Date: Tue, 3 Oct 1995 10:18:46 EDT Reply-To: Russ McMillan Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Russ McMillan Subject: Dark Side, Part 13/13 revised Since I sent out the last part on Friday, I realized there were a lot more loose ends that I had intended to tie up. Here's a repost of part 13 with a couple of extras added in. The Dark Side of the Mirror, Part 13 by Russet McMillan mcmillan@astro.psu.edu "Well!" Maurice exclaimed, holding his arms wide to include all of them. "Can I get you anything else?" Duncan glanced around the table at Joe, Connor, and Amanda. "Another bottle of wine would be nice, Maurice. And thanks for staying open for us." The rest of the Etoile d'Or was empty. "Not at all, not at all. I have other work to do anyway." Maurice uncorked a fresh bottle, set it at their table, and bustled away. "So." Duncan poured himself a glass. "Here's to friends who know what's good for you." Connor gave Amanda a sour look as he raised his glass. Amanda drank the toast with a slight frown. "There's one thing that worries me," she said. "If Melander was the one keeping the police off our backs, what's going to happen now that he's dead?" Duncan shrugged. "Well, LeBrun said the police officials have gotten pretty well accustomed to those standing orders. Besides, Melander had a lot of other people working with him. I expect the machinery will continue to work for some time. After that, we'll just have to take extra care to cover our tracks." "He was really more interested in protecting himself, rather than other Immortals," Joe said. "He killed Francois in such a way that you would be under suspicion, but it would never be fully investigated." Duncan nodded. "He picked Duhamel because he saw me arguing with him -- and then he ended up learning about the Watchers." "Have you remembered where you were that night?" "I remember both nights. After I -- left you on the quai, I was . . . that was Carlo Sendaro. I -- he went looking for Melander. But a lot of his old connections in town had dried up. Finally he decided to try some of _my_ connections, so he went to Dalou." "And the first night?" Amanda asked. "When this Watcher was killed?" Duncan swallowed. "That night, it was Grayson. He spent the entire night in Darius' chapel, mourning. He had tried for so many years to hurt Darius, to provoke him and draw him out, but he never wanted Darius to die -- especially not in such a way." He frowned. "Grayson doesn't believe his quickening was lost. He thinks it's still there, somehow." "Is that possible?" Connor asked quickly. Duncan's brows flew up. "How would I know?" "What does Cassandra think?" Duncan's expression turned inward. "Cassandra, obviously, never witnessed an Immortal killed without other Immortals around. And the fact that it was on holy ground might have confused the issue -- I just don't know." He took a sip of his wine. "What's it like, Duncan?" Joe asked suddenly. Duncan set his glass down quickly. "I mean, what's so different? You don't seem changed -- what did you get from Melander, or Cassandra, that made it easier for you?" Duncan searched for words. "It's just -- discipline. A matter of control. Knowing I can reach those other memories, if I want, or hold them back. That one basic skill makes all the difference." "You really have the skills of all those people?" Amanda asked. Duncan grinned. "Remind me to play the piano for you sometime." "And the memories? You said you wouldn't want to hold other peoples' memories." "That was when they were out of control. If I know I'm not going to be overwhelmed, it can be . . . I can remember now how Fitz felt when he died." Duncan smiled sadly. "He was mostly worried about me. And I can remember how Kalas felt when he killed him." His jaw tightened. "It doesn't exactly make sense out of losing a friend like that, but -- the picture is a lot clearer now. And other memories, including mine, are richer because I remember them from more than one point of view." ========================== The waves in the Channel were choppy and the weather poor, but the smugglers Connor had hired to ferry them across were accustomed to considering the fog an ally rather than an adversary. They piloted the small craft with confidence, chatting among themselves and leaving their passengers strictly alone. Duncan leaned on the rail next to Connor. "I'll never get the smell of that dung from my hair," he complained. "At least it got you out of Paris." "_You_ got us out of Paris, and I haven't thanked you yet." Connor waved the thanks away with one hand. Duncan frowned. "I thought you were in Boston these days." "I had some business in London. Fortunately for you." "Hmm, yes. How do you like the New World, then?" "It's very . . . fresh. There've been great things happening the last few decades. It's like reinventing the world! You should see it, Duncan." "I'm afraid after this, I'm a bit soured on revolutions," Duncan pointed out. "Well, come over if you get tired of old politics. There's always something new in America." A whiff of fine pipe smoke preceded Fitzcairn's arrival. He was back in his accustomed finery, and he made a point of maneuvering to stand upwind of Duncan. "Well, Macleod," he said smugly, "I expect the Comtesse de Roulembert will be overwhelmingly grateful." Duncan gave him a suspicious look. "Yes, but who will she favor with her gratitude? What were you doing with her after I left?" "Consoling her fears, no more," Hugh said airily, then stiffened as the lady's father appeared on deck, accompanied by his aristocratic friend. "Ah, my good friend!" the Duc exclaimed, coming to Duncan's side. "Your wounds do not trouble you too much?" "Er -- no," said Duncan. "I'm fine." "You have done us a great service, sir," the Duc said. "I am deeper in your debt than ever. Whatever part of my fortune I can regain, you shall have half of it." Duncan's face reddened. "Well, I was just trying to get away myself," he said shyly. "I have been telling Gervase here that it was his lady who sent you to us." Duncan's gaze went to the Duc's friend. "Gervase?" he said in a strangled voice. "The Comte de Roulembert. We all thought him dead. Won't Anne-Marie be delighted when he is restored to her at last!" Duncan could only exchange stunned glances with Fitzcairn and smile weakly at the Comte. =========================== Joe looked up in time to catch a strange expression crossing Duncan's face. "What