Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 02:45:41 -0400 Reply-To: GrinnyP@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: "Origins" Chapter 7, part 1 "Origins" c. 1995 C. A. Liddiard Chapter 7 "And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of them that were slain for the word of God, and for the testimony which they held." _Revelations 6:9_ --------------------- Washington State, 1995 "That's not possible," breathed Mike in astonishment. "I thought you killed him." Visions flashed through his mind. Horton shooting him, Horton shooting Charlie, Horton taunting him in the fake crypt, the cruelty of the Tessa lookalike that Horton had unleashed. He also remembered running the man through the first time, watching Joe shoot him the second time he showed up, and finally stabbing Horton with his own dagger and watching the life leave his eyes after his last 'resurrection'. "I thought so, too," was MacLeod's grim reply. He repeated aloud to Methos in anger, not caring who heard him. "How can he be alive?" "Mac? Mac?" The familiar voice interrupted before Methos could answer. Duncan turned to see Richie stumbling towards him, his shirt torn to shreds by sword cuts and bullets. "Are you okay, Richie?" he asked as he realized that seeing Horton had driven all thoughts of the quickening out of his head. "Who was it?" As the youngster got closer, Duncan could see tears streaming down his face. "It was Felicia." "I'm sorry, Richie," he said, feeling inadequate as the young immortal fell to his knees. "I know how hard that must have been for you." Dimly he could hear Methos checking with Mike to see if all the Watcher security had vacated the building. He turned away from Richie to give him a moment to pull himself together and confronted Methos, who had finished talking to Mike. Methos watched Mike walk away before turning to the Highlander. "Okay, MacLeod, he's gone to organize what's left of their men. We need to get further away from the building." "No, you need to tell me what's going on, _now_." "Duncan . . . " Methos began, but the angry immortal cut him off. "I want to know why she couldn't tell me from the beginning what was going on. I want to know why she's always so obscure. You know, in France she tried to warn me of the Baron's assassination. Why didn't she just say Kuyler was going to kill him? Why the oblique hinting and evasion, and never a straight answer? What kind of game is she playing with our lives now?" The last question was shouted at the older immortal. "She didn't tell you everything because she didn't completely trust you." Methos tried to placate an increasingly agitated Duncan. "And she didn't completely trust you because you _did_ tell Joe who I was. As for that thing in France, she didn't know for sure what was going to happen. She told you all she knew, and trusted you to use the information." "You mean she didn't know Kuyler was coming to kill the Baron?" "Not exactly . . . " Methos looked inward to a memory 200 years old. --------------------- France, 1783 "I wish I could have told him more," the woman said gloomily. Her companion in the carriage hugged her in commiseration. "Marienne, you could only tell him what you saw." "I know," she sighed. "it's just sometimes I curse this talent the Mother gave me. I never seem to see things clearly enough until it is too late." "I am told he is a resourceful young man. I'm sure he'll do all right," he replied. They huddled together in comfortable silence and listened to the clip clop of the horse's hoofs as they traveled away from the chateau. Suddenly, the woman stiffened and sat upright. "Tell the driver to go back." "What is it?" "An immortal approaching the chateau from the opposite direction. He's almost out of my range to sense him. Damn it, Adam," she exclaimed in disgust. "I _knew_ we should have stayed." Adam leaned out of the carriage window and told the driver to turn around and make haste for the chateau. Back inside he said, "You know that we had to leave. Rebecca's summons sounded urgent. You know she wouldn't do that unless there was a real need." "I know, I know. You don't need to remind me." After a several minutes of bumpy travel she said quietly, "He's there. How far away are we?" Adam looked frustrated. "Too far." They sat in tense silence as the carriage raced over the road, both hoping against hope that they would be in time. When the carriage sped up the drive towards the main building, Marienne slumped in her seat and covered her face with her hands. "Is it . . ." her companion began. "We're too late. Baron Deshields is dead." --------------------- Berri Egoitza , @9,400 BCE The slender woman danced around her room in the quarantine building, celebrating the return of her abilities. Since she felt them coming back she had been unable to contain her excitement and joy. Collapsing from exhaustion and laughter, she dropped her shields and scanned the facility again just to see if she could. She sensed the happiness of the other volunteers as they, too, began recovering from the insidious disease. She sensed the calmness of the Wise Man's helpers as they moved among the recovering People dispensing advice and dosages of the cure. Her forehead wrinkled as she sensed an anomaly, someone who did not belong there. Cursing as she realized who it was, she strode into the adjoining room. There, hiding behind a sleeping pallet was her youngest brother, barely 7 years old. "Gaztetxo what are you doing here?" Panic made the statement come out harsher than she intended. "Don't you understand you're not supposed to be here? You could get sick." "No I won't," he said petulantly as she dragged him out of his hiding place. "Baretasun brought us the stuff that keeps you from getting sick. Mother made me take it right away." She sighed as she thought of her mother. Since the death of her oldest son, the Matriarch had become increasingly protective of young Gaztetxo. Of course she would have had him immunized first. Song hugged the wriggling youngster tightly as she made her way back to her room. "Now, Gaztetxo, you know you shouldn't be around recovering sick people. Not everyone appreciates a rambunctious child when they are feeling poorly." She set him on his feet and contacted Baretasun. *My little brother has somehow found his way into the building. I'm keeping him here in my room so he doesn't disturb the recovery of the others.