Date: Tue, 13 Dec 1994 07:36:49 -0500 Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Rene Gibson Organization: ALPHATECH, INC. Subject: Holy Ground His Only Refuge? (1/1) This is a bit of silliness that just occurred to me one day, so please be kind. :-) It's a HL/FK story (vignette, really) that takes place a couple months or so after "Long Lifelines". The things one thinks of while waiting for a program to compile... Rene gibson@alphatech.com Holy Ground His Only Refuge? Emerging from the dense fog, Connor ran through the gate into the cemetery and stumbled over to the nearest gravestone. Leaning back against it, he slid tiredly to the ground to sit and wait. He checked his shoulder briefly to see how bad the wound looked. Wonderful, he thought sarcastically. His shoulder and jacket were a mess. Maybe if he took the jacket off, folded it just right and draped it over his shoulder, it would pass. It had to; he needed to get back to his hotel room without attracting attention. When blood ran into his eye again from the cut above it, he wiped it away with his sleeve and glanced around. Luckily, the cemetery was deserted this time of night; deserted except for him, of course, and someone he was just now beginning to sense. "Tsk, tsk, MacLeod. Hiding out on holy ground?" He turned to see his pursuer calmly lean on the gatepost and regard him with a sneer. "Sorry to ruin your fun, Hannah," Connor said, though he was not sorry in the least. The other Immortal looked at him with mock disappointment. "Aww. And I was *so* looking forward to the good time we could've had." "Only until you took my head," he said with a sarcastic laugh. Smiling, Hannah said, "*That's* when the good time would've started." Pushing off the gatepost, she glanced around and shook her head before putting her hands in her pockets and sighing dramatically. "Another time, MacLeod," she said. Leaving the cemetery, she disappeared into the fog. "Not if I can help it." Connor leaned his head back against the stone to rest. This late at night--early morning, really--he should have plenty of time to heal without the risk of discovery. He closed his eyes briefly--just to rest them--and tried not to fall asleep... "My, my. What have we here?" A voice woke Connor from his unintended nap. How long had he slept? A few minutes? A few hours? The throb in his shoulder indicated the former, but it had been long enough for someone to sneak up on him. Looking up, he saw a tall man with fair hair and ice blue eyes smile down at him in a way he did not like. The expression on the other's face reminded Connor of an Immortal waiting to strike, but the man was no Immortal. Still, the look worried him for a reason that nagged at the back of his mind, but refused to surface on demand. "I was just resting," he explained. Before Connor had time to react, the man abruptly reached forward and touched the cut above Connor's eye, coming away with blood on his finger. While the man regarded the blood thoughtfully, Connor stood slowly and moved a couple feet further away. "I fell..." he began, but trailed off hesitantly, since the man seemed uninterested about why Connor was here. Instead, the man seemed completely engrossed in studying the blood on his finger, regarding it from different angles, sniffing it curiously, experimentally tasting it... Connor's jaw dropped. A vampire? Finally the look that had made him uncomfortable made sense; it was the look of a predator. It meant Connor was prey yet again and this time holy ground was no refuge. Then he relaxed. A vampire. Riiiiight. Just because he was in Toronto, where Nick and Janette lived, did not mean every stranger was a vampire, however eccentric the stranger might be. However pale. However fascinated by blood. However long his eyeteeth happened to be. However much his eyes glowed... Then again... "Very tasty," the stranger said, smiling politely in a dangerously evil sort of way. "I thought I smelled someone interesting as I passed by. Now why is that?" "I'm Scottish?" Connor looked around quickly for a place to hide, but realized there was nowhere nearby he would be safe from a vampire. Glancing at the sky, he saw it lightening slightly in the east, but not enough; dawn was much too far away. Smiling innocently, he backed up slowly. The vampire approached at the same rate, keeping pace calmly. "No, I don't think so. I've had Scottish blood before and yours is definitely different," he said thoughtfully, humoringly. "Still, I don't think I'd make a very good meal..." "Aah, but I *do*." Suddenly Connor stopped backing away. He might as well; there was nowhere to go. Defiantly he glared at the vampire and said, "All right, do it, if you're going to. But do us both a favor and make sure you kill me. Don't try to bring me over." Pleased that his quarry was being so