Date: Mon, 20 Nov 1995 23:06:18 EST Reply-To: Vi Moreau Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Vi Moreau Subject: Elena Part VIII This is Part VIII of Elena. After Dawson left, Richie went down to retrieve the disks from their hiding place behind the dumpster. Duncan saw something in Elena's face that told him she needed it, so he hugged her. The truth was that by now Elena was starting to feel a little shaky. They had briefly discussed going back to the warehouse, although Duncan doubted anyone would still be there, but the thought of going there again scared her. She didn't even want to go back to her hotel room anymore. She wanted the whole thing to stop, now. Duncan pulled her away from him and looked at her face again. "Are you alright?" "The truth between us, 'escoses'?" "Always." "I...felt so helpless; so...afraid. I am afraid, and I'm usually not afraid, and I hate them them for making me feel this way!" Duncan sighed. "Being afraid is part of the Game." "And now you're going to think I'm just a weak helpless woman who has to stay behind while you brave men go and do all the fighting. Is that what you're going to ask me to do? Stay behind and wait and worry?" Duncan had been thinking exactly that--how to get her to stay safely out of harm's way. But there really was no safe place for her to be. And now that he could clearly see her fear and self-doubt and shame for both, he knew that asking her to would be the worst thing he could do. It would be an attack on her greatest strength--her confidence in herself--and he wouldn't do it, not even if it meant losing her. "I'm afraid too, Elena. For you, for Richie, for myself. But we can't let fear conquer us. You know the drill." She closed her eyes. This moment of weakness, in a way, was worse for her than everything else that had happened today. They both felt Richie coming up in the elevator, and she fled to the bathroom. Richie walked in, smiling. "Got them!" he announced. He looked around, puzzled. "Where's our lady?" "Nerves. She's had a hell of a time all around." "She going to be alright?" "I hope so, Richie." He wanted to go to her, hold her, soothe her, tell her it would all be alright. But if she needed to be alone, he had to respect that. She was so different from most women he had known. Her strength, like Tessa's, he reflected wryly, came from within, not from him or anyone else, and she just needed a chance to draw upon it by herself. There was nothing he could do except be there. "So, do we return these to Dawson, or what?" Duncan pulled his thoughts away from Elena as an idea struck him. "Maybe we can use this data for our own good." "Meaning?" "What happens when you have something everybody wants?" "You write your own ticket?" Richie smiled. "Yeah." Meanwhile, Elena looked at her pale face in the mirror, seeing the fear that MacLeod had seen. What she really wanted to do was to find a deep, dark, safe hole to hide in for fifty years or so. Her hands trembled. It had been such a long, hard road. Could she go on, or had she completely lost her courage? Is this how she had looked to Darius all those years ago? ********************************************** She is sitting in a straight chair in his office, drinking a tea so vile that even in her agitated state she can taste its bitterness. She had arrived in Paris early and spent all morning with Darius, crying, he making the appropriate noises, holding her hand, hugging her, not saying very much. A week before, an Immortal, a Moor, had come to challenge Don Alvaro, and he had ordered her, ordered her to run. She ran straight to Darius. "I should have stayed with him," she says in an exhausted voice. "I should never have deserted him." Darius' Spanish is excellent. "Had Don Alvaro ever asked you for anything before?" "No, never, but..." "Since he already knew he would die at the hands of St. Cloud, do you believe knowing you also would die would have made his death any better?" "No," she sobs. "Then you did the right thing, child. I'm sorry, I still think of you as a child." "Maybe because I'm acting as a child." "Not at all." He smiles. "Would you like some more tea?" "No, I..." She thought for a moment. Don Alvaro's face still haunts her. "What do you do when you're afraid, Darius?" "Are you afraid?" "Not now. But Don Alvaro was afraid. I'd never seen him afraid before." "He was probably afraid for you." There is a pause. Elena absentmindedly sips some tea and immediately regrets it. "And you, my dear, what is it that you fear, exactly?" "Exactly? I