Date: Tue, 7 Nov 1995 18:09:07 -0500 Reply-To: Mike Breen Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Mike Breen Subject: REVENGE AND REBIRTH - First Interlude Thanks for all the fan mail! Between each R&R installment there will be an interlude episode like this one. This could actually be rated PG. No violence or sex, just some language. The violence scale will be increased when I start "Towards Future And Past," just so you know. Let me tell you... VonHoffer is an absolute _blast_ to write. BOSTON, MASS, UNITED STATES - OCTOBER, 1995 "It is with great sadness that we bid farewell to Richard, cut down in the prime of his life." The cemetery was full, despite the cold rain. Many college and work friends of both Rick and Elaine had come to the funeral, as did Patrick, Nancy, Rebecca, Joe, and Bernard. Patrick stood next to Rebecca, who huddled under Patrick's umbrella, wondering at the purpose of it. Rick's death was so senseless, so pointless. He couldn't help but wonder if it was all his fault. After all, he had stabbed VonHoffer in the heart, seven and a half centuries ago, beginning this path towards revenge. But VonHoffer had started it by sending the inquisition for them, all those years ago. Patrick couldn't afford to think like this. VonHoffer had to be stopped, however it had started. He glanced over at Elaine, numb from shock and emotion, standing stock-still, probably barely hearing the priest. "Richard is in a better place, now, with Jesus Christ, our Lord, enjoying the fruits of eternal life, and looking forward to the day when his soul will be joined to his physical body, forever immortal, forever united with his wife, Elaine. Let us pray." Rick had died defending Elaine from one of VonHoffer's minions who had captured the couple as bait for Patrick. Patrick had defeated him, but was too late to save Rick, not taking the danger seriously enough. He had called it "the usual story." He, of all people, should have known better than that. Four centuries ago the same thing had happened to his wife, Yi, who Elaine resembled so much. She had been captured by one of VonHoffer's Immortals, and had died at his hands. And then as now, Patrick had been too late to save her. "Father, please welcome your son Richard into your arms. Forgive him his sins as you forgive us ours. Love him as he loves Elaine, who he died for, as your Son died for us." Patrick felt it then, and glanced at Rebecca and Nancy. They had felt it as well, as had Joe. He looked up to see VonHoffer standing there in the cemetery holding his own umbrella, staring at Patrick. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." "Amen." "Come on," Bernard said, taking Elaine by the arm. Patrick turned to Rebecca and said, "I'll be along. I have to take care of this." Rebecca nodded and ducked under Joe's umbrella, taking his arm. Patrick approached VonHoffer who said, "Touching service." "Let's hope yours is just as inspirational," Patrick said. "O'Brien, we're on Holy Ground. We cannot fight here." "Name the time and the place you bastard. I'll fight you any time." "All in good time, Irelander. All in good time. I intend on destroying you as you've destroyed me, time and again." "If I recall, _you_ were the one who brought the Inquisition to Ireland. _You_ were the one who ordered Yi kidnapped and killed. _You_ were the one who tried to blow the whistle on my bootlegging operation. And _you_ are directly responsible for _this_," Patrick waved his arm, taking in the entire cemetery." "As for this," VonHoffer said, "All part of the plan. As for the bootlegging back in the 20's, it was my duty as a citizen to try and shut you down, but your scheming made my plan backfire." "And you only succeeded in shutting your own operation down." "Quite, and your scheming destroyed _that_ life. As for the Inquisition... I was only doing what His Holiness had already directed, and again, you destroyed me. Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps you deserve this punishment?" "Then _fight_ me." "Oh no," VonHoffer said, coldly. "At least not yet. I intend on taking it all from you and leaving you with _nothing_. The first step is guilt. Guilt has been instilled. Now I will remove your life from you a piece at a time. _Then_, when you have had to become someone else some_where_ else, I will take your head. "Then at least leave the innocents out of this." "There's no such thing as an innocent, Irelander. There never has been, at least not since Eve bit the apple. Not even babes in the crib are completely innocent. Even _they_ have ulterior motives. They always want something, food, love, protection, and give nothing in return. And mortals? They're the worst offenders of all. They want their