cooperative, the vampire smiled agreeably. "And why should I do that?" Before Connor could answer, he heard a whooshing sound and Nick appeared out of the sky, landing gracefully a few feet away to Connor's right. Walking forward, Nick said, "Remember Jack the Ripper, LaCroix?" "But this one has none of Jack's evil, Nicholas," LaCroix said, indicating Connor with a wave of his hand. "And where Jack tasted like poison, this one has a fascinating taste." Connor edged towards Nick as the vampires carried on their debate. "His people are different," Nick said. "I'm not sure we *can* kill them and I don't want to find out what happens if you try to bring one of them over." LaCroix smiled indulgingly. "But maybe *I* want to find out." By now, Nick had placed himself between Connor and LaCroix. Connor used this to his advantage and backed away, looking around for anything to protect himself. A cross, maybe? No, most of those around him were carved into the stones and he could not see how they would be a proper deterrent. What then? "LaCroix!" Connor turned back just in time to see LaCroix arrive suddenly in front of him and grab him by the collar of his jacket, almost lifting him off the ground. He struggled briefly, then gave up; vampire strength was far beyond his own. "I don't want to be a vampire," he stated angrily. "And whysoever not?" LaCroix said with a bemused expression. Bitterly Connor said, "Who wants to be immortal?" A few feet away, Nick waited to see what LaCroix would do, ready to intervene if necessary. Connor wondered what Nick *could* do if LaCroix decided to bite him. But LaCroix's expression gradually changed to one of confusion, then understanding. "You're one of the *others*," he said, emphasizing the last word. Confused himself now, Connor looked from LaCroix to Nick and back again. "What others?" Releasing Connor, LaCroix walked a little ways away, seemingly thoughtful. After a few moments, he stopped and turned back to them. "Over the years, I've heard of 'others'. Like us but not; lacking our strengths but also lacking our weaknesses." He gave Connor a curious glance. "And immortal." "You knew about them?" Nick asked. "Only vague rumors," LaCroix said with a shrug. "But if some of the rumors are true, you were right to warn me away from him, Nicholas. His kind should not be brought over." "Someone should tell Janette that," Nick said with a grin. Connor laughed to himself. So there *were* advantages to being Immortal. "Your kind will leave us alone," LaCroix told him pointedly with such mental force that Connor cringed slightly. "No problem," he assured them. "We can't sense vampires anymore than we can sense mortals." Nodding quietly, LaCroix turned to Nick. "I'll be seeing you, Nicholas." With a whoosh, LaCroix disappeared into the night. Very much relieved, Connor turned to Nick. "How did he know I'm an Immortal?" "A guess. Most people pick some of the other problems with being a vampire, like never seeing the sun and having to drink blood. But *you* indicated you didn't like immortality, the only thing you have experience with, but not something many others would've argued against. Besides," he said with a smile. "Your bitterness was too convincing." Connor nodded wryly. "Your timing is excellent, by the way. Thanks." "Someone reported a swordfight. You're lucky it was me who got called to search the area." Looking Connor over briefly, then glancing around, Nick asked, "Where's your sword?" "At the bottom of the river." Sighing tiredly, Connor shook his head. "While I was walking along the river, I felt another Immortal. I heard a noise and turned right into the knife she threw. It *had* to be my sword arm she hit," he said sarcastically, peering at his mostly healed shoulder. "I take it you lost the fight?" He nodded. "And ran." "Why here?" "It's holy ground," he said simply. "So?" Connor looked at Nick silently for a bit, before deciding Nick knew enough about him that one more bit of information made little difference. "We can't kill each other on holy ground." "Why?" He shrugged. "It's one of the Rules. No one breaks that one." "No one?" "Not even the Kurgan." At Nick's curious look, Connor added, "Remind me to tell you about him sometime." Nick turned and started toward the cemetery gate. "Let's go find your sword before someone else does." Following, Connor took off his jacket and draped it over his shoulder as he had originally planned. Shifting his shoulder experimentally, he found it felt much better. As they walked along, he asked, "Just how many vampires *are* there in this city?" Silence answered him. Why? What was Nick hiding? Suddenly he knew. "Should I wear a cross from now on?" he asked sarcastically. Nick laughed. "Better make it a big one." The End :-) =========================================================================