========================================================================= Date: Sun, 10 Mar 1996 21:24:53 -0500 Reply-To: LC Krakowka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: LC Krakowka Subject: Cardinal Rules 5/6 Disclaimer on first section. Cardinal Rules LC Krakowka part 5 "Well?" Mac asked as Adam came out of the bedchamber and shut the door softly. They had arrived about an hour after the fireworks--Adam had driven like the proverbial bat out of hell from Edinburgh-- to find the castle in an uproar and the local fire company pumping water from the loch onto the remains of the tree. Donald MacGreggor, in an attempt to atone for his sins, had approached them and related the story of what he had seen, taking them to the rooms they were in now. Guilt ridden, Ethan had filled in the gaps in his grandfather's story and confirmed that their fears had been just. Behind the door Adam had just closed was a bed and on that bed Sarah's body was laid out. Adam shook his head. "I just don't know. Her body is still warm and there is a very faint pulse...but I've never heard of anything like this before," he sighed and sat down on the hearth. "If she were a mortal, I'd say she was in a coma. Brain dead." "Maybe it'll just take a long time to heal," Mac offered. It had already been a long time...nearly twelve hours in fact. "You're sure her quickening actually left her?" "That's what Donald said," Adam answered. "She was dead when I found her," Richie added. "No buzz. Really dead." Many religions believed that, once the soul had separated from the body, the two could never be reunited. Mac wondered if the same held true for an immortal and their quickening. "Will they still have the Gathering?" Richie asked from his chair in the corner. "I really don't feel much like a party," Adam sighed, leaning back against the cold stone. Duncan motioned for Richie to leave the room with him. "There has to be something we can do," Richie said as the door closed behind them and they began to walk down the hall. "I wish there were." "But, she's got her quickening back, right? She's gonna be okay, right?" "I just don't know." Duncan didn't want to think about what would happen if Sarah's quickening was really gone. Would she be mortal? Would she even survive at all? "I swear, is she dies, I'll have that kid's head as a trophy on my mantle," Richie said hotly. "There's no point in that," Mac said. "He paid his price for breaking the rule." The penalty had never been clear to any of them involved in the Game. Breaking rules just *wasn't done*. That, Mac would admit in public, left room for temptation, even among the most noble immortals. But Ethan had paid the greatest price an immortal could pay. Not death. Life. Mortal life, which Mac knew would ring hollow after a shot at eternity. Hours later, as the guests were arriving in the great hall down stairs, Sarah awoke from a pain fogged sleep. She was extremely confused, unsure of where she was, dizzy, and could barely suck in a breath. An anvil of pain was sitting on her chest, but she was alive. The sound of faint bagpipes provided a clue as to her location. Glenstrae. Things were coming back to her now. Ethan. The fight with Campbell. The tree. Why was she alive? A soft snore sounded close to her left ear and she realized that she was not alone in the bed. She couldn't turn to face whomever it was...that hurt too much. Instead, she looked down at the arm that was draped around her waist. It was dark in the room, but enough light came in through the windows for her to make out the shape of the long fingers that were curled near her hip. A waft of familiar cologne cemented her guess. Petey. With great effort, she rolled onto her back, guessing that her movement would wake him. Again, she was right. "Well, welcome back to the land of the living," he said, smiling at her. "We thought we'd lost you this time, Sarie." Inwardly, Adam was thrilled to feel her buzz again. When they had first arrived, it had been incredibly weak and spotty, fluttering on the edge of disappearing all together. "The Gathering?" She croaked. Adam looked at his watch. "There's still time, if you want to go." Sarah nodded. Now that she was awake, she could feel the Healing glow flowing through her body. Soon, she knew, the pain would be gone. Adam knew better than to argue with her about needing more rest. He threw back the covers and padded across the room to the armoire, pulling out two dresses that were hanging inside. "Blue?" He switched on the light and held it up for her to see. "I think so. The red would be overkill with the tartan, don't you think?" Sarah nodded, trying to get to her feet. She lurched forward and thought she was going to hit the floor face first. But Adam was there in two long strides to catch her. He sat her gently back on the edge of the bed and squatted in front of her, his hands on her knees. "Like it or not, Sarie, you'll need my help with this." What she really wanted to do was curl up and sleep for a thousand years. If he were there with her, even better. She was so tired. Tired of the Game, of being in pain, tired of waking from the dead. She nodded assent and leaned forward, resting her forehead on the top of his head. "I know. It hurts. Come on. You're a MacGreggor and there is plenty of whiskey downstairs to numb the pain." How many times had he done this? Brought her back to life. Been there when she woke up dazed and disoriented. Always with a quick bit of humor. Always with that same look of genuine relief on his face. He helped her dress, then left her sitting in a chair and dashed down to his own room to change. He was standing in front of the mirror, struggling with one of the folds in his kilt --like Richie, he much preferred the ones with buttons--when her buzz hit, followed by a soft knock at the door. Sarah entered, moving slowly, but her color had returned. She had arranged a swath of the MacGreggor tartan across her left shoulder and pinned it at her right hip with an ancient broach that he recognized to be her mother's. The sash contrasted beautifully with the midnight blue scoop-necked dress and he knew that a part of her would always be in the highlands. "Methos MacGreggor?