried to negotiate a more gradual retreat., as Duncan shook his head to each option the youth offered "Not another hotel...ok, how about the other side of the island?" Richie held his hands out in mute appeal , but Duncan frowned his negation again as he realized that this entire island was just not big enough to contain his regrets, his loss. He'd pinned a lot of hope on this woman, pinned a lot of dreams and possibilities on a vision he hadn't even let himself know he had imagined, of a future together that now they would clearly never have...No, not this island. "Ok...how about we try another island...." The youth was trying to cheer him up, trying to make a joke of the whole odyssey. And it was funny, Duncan had to admit, with a streak of his old humor returning. It was damned funny. Too bad he himself was the butt of this particular jest from the gods. You'd almost think they cared.... "There's Niihau....Kauai...Molokai..." Richie looked inquiringly at Duncan after each island he named, and seeing the thunderclouds in his companion's expression remain unchanged, he went on with his list, reading the names surreptitiously off of a paper napkin he'd picked up at a bar last night..... "....Hawaii...." He paused, squinting at his soiled, crumpled map...trying to read the last few names through the red scrawl of lipstick that was the telephone number of the woman who'd so obligingly decorated his face throughout the evening.... "Um....Mac, I' m really sorry to say this but I can't remember the rest of the islands. I've got a small technical problem here..." Richie held up the napkin, half embarrassed, half proud of his souvenir, and watched with trepidation, then relief, as the scowl darkening MacLeod's face brightened into a grin, a wink and then a full, knowing smile. "Collecting trophies, hm?" Duncan felt his foul mood changing. He could hardly maintain his sulky disposition when Richie made it so obvious there were more fish in the sea, some more than willing to be caught. "Lania, Kahoolawe, and Maui, are the others." He'd studied the islands' geography once. Let the youth think it was because he was older. In fact, he'd looked at some topological maps only recently, the last time he'd been here, when he was first considering buying a place on one of the islands. "Maui....I've heard of Maui....supposed to have a real hot club scene..." Richie's eyebrows were raised in hopeful inquiry. "Let's go to Maui, then. How about it, Mac?" Duncan shrugged. It made no difference to him, where they went, as long as it was away from here. So they'd come to this island, to the sun drenched resort area surrounding Lahaina on the western coast, and to this too well inhabited beach, adorned with gleaming, tanned bodies in various states of repair and disrepair, various states of dress and undress. They'd meandered down to the shore, at Richie's instigation, Duncan wanting nothing more than to putter through the back alleys of the ancient whaling village, looking for the hints and remnants of its authentic past still surviving amidst the slick modern tourist glitz. But he'd let himself be persuaded, half convinced that the youth might be right, that he simply needed to let go, to enjoy himself. And now, their towels spread, they sat, Richie obviously enjoying the sand and the sights, while Duncan found his interest in the colorful human parade waning again as the might have beens tumbled through his mind Duncan had focused his gaze instead on the looming shapes rising across the water, the green hills of Maui's sister island Lanai rising through the glittering mist that wreathed its base. Found his mind returning to the past, and dwelling bleakly on the future, instead. It had been time....He'd been looking for a woman to settle down with again, he realized. This haphazard life of hit or miss one night stands was not for him. Not any more. Once he'd tasted the sweet honey of long term love and commitment, its allure would beckon him forever until he found it again. In all his life, one of two things that had had enduring meaning, enduring value and worth. Love, and honor. And his honor...well, he had done his best, done his best to satisfy his sense of honor in his dealings with the clans. What good would an apology from Kenrei do the cold rotting forms of the Dragons, now? Not much. Not much at all.... So love would be his refuge, from the dissatisfaction of his life. Love, and a private, personal honor.....Love with an equal, love shared with a stable, secure, mature woman, a woman who knew her own mind, who had a life and a career and her own thoughts and beliefs...and he had a feeling that she had just slipped through his fingers...once again.... The blatant, calculated display of flesh, of skin provocatively bared almost beyond the limits of legality in this more constrained society, so different than the unaffected, casual nudity he'd encountered in other times, other places... the artificial flirting, the carefully exaggerated seductive public mating dance of the men and women on the beach, left him unmoved, unaroused. He no longer fit in to these times, to this place. He wanted a woman who had the sophistication to reserve a part of herself for her private love, her private life. And had the self confidence to trust in her own natural beauty, not to resort to artifices of manner or walk, to attract a companion...all those qualities he had seen, had sensed, in the manager of the hotel..... Suddenly disgusted with the whole charade, Duncan sat up, his displaced anger coming out in a furious glare he directed at his inoffensive companion. Richie stepped back, taken by surprise by the unleashed raw emotion reflected in Duncan's face. "Whoa, man, I was only kidding. Go back to sleep if you want. Jeez...." His voice trailed off as Duncan got to his feet, gathered up his towel, gave the youth one more, meaningful stare that clearly said "Do Not Follow," and stalked away from the shore, back towards the streets of the historic port town. Back towards their hotel, where, he supposed, he could brood in peace, or at least practice some sword katas. Richie stood, watching him go. Wondering if the older Immortal even noticed the ripple of attention his passing stirred among the assorted crowd...The youth counted at least a dozen attractive women...and four men who looked like they'd strayed from the pages of GQ....watching MacLeod, some covertly, some blatantly, from their various places on the sand, as he strode obliviously past, the Celtic metal clasp holding back his long black hair flashing in the sun, the muscles of his chest and legs rippling under his dark tanned skin. His aura fading from Richie's mind as he disappeared into the surging masses of humanity. "Some guys have all the luck...get all the women" ...Richie searched his memory.... what was that expression that Tessa told him Conner had once used? "All the fun and most of the good women" ....She'd laughed, but there'd been a touch of sorrow in that laugh...sorrow because she knew, from who she was, who Duncan was, that she was just *one* of those "good women.." and that there would, inevitably, be others, after her, in his life...There had been more truth in Tessa's fears, than any of them had ever imagined...and that was at least half of what was eating away at Duncan, he knew...the fact that she was dead, far before her time...dead, while Duncan still lived, still mourned, yet sought out, needed, another companion, another woman to love. It was not something he could solve for the Immortal, he knew that, too.... So he watched his friend disappear, without following, and turned back to the sea. Left MacLeod room to work this out on his own. Scanned the crowd around him, considering how to constructively use up a few hours until his one time mentor cooled down. He'd always wanted to learn how to surf...maybe that gorgeous young thing in the electric blue bikini waxing her board a few feet away , kneeling on the golden sand next to the beached, bleached skeleton of a whale.... maybe she would be willing to teach him....He put on his best gee whiz smile and headed her way.... Duncan slowed his rapid, angry stride, when he reached the shadowed, narrow streets of the town. The heat, the light, the glitter of the sea, his frustration with his life's course, with his inability to resolve the tradegy he'd participated in, and his disappointment at his romantic timing, had all left him with a vague, irritating headache. An ache that shifted into the warning buzz of the Quickening, as he felt once again the presence of another Immortal. He sped up his steps again, uninterested in having to explain his sudden mood swing to the youth. Half embarrassed at how he'd glared at him, earlier. Outdistancing the buzz, which he assumed was his his young companion, he worked his way deeper into town, avoiding returning to the hotel intentionally now. =========================================================================