Date: Mon, 5 Dec 1994 23:26:00 +0200 Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Marina Bailey Organization: CDS OnLine BBS, Johannesburg, SOUTH AFRICA Subject: Difference is Excuse Enough, Part 1 Part 1 of 2. ********************************************************************** This is the story in which a pre-Immortal is killed by gay-bashers and wants to take revenge. There is no sex and no beheading. The topic may be controversial, but the story itself is tame. ********************************************************************** DIFFERENCE IS EXCUSE ENOUGH By Marina Bailey from the story idea by Beth Tudor ======================================= || "What I do know is, because you || || were born different, men will || ||fear you, try to drive you away..."|| ======================================= It wasn't very late when Scott and Jonathan decided to call it a night and go home. They'd had enough of socializing for one evening, and sometimes it was more fun to vegetate in front of the TV for a while. Channel-hop and discover what new stuff the networks had dreamt up. Watch the occasional good bad movie. In other words, the usual. But this night would not be usual for either of them. The five teenage boys watching as they turned into a quiet side- street weren't interested in anything usual at all; in fact they seemed fascinated by the unusual; by things they did not understand and therefore did not like. Things they therefore hated. "I don't like them, you know?" whispered one to the others as Scott and Jonathan walked past. "Why can't they just go away? Everywhere you go, they're there." "We can't do anything about it, Ross," said another. "Who says? I have my sports stuff in the car. And stuff for fixing tyres. We could get rid of a few for the city, no charge." "You've been drinking," said the third teen. "Yeah, and so have you. You wanna do it, don't you? You don't like them any more than I do." "No, but..." "Who's with me?" Two of the five teens were. As the others slunk off into the darkness, Ross and his two cronies fetched what they'd need. It was only when the three teenagers were right behind them that the pair walking along the sidewalk noticed, and by then it was too late. Duncan MacLeod, taking a slow drive back to the dojo, felt... something. He'd felt it before and knew he'd probably feel it again: someone had just become an Immortal. He slowed the car, just in time to see three teenage boys, wielding various weapons, run off. He skidded to a halt and jumped out. There was blood all over the sidewalk, and backed against a shop window, two bodies. Duncan knelt down looked them over, then in the direction the teenagers had gone. Then at the bar just a little further up the street. He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his hair, not saying a word. He knew there wasn't anything he could say, he could only wait for one of them to wake up. Jonathan opened his eyes and sat up, the remnant of a scream breaking free. Then he saw Duncan, kneeling over him, and backed away. "Please!" he said. "Please!" "I'm not here to hurt you," said Duncan, knowing how it must sound, knowing how it _did_ sound, to any new Immortal. "You're..." began Jonathan, who stopped and looked around. "Scott!" He lifted Scott's body from the sidewalk. "Oh, my g-d. Scott!" He looked from Scott to Duncan and back. "He's not breathing! Help me!" "It's too late," Duncan informed him. "He was dead when I got here." Jonathan didn't say anything, he merely held on, rocking back and forth, never once taking his eyes off Duncan. "I know how you feel," Duncan began, "but you can't stay here. We have to..." "Leave me alone, please." It was a whisper, as in the distance sirens blared. "Someone must have called the police. Do you realise that you're okay?" Jonathan looked down at himself. "There's blood all over me. Scott's blood!" He held Scott tighter, and finally started to cry. Duncan knew what the man was going through, but he also knew that he couldn't leave. "Some of it is yours. You were hurt, too." "I don't care. Just leave me alone." Duncan got up as he saw the police car and ambulance arrive; but he didn't leave. Sergeant Bennett looked at Duncan disapprovingly. "You bother me for weeks on end, then you disappear for a year, then you appear again. And what a surprise, at the scene of a murder." "Look, Sergeant. I was the first one to arrive. I told you. I saw three people - they looked like teenagers - running from the scene. I stopped, but it was too late." "Why are you interested, MacLeod? Are