Date: Tue, 25 Jul 1995 12:10:27 -0400 Reply-To: mikester@BIX.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Mike Breen Subject: HOMECOMING - Part 4 PARIS, FRANCE, JUNE, 1995 The next day was spent sightseeing and reminiscing. The three Immortals admired the city which seemed to attract quite a few Immortals. "Why do you suppose that is?" Patrick said. "There seem to be several Immortal 'hot spots,'" Connor said. "Paris, New York, Seattle, Tokyo. Something about those cities attract us. Boston seems to be becoming one too." "I think it always has been," Rebecca said. Patrick nodded and said to Connor, "Remember Kastigere's party?" "Good ghods," Connor said. "I was trying to forget that." "So was _I_," Rebecca said, sneering. "We _all_ did some pretty stupid things that night," Patrick said. BOSTON, MASS, UNITED STATES, 1783 "Come in, Colonel O'Brien!" the large black man said. His servant took Patrick's coat and hat, and Sarah's coat. "Welcome to my home, as we celebrate the recognition of our Independence by the mother country." "Kastigere, it's good to see you," Patrick said, shaking his hand. "It's been..." "Three days, what are you talking about?" Patrick said. "We live just on the other end of the common." Kastigere laughed and took Sarah's hand. "It's always a pleasure to see _you_, Mrs. O'Brien." He kissed it lightly and released it. "'Tis a pleasure to see you too, Mr. Kastigere," Sarah said, smiling. "Now, come on in," Kastigere said, ushering the couple into his house. He handed Patrick and Sarah both glasses from one of the servant's trays and said, "Have a drink. Have some brandy." "Thank you," Patrick said. "An old friend of yours is here, Patrick. Do you remember Connor MacLeod?" "Connor? Of course! He came all the way from New York to be here?" "Um hmm. It took him a couple of days. He's staying here for a fortnight, or so. By the way, he's known as 'Adrian Montigue' these days." Sarah looked confused. Patrick looked from her to Kastigere and said, "Could you excuse us for a second, Kastigere?" "Of course." After Kastigere left to mingle with his other guests, Patrick turned to his wife and said, "Something wrong, love?" "This Connor... he's like you and Kastigere?" Patrick nodded, took a sip from his brandy and said, "Aye. Someone must have seen him die recently. When someone sees us die, we have to begin a new life with a new name. You remember Crispis Atticuks?" Sarah nodded. "_That_ was Kastigere. After he was seen to die at the massacre on Kings Street, he redefined himself and began going by his original name." Patrick took another drink from his brandy. He offered his arm to Sarah, and said, "Shall we go find this 'Adrian Montigue?'" Sarah took his arm and nodded. It didn't take long for Patrick to find his friend. He felt him as he entered the large courtyard. Connor, obviously, had been here for a while. "Colonel O'Brien!" he said as he approached him. "It seems like it's been decades since we last saw eachother!" They shook hands and Patrick said, "Good to see you Montigue. How have you been?" "I have been _wonderful_," Connor said. He handed Patrick another brandy and said, "Here. Have a drink." Patrick took it and said, "May I present my wife, Sarah." Connor took Sarah's hand and said, "Such loveliness. I am truly pleased to meet you." He kissed her hand. Then he turned to Patrick and whispered, "Rebecca's here." Patrick turned to Sarah and said, "Would you excuse us for a moment, love?" "Certainly," Sarah said. When they were alone, Patrick took a long pull on his brandy and said, "Rebecca's _here_? Does here mean the New World, Massachusetts, or Boston?" "'Here,'" Connor said, "Means _here_. In Kastigere's house." "Is she with someone?" "No. And she's not married, either. Apparently she was living in London, and an outspoken supporter of our recognition by the mother country. She came here a fortnight ago, and Kastigere and Bassett met her when her ship made port. She's been staying here ever since." "Good ghods," Patrick said, "we've never _ever_ seen eachother when one of us is a mortal. I have to leave..." "No," Connor said, "you can't. She's asking for you, and you'd eventually have to see her sometime in the next fortnight. Does Sarah know about her?" Patrick nodded and said, "Aye. I had to tell her, of course. I tried to avoid the question, but that only caused more problems than her knowing. She seemed to take it well." "I hope so," Connor said. "Knowing someone exists and actually meeting them are two different things, my friend." Patrick finished his brandy and took another from a passing servant. "This is going to be a _long_ night," he said. When they returned to Sarah, Kastigere was talking animatedly to her. He saw Patrick and Connor approach and said, "Colonel O'Brien! Mr. Montigue! Been catching up?" "Aye," Patrick said. "Adrian and I had quite a few things to catch up on." "There's someone