Date: Sat, 8 Oct 1994 09:13:56 +0100 Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: MB Overton Subject: "End of the Road" Part 2 (early!) Extra bonus : I managed to get Part 2 written last night. Part 3, thus, should come some time next week. In response to a comment I received, yes, the story title _does_ have a relevance to it, as you will see. In the meantime, enjoy. <> HIGHLANDER "End of the Road" Part 2 "The oldest?" Richie's eyes widened. "As in the oldest of you guys anywhere?" "As in," Flint admitted. "Come on, let's see to that," Tessa interrupted, pointedly ignoring Flint. She had quite obviously already taken a dislike to him. Duncan shrugged and allowed himself to be led away, leaving Richie and Flint alone. The immortal pulled his doublesword out of the floor and casually wiped the blood of the decapitated youth on the corpse's clothing. "So where you from?" Richie asked. "Originally." "The name wouldn't mean much to you," Flint shrugged. "The society went a long long time ago, and it left no records. Somewhere in eastern Europe, I think. I don't consider it home." "Flint!" Duncan's voice echoed from the kitchen. Flint jumped, startled, and for an instant looked just like his apparent age - younger even than Richie, just seventeen, possibly eighteen. He flipped a catch hidden in the handle of the doublesword and the blades folded inwards, forming a long rectangle with pointed edges which he stood against one of the antiques shop's display cases. "Don't touch," he warned Richie as he went into the kitchen. When he entered, Tessa was finishing sponging the worst of the blood away from the deep gash in Duncan's shoulder. Every time the sponge stung the wound Duncan winced. "Stop acting like a child," Tessa scolded, holding him still. Duncan scowled at Flint. "This is your fault." "No, it's yours for starting the fight." Flint folded his arms and watched Duncan wince with evident enjoyment. "So much for the big brave Highlander." "Did you call him in here for a reason?" Tessa demanded of Duncan. "Yes. I don't trust him out there." "Love you too, Macleod." Flint found a cupboard and rummaged in it until he extracted a packet of biscuits, which he proceeded to devour one by one. "So how're you doing? I heard you were back in the Game." "It's taken you this long? I came back in a year ago." Flint shrugged. "A year's nothing to us. To Tessa..." "Hey," Duncan warned sharply, starting to rise. "Don't start on Tessa." Flint regarded him seriously and Tessa, who was watching silently, caught for the briefest instant a flash of world-weary tolerance that gave the lie to the other immortal's physical appearance. "Alright, Duncan," Flint said eventually. "I apologise, Tessa." "That's alright," Tessa allowed. "So why're you here?" Duncan wanted to know, sitting back down and picking up a mug of coffee which had been brewing on the side. "It's been a while since I last saw you." Flint shrugged. "Can't I come and see my favourite Scot when I want to?" Duncan smiled a little. Just a little. "It's more than that." "Is it?" "It's always more than that." "Oh." Flint relaxed a little and munched on another biscuit. He grinned suddenly and looked up. "You know, I was just thinking about Tessa." "About me?" "Mmmm. You remind me of a woman I once knew. D'you know the one I mean, Macleod?" Duncan frowned. "You're not referring to..." He stopped. "No." "What?" Tessa asked. Flint chuckled. "You didn't tell her about Elise, then." Duncan scowled thunderously but said nothing, which prompted Tessa's curiosity even more. "What about Elise?" she asked insistently. "Well, if you won't tell her..." Flint murmured. "Elise was how Duncan and I first met..." .... Sounds of laughter, light and feminine, drifted through the night air as Duncan Macleod perched on the edge of the balcony and looked out over the English mansion house's grassy grounds. For the first century of his life he'd tried to avoid England as any good Scot would, but he'd come to accept that the country was no better or worse than any of the other nations in the world today. The smell of fear existed in England just as in all the other countries of Europe, fear of the tinpot dictator sitting in France at this very moment hatching plots for war. Duncan knew war was coming with a surety; Napoleon was like many other war leaders, just a bit more cunning in places. There would be war. "It's a nice view, isn't it?" Talbot inquired languidly from behind him. Strictly speaking, since Duncan had heard his host approach, he should have turned to greet him; but social etiquette between these two people was passed up for friendship. "Aye, it is," he agreed. "Ye're lucky. This'll be yours one day." "If her father agrees." Talbot sipped at his drink. "As far as I can tell he's not happy that the daughter of a lord wants to marry a soldier in the army, even if it's His Majesty's army." "Tell him if he doesn't agree ye'll take her to France an' marry her there," Duncan suggested with a reasonably straight face. "I think that would make matters worse, don't you? He'd probably put England to war with France just to get his daughter back." Talbot heaved a deep depressed sigh. "War. War's coming." Duncan nodded. "Aye. It isna a good time to marry." "I'm not planning on making her an early widow, y'know," Talbot said with a smile. "Besides, the government reckons Napoleon'll be trying to blockade the country. If he does my fleet will be used to run convoys across to the New World or maybe the Scandinavian countries." He brightened suddenly. "I say, that young woman you brought to the party's getting on marvellously with my Elise." "Who, Jane?" Duncan smiled. "She's good at social events, aye. She likes them a lot." "You should marry her." "Aye, mebbe I will." He wished he could risk telling Talbot about the immortals and the Game, but after a time Macleod had developed the skill of knowing when someone could be told and when they could not. Jane, for example - she could be told, she already knew. Talbot could never know, for his own sake as much as Duncan's. "What are you doing out here?" a voice asked lightly. Duncan and Talbot both turned in time Elise and Jane emerge from the ballroom, Jane toying idly with the hat she'd bought specially when she and Duncan were last in London. Duncan pulled her to him and she smiled brightly up at him, brushing a bang of brown hair away from her forehead. Elise did not act as intimately with Talbot - after all, they