government to protect them, but they complain endlessly when it tries to do its job. They want their parents to take care of them but when it's _their_ turn to take care of their parents, they turn them aside and place them into 'homes.' They want to protect their children, yet they continually bring them into a world where death, disease, drugs, war, starvation, political instability, and racial violence are not only a fact but a _way_ of life. No, O'Brien, there are no innocents. There never has been." "If you look at the world that way," Patrick said. Try to see the world through _their_ eyes. Imagine the moon landing, the end of the Cold War, the splitting of the atom, the discovery of the New World, or the French Revolution through the eyes of someone who has only seen _one_ lifetime. _We_ have seen amazing discoveries and have seen governments rise and fall countless times, but to them it's still all fresh. Are you so old that you have forgotten what it's like to be mortal? VonHoffer was silent. Then he said, "Goodbye, O'Brien. We will meet again soon enough." NEW YORK CITY, UNITED STATES - NOVEMBER, 1995 Connor MacLeod parked his Porche and walked to the entrance of his antique shop. He heard the footsteps behind him before he heard the voice say, "Russell Nash?" Connor turned and said, "Yes? Can I help you, Detective?" The detective showed his badge and said, "I'm Detective Fosmire from NYPD Homicide." "I knew that." "I'd just like to ask you a quick question. Where were you the day before Halloween?" "Why?" "You were brought in for questioning on two occasions between 1985 and 1994 about the head hunter murders." "Are you accusing me of something, Detective?" "Ever been to Boston, Mr Nash?" "On occasion. _Are_ you accusing me of something?" "We got a call from Boston Homicide. Seems there was a headless corpse found in the old Garden three nights ago, the night before Halloween. It seems that the MO was the same as the head hunter crimes. Now tell me, Mr Nash, where were you last night?" Connor sighed and said, "Fine. I was here having sex with my girlfriend." "Will she..." "Of _course_ she will. Goodnight, Detective." Connor watched the detective leave, obviously disappointed at the fact that he hadn't confessed to some horrible crimes. Patrick was in a tight spot if he was unable to dispose of a body. He walked into the house, took off his coat, and walked upstairs to the living area. Alex was watching the news, and John had already gone to bed. "Alex?" he said, sitting beside her. "Hmm..? Did you hear about the body in the Boston Garden?" "Yeah, first-hand from a NYPD Detective who wanted to pin it on me." He kissed her cheek, then looked at the TV, where they were updating the Boston story. He said, "That's Patrick's work." "That's what I thought." "Alex, could you watch John for a few days for me? I'm gonna go to Boston. Patrick probably could use some help." "Of course. How long will you be gone." Connor sighed and said, "As long as it takes." BOSTON, MASS, UNITED STATES - NOVEMBER, 1995 "If it's any consolation," Nancy told Elaine after the funeral, "I know how you feel. I lost someone special too, recently. He was an Immortal, and he had gone mad. Patrick..." "Patrick killed him?!" Elaine said. Nancy nodded and said, "And I blamed him, until I realized that there was nothing that could have been done to stop it. It was harder for Patrick to do than it was for me to watch. Patrick... the Immortal was his Student. So you see, we have a lot more in common than you might think." "I honestly don't know what I'm gonna do," Elaine said the next day. "I'm not working, my landlady said I could stay a month free of rent until I find work, but..." Bernard stopped playing his sax and said, "Move in with me." "Huh?" "You'll move in with me. I have an extra room. My wife died five years ago and the kids are long gone. The old house is lonely without anyone else. 'Sides, that will only make your training that much shorter. I can teach you morning noon and night." "You mean it?" "Absolutely." "Oh, Bernard!" Elaine reached over and hugged him, the tears spilling down her cheeks. Detective Frank D'Gornio looked over the meager clues for the umpteenth time. His partner, Detective Jim Douglas, said, "How long you gonna stare at that?" "Until something hits me," D'Gornio said. "Have you checked for recent similar MO's?" "Yup," D'Gornio said, "and Massport had found a body just like this over in Chelsea under the Tobin Bridge at the beginning of the year. There was no organ deterioration, no scaring, _nothing_. Chelsea police found nothing but a sword, _exactly_ like this case minus the second body. Then, last year in New York there was another beheading in a