Date: Sat, 2 Dec 1995 01:31:33 EST Reply-To: Russ McMillan Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Russ McMillan Subject: King for a Day, Part 4/6 King for a Day, Part 4 by Russet McMillan mcmillan@astro.psu.edu "Hey, MacLeod!" Joe's smiled faded as he watched his friend walk into the bar. Now that he understood how Immortality conferred an advantage in hiding a sword -- an advantage that MacLeod no longer had -- he could tell that Duncan wasn't armed. "Hi, Joe." Duncan slid onto a stool. "Where the hell is your sword?" Joe hissed. Duncan's brows went up. "I left it at home. Don't need it now, do I? Besides, it's a nuisance to carry around all the time." Joe scowled. "What about you?" "What do you mean?" "You got a sword, Joe? Like I said, I can give you a --" "I'm fine, MacLeod. I already have one." "A good one?" "You've seen it before; I used to keep it hanging on the wall of my office." "Oh, the El Cid." Duncan nodded. "Where is it now?" "Right here behind the bar. I just hope Mike doesn't ask me why I moved it." Duncan chuckled. "No, just a Coke," he said quickly when Joe started to set a beer in front of him. "Not used to what alcohol does to a mortal body, huh?" Joe grinned in spite of himself. "I've noticed I'm burning it off pretty fast, now." "Yeah, well, I still got that headache." Duncan rubbed his temple. "I think I'll stay indoors during thunderstorms, for a while." Joe frowned. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about that --" "So, you get your car back from the shop yet?" Joe's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he answered, "Yeah. It wasn't too bad. Insurance will cover it." "Good." Duncan gestured with his soda. "As an Immortal, you're going to need a lot of repairs to your electrical systems. If not worse." Joe didn't respond. The same liability applied to Watchers; he hoped MacLeod hadn't noticed that he was driving his third car in as many years. "Mac, look, we gotta talk about our options, here." Duncan sighed, dropping his cheerful act. "All right, Joe. What have you got?" "Okay." Joe stabbed the paper in front of him with a pencil. "I have this friend who's an electrical engineer, and she says she can set up a situation that will simulate lightning, except it's probably not life-threatening." "`Probably'? What does that mean?" Duncan demanded. "It means nothing is ever certain, MacLeod. You know that, and I know it." "You trust this friend with your life, then?" Joe looked up. "Yeah." "And my life?" He grinned. "Yeah." "Is this woman a Watcher? Does she know about Immortals?" There was no answer. Duncan looked up to see Joe standing frozen, his eyes flicking nervously around the room. "What is it?" he asked, realizing what must be happening even as he spoke. It was strange to see that expression on another man's face when he felt nothing himself. "Richie's here," Joe said tensely. "Are you sure? Richie told me he was going to be busy all day." Duncan turned toward the door. A short, sharp-faced man sidled into the bar, looking around alertly. His eyes fixed on Joe, and he seemed to grow bolder. "Anthony Cross," he said imperiously as he stepped forward. "I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," Duncan replied, moving into his path. Cross stopped. "I don't care who the hell you are, buddy. I got no business with you." "If you came for my friend, you have business with me." Duncan reached into his coat and paused, frowning. Cross looked at Joe and cocked his head. "This guy a friend of yours? You should keep him on a leash." "Stay out of this, Mac," Joe rasped. "I don't think so." Duncan took a threatening step toward Cross, who moved back. "Mac, you know you can't interfere!" Joe insisted. "Listen to your friend, _Mac_. You got no place in this Game." Cross produced a sword from inside his own jacket. With one swift kick, Duncan knocked the blade from the other man's hand. But as he reached out to grab Cross by the neck, there was a sharp report. Duncan fell back with a gasp. "Told ya," Cross said. He grinned nastily at Joe, shrugged, and slid the pistol back into his pocket. Duncan staggered and slipped to his knees. "Damn you!" Joe spat, and started to hurry around the end of the bar. He froze when he saw that Cross had retrieved his sword. Cross caught sight of Joe's cane, and his grin broadened. "Whatsamatter? Not feeling so lucky without your guardian angel?" Joe shot one more glance toward MacLeod's prone form, then set his jaw and stepped back behind the bar. "I suppose you _are_ feeling lucky," he said slowly. "Tony Cross. I've heard of you." "You still haven't told me your name." "Joe Dawson." "Funny, I never heard of _you_. You must be a new one." "Yeah. And you like to go after new Immortals, don't you, Cross? Makes you feel safe. You know you could never beat anyone in a straight fight." Slowly, Joe moved along the bar. "I been in plenty of fights." "Yeah, with the unlucky folks who get turned Immortal when they're kids, or too old or out of shape to defend themselves. And you still can't take them without cheating." Cross scowled. "I never cheat! I follow the Rules." "Oh, is that why you carry a gun in your pocket? What's the matter? Scared of an unarmed cripple?" Cross pulled his pistol out and tossed it aside. "I'll fight you fair and square," he offered. "Come on, old man. You got a sword? Come out of there!" Joe stopped his slow progress along the bar. "Uh-uh. You're going to have to come get me . . . unless you're afraid." The other man's face twisted. "Dammit, I'm not afraid of you!" He vaulted over the bar, thrusting at Joe. Joe ducked aside and broke a bottle of vodka over the back of Cross' head. As his attacker crashed to the floor behind the bar, Joe crossed the last few feet to where he had hidden the broadsword. As he pulled it free, Cross got to his knees and slashed wildly. His saber cut across Joe's stomach and thudded into the wood of the bar. Joe fell against it, trapping the blade between his hip and the bar. A moment later, he had his own sword at Cross' throat. "Drop it," he growled. Cross released the hilt of the saber. "Get up." Joe tucked the broadsword under the man's chin in a gesture he had seen MacLeod use more than once. His judgment wasn't quite as accurate; blood trickled from beneath the blade. Cross whimpered. "You scum." Joe glared at the man standing at his mercy. "Get out of my bar." The other man's eyes widened. "You can keep your head. Just get out, and don't come back." Sobbing, Cross staggered backward, caught himself against the bar, and ran. Joe lowered the broadsword and sagged on his cane as he watched his adversary depart. Wincing, he looked down at the gash across his stomach; painful, but already healing. Then he hurried around to the front of the bar, where Duncan sprawled on the floor. "Mac!" Seeing that his friend was still breathing, he fumbled for the phone and called an ambulance. Then he lowered himself down next to MacLeod and tried to get a better look at the bullet wound. It was high on Duncan's left side, and bleeding badly. As Joe put pressure on it to stop the flow, Duncan groaned and opened his eyes. "Nice work," he gasped. "I knew you had it in you." "Dammit, Mac, why'd you have to get yourself shot? If you wanted to stop him, all you had to do was pretend you didn't know anything about Immortals!" Duncan blinked. "I didn't even think of that." One side of his mouth struggled to grin. "Guess I'm not really cut out for mortality." "Yeah, you're about as good at it as I am at being Immortal." "You won your first fight." "My last one, too. I'm going to get things back to normal if it k-- no matter what it takes." Duncan coughed, and blood flecked his lips. "Don't think you'll have time for that, Joe." "Mac, you are not gonna die!" Joe pressed harder on the wound. "Aahh! Yes I am, Joe. Trust me, I know the feeling." "Just hold on. The ambulance'll be here soon." "It's okay, Joe," Duncan whispered, his voice gone thready. "It's not like it's my first time." Joe wasn't deceived; he saw the fear behind Duncan's eyes. But he couldn't do anything except sit with his friend while he faded into unconsciousness, and ride with him in the ambulance. =========================================================================