Date: Thu, 30 Nov 1995 11:29:30 EST Reply-To: Russ McMillan Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Russ McMillan Subject: King for a Day, Part 2/6 Sorry about the accidental post last night. How 'bout a real post to make up for it? King for a Day, Part 2 by Russet McMillan mcmillan@astro.psu.edu "I still say it has to be because of last night," Joe muttered for the third time, as they sat around the table in various states of shock. "And I still don't know what you're talking about," Duncan returned. "What about last night?" Joe stared at him. "You don't remember?" "Not really. It's all pretty fuzzy. Something . . . we were in your car?" "Yeah. We ran into each other at the grocery store. It was kicking up a real storm outside." =========================== Duncan froze at the end of the snack aisle, staring at the man who had just plucked a milk jug from the dairy refrigerators. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Joe's surprise when he turned and caught sight of MacLeod was pretty convincing. "Uh . . ." Joe looked uneasy. "You're not going to believe this, MacLeod, but I wasn't following you." "I believe you," Duncan replied calmly. He reached past Joe to grab a half-gallon of orange juice. "If you had known I was coming here, I wouldn't have seen you." Joe sighed and stared at the floor. "I just came by to get some groceries." "I just walked down to buy some juice," Duncan said, gesturing with the carton. "You do all your shopping on this side of town, Dawson?" Joe bit his lip. "Not usually, but this is the only store I've found that carries my favorite barbecue sauce." He waved at a fat bottle rolling around in his grocery cart. "You ever tried it? It's good. From Texas." "Ah, no. I'll have to give it a try sometime." Duncan stepped around Joe's cart. "So long, Joe." "Yeah." Joe turned to look after the Immortal glumly. "See you." The express register needed a new roll of paper for its receipts, so Duncan, with his orange juice, ended up leaving the store at the same time as Joe, with a full cart. They both paused on the curb outside, looking over the drenched parking lot. "You need some help with that, Joe?" Duncan asked, waving at the cart. "Uh, no. I thought I'd leave it here and bring the car over, so everything doesn't get soaked." Joe watched the rain pouring down. "Did you say you walked here?" "Yeah, it wasn't so bad when I came." "You want a ride back?" Duncan stiffened. "No, a little water isn't going to melt me. I'll wait till the worst of it passes." By the time Joe had pulled his car up to the overhang, the rain was only falling harder. Both men were wet to the skin before Joe's groceries were shut in the trunk. "Get in, Mac," Joe urged. "I wouldn't let a total stranger walk home in weather like this!" Duncan sighed and gave in, strapping himself into the passenger seat as rain and hail drummed on the roof. The weather grew worse as they drove. By the time they were four blocks from the grocery store, it was nearly impossible to see through the windshield, even with the wipers on their highest setting. Joe had to crack the windows to keep the car from steaming up. Through the curtain of water, they could see trees whipping in the wind. Stolen leaves plastered themselves to the car. "Better pull over," Duncan called out over the sound of the wind and rain. "This can't last long." "Yeah," Joe agreed. As he pulled the car toward the curb, it stalled and the lights went dark. Joe squinted in puzzlement. There was something eerie about the way the car had stalled; it made the hair stand up on his forearms. Shaking his head, he reached for the ignition to start it again. "Wait!" Duncan cried, grabbing his hand. "Don't touch anything metal!" Just as he spoke, a blinding flash lit the car, sizzling in from the window to Duncan's right. Both their hands spasmed together. The world went from searing white to echoey black. Duncan swallowed with effort and opened his eyes. "Well, it's about time," Joe commented from his left. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up." Duncan blinked, shifted in his seat, and decided it was wiser not to move his head. "You okay, Joe?" he mumbled. "I'm fine. I only blacked out for a second or two, I think. You must have gotten hit a lot harder than I did." He regarded Duncan with concern. "How long?" Duncan asked, striving for clarity. "You were out about ten minutes. The storm's nearly over now." Joe waved at the dripping, but quiet world outside of the car. "How do you feel?" "Awful," Duncan said succinctly. He groaned and clasped his head in his hands. "You ever been hit by lightning before?" "A few times. I think lightning is attracted to Immortals." "Oh, great. So if I hadn't insisted on giving you a ride, my car wouldn't have gotten fried?" Duncan grinned weakly. "Is it like a quickening?" "Kinda. It's different every time." Duncan tried moving his head again and found that it worked better this time -- but only a little. "It was