========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Mar 1996 11:32:19 -0500 Reply-To: JJSWBT@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Wendy Tillis Subject: Hidden Potential 3/22 Hidden Potential by: Wendy Tillis March, 1996 Standard disclaimers apply Chapter 3 It was almost noon by the time Duncan pulled the Thunderbird over to the curb on Water Street. He and Joe had spent some time that morning deciding the best way to approach the girl. Duncan checked the slip of paper Dawson had given him with the information they had on the girl. Name: Margaret Grant Age: approx. 20 Height 5' 11'' Weight : about 125 pounds Hair : auburn Eyes: green Occupation: student? Address: 313 Water Street Water Street was in a quiet residential area not far from the dojo. Mostly older homes with tidy yards. It was a favorite area of married graduate students and associate professors - the houses were nice but not too expensive. Many were rentals. Duncan remembered when the houses were built in the 1920's - this had been quite the fashionable area then. Now it was genteelly seedy. He got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk looking at Number 313. It was a two story frame bungalow. White with dark green trim. A full porch shaded the front of the house. There were some large trees in the yard and more towering over the house from the back. He didn't feel the presence of another Immortal. Maybe she wasn't home. Or perhaps she was at the back of the house - too far away to be sensed? He walked up the sidewalk to the house and climbed the three steps to the porch. From inside, he heard the barking of a dog. A large dog by the sound of it. Very large dog. He stepped to the door and rang the bell. The barking grew more frantic. He still did not sense another Immortal. She must be out. He heard footsteps approaching from inside and a women's voice tell the dog to be quiet. Silence fell. The door opened a crack - the width of a chain - and he saw a woman on the other side. Young, red hair, green eyes, tall - it was the girl Joe had described but . . . he couldn't feel her. If this was Margaret Grant - she was not an Immortal. He stood there feeling like an idiot. It had never occurred to him that she might *not* be Immortal. "If you're with the press, I'm not giving any more interviews. I tired and I don't feel like talking about it anymore. Go away or I'll set the dog on you." "No, no. I'm not with the press." Duncan stopped, trying to think of what to do next. They had been relying of the fact that she would "feel" his presence and be confused by it. He would then have stepped forward to explain it to her. Now, he had no excuse to get past the front door. He must have looked comical for she laughed and, much to his surprise, took the chain off the door, opening it wider. Behind her, Duncan could see the dog - a Scottish Wolfhound - 200 pounds of wiry grey fur and muscles. The girl stood in the doorway and starring at him with a faintly amused smile. " Was there something you wanted - or do you just like to ring the odd door bell and stand about looking stunned." That snapped Duncan back to attention, an improvised plan forming. "I'm with the Seattle General Hospital Ministry. The Chaplain's Office. We counsel patients, patient families, and the staff in cases of death or umm . . . near death. Reverend Hardy asked me to stop by and see how you were doing. I'd like to talk to you about your experiences last night, if you don't mind." She looked him over for a moment, taking in the long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, the dark green polo shirt, loose tan trousers, the open trenchcoat. "And you are. .?" She paused awaiting an answer. " MacLeod. Duncan MacLeod. She paused as if considering that name. "All right, you may come in, Mr. MacLeod." The dog stood up and growled menacingly as Duncan came through the door. "Down, Angus. Be quiet!" The dog stopped growling and walked over to the fireplace in the adjacent living room where he dropped down and lay watching Duncan with half closed eyes. " You'll have to excuse Angus, Mr. MacLeod. He's very protective. But don't worry, he won't take your head off unless I tell him to." She laughed. Duncan glanced at her quickly to see if there was some hidden meaning there but she was already walking away, leading him into the house. The house had a fairly traditional lay-out. Just to the right of the front door a staircase lead upstairs. Straight ahead a hallway lead to the back of the house - the kitchen and a dining area. To the left of the door, across the front of the house, was the living room. A small fireplace was located on the side wall of the living room. Beyond the living room, through a wide arch, was an area that had originally been the dining room. Now it appeared to be an office - a desk, computer, tables covered in books, and bookshelves filled the room. There were several chairs and a small sofa arranged in front of the fireplace and it was to these that she lead him. She sat down in a chair and indicated that Duncan do the same. When they were seated, she sat looking at him, waiting