Date: Mon, 27 Nov 1995 18:31:20 -0600 Reply-To: Samantha Anne Copeland Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Samantha Anne Copeland Subject: Daddy's Little Girl part 11 Daddy's Little Girl Samantha Copeland copelasa@vuse.vanderbilt.edu ******Part 11****** Duncan had almost gotten to the place where David arrived at his uncle's. However he stopped when he sensed the presence of another Immortal. He hoped silently that it was only Richie and Chris. Within moments there was a knock at the door. It was only Richie and Chris, thankfully. He let them in, and closed the door. Chris set her equipment bag down next to the elevator. "Did anyone try anything while you guys were out?" Mac inquired. "Not so far as I could tell," answered Richie, "Are you sure that this guy is still out there?" "When I talked to Joe a few hours ago he seemed to think so." "Wait a sec, _Joe_ as in the guy at the bar? What does he do, run surveillance operations out of that bar or something'?" Chris asked. "Close. Joe's a Watcher, which means that part of his job involves keeping track of Immortals. Most Immortals don't even know they exist, but a few of us have managed to find out. I've known Joe for a little over a year now, but he's been tracking me in particular for the last sixteen years or so." Mac said in answer to her question, paused then continued, "Joe told me that this particular Immortal likes to fight Immortals that have a family or something along those lines. He picks off the family members one by one so that by the it comes to actual fighting, there's no reason for them to go on." "O.K., if that's the way this guy goes about business, what's he doing coming after me? I mean, doesn't he usually go after the family members first?" "He was. He was going after your father through you. You could be considered a sort of bonus from Alexander's standpoint." "My dad is an Immortal? For real?" "Yeah, for real." "Don't you think that this is just a little too damned convenient?" "Well it's not the first time like this has happened." "For example?" "Well, like the time a certain young thief broke into my shop." Mac said grinning in Richie's direction. "Aw Mac, stop. You're making me look like an idiot." Richie complained. Talking over Richie, Mac continued, "When I caught him lurking around the store a few days later, I gave him a job as a way of keeping him out of trouble and to keep an eye on him." Richie jumped in, "And then I found out about Immortals. After some of the people that Mac ran into, I didn't want any part of it. I even got kidnapped by one of them. After last fall, well, I didn't have a choice anymore," Richie said, shrugging it off. "You never did, Rich," Mac said somberly. "You're lucky Richie, you knew from the moment it happened what was going on. Mac trusted you enough to tell you about himself. My own _father_ didn't event trust me, _ME_, enough to tell me that he's an Immortal. Something like that's going be hard to overlook much longer. What did he think I was going to do, tell everybody at school so they could laugh at me?" She stopped her rant because she was getting upset, everything was just hitting her all at once. Mac guided her over to the couch so she could sit. Richie left, he would just get in the way, he could never handle the delicate situations like Mac could. Mac sat down next to her on the couch, holding her close, trying to calm her. She just put her head on his shoulder and cried. She cried for the loss of her mortality, the fact that she would never really have a normal life, the fact that the world was going to change and she wasn't, for a hundred reasons that she couldn't name. All the while Mac was saying, "It's O.K. now, you're safe." After a few minutes she straightened up, pushing Mac away. "Thanks," she said softly, "I don't usually get like this, but I've been through a lot in the last few weeks. I...I don't think I have cried like that since my mother..." "It's O.K., finding out you're an Immortal can create a lot of confusion. Life goes on, you'll get through it, I do, Richie does, so does your dad." "Yeah, well." "Hey, you can't do anything about it, so don't get yourself worked up about it. Why don't you go in the bathroom and wash your face and make those tears go away." He wiped at a tear as it rolled out the corner of her eye. He gave her one of his special sympathetic smiles. She got up and went into the bathroom. A few moments later Mac heard the sound of water running. A few minutes later a much more composed Chris emerged. "Tell you what, since you are going to be staying here for the next few days, make yourself at home. Right now, though I suggest that you do something that will relax you." "Mind if I put something on the stereo?" "No." Mac replied, hoping that she doesn't put on some heavy metal and start head banging. If she did, he _would_ mind. She fished around in her bookbag for the right CD. She looked at various titles, Brandenburg Concertos, Music for the Royal Fireworks, Henry V soundtrack, Disney's Aladdin Soundtrack, Pachelbel Canon, Wynton Marsalis's Baroque Music For Trumpet. She decided on variety and went for the Pachelbel Canon CD, it had a number of other favorite pieces on it as well. She popped the CD into the tray and hit play. She adjusted the balance to favor the treble. Mac looked up from his book, pleasantly surprised at the musical selection. His mind drifted from the book and he leaned back in the chair to listen to the music. At the end of the selection, she got up and changed tracks. This time the distinctive sound of trumpet greeted his ears, quite a change from the string ensemble that had been playing Canon. For a few minutes he carefully listened to the piece trying to place it, after realzing that it was two and not one trumpet as he had originally thought, he was able to place the piece, Vivaldi's Concerto in C For Two Trumpets. With that minor mystery solved, his attention caught some motion out the corner of his eye. Chris was stretched out on the couch, with her eyes closed and was conducting the piece as if she were very familiar with it. When the piece finished, she got up and then changed CDs again. While she was putting the previous CD back into its case, he decided to find out. "Have you played that piece much?" "Only like the last three years. I've even managed to get a few medals at competition for it," she said, warming up to the subject. "That's pretty good, I'll have to hear you play sometime." "Sure, just not real soon, I'm kind of out of practice." "Well I think you're going to have a lot of time in the future to brush up on it. If you like we can go downstairs now and buy you a little time." "Sure, but um, I'm going to need to bum a T-shirt off you because I forgot to put one in my bag." "Let's simplify matters, we're just going to use, glove, mask, and epee." She began to fish her stuff out of the bag, but when Mac saw the pistol grip on her epee, he motioned for her to put it back in the bag. "Leave it, that won't do you much good. I've got something downstairs you can use." He reasoned that she would need a more traditional grip in order to be more adjusted to a real sword. She took her mask and glove and followed Mac to the elevator. They got off on one of the floors in between the dojo and the loft to get some of the other equipment. As they got off, Mac reached around the corner to turn on the lights. "Wow, you certainly have enough stuff!" Mac walked over to a weapon rack that was mounted on the wall. He selected a French grip epee. He then squatted down in front of a chest, inside were a mask and glove on top of a folded fencing uniform. He took out the glove and mask and closed the lid. He gestured that she should select a weapon. She looked them over, all of them were French grip. "I don't suppose that you have any Italian grip epees around here?" "As a matter of fact," he raised the lid of the chest, "I do." He moved the uniform aside and lifted out a long flannel bag, just the right shape to hold an epee. He untied the string that secured the bag. The top of the bag fell away, revealing an epee with a thick cardboard tube protecting the blade. He drew it out and handed it to her. "Thanks. Coach makes us use the pistol grips for competition, I actualy like the more tradidtional grips." "Get used to it," he gave her a slight smile, "Come on, let's go." "Lead the way." They got back onto the elevator and rode down to the dojo. __________________________ If you are missing parts, check my web page, parts 1-9 are there. http://www.vuse.vanderbilt.edu/~copelasa/home.htm Samantha Copeland =========================================================================