either of these guys friends of yours?" "No," said Duncan emphatically. "I told you. I was just driving past." "But you say you have to speak to the survivor." "I just wanna find out if he's okay." "Oh, he's fine, and considering what they did to his lover, I'm surprised he isn't dead too." "Did he give his statement?" "Yeah." "Well, then, can I see him?" "MacLeod, you're trying to give me an ulcer, I know it." Bennett sighed. "All right." He motioned to a uniformed police officer, who opened the door to admit Jonathan. "Alone," said Mac. "You're trying my patience." "Sorry." The cops went out, and Jonathan, still wearing his bloodied clothes, now turned a hostile look on Duncan. "What's your interest in this? Haven't seen a lot of gay lifestyles on TV? Wanted to be in on the action?" "No," responded Mac softly. "I'm here to offer my help. Because believe me, you're gonna need it." "Why?" "First, we get you out of here. Then we pick up some of your clothes. It'll be better if you stay at the dojo for a while." "Is this some sort of come-on?" Duncan lost his patience. "I'm trying to help you! You'll need it, and I'm the only one who can, at least for now. Now, you can come with me, or you can leave." Jonathan felt uncomfortable whenever Duncan was around, and he didn't want to be near him, but he also - inexplicably - knew that Duncan was telling the truth. "All right." In Duncan's loft, Jonathan suddenly started to feel afraid. "Here, drink this," said Duncan, handing him a glass. "What is it?" "Don't argue, just drink it." Jonathan obeyed. "Scott is dead, and I'm sitting here drinking this, and listening to you, and Scott is dead!" "Don't you wonder why he's dead and you aren't?" "I was lucky." "No, you weren't. You died too." Jonathan put down the glass. "You're crazy. I'm not listening to this." "You died, and you came back. You're Immortal." "That's your answer? The man I love just died and you're telling me fairy tales!" "You know that feeling you get whenever I'm near?" "Yeah?" "That's the buzz given off by our Quickenings interacting. You'll only feel that when another Immortal is near. I'm one of them, and you just became one." "When?" "When you were killed!" Duncan paced the loft. "Now, I'm going to tell you this all at once, so listen. You're an Immortal. You cannot be killed unless your head is severed from your body. Other Immortals are going to come and try to do just that, and you'll have to fight to stay alive. We've been fighting for millennia, waiting for the Gathering to arrive." Jonathan didn't say anything, but the look on his face told Duncan that he didn't believe a word of it. "I know it sounds crazy, but we're involved in the Game. The last Immortal left will have the power of all the Immortals who ever lived. In the end there can be only one. Only one, do you understand? People are going to come and try to kill you to get your Quickening." "So why haven't you cut my head off yet, then?" "Because, along with Immortals like me, there are some Immortals who'd use the power they'd gain to make mortal men suffer. And they'd suffer an eternity of darkness if that happened!" "This is too crazy!" said Jonathan. "It has to be untrue!" "It..." began Duncan, but stopped. He looked around, and so did Jonathan. "I feel..." Jonathan began. "I know." Just then, Richie skidded in. There was a bullet hole in his sleeve and two in the back of his shirt. "Mac!" He stopped when he saw Jonathan. "Oh, sorry." "It's all right. Richie, this is Jonathan." "Hi," said Richie. "Uh, Mac, we need to talk." "We can talk here. Jonathan's learning about being Immortal." Richie looked at Jonathan again, then back at Duncan. "Well, anyway, I saved two people during a bank robbery downtown!" "You got shot," said Duncan. "Yeah, but nobody saw." "Richie, there are holes the size of the Grand Canyon in your shirt!" "I put a jacket on, Mac, it's no big deal." "Yeah, okay. Did they get the robbers?" "Well..." "Richie..." "Well, I kinda... tackled one of them." Duncan merely rolled his eyes and said nothing; Richie would always be impulsive. "Is everyone okay?" "Sure, I told you." "Don't you have to finish up downstairs?" Duncan said sharply, jolting Richie away from his tale. It wasn't like some of his adventures, but Duncan knew how good it felt to do something for the mortals in this world. Richie nodded. "Yeah, I guess." "Change shirts first," yelled Duncan as Richie pulled down the elevator gate. He turned to Jonathan. "Richie became Immortal last year. I helped him, and I'll help you if you