hospital. No ID, just a God damned sword. And the autopsy revealed the same absence of aging. And the head that washed up in Cambridge in 1988. Then there's 1985 New York. _Five_ headless bodies turn up in a week, no ID's, all with swords at or near the crime scene, and all with a strange absence of scaring." "So we start with New York, then. Did NYPD have any suspects?" "Yeah, they took an antique dealer named Nash in for questioning during both the '85 and '94 cases. He refused to crack, and I doubt that he's our man. They questioned him last night, but he had a rock-solid alibi. Both his girlfriend and his adopted son say he was home all night. He and the girlfriend were apparently having sex and woke the son up." Douglas laughed and D'Gornio said, "Yeah, no kidding. So New York's a dead end." "And what about any leads here?" Douglas said. "The 1988 case?" "A guy, supposedly a college professor named Patrick O'Brien had single-handedly foiled an attempt by terrorists to blow up the Kennedy building." "I never heard about that." "It was kept out of the papers. Anyway, the terrorist's head washed up on the Cambridge side of the Charles, and his body was found close by. This O'Brien was teaching at Harvard, by the way. He was also the one who foiled the Brinks robbery back in February. Go pull his file. He looks more like Army or CIA than a professor. Interestingly enough, he quit the professorial position to open up a martial arts school." "Huh." "Yeah, huh. I think we should dig a bit deeper into this guy's past." "Frank... if he _is_ CIA, shouldn't we leave it alone?" "Sure, _if_ he's CIA. But we don't have any proof of it yet." Patrick sat in the living room with the lights out. Rebecca came in and said, "You planning on turning into a vampire, or something?" She reached for the lightswitch. "Don't," Patrick said. "Oh... that's right. You're in brooding mode." "Rebecca... for once could you at least _try_ to keep your comments to yourself?" "Actually," Rebecca said, "I tried once in 1622 and went into convulsions. Admit it, O'Brien, if I wasn't such a wise-ass you wouldn't love me so much." Patrick didn't answer her. "Look, Patrick, what happened happened and there's nothing anyone could have done to prevent it." "I should have taken Ramus more seriously. I should have been there sooner." "Yeah," Rebecca said. "You should have." "You're not helping." "I know I'm not. What do you want me to do, pat you on the head and say 'Awww dat's Ok Pattie?' I'm telling you the truth, like it or not. Yes you _should_ have taken Ramus more seriously, but if you had you don't know that Rick wouldn't have been killed anyway, or that the next time one of VonHoffer's minions called _he'd_ have killed Rick. You _can't_ know. We may live longer, but in the end, we're still failable human beings. We're not gods." "Thanks, Rebecca. I needed to hear that. Where's Nancy?" "At work, I think." "She's not gonna wanna hear this, but _all_ of us are going to start training hard, Nancy especially. We're gonna wake at five, jog, walk, or drag ourselves to the Dojo, and train. Nancy's gonna train with Joe, mostly." "Is that necessary?" "Absolutely. Look, I know _you_ can probably take anyone who VonHoffer sends after you, and so can I. But Nancy's still _real_ young. She won't like it, but it has to be done if she's not gonna get slaughtered." Nancy felt the Immortal outside again as she was ringing up a CD and T-Shirt sale. He had been following her for the past week now, ever since the funeral. She knew that eventually she would have to confront him, and her training would have to end. She doubted that Patrick would keep her around after taking a second head. She was also sure this was part of VonHoffer's plot. She sighed and took the cash from her customer. Stink stood outside of the Newbury Comics music store on Newbury Street. Why she worked in there, a normal looking girl amongst all those _wierdos_ when she had everything she needed was beyond him. He knew that _he_ never needed a thing ever again. He didn't even need the gang. He fingered the sword underneath his coat and reminded himself that her time wasn't now, but it was coming. That's what VonHoffer told him. VonHoffer stared out of the window behind his desk at the city beneath his feet. He said, without looking at O'Riley, "Is Michelle Taylor settled in yet?" "Yes." "Good. Bring her here tomorrow. I know you're shaken up by Ramus' death, O'Riley, but _use_ it. O'Brien killed a friend of yours, a good friend. Focus on that." "Yessir." O'Riley turned and left. "McKinley." "Yes, Kurdt," McKinley said. "It is time for phase two." <<>> (c) 1995 Mabnesswords =========================================================================