========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Mar 1996 21:26:43 -0500 Reply-To: LC Krakowka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: LC Krakowka Subject: Cardinal Rules 3/6 See part one for the disclaimer. Cardinal Rules LC Krakowka Part 3 Donald MacGreggor paced slowly through his study. It was long after midnight and everyone else in the castle was asleep. He was running the day's events through his mind, trying to stay focused on what lay ahead. Like Sarah, he knew that he wasn't long for this world. But there was young Ethan to think of. The boy had had an easy first death, compared to some that he had learned of while still a Watcher. Though the boy was not blood-kin, he was without doubt Donald's favorite grandchild, which was why they had been out walking alone together in the garden when the snake had bitten Ethan. It was, Donald thought, probably the last adder in all of Scotland, and he had saved it's skin. He had explained to Ethan as best he could about immortality and the Game and the boy had understood, despite his seventeen years. Donald knew that age would put Ethan at risk in the Game, where so many were fully grown men with hundreds of years of training. What he hadn't counted on was the arrival of Campbell so soon--only two days after Ethan had learned of what he was. To save the boys life, Donald had struck a bargain with the immortal who was bent on spilling MacGreggor blood. Donald sighed, thinking of Sarah in the twenties, wearing white kid gloves and flowered frocks when the rest of the girls were flappers. He had pulled a lot of strings to be assigned to her, having read some of her files while in training. The fact that she was a kinswoman, the only MacGreggor to survive the massacre in 1068 and the one who convinced Rob Roy that freedom was worth fighting for were what had peaked his interest. But, he had never counted on falling in love. "Can you ever forgive me, my Sarah?" He asked the walls. "I have to be sure that Ethan takes my seat." Sarah would fight Campbell for him, he knew that. And, despite what he told the burly hulk of a man that had Ethan's neck at sword point, Donald was counting on her winning. Then, when she was still weak from the fight--and there was no way she would come out without being wounded--Ethan would take her head and gain the power and knowledge that she had assessed over her many years; preparing him for the Chieftain's Chair. Donald eased himself into his chair. It would mean losing her forever, but that would happen when he died anyway. And she would live on in Ethan. As a clansman, Donald believed in the sanctity of royal blood. Immortals, he suspected, were somehow linked to this and the Highlanders among them--both Connor and Duncan MacLeod, Sarah, and now his Ethan--were no doubt the remnants of the true beginnings of their clans. With Sarah's quickening in him, Ethan would have the ability to bring the MacGreggors back to the glory they once had. *** Richie awoke the next day to Sarah shaking him softly. She was leaning over him and he had been dreaming of Heather. Richie reached for her, thinking he was still dreaming. "Kid," Sarah shook him harder. "Wake up!" This was not what Heather had said in the dream. Richie sat up suddenly, drawing the covers across his chest. "I need your help," Sarah said. "What?" "Look, there's another immortal here. He's Donald's grandson and we need to train him--fast." So he had been right, it was a buzz. "I'll explain later," she said. "Meet me in the games room in twenty minutes, and bring your sword." Sarah stood up and crossed to the door. "Oh, and Richie?" "Yeah?" He scratched his head, still sleep fogged. "You be nice to Heather, she's a kinswoman of mine." With that and a smile, Sarah was gone, leaving him to dress and grab some food off of the plate she had left before finding his way down to meet her. As Richie stood outside the door of the room that, for centuries, MacGreggors had used to practice their fighting skills in, he felt Sarah's powerful buzz, followed shortly by that barely perceptible flutter. He entered the room to find Sarah kneeling over the figure of a boy who looked to be close to the age he was when he took that bullet in Paris. "It's okay Ethan, that's just what happens when we sense another one of us is present. It's an asset really, so no one can sneak up on you." The boy looked up at Richie and smiled weakly. He looks like Sarah, Richie thought. They could pass for brother and sister. "Richie Ryan," he stuck out his hand. "Ethan MacGreggor," the younger boy got to his feet and his color returned. "Richie is a friend of mine," Sarah said. "He's going to help you train. We've been sparring a bit all ready," she turned to Richie, "nothing fancy, but I thought it might help if I could watch and coach." "Sure," Richie drew his sword. "You make the first move, Kid." Sarah shot him an amused look, but backed away and sat down on the edge of a nearby table." "I...I don't want to hurt ye," Ethan said. "You won't." "Go ahead Ethan, charge him, like I showed you," Sarah said, chewing on a roll from a nearby plate. Before Richie had the chance to truly ready himself, Ethan struck a blow that glanced off his sword, but jarred him none the less. Richie countered