for him to speak. She obviously was not going to make this easy, Duncan thought. " Can you tell me, Ms. Grant, what you remember about last night?" "I don't remember much. I was at a friend's house - Cindy. She was having trouble with her boyfriend and I was trying to convince her to leave him. Tim, the boyfriend, showed up. He was drunk and crazy. They started to fight - yelling at each other. I was trying to keep them apart. Then Tim pulled this shotgun out from under his coat - rather like that coat you have on, Mr. MacLeod" "Duncan, please." He inserted. "Cindy screamed. Tim pointed the gun at her. I stepped in between them. I guess I thought he wouldn't shoot *me*. And then the gun went off and everything is pretty blank after that. I think I remember being in the ambulance and a voice telling me that everything would be all right. The next thing I remember clearly is finding myself on the steps outside my house. I was barefoot and wearing bloody clothes and had a hospital sheet wrapped around me. I came inside. Took a shower and fell into bed. That's where I was this morning when the television crews arrived." " And you don't remember anything about the time you were clinically dead? How your gunshot wounds disappeared?" "No, sorry." She smiled. " No bright white lights. No tunnels. No chorus of dead friends telling me it wasn't my time. Just a blank." "How do you feel now? Any aftereffects? Any dizziness? Odd ringing in your ears?" Duncan was fishing but he didn't know how else to proceed. Margaret smiled again. "No I feel fine. No little voices in my head telling me to lead the armies of France to victory" Duncan laughed. He liked this girl. She had been through a very traumatic experience and still had a sense of humor. And she was beautiful. Very beautiful. She had her long hair twisted on the back of her head and held with what looked like chopsticks. Beautiful skin, pale but with the slightest hint of color- not pink, more like honey. Wide clear brow. Big eyes fringed with dark lashes. Straight nose. Nice mouth, lips. . . Duncan became aware that the conversation had stopped and he was staring at her. He cleared his throat. " That is interesting. Most patients who undergo the kind of near-death experience you have *do* see something during the time they are clinically dead. The kind of long black-out you describe is *very* uncommon. And of course - there is the healing. People who recover from being clinically dead still suffer from whatever ailment "killed" them in the first place. People don't get shot and then have the wound disappear without a trace." " Well, my father always said I was special. Perhaps he was right after all." " You don't have any other explanation? What do *you* think happened?" Duncan was intensely curious. If she was not Immortal - what *was* she? " What do I think happened? I don't know. Really. I *know* I got shot. And I *know* that I am totally healed. Beyond that - I don't have a clue." "Have the doctors recommended any follow-up treatment, any tests?" "They suggested I come in for tests. I said I would think about it. I'm too tired to be poked and prodded right now. Maybe later when the publicity has died down." Duncan looked thoughtful. " Do you think the publicity will die down? I mean, you've risen from the dead. Been healed of a horrible wound in a matter of minutes. I'd think you could stay on the talk show circuit for years with that story." He needed to judge how likely it was she would spread the story to a wider and wider audience. She stood up, making it obvious that she felt the interview was over. " I don't think I'll be going on the talk show circuit, Mr. MacLeod. I just want to forget what happened and go on with my life. If my survival has any greater meaning, I'm sure it will become clear in time. Until then, I have a term paper due next week." "I'll be going then. It has been good talking to you. We try to keep complete records of all such occurrences at the Hospital. May I call you if I need any further information for our files? The Chaplain might want some family background information - he has a pet theory that these things run in families." Duncan knew he was pushing it - but he did want to see her again. Both because he was fascinated by what she might *be* and because he was strongly attracted to her as a woman. She hesitated a moment and Duncan thought she was going to say no. Then she smiled and said: " Yes, you can call me." She walked him to the door and opened it . He stepped out onto the porch. "Thank you again, Ms. Grant." " Good-bye, Mr. MacLeod." Duncan crossed the porch and was at the stairs when she spoke again. "Oh, by the way, the hospital chaplain called earlier this morning to set up an appointment with him for next week. He apologized for not being able to see me right away but he said he was short-handed at the moment - no staff at all, in fact." And with that she shut the door. Duncan walked back to the car cursing. She had known the whole time that he wasn't from the hospital. Then why had she let him in? Something was going on and Duncan intended to find out what. But how?