want." Jonathan merely nodded. "I felt strange when he came in, and before, when I met you - is that the buzz from the Quickening?" "Yes." "Oh, g-d." Jonathan held his head in his hands. "Either I'm going crazy, or it's the truth." "It's the truth all right." Mac went across the loft and came back holding a sword. Jonathan said nothing, he only took it as he looked up at MacLeod, burying his hurt and grief deep inside. He had to learn to defend himself; fine. When he'd finished here, he'd go out and find the people who had killed Scott. And he'd make them pay. After that... who knew. "Okay, try it again," said Duncan as they practised in the dojo. "Better. You're improving." "Mac?" "Yeah?" "Why did you help me?" Duncan lowered his katana. "The million dollar question. Would you believe me if I told you I don't know, that I just did?" "Yes, I would. But you haven't said anything... I mean, about how Scott... about how we died." "What's to say?" Duncan had, after all, been around for 400 years. And in 400 years you saw everything there was to see. "You don't have anything to say?" "Not really. All I want is to prepare you so that you don't lose your head." "Thanks." "You're welcome. Okay, next lesson..." Richie hadn't seen Duncan since the day he'd been shot, since he'd gone away for two weeks almost right away. But when he came back to find Jonathan and Duncan sparring in the dojo, it was a surprise. "Another protege, Mac?" he asked when they were alone. "No. A student." "You said he'd just become Immortal. How?" "He was... attacked... down by the west side. Along with another man, who died." "Attacked? Why?" "Because he's gay." "You're kidding!" Somehow, something like that had never occurred to Richie. "And you just... brought him here?" "He had no one else to teach him. I taught you, didn't I?" "Yeah, but Mac..." Richie stopped. "That was different. I mean, I met you before I became an Immortal." "Do you think that changes anything? I knew what you were." "Still, Mac..." "Did you think only straight people got the privilege of being Immortal? Only the cream of society? What about Ursa? Insane Immortals? Huh?" As he said it, Duncan's voice rose. "Well, I didn't really think about it, Mac." "Think about it!" said Duncan vehemently. "And then stop thinking, because you are going to be Jonathan's sparring partner." "No way. I don't... I'm not sure if..." "Richie, the Hunters hunt us. Why?" Even before he answered, Richie knew that he'd lost the argument. "They don't like us." "Why?" "Because we're Immortal." "Which means?" "We live forever, or almost." "Which means?" "We're different!" Duncan turned to leave. "Exactly." "Have the police found anything yet?" Duncan asked Jonathan, who had just put down the phone. "No. They keep giving me the usual song and dance: they're still investigating, their leads went cold, a better description would help..." "I know how you feel," said Duncan. Jonathan gave Duncan the 'Rubbish, you don't have any idea' look, and this time the highlander was not going to ignore it. "Do you think you're the only person who lost someone to something like this?" he asked. "Do you? Because you're sadly mistaken! I've lost people too. More than once! And the pain *never* goes away! All you can do is learn to live with it "Look, I'm sorry," said Jonathan, "I assumed..." "I don't care what you assumed. Don't make any assumptions in the future." He stormed out, just as Richie was coming in. "Mac...?" Richie turned to Jonathan. "Where'd Mac go?" "I don't know, we kinda had an altercation." "Oh." Richie turned to leave, but Jonathan stopped him. "Richie, can I ask you about him?" "Who?" "Duncan MacLeod, of course." "Uh... I guess." "Who has he lost in his life?" Richie looked away, remembering Tessa. The pain would never go away for him, either. "I know he lost people before I came on the scene, but I think he loved her the most. Her name was Tessa." Richie smiled as he explained. "She was an artist. They had an antique store that they ran. They took me in two years ago, after I broke into the store. Last year... we were both killed. Except I came back, and she didn't." "I'm sorry, I didn't know." "Yeah, well... Duncan still hurts, and I think he always will. He told me how he found you, holding... er... Scott? That's how I found him, too." "You don't like me, do you?" Jonathan asked. It was a rather sudden - not to mention blunt - question. "Geez, I dunno. I never thought about it much. I guess if Mac likes you then you must be okay." "You know what I mean." "I never thought about