Date: Tue, 26 Jul 1994 14:28:18 -0500 Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Susan Coveney Subject: And the Memories Live Forever 1 of 5 Hi, Here's my first attempt at Highlander Fiction.... Hope you all like it. If you have any comments please e-mail me at COVENEY@HELIX.MGH.HARVARD.EDU And Memories live forever... by Susan Coveney Copyright 1994, All rights reserved Part 1 "There's no chance for us, It's all decided for us. This world has only one sweet moment Set aside for us. Who wants to live forever Who Dares to love forever..." -- Queen Duncan MacLeod walked the street, a caged animal. The city seemed so small, so confining since Tessa's death. All the old places held too many memories of his past. The streets spoke her name. Even the loft, a place that she had never been haunted him. He saw her face in every item she had purchased, every chair she had sat upon, and every piece of his life that she had touched. It spoke of every mortal and immortal who had touched his life. The memories were too intense almost taking on a life all their own. They spoke to him,tormented him, and almost drove him over the edge. He walked alone, more and more, trying to rid himself of their neverending torment, but they were always there. He needed to find a place that was new. He needed to find a place that held no old memories. He needed to find a place where he could make new memories; a place to live in the here and now for a few hours, to forget the old memories, if only briefly. He concentrated on parts of the city he hadn't frequented before. He walked past some of the trendy, new bars that were the height of fashion and night life for those to whom that kind of thing mattered. That type of superficial life had not interested him in decades. He walked past movie houses and theaters, but they did not hold the charm for one that they did for two. Then he saw the Blue Street Cafe, a little Bistro, jazz club that had went up on the site of an old demolished building. It's shining newness bespoke the revitalization taking place in the city. He had never been there before, for it had opened up while he had been in Paris with Tessa. Ah, Tessa, even her name intensifed the memories hold upon him. Why would they not be still? He had never remembered it being this difficult to attempt even the most ordinary things of life before, but, then again, Tessa had been more special than anyone else before. Through great effort, he walked through the door, and tried to ignore the memories still clamoring for precedence inside his head. He reminded himself that he had never been in this club before; he held no real memories of it, but the other memories wouldn't go away. Inside, the lights were low, the tables small, and the atmosphere intimate. There was jazz music in the background, and smoke in the air. Small, tea-light candles flickered at each table. The din of conversation almost threatened to overpower the music, but never quite did.. Perhaps, Duncan thought, this had been a bad idea; maybe he was not ready to be someplace this social. Perhaps, but then again, looking around, maybe he could learn to like this place. He had to begin new memories eventually, somewhere or the old ones would take over his life just as they were threatening to do now. For a moment, as he meandered through the tables the memories became silent ; because other needs took control of his thoughts. The club was crowded and every table was occupied, and many were shared. For a moment he thought he might have to leave because of the lack of space but then in the corner he noticed a table that had only one person sitting at it, and he moved over towards it. Sitting at the table was a woman with short brown hair, staring intently into a drink. As Duncan approached the table, she looked up. Her eyes were an intense green, her face heart-shaped. She looked as though she had been crying. 'She might be pretty,' Duncan thought, but he could not tell because her face was read and her eyes were swollen and wondered if it was a good idea to disturb her. "Is anyone else sitting here?" Duncan asked, deciding he really had no choice. She shook her head no. "May I join you?" "Fine." She said brusquely. He had the feeling that she didn't want to be bothered. That would be fine with him; neither did he. For a while they both sat absorbed in the music, their own thoughts, and their own memories. People came and went. Duncan ordered a drink and sat in silence nursing it. It was almost as if the other didn't exist to them. The crowd thinned. Tables became empty, but the two shared their silence, almost as a bond. Neither moved to be alone, but also neither of them made an effort to acknowledge more than the presence of the other. Snatches of songs sounded familiar, and the memories threatened to overwhelm Duncan, again, but he pushed their influences back each time, trying desperately to stay in the here and now. If he could only stay in the here and now, he could almost bear the pain. Almost. If he let the memories take over, he might lose control and never get it back. He noticed the woman sniffling besides him. He had almost forgotten the pain in her face when he first showed up "Can I help you?" He asked. "Are you in some kind of trouble?" "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not very good around people right now. I don't want to disturb you with my troubles. I don't even know your name." She never really answered his questions. "Well, " Duncan said. "I can remedy that last part easily. I am Duncan MacLeod." "Hi, Duncan," She said, smiling. She had a lovely face when she smiled. "I'm Gwen DeBreer. I'm sorry if I've ruined your evening." "With a little bit of sniffling." He paused a small smile on his mouth. "I don't think so. Would you like to talk?" "Thank you" Gwen said. "Not right now." Duncan nodded, respecting her need for isolation. The musci continued, and the two sat separate, yet together. Gwen looked over at him Their eyes connected. She paused a moment. "Do you come here often?" She asked. "No," Duncan replied. Maybe it would do him some good to be with someone who didn't know of the troubles of the past few months. Someone who did not know of the deaths: of Darius, of Michael, of Linda, and of Tessa, especially of Tessa. Someone who did not know about the watchers, and how they made him feel like a caged animal, with no where to turn that they wouldn't see him where they wouldn't record everything he did with no respect for his life. Someone who didn't know about the Hunters, the watchers who did not play by the rules, who would kill him just because of who he was. Someone who saw him just as Duncan, a person to talk to. "This is the first time I've ever been here. What about you?" "My husband and I were here on opening night. We made it a regular thing, once a week...I can't quite break the habit." She choked down a tear. "Have you broken up?" Duncan asked. "No, my husband died a two months ago. I can't seem to get over it." She said quickly as if to spit the words out before a torrent of tears came with them. Maybe, Duncan thought, the memories follow you everywhere. Even here, he was reminded of his own loss. " Two months isn't a very long time." "I know," Gwen said. " Time will heal all wounds, and I'll be able to go on with my life. I'm not sure that I believe that." "Going on with your life doesn't mean you'll forget him." Duncan touched her arm lightly. "There is nothing wrong with hurting and grieving, it is how you heal" She looked up at him. It was as if no one had said that to her before. "You know," she said. "You're the only person who has said that to me. My friends keep telling me there was nothing I could have done differently, and that I need to get on with my life. They keep trying to comfort me by telling me that for a long time now, it had been like I didn't have a husband at all because he worked so much, but, you know, that's different. I could call him up at his lab and talk for a few minutes. I could drop by for an occaisional late night supper in his office. Now I know that every night I will be alone. Its not the same by any means. No one else has said to me that I need to grieve. You don't look very old, how did you get so wise?" Duncan chuckled with that thought. The woman sitting before him was probably in her fifties. Duncan looked about thirty-five, yet he had four hundred years experience behind every word. "I've had losses too. I have learned that to deny that you hurt is to deny you loved. And one thing you never want to forget is that you have loved. That's what makes us human, the ability to love. I think that it is the knowledge that you can love and possibly love again that gets you through the rest of the time." Gwen thought a moment and smiled. "Thank you, Duncan MacLeod." She looked a little akward, like she didn't know what to do next. "I would love to stay longer, but it is getting late, maybe I'll see you here again?" "Maybe" Duncan answered, not sure if he meant it or not. Gwen stood up and walked away. Duncan wondered what was underneath the facade. But it was not his concern. He sat back and listened to the music. Interestingly enough, even though she had been gone only a moment, he missed her. They had only shared a brief moment of communications, but somehow, they had connected, in some brief way tonight. (END OF PART I) =========================================================================