Date: Wed, 8 Nov 1995 12:23:58 -0800 Reply-To: Selma McCrory Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Selma McCrory Subject: Differing Varieties, part 1/6 Differing Varieties by Selma McCrory A Highlander/Tomorrow People crossover copyright 1995 part 1 The woman shrugged as the speaker finished the standard farewell speech. "We'd like to thank you for flying with United Airlines, and hope you have a good visit to London." She was plain-looking. She didn't stand out in a crowd, and neither did the man next to her. She brushed back mousy-brown hair, and smiled at her husband. "Hey, Michael, wake up!" "I'm awake, beloved," he said. "I'm just not used to these flights." "I would have thought that you were more used to them than I was," she said. Michael smiled. "You moved more than I did, Greer." "Never overseas, Michael." Michael grumbled about born travellers, and Greer smiled. As the plane gently landed, she mused about her recent experiences. She'd gone to Sacramento to cheer up her friend, who had been depressed ever since she'd had to leave the Watchers - and him - behind due to becoming Immortal. She hadn't been expecting to find him in the trouble he was in - apparently due to befriending two Immortals. Michael had wanted to leave the Watchers, get away from the unpleasant experiences of the last two years. And he had. She guessed that part of it was finding out that one of the two Immortals he'd befriended had died in the Game. So she had ended up in his life, and had urged him to remain. But he couldn't, and so she had found herself proposing to him to keep him focused. They'd married, and Michael had severed his ties. And then they had found themselves on this trip, to go where no one had expected them to go. Michael had decided that he didn't want to be observed either, to be permanently recorded in the Chronicles as tended to happen to mortal spouses of Immortals. So, they were going to London. She turned to her husband after they got their baggage. "I suppose that it's too late to say we really needed to go to Canada." He shrugged. "I figured the farther away from Sacramento we got, the better. And you did agree that we might do well for London. After all, Canada and the U.S. are practically considered one country by the Organization." She nodded, retrieving her passport. He continued. "Besides, did I tell you that I found us a place in London?" "No," she said, surprised. "Where?" "I can't tell, exactly. I'd have to get a map of London. But I do have directions, and I do know it's relatively near a Underground station." "That's good news," she said. "Or bad." "Depends on your point of view," he agreed. They found the Underground station under Heathrow and were lucky enough to catch the train that was already there. * * * The ride was surprisingly short, despite having to change lines twice. Greer shouldered her bags and left the train, her husband Michael behind her. "Where to-?" she asked before being interrupted by a loud bang nearby. That was the last thing she remembered. * * * Greer groaned and opened her eyes. From the way she felt, with intense pain still lingering in her, she probably had died. "We've got a live one," a voice said. Male, British, and somewhere out of her sight, she judged. A rescue worker of some sort. He came into sight. Definitely a rescue worker. There were bodies all around her, but somehow she didn't think any of them were breathing. Another man joined him, expertly checking her out for injuries. "My husband?" she croaked. The two men looked at each other. "Don't worry missus, don't try to talk either. We'll find your husband, but right now you need to be looked at," one of them, the man who had joined the first one, said. "No doctors," she replied faintly. * * * They didn't follow her instructions, of course. She was taken to the nearest medic on a stretcher. "But I'm fine!" she protested. "I only got a little bit stunned." The medic made a skeptical sound and continued to examining her. Finally, he turned to her. "You seem to be unhurt. You were near the blast you know. You were very lucky that you weren't killed." "I have this lucky streak," she replied. She talked to the medic and he okayed her release. The police's questions were much harder to answer. * * * Greer didn't know it at the time of her interview with the police that there was another American nearby. But then, she wouldn't have been too happy to find out about him, either. His name was William Damon, and he was a former general who worked for a security company. He was watching her thoughtfully through the one-way mirror. The man next to him was watching Greer carefully too. As she got up to leave, General Roberts turned to his American colleague. "She's a suspicious one," he said. "I agree," General Damon said. "But I'm not sure she has anything to do with the bombing. I get the impression that she's hiding the truth about something else." "Her husband, a Michael Gardner, reports seeing a man running from the scene. But then, I have a report from a medical worker that the woman should be dead, and she's obviously not." "Explosions do strange things," Damon said. Personally, if the woman was hiding something in the way of an extraordinary ability, he wasn't going to pry into