it," said Richie, heading for the elevator. But when Richie did think about it, he realised the one reason why he didn't like Jonathan: he was jealous. Sure, he had his own life and everything, but he'd always felt... like Duncan's special pupil. And now Duncan had another pupil, and he felt left out. Kind of like a child who gets jealous when a sibling is born. Realising this surprised Richie, but he was also relieved by it. He got up from his work, got in the elevator and went back to the loft. To apologise. "Why are you sorry?" Jonathan asked. "You haven't done anything." "No, you were right - I didn't like you. But it wasn't for the reason you thought it was." Richie waited, but Jonathan just stared back at him, so he continued. "I was jealous. I dunno... Duncan's been kind of a father- figure to me... a, a mentor. And I didn't like the idea of losing that to someone else. I'm sorry." Jonathan smiled. "So, you wanna go and practise?" "Why not," replied Richie. They had just finished when the phone rang and Richie answered. "It's for you; I think it's the cops," he said, giving the phone to Jonathan. Jonathan listened for a minute then said, "Can I bring a friend?" The answer must have been yes, because he then put down the phone and turned to Richie. "Will you come with me?" "Sure." It was to attend a line-up; apparently someone else *had* seen something, and managed to point the perpetrator out to the cops. The police officer - not Sergeant Bennett this time - explained what would happen, and what to do, then called for the suspects to be brought in. Jonathan looked at each of them, going back to that night. But something got in his way when he tried to remember: all he could see was his blood, and Scott's, all over the sidewalk. And Scott lying there and not moving. And Duncan standing over him, trying to help as Jonathan now knew. And Scott again, lying in that bloody puddle, not moving. "You okay?" asked Richie, just as the officer was saying, "Take your time." "Yeah, yeah, I think so... I can't... I can't see faces. I can't remember!" "Well, did they say anything? You didn't mention it before, but that might help, if we got them to repeat something that might have been said." "I don't think so, I can't remember." "Can you wait outside for a minute?" Richie suddenly said to the cop. "Sure." When he was gone, Richie turned to Jonathan. "If you can't remember, the guy walks. He killed Scott - and you, as well." "I don't remember, Richie! I don't, and it won't come!" "Go back to before you were attacked, then. Try to reconstruct it in your mind. Try that." Jonathan remembered walking along the sidewalk, talking... about something inconsequential - but why, then, did he remember it so clearly? He'd been complaining about having to feed his step-sister's fish, so they'd better go buy some food for the thing before it died and he had to buy her yet another one... Scott had asked why his parents always asked him when they *knew* he killed the things, he'd been about to say that he thought they were hoping one day he'd kill them and not get any more, when something had hit him from the back. He'd falled down, then turned around, and looked up... straight into the faces of the three teenage boys. "It's him!" Jonathan said, pointing to the fifth suspect. Richie called the cop back in. "You're *sure*?" "Yeah. He was with two others. I remember their faces." "Now we can charge him." "What happens next?" asked Richie, who, having been through the justice system, knew that offenders were not always punished. "Well, once he's charged we have to get him arraigned, he might get bail, then a wait for a trial date..." "Wait a minute." Jonathan's breathing accelerated; he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're telling me that he killed someone and he'll be back on the street?" "We'll ask for a high bail, but, yeah, he might end up back on the street. He's a juvenile offender." Jonathan stormed out of the room, and Richie turned to the policeman. "I hope you people make sure that doesn't happen." Then he ran after Jonathan. \\ "David, are you telling me that this creature cannot die?" // //"If the damage were catastrophic, maybe. But I have seen lacerations\\ \\ close in seconds, bullet wounds heal. I don't even have a scar." // // "That's incredible. It's almost immortal." \\ \\===========Marina Bailey====================tmar@cds.Alt.ZA=========// .. BorgDOS v5.0 - Assimilate another? (Y/n) --- Blue Wave/RA v2.12 [NR] =========================================================================