I want you to meet, Patrick," Kastigere said. He turned to Connor and said, "Adrian, would you mind entertaining Mrs. O'Brien for a few moments?" Connor nodded. "Good." Kastigere walked off, with Patrick following him, he nodded to Connor as he left. Connor turned to Sarah and said, "There's something you ought to know." "Yes, Mr. Montigue?" "Please, when we're alone or with Patrick or Kastigere, call me Connor. That _is_ my proper name, after all." "Connor then. What is it?" "Patrick told you about Rebecca, yes?" Sarah nodded. "She's here." "What?" "That's who Kastigere is bringing Patrick to meet, though I don't think he knows that they know eachother. Patrick wanted me to tell you that." "Thank you for doing so," she said coldly. "Sarah, please, Patrick is my friend. We've known eachother almost a century and a half. I don't want him to be hurt." "If he goes to her..." "It's to talk old times. He doesn't _need_ her right now. He needs _you_." "And how do you know that?" "When you know someone as long as we have, you begin to know their feelings, sometimes before they do. You have nothing to fear from her presence here." She was facing away from them, talking to a man named Bassett. She was obviously ignoring the tug she felt from both Kastigere and Patrick. When there was a break in the conversation, Kastigere tapped her on the shoulder, and said, "Miss Wesford, may I present one of the best Minute Men the war saw. Colonel Patr..." She turned and said, "Patrick." "You know eachother?" Kastigere said. Both Patrick and Rebecca were at a loss for words. All the old feelings, the old attraction churned just below the surface. Bassett said, "You came here from Ireland via England, did you not, Colonel O'Brien? Did you meet Miss Wesford there?" "Hmm? Oh, aye, Mr. Bassett," Patrick said collecting himself. Bassett's wife, a rather large overweight woman said, "Well well well well, the Colonel and Miss Wesford certainly seem to be _friendly_. One can only hope that there will be no _scandal_ here tonight, Mr. Kastigere." Kastigere winced, realizing his mistake to bring these two together like this, and also how much Bassett's wife positively _loved_ gossip and scandal. He said, "The Colonel's an honorable man who loves his wife dearly, Mrs. Bassett. I don't think there will be any scandal for you to talk about tomorrow." Then he turned to Patrick and said, "Miss Virginia Wesford was a strong supporter of our recognition." "Aye," Patrick said, taking her hand and kissing it. "So I've heard. I think you for that." "So Patrick," Rebecca said when they were alone. "Or should I call you 'Colonel?' How have you been?" "As good as I can be. There was an Immortal after me during the early part of the war, but he returned to England. Other than that, I've been making the life of a semi-retired army officer. People call me 'Colonel' more than they call me 'Patrick' these days. Last we saw eachother, you wanted nothing to do with the New World." "Things change, Patrick. You know that." Patrick took a pull from his brandy. Rebecca looked at him and said, "How many of those have you had?" "Not nearly enough yet. Why _are_ you here, Rebecca?" "I wanted to see what I was supporting. I heard how brave you all were, and how you defeated a portion of the world's best army..." Patrick was feeling bold now. He had quite a bit of brandy in his blood just then. He said "Rebecca, that may be what you told Kastigere and Bassett. And if I were sober, I would let it slide. But I know you too well, and I'm _not_ sober. Why are you really here." Rebecca stopped and said, "If you were sober, I'd take your head for asking like that. Very well, _Colonel_. I'm here because I was hoping you weren't married. My husband died last year, and I wanted to be with you. But you're married, happily, and apparently want nothing to do with me." "Rebecca, that's not true..." "Isn't it?" "I love Sarah very much. But there is _something_ between we two that we should acknowledge. And I don't think that 'twould be impossible to be friends." Connor and Sarah, meanwhile, both had their share of drinks. Connor was trying desperately to prevent the inevitable confrontation between Sarah and Rebecca. If nothing else, the grapevine would embarrass the four of them. Finally, Sarah said, "That's _it_ Connor. He's been with her long _enough_. I'm going and you can't stop me!" She turned on her heel and began walking in the direction of the room where Kastigere had ushered Patrick to. "Sarah!" Connor said. "Wait!" "You can't stop me!" At that moment, Patrick and Rebecca entered the room again on one end. Sarah entered with Connor behind her on the opposite. In the center was the knot of people that included Kastigere, Bassett and his wife, and Bassett's manservant Hotchkiss. "Sarah!" Patrick said. "Sarah!" Connor said. "What's Bassett's bloated warthog of a wife going to say if you..." He looked up just