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, her voice catching on the "g". He looked down at the folds of his kilt, "I found this in a trunk at your house." Sarah crossed the room and smoothed the problematic fold, then pulled up the drape and arranged it on his shoulder, pinning it with a broach that had been in her hand. "This is the pin I gave my Alan on our handfast day," she said, still not able to speak in normal tones. "And the kilt?" "A replica of the one me da used to wear," she smiled. "It suits you." "And they'll not hang me for wearing a MacGreggor tartan?" She shook her head and leaned against him, still gathering her strength and beginning to realize the depth of what she felt for him. It transcended time and friendship. Rose above romantic love...it just was. If immortals had soul mates, she thought, Petey was hers. Adam looked at their reflection in the mirror. They had worn many fashions over the years they spent traveling together...everything from mismatched bits of armor, to medieval court wear, but never had she leaned so readily on him and never had they been so suitably matched. He had spent lifetimes adjusting his appearance to blend in with mortals. A beard in Russia, long hair in ancient Greece...he'd even worn a kilt before, but not the MacGreggor tartan. Twice in the last year he had almost lost her to the Game, maybe now was the time to tell her how he felt. "Sarie," he began. She looked up at him and he saw how weak she was still. His urge was to sweep her into his arms and take care of her, but he knew she'd rebel at that. Besides, that was straight out of those corny romance novels he sometimes indulged in when no one was looking. (Even the ancients needed mind candy now and then.) This was real life. It was more important that he not lose her friendship...not after just finding it again. Sarah blinked at him, expecting a gush of emotion, but none came. Instead, he smiled slowly. "Let's get you to your birthday party." Duncan was lost in a sea of MacGreggor tartan again as the great hall swayed under the energy of about a hundred of Sarah's kinsmen. At first, the party had been a bit somber, everyone quite upset by the devastation to the great Oak. But, as Mac had expected, once the whiskey began to flow, the people--Highlanders everyone of them--had forgotten about their woe and begun to revel in each other's company. It was precisely this ability to bounce back from hardship that had enabled them, and all the clans, to survive throughout the centuries. He looked up sharply as the collective force of their buzz hit him. Across the room, Richie glanced up from his conversation with Heather as well. Mac smiled as Adam maneuvered Sarah through the crowd deftly, his hand on her waist. "You're looking better than the last time I saw you," he said as they approached. Sarah chuckled, "I feel like I've got a bus parked on my chest." "At least your sense of humor hasn't suffered," he smiled. "Nice knees, MacLeod," Adam quipped. "You're one to talk." Richie appeared at Sarah's elbow, his arm around Heather's waist. "How you doing, Sarah?" "'appy birthday, Miss Sarah," Heather added, having only heard that her kinswoman was struck by a branch from the tree during the lightening storm. "Tis lucky the whole tree didn't fall on ye." Sarah smiled at her, but was looking at Richie. Perhaps their quickenings had mixed a little out there...she felt a strange kinship to him...and he looked far more comfortable in the kilt than he had previously. "Aye, tis lucky young Richie was there to save me." "And 'oo's this handsome fellow?" Heather asked, glancing at Adam. "Your 'usband?" "Her eldest and most dear friend," Adam took her hand and bowed over it. "Pierson, Adam Pierson, at your service, miss." "James Bond, are ye?" "Close." Sarah laughed. *** Adam awoke the next morning with a shaft of light streaming into his eyes. He groaned and pulled the covers over his head. Maybe it had all been a dream. Maybe he was still in Seacouver. This was normal for him...waking with a sense of confusion over time and place. No, this bed was not his own, and there was the unmistakable dampness of a Highland Spring lingering in the air. He cracked one eye open and looked around the room. Glenstrae. A glance at his watch told him it was nearly noon. They had stayed late at the Gathering. Sarah recuperated nicely once she had food and a few glasses of whiskey in her to ease the pain. By midnight she was nearly fully healed and teaching Richie a traditional dance, laughing gaily and speaking in a heavy brogue. Adam chuckled to himself, drink and being around her clansmen had always brought back her accent. She had even spoken to him in Gaelic last night. He wished he had understood what she was saying, it sounded lovely. Dragging himself out of bed, he made his way over to the window and wrapped the blankets around his shoulders against the chill. Sarah was where he expected; standing in what used to be a shady spot under the tree, but was now a vast, rubble strewn cleaning-- surveying the damage to the great Oak. There were dozens of workers cleaning up the garden, piling the pieces of wood onto wagons and wheelbarrows that were being taken around to the front of the castle. It looked like a war zone. "Looks like they may get