========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Mar 1996 21:23:07 -0500 Reply-To: LC Krakowka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: LC Krakowka Subject: Cardinal Rules 2/6 See the first part for the disclaimer. Cardinal Rules LC Krakowka Part 2 Back in Seacouver, Adam held Sarah's letter up to the light over Joe's bar, hoping to see hidden watermarks, secret code, or anything that gave it more weight than the congenial note it appeared to be. He had read it so many times he had it memorized, but it still didn't make any sense. "What's that?" Mac asked, sipping on a beer. "The letter Sarah got the other day." "Why do you have it?" "I'm trying to figure out what this is all about." Mac shook his head, not even beginning to understand what Adam was so preoccupied with. "What's the big deal?" "The *big deal*," Adam echoed, "is that the woman who gave it to her is a Watcher. Richie's actually." "So?" "So that means that whomever gave this letter to her to give to Sarie knew about the Watchers." "Let me see it," Mac took the letter from him and read aloud. "Dear Miss Sarah MacGreggor, I regret that my correspondence brings the grave news of the loss of the Glenstrae Oak. Local Government wishes to cut down the tree and use its wood to make a series of curios and boxes, with the hope that they will sell as souvenirs and bring more funds for the restoration of ruins along Loch Lomand. In response, the MacGreggors are calling a gathering to determine if our tree can be saved. As the only living descendant of the band of MacGreggors massacred in 1068 by Norman raiders, we would be honored with your presence and feel you have the right to speak for your people." Mac skimmed the closing lines. "Yada yada...so on so on...yours sincerely, Donald MacGreggor Chieftain Clan MacGreggor. Seems pretty harmless to me," he handed it back. "Harmless? Mac, that tree is a historical landmark...they wouldn't cut it down to make souvenirs! And how does this guy know that Sarie's clan was massacred? And, more importantly, how does he know to use a Watcher as a courier?" "What was that name again?" Joe asked, setting down the glass he had been wiping. "Donald MacGreggor, do you know it?" Joe shook his head, "But I can look it up." They followed him back to his office and Duncan took a seat across from the desk. Adam hovered over Joe's shoulder as he turned on the computer and waited for it to boot. "I would have thought you guys learned your lesson about keeping files on disc," Mac said as Joe grabbed a CD-Rom and slid it into the drive. Joe glanced up at him, "These are records of Watchers, not Immortals." He keyed in Donald MacGreggor and sat back while the disc whirred. Moments later, the screen filled with a personnel file. "So he was a Watcher, I knew it," Adam said. "So? All that means is that he knew how to contact Sarah," Mac leaned back in the chair and glanced around the cluttered room. "Hold on," Joe said, skimming the file. "Donald MacGreggor, born Glasgow 1906, Oxford educated, joined the UK branch in 1929, first assignment, Sarah MacGreggor." Mac's attention snapped back to the matter at hand and Adam leaned closer to the screen. "He followed Sarah through the US until 1935," Joe paused, "and then we kicked him out." "Why?" Mac asked. "He broke the cardinal rule...he got involved with her." Mac chuckled at the irony of those words coming from Joe. "Well, that explains how he knows so much about her." "But not why he called her back to Glenstrae..." Adam muttered, pacing away from the computer. "Maybe he just wanted to see his old lover one more time before he dies," Joe offered. "He is ninety." "Why not just call her then?" Adam asked, still pacing. "Maybe he didn't think she would come if he just called," Joe said. Mac frowned, he fully recognized Adam's potential to overreact when Sarah was concerned, but something about this was a little fishy. "Let's give it a day or two and see what happens," he said, making a mental note of where his kilt was, in case he needed to attend the Gathering. *** "Why did you call me here then, Donald? You know that if the Watchers see us together..." Sarah trailed off and paced to the fireplace, trying to avoid looking at him directly. The last time she had seen him he was twenty eight, dashingly handsome, and about to have a bullet put in him by a fellow Watcher. "I know what'll bloody well happen, but I 'ad to call ye," the old man paused. She looked exactly the same as she did the day he first laid eyes on her and though he had loved his wife dearly, Sarah was still the great love of his life. "Why?" "There's another one of yer kind here, and 'e needs yer help." Sarah had felt the very faint buzz as she and Richie had entered the room, but dismissed it as nerves. It had been very weak, just barely on the edge of her perception, and she was better than most at sensing quickenings. "Newly so?" Donald nodded. "Last week. He's my daughter's son, a foundling." Sarah nodded. "But what's so crucial about it? Why bring me here in such a flurry?" Donald frowned, "I think there's someone after 'is head already." Sarah's thought were racing. Why hadn't she asked Mac along? He was a much better mentor than she could be. And here she was, back in