========================================================================= Date: Sun, 21 Apr 1996 23:52:31 -0400 Reply-To: Jill Marie Spetoskey Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Jill Marie Spetoskey Subject: Mortals 12/14 (fwd) ---------- Forwarded message ---------- From: k s gritten Subject: Mortals 12/14 Mortals 12/14 Joe considered moving his arm from underneath Natalie's head, but did not. It was asleep, and would hurt like hell after a while, but he did not want to disturb her. She lay with her head cradled in his lap. He could feel her long, fine hair against his fingers, and resisted the urge to run his hands through it. 'What a stupid way to die,' he thought dully. It had been too long since Lisa had left them. The end of Lisa's quest-- one way or another--had to have occurred by now. The fact that he and Nat were still sitting in this dark room undisturbed left him little room for hope. "Joe, why did McKenzie do it?" He'd hoped she was asleep. "I don't know," he said slowly, both trying to formulate an answer and to extend their conversation. As the darkness seem to settle heavily upon them, he appreciated her company more. "Some Watchers become attached to 'their' Immortal." He thought about Duncan McLeod, and their friendship, often a somewhat uneasy alliance. Some Watchers grew too close to their subjects; that was one of the reasons Watchers rotated assignments. Still, he had seen Watchers torn up by the death of an Immortal, a man or a woman that they had never truly met, or talked to. He himself had broken the cardinal rule of watching, of course--never get involved. He returned his thoughts to Mike McKenzie. "That car accident that Mike and Lisa were in really shook them up. They were very lucky not to be killed." He had told Mike to take more time off, but McKenzie had insisted on returning to work. He did not want to miss anything, he said. But there had been more. "A taste of mortality," he murmured. Natalie shifted position, taking the pressure off of his arm. He flexed it slowly as she said "You aren't supposed to get involved with them, are you?" She was perceptive. He also heard the shared sympathy in her voice. "No," he answered quietly. "But you did. Richie is your friend. This Duncan that he mentioned--he's your friend too, right?" "Yes." "How do you feel about that?" He was silent again, trying to collect his thoughts and preserve his ability to talk. Finally he said, "I used to envy Immortals." He shifted his legs a little. "Particularly when I was feeling very...human." He could feel her nod. "I don't anymore. They see too much death, they watch those that they love grow old, or, if they have other Immortal friends, be killed. They see too much loss. They have to constantly rebuild their lives, to start over and over." He trailed off, his throat too dry to continue, his thoughts too bittersweet. She finished the idea for him, though. "It's hard enough to live one life sometimes, isn't it?" "Yeah," he said softly into the darkness. "It is." ****** Tracy Vetter approached the hotel room door cautiously, uncertain what to expect. She had gotten a tip that a woman matching Lisa McKenzie's description had been seen at this hotel, registered in this room. She knew that Captain Reese would give her hell for not calling for back-up, but she did not care. Nick was nowhere to be found, as usual, but this time Tracy was not annoyed. Since Vachon had taken her to Mike McKenzie's body in the alley near the Raven, so obviously victim to a vampire that she had been surprised that Natalie as coroner had not made a big deal out of the cause of death, she had not been sure what was going on. Obviously Lisa McKenzie had not killed her husband--some vampire had. Unless McKenzie herself was the vampire? The questions just went around in circles. So Tracy was glad, for the time being, that her partner was not here to ask awkward questions, like why she was standing outside a hotel room door with her gun in one hand and small crucifix necklace that she had kept in her car for just such an occasion clutched in the other. "Mrs. McKenzie?" Tracy called. "This is the police--please open up." She did not hear any movement inside the room, and tapped on the door with her gun. "Mrs. McKenzie?" The pressure pushed the door open easily--it had not been shut all the way. "Mrs. McKenzie?" Once she was inside, Tracy knew that she would not find Lisa McKenzie here. Not alive, anyway. The room was a complete shambles, as if there had been a terrible struggle. Tracy's heart sank as she saw the bed. Spread across the ugly print of the cheap bedcover was the stain of dried blood.