* *How in the name of the Mother did he get in there?* came his reply. *I have no idea, love.* *Do you want me to contact your mother and tell her where he is?* he asked after a moment. *No.* She didn't blame his hesitance, the way her mother had become lately. *I'll contact her.* Song cut off the communication when she saw Gaztetxo scampering out the door. "Come back here you little spirit," she said as she snagged a handful of his clothing. "I told you not to disturb anyone else." He pouted and said, "But I wasn't going to disturb. I just want to play." He sniffled theatrically several times as his eyes filled with tears. she steeled herself against that imploring look. "No," she forced out sternly. "You are to stay in this room with me. Just think of it as punishment for breaking the rules." Gaztetxo sniffed a few more times for effect and walked dejectedly towards the window. Soon, however, his affected gloom disappeared and he happily occupied himself with calling birds to the window. Song smiled fondly at the youngster at play and settled in, feeling herself get better. She paused, bracing herself. *Matriarch?* she called timidly. --------------------- Washington State, 1995 Carol sat calmly in the computer room, waiting for the all clear signal from Adam. When it came she got up, stretched, and scanned the surrounding corridors. Her mouth formed an unpleasant smile. Leaving the mercenaries to their fate, she silently left the room and began running for the exit. --------------------- Richie sat on the ground, cradling his sword. In his mind, the same scene flashed over and over. He saw himself laying on the ground, recovering from the broken neck and gunshot wounds. He saw Felicia, healing faster than he could, crawling towards him with her sword in hand, a nasty grin crossing her face, his death in her eyes. He could see himself bring up the sword that had been concealed by his body and swing it towards her. He could see the surprise in her eyes as he beheaded the woman that he had once foolishly loved. Her quickening had been almost overwhelming, more powerful than he thought possible. Vaguely, he could hear Duncan and Methos arguing loudly about something, could hear the engines of the cars taking the Watchers away, but all he could see was the surprise in Felicia's eyes as he brought the sword up and decapitated her. "Duncan, no!" Methos' shout brought Richie out of his reverie. He could see Duncan striding angrily towards the building and Methos running to catch up. He heard Duncan's reply, "I'm going to get some answers, now!" right before the world blew up. --------------------- The first shock wave from the blast knocked Duncan flat. Instinctively, he rolled over and sheltered his head and neck from the deadly shrapnel that filled the air. The pelting seemed to go on forever as he was struck by several chunks of concrete, one large enough to break his leg. When the barrage of building parts finally stopped, Duncan looked up to see Richie struggling towards Methos, who was impaled by a section of rebar. He began to drag himself in the same direction, gritting his teeth against the pain of his healing fibula. He and Richie reached the older immortal at the same time, Richie sweating profusely and hugging his ribs. "Richie, you steady him and I'll try to pull this thing out," Duncan said after studying the position of the steel bar. Richie nodded and braced Methos' shoulders. Duncan placed his good foot against the man's back and pulled the grisly skewer out. While he was waiting for Methos to recover, he glanced back at the building. What had once been a gleaming six-story structure had become a pile of unidentifiable rubble. He stared in amazement and wondered if anyone could be alive in the twisted mass of concrete, glass, and steel. He could feel Methos stirring beside him as the fracture in his leg snapped and straightened out. As he got to his feet, he could see Richie standing without pain and Methos regaining consciousness. "Carol's trapped in the rubble," Methos gasped. "We need to dig her out." Duncan looked at the former Watcher headquarters. "How are we supposed to find her in all that?" Methos struggled to his feet, still not completely healed. "She was in the western section of the building, near the exit." "Shouldn't we call the rescue crews, or something?" Richie asked helplessly. "There's no one else alive in there," was the sad reply. Duncan helped the man he considered his friend to his feet and said, "All right, let's get her out of there. _Then_ I want some answers." Methos sighed wearily. "Once we get her out, we need to make ourselves scarce. We'll go to one of our houses and Carol and I will explain everything." Not trusting himself to speak, Duncan nodded briskly and strode towards the part of the building Methos had indicated, determined to find some answers. --------------------- (to be continued . . .) =========================================================================