don't know." "And Don Alvaro never discussed this with you?" "No. I think fear made him uncomfortable," she thinks back. "Especially talking about it to a woman." Darius smiles and nods. He knows Don Alvaro well. "You want to face your fear, and overcome it, correct?" he asks. She nods. "But how can you overcome your fear if you don't know what makes you afraid?" She thinks it over, for long minutes. "First find out exactly what you are afraid of. Then you can deal with it, not before," are his last words on the subject. ************************************************ So what was she afraid of, exactly? Why wasn't she afraid last week, or last month? What did she have to lose? What did she have now that she didn't have before? The answer was simple and obvious. Duncan MacLeod was what she had to lose, the same way she had lost Maria and Gordon and Darius. Looking back, and she knew this from before, the one thing that consistently scared her was losing those she loved, and she had to face this once more. Nothing else, not fear of her own death, pain, anything, came close. If she had died, she would have lost him, and she could still lose him to the Hunters. "!'Madre de Dios'!" she whispered. The one thing that brought her the greatest joy and peace was what brought her the greatest fear and pain. Duncan MacLeod--at the same time she regretted having met him, she realized she didn't want to live without him. Plus, at the same time she was afraid that he felt the same way towards her, she was also afraid he didn't. So why not hop on the next plane to a faraway tropical island and bask in the sun and make love for the next hundred years? 'Why not, Elena?' Because he could never agree, and neither could she. So she'd just have to make sure she didn't lose him. She splashed water on her face and walked outside. Duncan and Richie both rose to meet her--Duncan seemed very concerned. "We have to finish this," she said simply. He took her hands in his. "Are you going to be alright?" She smiled at him, then kissed him softly on the lips. He was so beautiful, those eyes! "Yes. I can handle it." Duncan had to be completely convinced. "Are you sure? Do you want to talk about it?" "I already talked about it, to Darius." "Uh, excuse me, but, Darius is, deceased, right?" Richie made a cutting gesture in front of his neck. Elena laughed softly and went over to kiss Richie on the cheek. He seemed surprised and pleased. "Tell me, Richie, do you still want my head? Yes or no?" "I guess not, provided you leave Dawson alone." "I think we can work something out. Unless he turns out to be a Hunter. If he does," she leaned toward him, "I will kill him and anyone who tries to stop me. Anyone, Richie. I hope you understand that." Richie looked at her closely. "I understand, Duran. But Dawson is not a Hunter, trust me." "I hope not. Now I was thinking that we can use these disks as leverage to get the Watchers to clean up their own organization--by having them get rid of the Hunters themselves. Why should we do all the work?" Duncan agreed, "We were thinking along the same lines." She seemed to be back to her normal confident self, and he understood how she could have 'talked' to Darius. They decided to hide the disks again, in a safer place inside the bulding, and make their demands to Dawson in the morning. They also decided to go back to the warehouse after dark, in case anyone was there. If not, they had the name and address of Evan Kaminsky, the Hunter who had captured Elena. There was a possibility that he would run, and Elena was particularly interested in asking him about his Spanish- speaking friend. Before they left, however, Elena called her hotel to get her belonging delivered to the dojo. She found out from the manager that there had been some "trouble" at the hotel and that her room had been ransacked. The police were looking to question her. Elena, all innocence, promised to contact the police herself and hung up with a curse. "!'Mierda'! At this rate, I'll never get my clothes back! Now the police want to see me!" "That's understandable. You killed four people at the hotel. Even if they took some of the bodies with them, I'm sure they found the one in the elevator. The Hunters did a good job getting your 'dead body' out, didn't they?" Duncan thought furiously. "Well, we can't avoid the police forever, but we can avoid them until tonight or tomorrow. We have other things to do right now." "Like paying a visit to Kaminsky," announced Richie. "Are we all together on this? Richie?" asked