weren't married or even engaged - she merely smiled at him and took his hand. "What were ye doing then?" Duncan asked. "Jane was telling me about your time at Bath," Elise said. She had none of her mother's French accent, she was purely English like her father. It was safer that way, given the current political state. Duncan knew for a fact that Elise's mother did not dare leave the local area, where at least people knew her; outside Hampshire, she risked the anti-French feeling common in England at the moment. "I was saying Elise and John should visit," Jane said, nodding to Talbot. "We're not married yet," Talbot laughed. "Aye, but ye ought to be," Duncan said, and Jane nodded in agreement. "You make a good couple," she said seriously. "Well, we think so," Talbot agreed. "It's up to Elise's parents." "Mebbe ye should go back an' talk tae 'em then," Duncan suggested, nodding to where Elise's father was standing just inside the ballroom staring out at the two couples pointedly. "Soften him up a wee bit." "Give him fair warning," Jane said, and laughed. "Maybe we should," Elise agreed, and they started towards the ballroom just as another figure stepped out onto the balcony. Duncan felt a shock run right through him as the other immortal's Quickening aura interacted with his own. He knew instantly that this newcomer was older than he, probably much older. "Flint," Talbot said politely. "Excuse us." "Mmm," Flint said absently, staring in Duncan's direction. Elise and Talbot nudged their way past as Flint moved forward. Jane tightened her grip around Duncan's waist; she had felt his reaction and worked out for herself already just who this newcomer was. Or, more precisely, what. "My name's Flint," Flint said with a quick smile. "Duncan Macleod of the clan Macleod. I'm unarmed." "Me too." Flint glanced at Jane. "Does she know?" "I assure you 'she' is quite capable of speaking for herself," Jane said coolly. "You're not the first that I've met while I've been an acquaintance of Duncan's." "Probably not." Flint's eyes met Duncan's briefly. "For a while I thought it was the Gathering, you know. So many of us around at the moment, it seems." "If ye want to fight," Duncan said, "my sword's not far." "If you like," Flint shrugged. "I think you'd bother the party a little," Jane said. "Perhaps you should leave it till later?" "It's alright," Duncan said gently. "I think we need to talk alone, Flint and I. Would ye mind, Jane? Please?" His companion looked from him to Flint, then nodded slowly. "If that's what you want, Duncan." She turned and walked quickly into the ballroom, losing herself in instants amongst the crowd. "She'll do well, you know," Flint said. "I've seen others like her in my time. She could go far, despite this society." "Nae much wrong with this society," Duncan said lightly. "They make good wines these days." "True," Flint allowed. He looked in the direction of the ballroom. "Do you have an interest in these people? In Elise, perhaps? Is Miss Austen not enough for you?" "I'm happy with Jane," Macleod said stiffly. "Elise is going to be engaged to a friend of mine. That's all my interest is." "Oh. A mortal friend?" "Aye." "Hmmm." Flint looked out over the gardens. "So I suppose that means they'll be staying together. Divorce isn't popular in this culture either, which I don't like. It might be in the future, I suppose." Duncan interpreted his meaning instantly. "Ye want Elise." Flint glanced quickly at him. "Perceptive. Only briefly, of course, for obvious reasons. One of the problems with being stuck at the age of eighteen is in relationships with mortals. After that, your friend can have her back." Duncan shook his head. "No. She'd never be happy with ye. I can't allow it." Flint sighed. "I thought you were going to say something like that, Macleod. I could tell you were the moral type." He straightened up and turned to face Duncan. "Time we got the toasting forks." "Ye're challenging me?" Duncan said in amusement. Flint was at least six inches shorter than he was. "Aye, I challenge ye," Flint retorted in a fair approximation of a Scottish accent. In his normal voice he continued. "I'll meet you out in the forest in five minutes. No cheating." "Agreed," Duncan nodded brusquely, turning and striding back into the warmth and light and heat of the ballroom. ... "What happened then?" Tessa prompted. "That's another story altogether," Flint shrugged. "I'll tell it to you some time, or maybe Duncan can. It's just that you look almost exactly like Elise, that's all." A faraway look entered his eyes. "She was blonde, French, and she had the most amazing - " Tessa coughed pointedly. "Nasty cough there," Flint said, unabashed. "I'd take something for it if I were you." He pushed himself off the kitchen tabletop. "Got a room for me, Duncan? I'll be staying for a while." "We'll find one," Duncan said resignedly. "Good." Flint sauntered out and closed the kitchen door behind him. They could dimly hear him talking to Richie on the other side. "You're letting him stay?" Tessa protested. "You don't refuse Flint," Duncan said, shouldering his torn shirt back over his rapidly-healing wound with a faint wince. "You saw what he's like with a sword." "Doesn't excuse him. Look what he did to you!" Duncan shrugged. "As he said, I'm healing. Look, Tess, there's one thing you have to get with Flint. When you do what he asks for, which happily is usually pretty inoffensive, you're okay. When you refuse, he can get really ugly." "He's ugly already. We'd better not give him a room with mirrors." Duncan grinned, then sobered. "Think of it like this, Tess; he hasn't lived for six thousand years without learning something." "He's really that old?" "Yep." Duncan drained his coffee, then reached out and pulled her to him. "You'd better stay away from him. I know what you're like when you get near older men." Tessa allowed a smile to flash across her lips. "Only when they haven't lost their touch. Have you?" Duncan's grin grew even wider. "Nothing wrong with my sense of touch." "Sir? We've located him." The man whose face was shrouded in shadows because of the low light levels in the room turned to the tracking station, the operator crouched low over the orange luminescent screen. "You're sure?" "Couldn't be anyone else, sir. I'm sure." "Good," the man smiled. "Tell the immortal we have located both Flint and Macleod." ...end of part two... =========================================================================