Date: Sun, 20 Aug 1995 20:01:41 EDT Reply-To: Russ McMillan Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Russ McMillan Subject: Hold Fast, Part 8a/8 repost Hold Fast, Part 8a by Russet McMillan mcmillan@astro.psu.edu They rounded the corner out of sight of the church just as the fire engines drove up. Joe breathed a sigh of relief and started coughing convulsively. Duncan and Nicky were both hacking almost nonstop. "Take us back to the bar," Joe ordered. The top priority in his mind, after getting someplace safe, was to get his spare leg strapped on. He leaned back against the car seat, his mind whirling with all that had happened today. Only then did he realize what he had just seen. "What the --" He turned to look over into the back seat. Duncan was holding Connor across his lap, studying his kinsman anxiously. Connor's body was naked, and hairless, and quite whole -- both head and arm properly attached, no scars on his face. He bore none of the scorches or blisters that stood out on Duncan's bare arms. "What happened to him?" Dawson demanded. "He had his head cut off," said Duncan in a low voice. "And welded back on?" "I don't know," said Duncan. "I just knew I had to get him out of there. That was the strangest Quickening I've ever seen." "Is that what happens when you fight on holy ground?" Duncan shrugged. "Nobody I've ever met knows the reason for that rule. We just know it must be a good one." He looked up. "Do the Watchers know?" Joe shook his head. "I always thought it was just convention." "Oh, no." Duncan's hand passed across Connor's motionless chest. "Holy ground is special." "What happened to the woman, then?" "She was just a pile of ashes when I got there," said Duncan. "I don't know why she did it. Her sword . . . " For the first time, Dawson realized that he was holding one katana and a twisted, blackened piece of scrap metal with a hilt. "My God," he whispered in awe, then wondered if he had meant the words literally. They arrived at Joe's bar in silence and staggered out of the car. Nicky and Duncan carried Connor's body in the back door, while Joe made his own awkward way. "Lie him down on the couch in my office," he ordered, grabbing a cane from the stand by the door as he entered. While Duncan tended to Connor, Dawson took Nicky into the bar. Since it was a Friday night -- or, rather, a Saturday morning -- the place was still fairly full. Joe ignored the stares he was getting and beckoned to Mike. "Keep an eye on Nicky," he said. "Don't let him go anywhere." Then he hobbled off to change his clothes find the spare prosthesis he kept in a closet. A few minutes later, he returned to the office with two sets of clean clothes. "Here, Mac," he said. "Clean yourself up. I'll watch him for a while." Duncan looked reluctant, but dragged himself away. When he returned, he looked much better, his burns almost healed and the soot marks scrubbed away. Only his abused hair showed the aftereffects of the fire. Dawson was puzzling over Connor, who looked perfectly healthy, but remained still and lifeless. "What's wrong with him?" he asked. "I don't know," Duncan muttered. "He's dead, that's all. He should have woken up by now. Or else he should have stayed in pieces. I don't know what's supposed to happen." "So is this his original head, that got reattached, or did he grow a new one?" Joe asked curiously. "Or did the head grow a new body?" "Joe!" Duncan protested, giving him an offended look. "Sorry. But we do need to ask some questions. Do you suppose there's anything we should do to help him?" "How should I know?" Duncan flung himself into a chair. "Can you sense him?" "No. Not exactly. There's something . . . I felt it from outside the church. Something there. But it's not really -- it's like water lying stagnant in a stream, when it should be flowing." "Maybe it just needs something to get it started, like opening a dam." "Maybe." Duncan frowned. "I have an idea." He knelt beside the couch and laid a hand on Connor's chest. "Stand back," he said curtly, and closed his eyes in concentration. Baffled, Dawson moved to the doorway and watched intently. Duncan crouched motionless for a few minutes with his eyes closed, then without warning there was a bright blue flash, and the light went out with a tinkle of glass. The music filtering in from the bar stopped in mid-phrase. Everything was dark and silent. Joe reached out a hand to steady himself against the door frame. "Macleod?" he ventured. "Duncan?" No answer. A door opened. "Hey, Joe!" "Yeah?" "The lights went out!" Joe sighed. "I know that, Mike." He groped down the hallway. "Did they shatter in the bar?" "No, they just went out. What the heck did you do, cut off somebody's head?" "That's not funny, Mike." Dawson found a switch and flipped it without result. "Maybe the circuit breakers kicked in. Go check the fuse box. It's in the back of the kitchen." "Yeah, I know where it is." Mike's footsteps receded. Dawson felt his way to the back door, where he kept a flashlight on a shelf. Just as he clicked it on, he heard the music start up again, and light appeared under the door to the bar. The broken light in his office stayed out. Mike stuck his head through the door. "Got the lights back on," he said unnecessarily. "Good. Listen, maybe we should close up early