back, slowly, like Mac had --and still did when teaching him a new move. Ethan blocked it and looked at Sarah uncertainly. She gave him the thumbs up and motioned with her hands to continue. They traded a few more slow blows and Richie relaxed. This kid was pretty good; picking it up quickly. He turned to tell Sarah that and crumpled to the ground, victim of a punch to the temple that had surprising force and was compounded by the weight and mass of the hilt of Ethan's sword. "Way to go!" Sarah yelled. Richie rubbed his temple and looked up at her. "Way to go? You're teaching the kid to fight dirty." She shrugged. "Not everyone can be as noble as Duncan. I'm *teaching him* how to survive." *** Duncan sat staring out the window of the 747, thinking about his last trip to the Highlands. Maybe he'd get the chance to swing through Glenfinnan and see Rachel when this was all taken care of. He could see Adam's reflection in the glass, nose buried in a book. "What are you reading?" Adam looked up. "Sarie's file. Did you know that she was a prospector in California during the Gold Rush?" "No, but can't you just see her running off claim jumpers?" He laughed. "Says here that you two have crossed paths several times." Mac nodded. They had met in Scotland in the 18th century, but that was not the last he saw of her throughout the years. "You knew Rob Roy as well." It was a statement that Mac knew was open ended, giving him the chance to accept or decline the request for more information. It was still a long way to Glasgow and he never could sleep on planes... The guards dragged Sarah and Rob off, leaving Mac alone in a room full of staring people. He knew he had two choices, risk death himself to rescue them, or wait for them to hang Sarah and make sure he was there to cut her down before she was drawn and quartered. As for Robert Roy, Mac shrugged, he wouldn't be the first Scot to spend some time in an English prison. He threw some coin on the table and left the inn to bide his time. The execution was two days later and there was a near riot. Mac was lost in a sea of MacGreggor tartan as a mob of nearly a hundred of her clansmen came to try to stop her hanging. They were silenced by gunshots fired over the crowd by Montrose's men. Still, there was a communal wail when the gallows dropped out from under Sarah's legs. Mac knew that the body would be left on public display, as a warning to all her fellow outlaw MacGreggors, and late that night he cut her down; taking her inert form out into the hills where they would be safe. He had just gotten a small fire lit when she awoke, gasping for air. "Tis all right Sarah," he said, rubbing her shoulders. She was a bit wild eyed, but came back to her senses quickly. "Robby?" "He's in prison." "We have to get 'im out," she tried to stand, but lost her balance and landed in his lap. "He'll be fine. We need to get you outa 'ere." Sarah shook her head. "You don't understand, Robby's got to be free to lead the clan. 'is father died in an English prison...they're letting all the chieftains rot in there...Robby 'as to get out." "So you two broke Rob Roy out of prison and into the movies," Adam said with a soft chuckle. Mac nodded. "The next time I saw here it was 1918. And after that, in Paris in the 40s. That lady can swing dance, let me tell you." Adam smiled, "That doesn't surprise me at all." A comfortable silence fell between them and Mac almost resumed his gaze out the window, but he sensed Adam had another question and he had a pretty good idea of what it was. Why hadn't the idiot told her how he felt yet? Mac had figured on them getting together months ago--once the whole deal with Martin had blown over. But instead, he had watched as they slipped back into the friendship that had been lost to them for so long. Methos had been quietly in love with her for centuries and Sarah loved him too, Mac knew. It was just a matter of something happening that lead her to admit it. Being reunited after six centuries of thinking each other dead hadn't done the trick. The woman was stubborn, Scottish to her core. "Look, Duncan, it's none of my business really...and you can tell me to take a hike if you want," he started. "Yes." There was no point in lying and he knew Adam wouldn't hold a grudge. "What?" "The answer to your question is Yes. We were lovers, once." Adam hung his head for a second and chewed his lower lip, then looked back up at Mac, "Once?" "Once. Just once." "Why?" "Why? Look at her...that's why." Adam twisted his face into a sardonic scowl, "No, why only once?" Mac sighed. Truth was, they had been drunk in Paris after the war had ended. He knew that Sarah had no real interest in him and he harbored none for her. What had happened simply, had happened. But that was too complicated to tell, so he changed the subject. "What about you two?" Adam shook his head. "Can you believe it? Three hundred years I traveled with that girl and never once." "Not for lack of trying, I hope." "No...it wasn't like that. She's my best friend. We were partners...like you and Tessa were." "Tessa and I had great sex, all the time," Mac teased. Adam smirked, closed his eyes and shook his head, sighing slowly, obviously amused. [end part 3] copyright 1996, LC Krakowka. -- LC Krakowka hck1@cornell.edu