Glenstrae, standing in front of a man who nearly got himself killed for her almost seventy years ago. He looked so old. She knew he was not much longer for this world. She also that she knew owed him the protection of his grandson; if only because he had risked his life to love her once. "Then there's no Gathering?" She asked. "No, there'll be a Gathering." "What for?" "For the three hundred and ninety sixth birthday of the Oak, and for your nine hundred and fifty fourth, my bonny Sarah." *** Joe was loathe to tell Adam and Duncan the news he had just received, knowing it would send them to Scotland--most likely too late. He sighed and got onto the lift, heading up to Duncan's loft, expecting Adam to be the one that would accost him immediately. Joe was shocked that it was Duncan. "Joe, I've gotten word from Connor that something's up in the Highlands, what do you know?" Mac asked, before Joe even had the gate fully lifted. Adam was on the telephone across the room, taking notes and swearing softly. "Give a man a break, MacLeod," Joe said wearily. "I'm sorry, here, let me take your coat. Want something to drink?" Joe sighed. "Better get out something hard, Mac." Adam looked up at that, then hung up the phone. "The earliest we can get out is tomorrow afternoon, which will put us in Glasgow late Tuesday," he said. Joe couldn't believe he was doing this again. All his training as a Watcher...out the window. All the rules....gone. Seventy years ago they were going to assassinate Donald MacGreggor for his involvement with a Highlander and that had only been a love affair. If the powers that be ever found out how much help he had given Duncan and the other immortals he had become so close to...well, they'd have his head. But, he had picked Mac to win the Prize and learned along the way that these immortals had the same emotions as everyone else, letting his own get entangled in their Game in the process. When he had joined the watchers, Joe had harbored a secret desire to be an immortal. Now, he realized that he wouldn't trade the relative simplicity of his mortality, not even for the Prize. Still, he was resigned to do whatever he could to help them in their ever present dramas. He sighed, thinking of all the friends Mac had introduced him to in immortal circles: Connor MacLeod--once thought to be the best shot at the Prize-now beginning to feel the weight of his age, Amanda, who was so busy running from her own emotions that she never thought about anyone else's, Sarah, who had breezed into Seacouver not a year ago and brought a quiet dignity to the group of men Joe knew so well, and Methos, made cynical by his years, but still managing to find humor in life... Mac handed him a glass of Scotch and sat down on the couch, waiting. Adam, still sitting at the table, looked a bit harried, but, for once, was silent. "There's a new immortal in Glenstrae," Joe began, "his name is Ethan MacGreggor and he is the adopted grandson of Donald MacGreggor." "What is it about those damn highlands?" Adam asked, looking up at the ceiling. Mac chuckled, "Must be something in the water." "We thought that Donald had called Sarah there to train him..." "But?" Mac prompted. "But now one of my men reports that Campbell is in the area. Hunting...the kid... we hope." "If this man loved Sarah, why would he bring her into a trap?" Mac asked. Joe shrugged. "Maybe he didn't, I don't know. I just know that Campbell is there and so is Sarah." Duncan nodded. "So is Richie." "Who is this Campbell?" Adam asked. "Does Sarie know him?" "I don't think so," Joe answered, draining his glass. "Our files don't indicate that they have ever crossed paths. But he's only marginally more polite than the Kurgan was." Adam winced. "But he's not very old," Mac said. "Two hundred or so..." "That just means he's still cocky with youth," Adam said. "There is another problem in that he fights dirty, everything short of on Holy Ground," Joe added. "Why would he be interested in a new immortal though?" Adam asked, still looking at the ceiling. Joe shrugged, but Duncan knew the answer. "The Campbells and the MacGreggors have been feuding for centuries...dating back to the Jacobites...maybe even longer than that. Between the English actively hunting MacGreggors and the expansion of the Campbells, it's really amazing the clan survived at all," he said. "You know," Adam looked at Mac suddenly, "it's a wonder any of you survived between all those idiotic blood feuds and the like. It ridiculous. Some MacGreggor stole a Campbell cow and now, centuries later, this nut case is still pissed off." Mac shrugged. "There is one more little snag in the silk," Joe said. Adam rolled his eyes. "What, the gods are taking sides? Like they did in Troy?" He remembered Troy, in one of those flashes that came sometimes when the mists of memory parted and left him wondering where he was in time. Great wooden horses, men dying everywhere he looked...all over a woman's face. Nasty business, that. Despite himself, Joe chuckled. "No, I did some more checking into Donald MacGreggor...and he's a MacGreggor by marriage...but a Campbell by blood." Mac frowned. Looks like he'd be needing that kilt after all. [end part 2] copyright 1996, LC Krakowka. -- LC Krakowka hck1@cornell.edu