Date: Fri, 9 Feb 1996 12:49:59 EST Reply-To: Vi Moreau Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Vi Moreau Subject: ELENA IN PARIS, PART III ELENA IN PARIS Part III Elena and Duncan got settled on his barge while Richie went to the 'pension' where he usually stayed in Paris when Duncan had someone else with him on the barge, someone like Tessa or Anne or Amanda or Elena. Richie came back with Duncan's car and they all went to get a light supper at Maurice's bistro. They planned that same night to visit Rios' Paris address, even though they were sure Kaminsky had warned Rios of their imminent arrival. But as they waited for midnight to come and go they all three felt the presence of an Immortal approaching the barge. Duncan said, "Stay here," to the other two and walked out the door, katana in hand, only to see a figure prone halfway up his gangplank. It was Amanda, and when he went to help her up he noticed she was bleeding. She moaned softly, "MacLeod," as he got her inside. Elena had gone out the rear door of the barge just in time to see Duncan helping someone inside. Quietly she leaped onto the quai and ran across the open space to the near set of steps, putting on her glasses. Her distance vision had never been good, and she had loved the invention of eyeglasses. After observing for less than two minutes she saw some movement on the barge itself. It was Duncan on his way out looking for her. "I told you to stay inside," he whispered angrily, and immediately regretted it when he heard her harsh sigh. He had to realize that she was as experienced a fighter as he, and he couldn't protect her, and he couldn't fight her battles for her--she simply wouldn't let him. Elena understood his instinct and his dilemma, and she limited her reaction to an exasperated sigh. She just had to get used, again, to being with a man who naturally wanted his woman to be safe. After only a moment he whispered more calmly, "Anything?" "'Nada'. Who's inside?" "Amanda. She was shot," he whispered back. "By Hunters?" He nodded grimly. "Why don't I stay here and watch a while longer? They can't get to the barge without my seeing them. Unless they don't want to get that close. Of course they could use long distance rifles with infrared scopes to shoot us for target practice, like from the Pont Neuf over there." He nodded. "Or the Pont des Arts behind us. I think I'll go for a little walk." "If you need me, just whistle. You do know how to whistle.You just pucker up your lips and blow." Duncan smiled in spite of himself. All he could see in the darkness was the brilliant white of her teeth against her dark face. He squeezed her hand and walked up the set of stairs, picking up Amanda's suitcase, which she had dropped on her way. As Elena watched him go, she wondered how badly she had butchered Lauren Bacall. At least she made him smile, 'one point for our team!' she thought. This business of being strong was very hard on the body and the mind, not to mention the nervous system. At least she had the possibility of saying to him, "I can't fight anymore, Duncan, please protect me," and throwing herself into his arms, and he would probably do it. He didn't have that luxury, but of course, neither did she. Fighting to the end had been bred into her, bred to the bone. Don Alvaro, who was the gentlest soul alive, was a merciless tyrant once a sword was in his hand. ************************************************ With horror she sees Don Alvaro's sword descending toward her own sword arm, about to sever it. At the last possible instant he turns his wrist and strikes her forearm with the flat of his blade instead. There is a sound of breaking bone, of a sword hitting the ground, of a scream of agony. Elena falls to her knees, her sword before her, her left arm hanging limply at her side. As she hits the ground and jars the broken arm once more, she whimpers, no strength left to scream. Her vision blurs. "I'm sorry, Don Alvaro, I can't fight anymore." "What do you mean you can't fight anymore? Is this what you would say to an Immortal going after your head? That you're sorry???!!!" "But my left arm is broken!" "Then fight with your right arm, girl. I taught you how!" She shakes her head. "The pain is just too bad, Don Alvaro!" "Perhaps you think the pain of your head being separated from you body would be less?" "I can't go on fighting.You win, Don Alvaro." She picks up her sword with her right hand to use it to lean on. He uses his sword to tip her face up. "If I were your enemy, your head would be mine without a struggle." "But you're not my enemy!" "Let us pretend, then," he says, and strikes down at her. She barely parries the blow, then a second one, and struggles painfully to her feet. "Don Alvaro!" "I am your enemy, and an enemy would show you no mercy!" His sword is everywhere, and every movement jars her broken arm, held close against her body. She starts to feel sick to her stomach, knowing that he is fully capable of hurting her really badly; he has done so before. Now she feels clumsy, the pain in her arm excrutiating and distracting both. He easily gets inside her guard and slashes viciously at her abdomen. She doubles over, cries out and falls to her knees, head down, defeated. "No more! !'Por favor', Don Alvaro!" "Now you're begging! Do you know what the tragedy of this is, Elena? The tragedy is all the years I have wasted on you. You are a coward, and I am ashamed to be your teacher!" Tears fill her eyes, and she turns her head to look up at him. He has come around to stand on her unprotected left side. His face is an unreadable mask. "How can you say this?" she cries out. "You're my best, my only friend! I've done everything you've ever asked of me. I would die for you!" "You're giving up, Elena. You're not fighting. You're making excuses. What you have done in the past doesn't matter--what you do now, at this moment--that is what matters. If I were your enemy, this is what I would do." He raises his sword with both hands above his head. There's a frozen moment in time as she stares at him. Then, with the last of her strength, she pulls back to sit up on her thighs and stabs across her body at his unprotected torso. She had meant only to touch him, but has misjudged her stroke and her sword sinks deeply into him. Don Alvaro arches in agony. "!Elena!" he exclaims, and collapses, dying. When he comes back to 'life' she is cradling his head on her lap, crying. "I'm sorry, Don Alvaro. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it...Please forgive me!" "Elenita, you did trust me to stop, correct?" "Of course I did. I just...I tried to hold back... " "But you struck out instinctively. You kept fighting. You didn't give up. This is what I saw in you from the beginning, this spirit that made me want to be your teacher and your friend." He moans, still recovering. "What I said before--I was wrong. Whatever else you are, you are no coward." He smiles at her as she helps him to his feet. "You have done well, 'mi hija'. But next time, try not to kill me, agreed?" ************************************************** Elena smiled to herself. If he had lived, Don Alvaro would have loved Dylan Thomas. There was the usual heavy traffic for an evening in Paris. Duncan walked nonchalantly but was on his guard, scrutinizing everyone. He crossed over on one bridge and came back around on the other. Everything seemed normal. When he returned there was a couple strolling along the Seine near the barge, but that, too, was normal, and he knew Elena had them in sight--he could feel her presence. He came back to her, shook his head, and they both slipped across back to the barge. Inside Amanda was dressed in a robe and was sipping a drink. "Duncan!" she exclaimed, rushing to him. "It's alright. There's nobody out there now." He hugged her briefly but hard, then took her by the shoulders to look in her face. "Are you alright?" "Yes, but I really thought they had me. Richie's told me about these Hunters. They're worse than just the Watchers, aren't they? Duncan, being killed by an Immortal is one thing, but losing my head to these...these..." "I know, he soothed. "Why don't you sit down and tell us what happened?" Amanda took a sip. "After I left I went out to eat and then to my hotel. It's on Saint Honore, not too far from here, where I always stay when I'm in Paris. I knew I was being watched, and believe me, it was making me nervous. That's why I came here originally, to get your advice and your help." "They attacked you at your hotel?" asked Elena, taking off her glasses. She didn't like the way they made her look like a professor, or like a nerd, although Duncan had told her they made her look sexy. She discounted his opinion as being biased. "A man got in the elevator with me," said Amanda, as Elena shook her head, "but I didn't like the looks of him, so I stepped back out of the elevator into the lobby." "I guess you are more observant than I am," said Elena. "Or more experienced." "Or more paranoid," contributed Richie. "Duncan, this man shot me in the back, right outside a Paris hotel in the middle of the day! Just shot me!" "Damn!" exclaimed Richie. "Well, I managed to get a taxi. I'd forgotten how much it hurt to get shot! Anyway, they must have had a car outside and followed us. I asked the taxi driver to lose them. I guess since the Hunters failed to kill me, the taxi driver tried to make up for it, but I didn't lead them here, I swear it!" "It doesn't matter, Amanda. They probably know about the barge anyway." "Then you're not mad? Good." Elena came up to take Amanda's hand. "Why would he be mad at you?" "He gets mad at me all the time," said Amanda, innocently. "You're really shook up about this. Look, they shot me and captured me at my hotel. At least you got away before they caught you." Now it was Amanda's turn to look concerned. "What did they do to you?" "Not much. Duncan and Richie came to my rescue." "It was completely unnecessary. The lady got out of those handcuffs and out of the warehouse on her own," said Richie. "Picking locks on handcuffs. You have hidden talents!" said Amanda admiringly. "Something else we have in common." "That's not quite how it happened..." began Richie. "It doesn't matter," interrupted Elena. She didn't think it worth explaining that in order to pick the lock on one handcuff, she had to get one hand out of the other handcuff. And the only way to do that was to pull her hand out by jerking as hard as she could and breaking many of the bones below her wrist. It had been a most unpleasant experience. "So what are we gonna do? Mac, we gotta do something!" Duncan spoke for the first time. "We were going to Rios' place. I see no reason to change our plans. Maybe we'll get lucky and find someone this time. We'll wait until after midnight. Amanda, will you be alright here, or would you like to..." "Oh, no, I'm not staying behind by myself. I'm coming with you! Where are you going, by the way? And who is this Rios?" It took all of Duncan's self control to keep from saying, "Elena will stay here with you." Instead, he made the best of it. "It's a long story," he sighed. By the time they were ready to leave Amanda had gone from sympathetic to empathetic to downright angry. "Those bastards!" she mumbled when Duncan told her how Rios and his friends had murdered Elena's pregnant friend. "No wonder you're hunting them!" she said to Elena. "You can count me in for any help I can give." "Thanks, Amanda. As I said before, I welcome any assistance." "How about that," smiled Richie. "Four Immortals working together! This has gotta be a first, right? I feel like you guys are the three musketeers and I'm...what's his name?" Elena smiled in return. "D'Artagnan?" "Yeah, that's it!" She held up her drink in a toast. "All for one, and one for all!" Amanda held up her drink, and Richie his beer. "Hear, hear!" "Alright!" Duncan downed his Scotch. "Let's go," he announced. End of ELENA IN PARIS Part III Translations: 'pension' - hostel 'por favor' - please 'mi hija' - my daughter copyright by Vivian Moreau, 1995 =========================================================================