Date: Sat, 18 Mar 1995 15:59:25 -0600 Reply-To: Sheila Marie Lane Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Sheila Marie Lane Subject: "Highlanders, Mounties, and Sculptors..."(prologue) OK, here it is...my (our) first story! I need lots of comments, so feel free to be brutal. Warning--it's a Highlander/Due South crossover. Let me know if you don't understand something, so I can include more description. HIGHLANDERS, MOUNTIES, AND SCULPTORS...OH MY! by Sheila Marie Lane with Sarah E. Wilson Copyright 1995 by Sheila Marie Lane All rights reserved PROLOGUE * * * SEACOUVER, WASHINGTON 1995 "Chicago?" Duncan Macleod looked up in surprise as Tessa Noel--bounced?--out of her workroom, her blonde curls flying. He was caught between astonishment and laughter. While she loved her art, it was rare to see her thrilled at the mere prospect of a commission. It must be an incredible opportunity, indeed. But-- "Chicago?" "Yes, Chicago. Is this a problem, love? No, don't tell me--let me guess. You lived in Chicago fifty--no a hundred years ago. And enchantingly beautiful woman led you on and then rejected you cruelly, and you've never been able to face the city since." Her French accent deepened as her voice grew more melodramatic. Her Immortal was definitely laughing now. "What beautiful woman? No woman could ever compare to you, beloved." When Tessa tugged meaningfully at his long black ponytail, he hurried to add, "But sorry, nothing of the sort. I was...shot there once, I believe. Nothing important. But I have no objection to Chicago--I just don't understand why you've been asked to work on a sculpture there." "When I was beginning my study of art in Paris, one of my teachers was a Canadian, Rene Louvier. We haven't seen each other since he moved back to Ottawa, but he's kept in touch with me and my work. When the Canadian consulate in Chicago commissioned a sculpture to be presented to the mayor, they asked him to do it. He was unavailable, but he gave them my name--*my name*, Duncan! He said I was the best person for the job, and they took his word and offered it to me on the spot!" Duncan laughed and spun her around. "That's wonderful, darling! I'm so very proud of you!" He stopped kissing her long enough to ask, "How long will we be in Chicago?" "Only a few days. I'm to do the preliminary sketches there, and all the work will be done here. They don't even want to check on me while I'm working on it--the trust Rene, and Rene trusts me, that much." "And what will you be sketching in Chicago? If it's for the Canadian consulate..." "There's a Mountie assigned to them that they say will be a wonderful example of Canadian pride--and virility too, no doubt," Tessa added, her eyes twinkling. "He even has the perfect name. Constable Benton Fraser." * * * CHICAGO, ILLINOIS "Fraser?" Detective Ray Vecchio stared at his commanding officer, Lt. Walsh. All the good-looking guys in the city of Chicago--himself modestly included--and they were going to do a sculpture of-- "Fraser?" "It's a special request from the consulate. They want a statue that represents everything Canada has to be proud of, and for some reason, they've picked our constable to pose for it." "Why? He's a Mountie, not a model." "Actually, Ray," a deep voice broke in, "that seems to be what they had in mind--a Mountie, rather than a model." Benton Fraser walked up to join them. Ray looked over at him and sighed. Every inch of him was perfect--from the line of his crimson uniform to the close cut of his dark hair. Even his cheekbones were perfect, dammit. "They wanted a sculpture that would represent Canada, and since the Mounted Police are such a visible symbol of my country...I was probably the closest available Mountie." "Yeah, and the fact that women are always falling at your feet had nothing to do with it, right?" Ray sighed in exasperation as Fraser wrinkled his brow. As the Mountie drew in a breath to begin questioning the remark, Ray cut him off. "Forget it, Fraser. I'm sure you're right. So when does all this artsy stuff go on?" "Apparently the artist arrives tomorrow. She's asked that I join her for dinner tomorrow night so we can get to know each other before the sittings start." "Tomorrow night? Oh, great. You'll be eating pate and discussing brush strokes while I'm stuck on duty, drinking cold coffee and busting scuzzballs." Ray headed for the door, Fraser right behind him. "Really, Ray, she's a sculptor, not a painter. Why would we discuss brush strokes?" "Forget it, Fraser, just forget it. Jeez, can't you ever slouch once in a while? They should just stick your feet in cement and put you up there as the statue. You'd move less." * * * END PROLOGUE Send comments, questions, requests, marriage proposals, etc. to: slane@sunbird.usd.edu swilson@sunbird.usd.edu =========================================================================