Duncan. He wanted to Richie, too, to be safe, but could do nothing about it. It galled him that he couldn't protect the people he loved the most. "It is my fight, but I welcome any assistance. I'm not proud," was Elena's comment. "Let's go." Richie went to the elevator. As Duncan followed, Elena caught hold of his sleeve and pulled him back. "Wait." Richie smiled back at them. "Don't you guys take too long." They kissed intensely. Elena felt the familiar stirring of passion and the less familiar one of fear. "Listen, Duncan, if one of us is killed..." His smile was intoxicating. "That's the first time you called me by my Christian name," he whispered. He was thrilled. "Well, I didn't want to get too close. People who are close to Immortals tend to die, or haven't you noticed?" "I have, but I'm an Immortal too. And I have no intention of dying, or of having you die. Understood?" "I love you, 'querido." There--she'd finally said it. Now she was truly committed! Duncan smiled again. "I love you two, sweetheart." Suddenly he remembered the last time he had this same conversation, thenight he asked Tessa to marry him, the night before she was shot to death. He felt a pain deep inside his chest, like a stabbing wound. Elena immediately asked, "What's wrong? Do you regret what you said?" He still missed Tessa, but she had been only one of the loves of his life. Now he was with Elena, and now she was the love of his life. He looked into her face. "No, never! No, nothing's wrong. Just...memories. You just watch your head." She smiled nervously. There was so much about him she didn't know, and she had just left herself completely open to him. "We'd better go," she whispered, and then, more pragmatically, "Do you have a gun?" He went over to his desk and handed her an automatic and a clip. She loaded it. "Thank you." As predicted, the warehouse was cleared out of anything useful to them, so they went on to Evan Kaminsky's address. It was a drab little house in a not-too-good neighborhood. "I guess being a Watcher doesn't pay a whole hell of a lot," murmured Richie. The other two smiled. This was one of the things Duncan loved most about Richie--the fact that he could always make him smile. There was no car in the driveway, but there was one in the closed garage. Duncan and Elena went to the door, while Richie covered the back. Elena shook her shoulders, shifting the blade she had borrowed from Duncan inside the trenchcoat she had borrowed from Duncan. It was a broadsword like hers, and of very good quality--one of the ones he had acquired after a Quickening--but the weight, the balance, the feel were all different, and it just didn't hang right. "Let me do the talking," she whispered to Duncan as the door was opened. They could just barely see the nose and mouth of a small woman in the crack of the door, through the chain. "Yes? Can I help you?" Her accent sounded just like Elena's tormentor's had. "Mrs. Kaminsky? My name is Elena Duran. This is my friend Duncan MacLeod." Elena braced herself to slam through the chained door if necessary, but the woman didn't give the slightest hint of recognition, so Elena continued. "We're business associates of your husband, and we're trying to locate him." "Locate him?" "Yes. May we come in, please?" At this point, Elena lifted her right arm and put it on the half-open door, letting her coat sleeve fall down slightly to reveal the tattoo she had carefully drawn on her wrist. She quickly covered it, but not before it had the desired effect. Mrs. Kaminsky's face brightened instantly, and Duncan couldn't help smiling to himself. "Oh, of course, please come in!" They stepped into a dark hall which led to a tiny living room. 'Can't say much for his taste, either,' thought Duncan. The woman asked them to sit and offered them refreshment, which they declined. "Mrs. Kaminsky, we really urgently need to find your husband. I assume he isn't here?" "Oh, no, he left for the airport about an hour ago." "Where did he go?" asked Duncan. "I guess you must belong to the same society as he does." Mrs. Kaminsky's tone was low and conspiratorial. Elena lowered her voice to match. "Yes, and we're looking for the same thing." "You know, when I first met my husband and found out he was a computer salesman, I thought, 'How boring"' But when I asked about the tatoo I found out about his secret passion." Elena and Duncan waited, afraid to say anything, and sure enough the woman continued. "Swords!" Her eyes gleamed. "It's so...romantic, don't you think?" "Of