tonight." "What? It's a Friday night, man!" "Just call last round, will you?" Joe shook his head as he limped back into his office. Connor was lying on the couch just as before, with Duncan collapsed on the floor. Joe set the flashlight on a table and bent over to check Duncan's pulse. It was weak, but present, and growing stronger as he waited. Next he turned to Connor, and saw that the older Highlander was breathing deeply and steadily. With a smile he sat back and waited for his guests to revive. Connor woke first, twitching his hand and then sitting up convulsively. He looked around the room wildly. "What happened?" "What do you remember?" Joe asked with interest. Connor fixed him with a glare, and for a moment Joe thought the Immortal had lost all his memory. Then he said, slowly, "We were in the church. Everything was over, and then . . . some crazy woman attacked me. She wanted to fight on holy ground. She was -- she was . . . " He rubbed at his head, then groped in astonishment at his bald crown. "What happened to me?" "She was what?" Joe pressed, bringing him back to the subject. "What about her?" "I've got her Quickening. But I didn't kill her, did I? Not in a church." His eyes widened suddenly. "She killed me!" His hand went frantically to his neck, patting, feeling for a scar. Then he froze again, staring at his hand -- his right hand. "My arm . . . what is going on here?" On the floor, Duncan groaned. Joe smiled and tossed the extra set of clothes at Connor. "There's a bathroom down the hall. Go get a look at yourself. You're a new man." He chuckled as Connor barreled out of the office, carrying the clothes where they would count the most. Duncan rolled over and pushed himself up to sit against the couch. "What happened?" he mumbled. "Oh, not you, too!" Joe protested. Duncan stared at him dazedly for a moment, then twisted around to look at the couch. "Connor -- where's Connor?" "He's fine. He's getting dressed." "Fine? He's fine?" "He has two arms and a head, and they all seem to work properly. That's better than he has any right to expect." Duncan scrubbed at his face, patting his strands of half-burnt hair much as Connor had reacted to his own loss. "Ugh. This is a stupid way to heal. I wish Ramirez had finished teaching Connor." "Teaching him what? What did you do?" "I just tried to -- touch his quickening with mine." Duncan dropped his hands and looked up as Connor appeared in the doorway. Both Immortals stared at each other as if they could hardly believe their eyes. Then Duncan levered himself to his feet and crossed the room to stand before his kinsman. He took Connor's forearm, and Connor returned the grip. They both grinned and pulled each other into a hug, laughing and half-wrestling. Duncan broke off first and looked at the door. "Someone's coming." A door slammed in the hallway. "Joe?" called Richie's voice. "Mike said you were back here . . . how come you're closing early?" He came to the door of the office and fell back as if someone had punched him in the stomach. "Whoa!" he cried, staring at Connor. "What happened to you, man?" Connor held out both his arms. "I got better?" "Geeze! I've never felt anything like that!" Richie braced himself against the door and straightened slowly. "Never felt anything like what?" Joe asked curiously. "Connor's buzz is a lot stronger now," Duncan explained. "He could probably knock another Immortal down at twelve paces with that." "What? Why?" Dawson was baffled. "Is it as strong as Methos' Quickening?" Duncan shook his head slowly. "No, not as strong . . ." "But it's brighter," said Richie. "Sharper, sort of. More _here_." "It'll probably fade with time. It's not every day I get my head reattached." "Your what? What the hell happened to your hair, man?" Richie demanded. "Your arm -- your face . . . what's going on?" Joe explained in a few words what little they knew, taking the role of storyteller naturally as his own. Richie's eyes widened when he heard about the woman's attack on Connor. "Oh, geeze," he said, "if I had known she was gonna go after you guys --" "You knew her?" Duncan demanded. "She came for me earlier. I beat her and made her promise not to come after me again, then I let her go. I never guessed . . ." "Where were you when I tried to phone you?" Duncan asked. "That was you? I was in the middle of a swordfight. A little too busy to talk. You should have left a message." "But I did." "You did? I never got it." Richie smacked his forehead. "Damn! She must have listened to the message and erased it, that's why she waited so long! I bet you said in the message where you were going to be, huh?" "That's right." Richie shook his head, stunned at the course of events and looking vaguely guilty. "I'm sorry, man," he said to Connor. "If I had known --" "It turned out OK," Connor said with a shrug. Mike appeared in the doorway behind Richie. "Everybody's gone," he told Joe. "Except for Nicky. You gonna tell his folks he's here? Or at least let him clean up?" Joe sighed. "Bring him back here. I need to have a talk with him. I'll call his parents." He looked at the three Immortals. "Why don't you three have some drinks on the house? I'll get back to you when I'm finished with Nicky." ======================= =========================================================================