is it?" he said quickly, realizing that he was still uneasy after the events of the past few days. Duncan's eyebrows twitched humorously. "Just thinking," he said. "I never had many women's quickenings before. It's strange." "What's so strange about it?" Amanda asked, sipping her wine. "It just is. I mean, for one thing, I never guessed what a ladies' man Methos is." Joe choked on his drink. Amanda burst into a torrent of giggles. "You mean," she gasped, "you mean the way he used to --" Duncan reached across the table and covered her mouth firmly. She continued to sputter behind his hand. "Duncan was never one to kiss and tell," Connor told her disapprovingly. Duncan twisted his head to look at his clansman. "And it's a good thing for you, otherwise I might have some stories to tell." Connor sat bolt upright. "What do you mean? You can't know anything --" "Remember Katie O'Donnell from Derry?" "Her? You have her quickening?" Connor looked appalled. "Yep." Duncan grinned, looking from Connor to Amanda. "I trust neither of you will want to annoy me again." He crossed his arms smugly and glanced over at Maurice, who was hovering just out of earshot. "Now, Joe. I have something for you." Duncan winked at Maurice, who pulled out a box from behind the bar and brought it over. The carved wooden case was long and thin, like a sword case. Joe frowned suspiciously as he opened it. Inside, on a bed of velvet, rested an ebony walking stick with a gold foot and a ball-shaped golden head. "I know you like the ones with curved handles, that you can sling over your elbow," Duncan said, "but this one has other interesting features." Joe lifted the stick from the case. "It's heavy," he said in surprise. "What, is it filled with lead or something?" "Or something." Duncan leaned over and pointed. "Twist the head off." Joe turned the head of the cane, expecting it to unscrew slowly. Instead, it snapped loose and came away from the ebony body, revealing a narrow steel blade as Joe pulled it free. "A swordstick?" he murmured. "I thought it might come in useful if you're going to go around annoying Immortals." Duncan grinned. "Mac, I can't take this. It's an antique. It must be priceless!" Joe brushed his thumb cautiously across the razor-sharp edge. Connor leaned over to inspect the blade. "Good workmanship," he said. "Eighteenth century?" "Late eighteenth," Duncan confirmed. "I can find you a buyer, if you don't want to keep it," Amanda offered. Joe glared at her. "Mac, when did you get this?" "Actually, I've had it for a few years. Just seems like you could use it best now." Joe's eyes narrowed. "Have you ever used it?" "It's strong and flexible, not just ornamental, if that's what you're wondering." "That wasn't what I asked." Duncan shrugged. "I haven't taken any heads with it. Let's just say it was helpful during a few arguments." They returned to the barge, still discussing the nature of the quickening and the Prize. They had just settled in and gotten the fire started when Connor cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I should really be going," he said. Duncan stilled. "At this hour? You're welcome to stay." Connor glanced wryly from Duncan to Amanda. "I think I should be on my way." Duncan sighed. "Where are you heading, then?" "Back to New York, first, to see Rachel. Maybe, if she's still sick, I can help her a little. After that -- who knows?" "I'll be going back to Seattle," said Duncan, "if you want to look me up. But first I have to make a side trip to Greece." "Greece!" Joe exclaimed. "Cassandra kept her journals in storage. Some of Grace's notes are there as well. We could learn a lot from them." Amanda looked uneasy; Connor just nodded. "Well." Connor shrugged and looked toward the door. "Hold on a minute; I'll see you off." Duncan pecked Amanda on the cheek and followed his clansman up the stairs to the door. They stood on the deck of the barge, above the water, between the lights, beneath the stars. Duncan breathed deep the smell of the city. "Duncan." Connor squeezed Duncan's shoulder and turned to go. "Connor, wait." He looked back inquiringly. Duncan grasped his clansman's hand. "I know we never say goodbye," he said haltingly, "but, maybe this time . . ." Connor stiffened. "Is that Cassandra speaking?" Duncan shook his head. "I can't see the future. I just think we shouldn't take the future for granted anymore." Connor nodded slowly. "Maybe you're right." "It's just -- I've lost so many friends lately." "It's the way of the world. Slainte, Donnchadh." Duncan grinned. "Farewell, Connor. Take care." "You too, my friend." Connor skipped down the ramp and disappeared along the quai. Duncan watched his old teacher depart sadly, then turned his head as he heard a step behind him. Joe stood there, leaning on his swordstick. "Are you off too, then, Joe?" Duncan asked. His Scottish accent was thicker. "Yeah. I have a plane to catch tomorrow. Time to get back to my bar. The Watchers have filled their power vacuum here, and I'm not really needed anymore." Duncan shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. "Let me guess," he said, staring at the sky. "They're very appreciative of your help, but your methods are unorthodox, and they'd prefer it if you'd keep your nose out of their business." "Something like that." Joe grimaced wryly. "I was just wondering . . . " His gaze fell. "What? Something you want to ask me, Joe?" Joe nodded. "If Cassandra -- if you can use your power to heal mortals -- even an old wound . . . " Duncan sighed. "I'm sorry, Joe. I couldn't fix most of the old damage to LeBrun's arm, and I still had everything there I needed to work with. I can't really do anything about your leg." "Yeah. Well, I didn't really suppose you could." "Not yet, anyway." Joe looked up. "When the gathering is over, you might ask the winner of the Prize." Duncan gazed out over the water. "Who knows what might be possible then?" Amanda met him as he returned. She had slipped into a sheer, revealing black dress, and she was quick to help him out of his coat. "So," she said, tugging him toward the couch by the front of his shirt. "With all these new skills you've learned, is there anything I might be interested in?" Duncan smiled. "I might be able to think of something," he said, stroking her satin curves. With one hand he reached out to turn off the light. =========================================================================