it. He'd had enough prying with his last case. * * * "I'm glad that's over," Michael said. "I hope they catch the bastard." "I hope so too," Greer agreed. "One more mortal bomber loose in the world. And I thought the Unabomer was bad." "This is a good place for terrorists," Michael said. "We're in a big, busy city." "Well, I would think that the terrorist would be worse here," Greer said. I just didn't think about it. Remember, I was just a block away from that lobbying office when that last one happened in Sacramento. Somehow I associate Sacramento with bombings, not London." "Better get used to it, " Michael said gloomily. Greer sighed. * * * General Damon returned home that evening to have a talk with his son. It was a good time to talk, because his wife was at a social event that he had not been able to attend, and his daughter was at a friend's flat for the evening. Marmaduke Damon, known as "Megabyte" to his friends, didn't look any different than any other boy his age, nor did he act any different. No one, including him, would have guessed that Marmaduke had the ability to teleport. After dinner was over, he approached his son. The teenager looked up from what he was reading. "Yes, Dad?" "I need to talk to you - and Adam," the older Damon said. "Why?" _Because I need assurances that one of you isn't behind it,_ Damon thought. Out loud he replied, "I'll tell you when he gets here." Marmaduke nodded, and he fell silent. His eyes glazed over, and he seemed he had totally forgotten everything but his father's command. "He's coming," Marmaduke said. Damon tried to ready himself for Adam's arrival, but the flash of light unnerved him, as did the sudden presence of one more human being in a space where air had been only a moment before. * * * "It's possible," the young Australian said. "I mean, there could have been someone there before us." "Could this someone survive the bomb blast?" Damon asked. Adam shook his head. "We don't heal any faster than you do," he responded. "No Tomorrow Person would do this, anyway." "I realize that you know each other well, but..." "General," Adam said, shaking his head, "One of us could not have done it." "You're sure?" Damon asked. "Quite." "They'd have to be able to kill," Marmaduke said. "Megabyte's right," Adam said. "We can't kill, General. There is no way that one of us could have planted that bomb, anymore than Megabyte could have shot Colonel Masters." Damon nodded. His son had been so silent about his attempted use of the gun. He'd figured that it was because Marmaduke had never used a gun before. But if there was a biological reason for it... * * * Greer cursed her healing abilities as she shed her ruined clothes. "Useless," she muttered, glaring at the bloodstains that didn't correspond with any wounds on her body. She'd healed hours ago, of course. "Why couldn't I have been normal?" she asked aloud. "Because you weren't born that way," her husband said. "You were born Immortal, isn't that the established theory?" "Right at the moment, I don't care what the established theory is," Greer growled. "I want to stop ruining my clothes." Michael reached into one of their suitcases and picked up Greer's sheathed rapier. "You are who you are," he said. Greer snatched the rapier from his hands. "I'm not too terribly fond of this thing, either." Michael shrugged. "It's a part of you," he said. "No, it's supposed to be a part of me," she replied. "It's not, yet." "And how much have you fought?" "Michael," Greer said, "You're reverting. You sound like one of them. But to answer your question, no one but Leland. Fortunately." "It's my training," he said. "It's yours as well." "Mine went out when Joe Dawson started treating me like a captive butterfly." Michael opened his mouth, and then closed it. * * * "Jim," Damon said to his assistant, "who's on the list for today?" His assistant looked at the clipboard. "A Miss Smith, a Mr. Sullivan, and a Ms. Lewis." Damon looked at the clipboard. "The first two I know about, but I didn't schedule Ms. Lewis." The assistant shrugged. "General Roberts put her on the schedule, sir." Damon sighed. "Very well. Let's see if another round proves that she's not who we're looking for." Jim nodded, and left to get the car ready. Damon thought he heard a clap of air, the result of someone teleporting in. He wasn't surprised when Adam walked in. "After last night, I wondered if you needed some help," the teenager said. "Not really, Adam," the General said. "But if you'd like to hang around, you're welcome to." "Thank you, General Damon," Adam said politely. * * * Greer was astonished to see a pair of Americans outside her rooms at the boarding house. She was further astonished to find out that they had to do with security. "Is there something that I can help you gentlemen with?" "Yes, I'd like to speak to you and your husband about the bombing yesterday." "My husband isn't in," Greer said, but I'd be glad to answer any questions that I can." "Thank you, Ms. Lewis," one of them, the one who had introduced himself as Bill Damon, said. * * * Selma McCrory "Maybe what the world needs smccrory@calweb.com are more Selmas" selmamc@aol.com -Darien Lambert, Time Trax =========================================================================