in time to see Kastigere, Bassett, Hotchkiss, and Bassett's wife staring at him. "Christ..." he said. Bassett approached Connor and said, "I DEMAND retribution, sir, for your insolent remark! One hour on the Common. Brink your sword. If you are a coward, I will still find you, Mr. Montigue." He stormed out, followed by Hotchkiss who said, "Mr. Bassett... Mr Bassett I _implore_ you..." Kastigere burst out laughing. "I don't think it's very funny, Kastigere." "You will, MacLeod. You will." "I definatly need another drink." Sarah, Patrick, and Rebecca did not hear any of this. Sarah approached the couple, drink in hand. "Sarah," Patrick said, "it's not what you think..." "I don't care, you _bastard_!" she threw the drink into Patrick's face. "If you want him," she said to Rebecca, "you can have him." She ran out. "Sarah!" Patrick said. He was about to go after her, when he felt Rebecca pull on his arm. She said, "Shouldn't you wait? Until we _all_ sober up?" "She's right," Kastigere said. "I'll have my manservant follow her at a discrete distance. Tomorrow, you'll patch things up." Patrick nodded, seeing the logic in their suggestion. At this point, talking would only make matters worse. Neither of them were thinking logically. Neither of them were actually _thinking_. "Besides," Kastigere said, "I don't want to miss _this_ duel for _anything_." They both looked at Connor who had re-filled his glass and was continuing to drink himself into a stupor... PARIS, FRANCE, JUNE 1995 The barge was in the same place that Connor had seen it many times before. The three Immortals approached it, and they felt the presence of the two other Immortals aboard. One of them exited the interior and stood on the deck. He was a big, muscular man, with long black hair. He looked down at the three and said, "Hello Connor, hello Rebecca. And you're O'Brien, aren't you? Come aboard and we can talk." After a brief reunion between Connor and Duncan and Amanda and Rebecca, which included Amanda remarking on Rebecca's new marital status with both surprise and sarcasm ("You do realize what ''till death do you part,' means in this case?"), Duncan turned to Patrick and said, "I know why you're here and what you mean to do. I'm going to stop you." "MacLeod," Patrick said, "First of all, _I'm_ not the only one that's here for that reason. Connor came here to speak with Pierson too. Second of all, he very nearly ruined all our lives. I figured you'd want to come with us. Or are you holding back some vital information?" "O'Brien," Duncan said, "all I can say is that there's more to this than meets the eye. If you must see him, I can't prevent that. But if you plan on killing him, if you _do_ kill him, I'll come after you." "Duncan!" Connor said. "Patrick isn't going to kill a _mortal_. All he wants to do is _talk_ to him. He's not the type of Immortal that Kalas was." "There's something else going on here, isn't there?" Patrick said. Duncan was silent. "There _is_, isn't there?" Duncan took out a scrap of paper and a pen. He scribbled down an address and handed it to Patrick. "Fine, here," he said. "He told me to tell you where to find him." "Duncan..?" Connor said. "Thanks, MacLeod," Patrick said, as he stood. He looked at Rebecca, who stood as well. Then he looked at Connor. "Coming?" he said. Connor looked from Patrick to Duncan. The look in Duncan's eyes was enough to tell him that he should stay. He said, "Go ahead without me, Patrick. I'm confident that you'll be able to take care of this without me." Rebecca looked at Amanda who silently mouthed the words "stay here." "Fine," Patrick said. "Let's go, Rebecca." "Um, Patrick... go on ahead. I'll catch up." "What?? Fine. I'll go alone. It's not like I intend on killing him." He arrived at the address. Patrick paid and tipped the cabbie. As he approached the house, he felt it the presence of another Immortal, though like no Immortal he had _ever_ felt. He looked around, confused, and not a bit frightened and entered the house, with his sword drawn. When he got to the living room, he saw a young looking man sitting in a recliner, with the television on. He turned and said, "Greetings, Irelander." He tossed a can to him and said, "Have a beer." "Pierson?" Patrick said. "Really, O'Brien. Put that sword away and sit down. I'm not going to fight you, and I know you _never_ fight an unarmed man." Patrick put his sword back beneath his raincoat and said, "Who _are_ you?" "_Methos_?" Rebecca said. Duncan nodded. "Apparently," Amanda said, "He was in charge of finding himself, and made sure he, and anyone else, never did." "What happened?" Connor said. "I _know_ what happened, why he revealed himself to you. But what happened here? With the disk?" "My name is Methos," he said. Patrick knew he wasn't lieing. He could feel from his presence that he wasn't. It was like sitting with Ramirez again, if Ramirez had been born three thousand