never this bad, for me." "Well, the rain's almost stopped. We're only a couple blocks from your place. Let's get you home and I can call a cab from the dojo, all right?" ======================== "And that must have been when it happened," Joe concluded. "Something got -- transferred, somehow, from you to me. Something big." He rubbed his jaw. "No wonder I've been feeling weird all day." "You realize, fellas," Richie said slowly, "this is totally impossible. I mean, Immortality isn't like trading cards. You can't just give it away. There must be some other explanation. Mac, maybe you have some sort of -- aberration or something, that's keeping you from healing." "How come I don't buzz, and I don't feel you?" Duncan asked. "I don't know, but -- it's gotta be something temporary. You'll get back to normal soon. Joe, you musta been Immortal all along. When you got struck by lightning, you died, and that was that." "Then how come MacLeod didn't sense it beforehand, like he did with you?" Joe demanded. "Maybe it's easier to tell with kids, and -- and teenagers! How'm I s'posed to know?" Joe shook his head. "Richie, it won't work. I have family. Parents, sisters!" "But no kids. Maybe you're adopted. Maybe the hospital mixed up the wrist tags." Joe looked doubtful. "I look _a lot_ like my father. Face it -- I was never meant to be Immortal. This --" He waved a hand between himself and MacLeod. "This is wrong. We gotta find some way to reverse this." Duncan gave him a thoughtful look. "You don't want to be Immortal?" he said in an unrevealing tone. Joe sat back hard in his seat. "Why would I?" "Well . . . it's a great research opportunity," Duncan suggested. "Yeah, and how long am I likely to survive this 'research'? I have no idea how to use a sword, Mac!" "Most new Immortals don't, these days." "Yeah, well I'm a little old to start learning now. Aside from the other obvious difficulties." "You have other resources to bring to it, Joe. You might not do so bad." Richie was staring at MacLeod in utter disbelief. Now Joe started to regard Duncan suspiciously as well. "You want to _stay_ this way?" Joe asked. "Trade places for good?" Duncan took a swallow of his beer. "It has its appeal," he admitted at last. "What are you talking about, Mac?" Richie cried. "You want to get old, get sick, and die?" "At least I could see it coming. Richie, with us, there is no _dying_. We're either fine, or we're history. No middle ground. Not to mention the part about kill or be killed." "Oh, yeah, now you're really starting to persuade me," Joe commented. Duncan spared him a glance and returned to Richie. "For Immortals, the end is always murder, and it's always unexpected. Wouldn't it be nice to have an hour, or a week, or a year to get ready?" "It might not be like that, Mac. You could still get shot, or hit by a car, or something." "Yeah, MacLeod, when's the last time you managed to go a month without getting killed?" Joe interjected. "At least now I won't have people coming for my head," Duncan retorted. "What makes you so sure of that?" said Richie. "You could still have guys after you for revenge, because you got in their way once before, or something. You still have a lot of enemies, Mac, even if they're not after your quickening." "And if they do want your quickening, all they have to do is come chop off _my_ head," Joe muttered into his beer. "This way, Mac, to get you, they just need to stab you or shoot you, and it'll be over." "Fine, I get the point," Duncan conceded. "But whether we like the situation or not, I don't see that it makes any difference. We seem to be stuck this way. What makes you think we _can_ reverse it?" "Well, obviously it has to be some variation on what happened last night," Joe put in. "Right. So you propose that we go out and hold hands in a thunderstorm?" Joe acknowledged the absurdity with a shrug of his eyebrows. "We could stand under a tall tree, while we're at it." "Joe, any way you look at it, _one_ of us is mortal. I don't know about you, but I feel like shit today. What would you have done if I hadn't woken up last night? What if my heart had stopped? What if we reverse the process and _your_ heart stops?" Joe frowned. "We'll just have to take that risk, won't we?" "No! We can leave things as they are, and deal with trouble when it comes. We can't go around experimenting with our lives! If there's one thing I've learned in four hundred years, it's that you can't control fate." "You call this fate? MacLeod, it isn't supposed to _be_ this way!" "Well, it is!" Duncan snapped back. "Get used to it." He pushed his chair back and stood up. "Look, Joe, this headache is killing me, and I should probably put something on my wrist. Why don't you come by my place later today, and we can discuss it some more, okay?" Joe exchanged glances with Richie as Duncan left the bar. "So what do you think, Joe?" Richie asked finally. Joe sighed. "I think I'm in serious trouble," he replied as he downed the last of his beer.