their souvenirs after all," he said a few minutes later, coming up behind her. She spun, reaching for a sword that wasn't at her hip. He had startled her. That was odd. Sarah's shoulders slumped forward in a very atypical sign of defeat, "My tree..." she said softly. He held out an arm and Sarah ducked under it, burying her head in his shoulder. Adam was surprised to see Richie among those picking up. Talk about atypical. He had expected the lad to still be in bed, most likely with Heather MacGreggor. Lord knows that would be more pleasant than standing around in the damp. "My tree," she said again and began to sob quietly. Adam rubbed her back and hugged her, all the while watching Richie pile some bigger branches onto a horse drawn cart. Those two had come together in a very strange way, he thought, wondering if their quickenings had indeed mixed. There was no way of knowing for sure and it was a miracle that either survived. In the five thousand some odd years he had walked the earth, Methos had never known anyone who had first hand experience in what occurs when a rule was broken. And this boy, this baby really, had righted that great wrong without a thought. MacLeod was right, there must be hidden potential in there somewhere. If he could manage to keep his head for a few centuries, Richie would undoubtedly grow into an interesting individual. The sight of Ethan MacGreggor making his way through the rubble towards them brought Adam out of thought for a moment. *That one* had gotten precisely what he deserved. If there was one thing Methos had learned over his many years, it was that, despite the obvious drawbacks, immortality was a very great gift. If you could stay alive in the Game, the world was yours to experience. True, people came and went from your life, but you carried them with you always and sometimes you were lucky enough to have something precious returned for your troubles. "Lady Sarah," the boy said, eyeing Adam nervously. His ability to sense immortals was gone and he felt vaguely naked without it. But he didn't need the buzz to tell him what Adam was and the look on the immortal's face conveyed such obvious caring for Sarah and contempt for him that Ethan found himself wondering if Adam would try for his head. "Ethan," she answered, turning to face him, but still in the circle of Adam's arm. "Me Gran-da would like to see you." Sarah shook her head, "I don't have anything to say to Donald." "The stress of this all, it's done 'im no good. I think 'e's dying, Sarah," the boy said. Sarah sniffled and wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. "Mortals do that. Please tell him that I will be leaving Glenstrae this afternoon and do not plan to return until both he and you are long gone from this world." "But...'e wants to apologize to ye. 'E was only trying to do what was best for the clan." Sarah held her hand up in a silencing gesture. "I don't care. I don't care about any of this anymore. He got what he wanted, you'll live to take his seat." "But..." Sarah sighed. "Get out of my sight Ethan MacGreggor," she said in an even tone that Adam recognized to be veiled anger. "If you cross my path again, immortal or not, kinsman or not, I'll take your head." The boy backed away a few steps, "But I dinnae take yers when I had the chance. I broke a rule for you. I lost my immortality for you." "And therein lies that sense of honor you were looking for," she turned on her heel and walked off slowly toward the loch, her back to the ruins. Ethan turned his shocked face to Adam, who cocked an eyebrow at him in what he hoped was a mildly threatening look, then shrugged and followed Sarah. *** "You're sure MacGreggor is on the plane?" The young man nodded, then remembered that he was on the telephone. "Yes. She, Pierson, and MacLeod all boarded about an hour ago. They should be over the Atlantic by now." A long silence came over the wire and he began to wonder if his superior was still there. This had been a hard week, Roger just wanted to get the hell out of Scotland. "Do it then." "How?" This was one part of his job that he had not counted on when he signed up. Roger was a Watcher, not an assassin. Another long pause came over the line, followed by a heavy sigh. "Something quick and painless...no bullets, they can be traced. And he was one of us once, he deserves to die a painless death. Poison maybe." He nodded again. "Sir?" "Yes?" "What about Pierson? He's breaking the same rule Donald MacGreggor did." "No, Pierson isn't assigned to her." "I know, but we aren't supposed to get involved with them at all..." "I'll deal with Pierson. You just take care of Donald and get back here before she pulls another disappearing act. She's good at those." "Okay. I'll be on the first flight tomorrow," Roger hung up the phone and sighed. Sneaking back into Glenstrae would be easy. He had been right under Sarah MacGreggor's nose almost the whole time she was there, blending in with the castle staff. Across an ocean, a medium sized continent, and several time zones, Joe hung up the phone with a sigh. He eased himself back in his chair and pulled the bottle of Scotch out from his desk drawer. This was the kind of night that would not require the ceremony of a glass. [end part 5] copyright 1996, LC Krakowka. Author's note: Special thanks to my SO, Justin, for his help with this section. His expertise as an engineer and technical type guy helped me get a handle on what the electric-like quickenings might do if they mixed. Conductivity and all... He also had a much better sense of what an appropriate penalty for breaking the rule would be than I had originally. I'm not ashamed to say that they version that made it out to you guys was his idea, not mine. -- LC Krakowka hck1@cornell.edu