course," Elena breathed a sigh of relief. For a brief moment she had been afraid Mrs. Kaminsky knew about what her husband really did, and she really didn't want to hurt Mrs. Kaminsky, and she had noticed a child's bicycle in the garage, and she began to hope they could bluff their way through this without any Mortals being hurt. She didn't know if she had to, had no choice, if she would be able to get information out of Mrs. Kaminsky in any way necessary, and she also knew that Duncan MacLeod would never consent. "We share the same passion. I wonder, Mrs. Kaminsky...Evan doesn't keep his collection...here, does he?" Mrs. Kaminsky smiled. "In this neighborhood? Who would suspect such a thing? Come!" They followed her upstairs to their master bedroom and to a hidden access ladder which led to the attic. The attic door had a padlock, but they weren't prepared for what they saw when the lights came on. It was a small, spare room, climate controlled, with a small table in one corner and one simple comfortable chair in the center. Track lighting highlighted the objects displayed on two of the walls--four swords in immaculate condition. Elena's eyes immediately went to her own broadsword, hung on two pegs beside a rapier. There were also a scimitar a saber. Duncan was initially astonished at the 'collection,' but, why not, after all, they were beautiful, valuable pieces and the 'spoils' of victory. These four swords represented the deaths of four Immortals--three, he amended with a smile, as he recognized Elena's sword. There was a perverse sense in a Hunter being a sword collector. He saw Elena draw the sword out of her coat with a flourish and immediately tensed up, wondering what she was going to do. With the sword drawn, the room felt smaller still. Mrs. Kaminsky instinctively fell back a step against the table in the corner. Elena smiled. "This, Mrs. Kaminsky, is one of the reasons we wanted to see him. This," she held out the sword horizontally in front of her, one hand under the hilt and the fingers of the other hand lightly splayed, supporting the flat of the blade, "is a fine example of Toledo steel. But Evan told me he had another broadsword he was willing to trade for it. That one," she nodded her head at her own sword on the wall. "Well, I don't know...I don't know that much about swords, you understand..." "Of course," Duncan offered, pulling a cellular phone out of his pocket. "But your husband does. Why don't you give him a call right now?" "But he's leaving the country!" she protested. "Maybe he hasn't left yet. Try him." "Alright." Mrs. Kaminsky dialed a number. "Evan!" she exclaimed. There followed a spate of Polish of which Duncan and Elena picked up only a few words each, but they both heard the name Duran and MacLeod. The conversation got a bit more animated and lasted for a few minutes. Finally she handed the cellular to Elena. "He wants to talk to you." Elena placed the sword on the table. "Evan, how nice to talk to you again so soon." She paused while he spoke. "Yes, I was sure you would agree to have me trade swords. I'm so glad you told her it was alright." Another pause. "Well, actually I'm not so interested in where you are, Evan. I feel very strongly that we will meet again at some point. But I don't want you to worry about that. For now, I am most interested in the name and address of our mutual Spanish friend. He had an excellent 'Madrileno' accent, didn't he?" In the small room, Duncan could hear Kaminsky's agitated voice but could not make out the words. "You know, Evan, your wife has been so charming, and I understand you have a daughter as well--we saw a girl's bicycle in your garage. It must be wonderful to have such a family to love." Duncan didn't like the way this conversation was heading--he had no intention of harming either the innocent, romantic Mrs. Kaminsky or any child whatsoever, and hoped, prayed that Elena was bluffing. She had to be. "Fernando Rios? And where can I find Senor Rios these days?" Elena smiled. "Paris! One of my favorite cities. And the address?" There was another pause. "Now, Evan, you really don't want to call him and tell him I'm coming. I want to surprise him. And as charming as your family is, I don't want to have to come back and bother them again, or send someone. Don't you agree?" More loud talk from the other end. "I thought you would! Uh...did you want to say anything else to your wife? No? Fine. Have a nice trip, Evan!" Elena handed the cellular back to Duncan. Mrs. Kaminsky reached for the broadsword on the wall, but