years earlier. Methos' Quickening had the same kind of "feel" to it. "I knew your Teacher," he said. "Do you read minds?" Patrick said. Methos laughed and said, "Duncan MacLeod asked me the same thing. I've been watching _you_ Irelander, for a long time. You've pleased me so far." "Why? Why have you been watching me? And what have I done to please you?" "I've watched you because of Ramirez, first of all. And because of your reputation since he died." "_You_ were Ramirez's Teacher, weren't you?" Methos was silent. "You _were_, weren't you?" "Ramirez learned much from me in the time we knew eachother," Methos said. "And I mourned him when he died, because one of the truly great ones had passed from us." "That's no answer, Methos," Patrick said. Methos mearly shrugged. Then he said, "As far as your reputation is concerned, there are a very _few_ Immortals who can truly be called 'great.' Ramirez was one, as were Nakano and Darius. Ammamoto is one as well. And there are a few who have the potential to be called great. The MacLeods, Constintine, Fitzcairn before he died, they all have the potential to be called great in another five centuries or so. And so do you. _That_ is why I have been watching you." "Methos..." "I know. Why that disk? As they say here in the twentieth century, I fucked up big time." "Actually, that was the furthest thing from my mind right now. I guess you really _don't_ read minds, then." Methos laughed. Then he became serious again and said, "You would do well to get to know Duncan MacLeod. He is one of the best. I know time and circumstances have conspired against the two of you forging a friendship. I think the time is right for you to change that." Patrick nodded. Then Methos said, "Could I ask a favor of you?" "Of course," Patrick said. "My secret must remain. I told this to Duncan, unfortunately after he had told Amanda and Connor. I know that if _I_ had met the oldest living Immortal, I'd want to go tell all my friends. But you are a man of honor, O'Brien, and I believe you will honor my request. You may tell Rebecca and your Student, because how could you keep that secret in the same household? But _no_ one else must know about me. Not even Ammamoto." Patrick nodded and stood. He said, "I understand." He extended his hand and he and the oldest living Immortal shook hands. "I just _may_ get over to Boston again some day," Methos said. "I hope you do," Patrick said. Then he turned to leave. "Oh!" Methos said. "I almost forgot to congratulate you on your wedding." "How did _you_ know?" Patrick said. Methos laughed again and said, "Bernard. He's already entered the information into the mainframe. He's quite dedicated to our little secret society." Patrick smiled and nodded. Then he said, "Methos, could I use your phone?" "Of course. It's right over there." Patrick dialed Duncan MacLeod's number. When MacLeod answered it, Patrick said, "Everything's fine here, MacLeod. You were right all along. Could you put Rebecca on? Hi, love. Get packed. We're going home." CHARLESTOWN, MASS, UNITED STATES, JUNE 17TH, 1995 "Could I have another burger?" Patrick flipped the burger onto the little girl's bun. "There ya go. Enjoy!" The parade was only a half-hour away now. Patrick munched on a sausage and he flipped some more hamburgers. His mortal friend Jason Kelly always held a barbecue in the parking lot of his Charlestown office on Bunker Hill day. This year, Patrick was in charge of hamburgers. This year he brought the whole family. His new/old wife Rebecca, his surrogate daughter, Nancy, his mentor Joe Ammamoto, and a man that was almost like a brother, Connor MacLeod, who had brought Alex and John. He had met them in Paris, and they were heading back to New York, but the barbecue was so close that they decided to lay-over in Boston for a few days. It was good to relax for a change. The parade was in full swing now. Patrick gave Connor a beer and cracked a new one open for himself. This parade was special to him. It brought back, not only memories of the Revolution, but memories of home. Of Ireland. At that moment, they were listing to an Irish marching band, playing the Irish version of Highland pipes, and wearing Irish kilts. He closed his eyes and was back. Back to the twelfth century, when he met his first death on the battlefield, from a sword run through his back. It was so long ago... yet it seemed like yesterday. And he _always_ wanted to remember it. He didn't want to be like Methos, who could not remember when he was born. Could not remember what it was like to be mortal. Rebecca slid up to him and put her arm around his waist. She a beer, herself. She looked at her husband and said, "Happy?" "Yeah," Patrick said. "It's good to come home. It's good to _be_ home." <<>> (c) 1995 Mabnesswords e-mail mikester@bix.com or mikeb@usa1.com with comments! =========================================================================