Duncan intercepted her. "Here, let me handle that, it's quite sharp, you know. You don't want to get hurt." He handed the sword to Elena, who put it back in her coat. Then he hung up the second sword in its place and they left the room. Elena didn't know what Kaminsky had said to his wife, and wanted to be sure she wouldn't be calling the police on them or something. She examined the woman's face closely as they said their goodbyes, but there was not the slightest trace of nervousness or fear. Either she felt safe or she was a consummate actress. "By the way, Mrs. Kaminsky," she said on the way out the door, "you know those weapons are very valuable, don't you?" The woman nodded. "Has Evan ever talked to you about selling any of them?" "Oh, no, he would never sell his collection!" "Well, you know, you have to think of yourself and your daughter. With all the traveling he does, if anything should ever happen to him, God forbid, at least you have a nice source of income in your attic. Think about it." At this point Duncan and Elena saw a teenaged girl wearing headphones come down the stairs and head towards the kitchen. If she noticed them, she gave no sign. Elena looked at Duncan, smiled once more at their hostess, and they left. They sat in the Thunderbird in front of the house for a moment, and Duncan finally turned to her. "Were the Kaminskys in danger, Elena?" "Why are you asking me this? Why torture yourself with something that didn't happen?" "Because it could have happened, Elena! You could have killed them both, or worse!" "I would never hurt a child, never! And what gives you the right to judge me?!!" She was angry now. Duncan took a deep breath and chose his words carefully. "I've told you I loved you. But if our relationship is going to last, I need to know what kind of a person you are. I need to know if you were just bluffing Kaminsky or if you would really have hurt that woman or that child. I need to know, Elena!" "You're asking for an answer I don't have myself! You're asking for a lot, 'escoses'!" "I'm giving a lot in return." Were they doomed to repeat the same conversation over and over? Duncan knew what he could and could not live with. What about her? Was there no real hope for them? "I just don't know, Duncan. A week ago, I think maybe I would have. But now...I don't know. If that is not good enough for you, so be it." She turned to stare straight ahead. Did they really have any kind of a chance together? "Unless Kaminsky lied to me, which I sincerely doubt, the Hunter Rios, who killed Maria, is in Paris. I'm going after him. Only then, after he is dead, can I answer these questions once and for all. But I have to finish what I started, and I hope, 'si Dios quiere', that his death will be the end." The question was, should she ask him to come to Paris? He could certainly help her find and kill Rios, but did she really want him there, judging her? What if Rios' death didn't end anything? What if her blood lust continued? Would she have to fight him again? Or would he just leave her, 'Dios mio', that was even worse! And did he even want to come with her in the first place? She'd just have to ask him. Duncan dared to hope too. Maybe Rios' death would be the end, maybe then she could start over, maybe she could stop killing. If he went to Paris he could help her, and he would be there to see what happened. But what if she couldn't or wouldn't stop? Did he really want to be there for that? He knew she had to go, but should he go with her, or let her finish this on her own? He didn't really know what she wanted. He opened his mouth to ask when both Immortals sat straight up in their seats and looked around. A moment later, Richie knocked on Elena's window. "Hey, guys, if you're all done in there, how about a lift home?" To be continued...This is the end of Elena Part VIII. copyright by Vivian Moreau, 1995 BTW: for you sword purists, I think it perfectly reasonable that Duncan would have a gun, even though he himself hardly ever uses one anymore (but he cerainly knows how). Translations: 'escoses' - Scotsman !'Madre de Dios'! - Mother of God! 'mierda' - shit 'querido' - beloved 'Madrileno' - from Madrid, Spain 'si Dios quiere' - God willing 'Dios mio' - my God BTW No. 2: For those of you who may be offended by frequent mentions of God, remember that Elena was born around 1610 in Latin America, where the Roman Catholic Church is still very influential in everyday affairs to this day. =========================================================================