Date: Tue, 28 Nov 1995 08:34:40 -0500 Reply-To: Mike Breen Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Mike Breen Subject: REVENGE AND REBIRTH II - Towards Future and Past, Part 1 Thanks for the fanmail again, guys!! Here's the first part of the second "Revenge and Rebirth" story. No violence or sex yet, but some nasty language. Anyone who wants copies of the older stories, the wonderful Samantha Copeland has archived them onto her web site. The url is: http://www.vuse.vanderbilt.edu/~copelasa/ireland.htm and is complete with a goofy picture of me hamming it up with a sword. Anyway, Part II of Revenge and Rebirth begins in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... BOSTON, MASS, UNITED STATES, NOVEMBER, 1995 "We're a new company," he was telling her. "I think your supervisor at Microsoft told you that." "Yes," Michelle Taylor said. "Basically what we need is for someone to just look at our books and see where we are, and tell us where to go from there." "What kind of product do you wish to eventually produce, Mr VonHoffer?" "Now that's a good question. I eventually want to get into desktop publishing, but..." "But there's a lot of companies that've already got that cornered." "That's why you're here. I want you to find me a niche that I can attract a customer base and expand _into_ desktop publishing." "Gotcha. First thing I think you should do is change the name. 'VonHoffer Software' sounds too..." "Menacing?" "Exactly. No offense." "None taken. Very well, how about 'CardnialSoft?'" "Much better. That'll work great." "Good. O'Riley tells me that your husband is here, and that you have some friends here as well." "Uh-huh," Michelle said, not knowing where the conversation was going. "Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off. I've still got to figure out where to put you, first of all. Go look up your friends if you'd like. I'll see you tomorrow." "Thanks," she said, getting up. "And congratulations on the baby." "Thanks," she said again and left the office. When she left the office, McKinley entered and said, "You think she'll do it?" "Even if she doesn't go directly to O'Brien's house, _eventually_ she'll go there. She's a perfect tool. So innocent and sweet, for now." "Her?" "Of course not. I was talking about her child." She didn't know why she was standing there, on the stoop of the house she and Patrick had shared for five years. She lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated. Again... and again she hesitated. What was she thinking? She was a happily married woman with a baby on the way. Her husband was _here_ in this city, eating hotel food and sleeping alone. Here she was ready to throw her one chance at normalcy completely out the window. Life with Patrick would never be normal, that she found out as soon as he revealed his secret to her. She turned around and walked back across Beacon Street. When she approached the Common, she heard it, the familiar gut-wrenchingly emotional strains of a saxophone, _the_ saxophone. Bernard sat in his usual spot, playing a blusey strain. Elaine hadn't accompanied him today, she was still settling in at his place, figuring out what to take and what to put into storage. As he finished, he saw a bill fall into his case. He looked up and said, "Thank you... oh my God." "Hello, Bernard," Michelle said. "Mishie, how _are_ you? What are you doing here? You look terrific. Congratulations." "Thanks," she said, sitting beside him, "but I look pregnant, not terrific. I was temporarily hired away from Microsoft by a local software company. How are _you_?" "Fine... fine. I recorded a tape back in January. That's why I hadn't been around after Christmas." "I was sad that I didn't get to say goodbye to you. Bernard... I don't expect you to understand why I left..." "I _do_ understand," Bernard said. He had decided long ago, after things had come to a head in Patrick and Michelle's relationship, and after Patrick had saved his life, that if she were ever to return, he would tell her about his own knowledge. "How _could_ you understand?" "'Cause I know. I know his secret." "You do..? How?" "Let's just say that I have a side-job that makes it my business to know." "Then you know why I left." "Yup." "And what would you have done if you were me?" "I can't say for sure _what_ I'd do. Immortals have been a fact of life for me for over forty years. Death was a fact of life long before that. I do know one thing, though, and you can listen and take it, or listen and hate me for the rest of your life." "Bernard, I could never hate you. What is it?" "He deserved better. A better explanation, a better chance..." "I know," Michelle said as a single tear slid down her cheek. "If Rebecca hadn't come when she did..." "Is he happy with her?" Bernard nodded and said, "I'm not gonna lie to you, Michelle. I hadn't seen him happier, in the years I've known him, then when he came back from Ireland married to her." "He can probably really open up to her." Bernard was silent. "I mean," Michelle said, "he can be with her, and have no secrets. I know how hard it was for him to tell me what he was, but with someone like her... She's the same as him. What's she like?" "She's beautiful, an artist, and one of the biggest wise-asses I've ever known. Michelle... this isn't doing you any good, and it's not doing the baby any good, either." "Maybe it's not, but I needed to know." "You'd be doing yourself, him, _and_ Rebecca a big favor by leaving it at this. But you're not, are you?" "No. Like you said, he deserves better." BROOKLINE, MASS, UNITED STATES, NOVEMBER, 1995 Patrick sat, legs folded, on Joe's floor in front of a small table. He smelled the food on the stove coming out from the kitchen and smiled. Joe emerged and placed several platters on the small table. He filled a plate and handed it to Patrick. Patrick took the plate from Joe, took out his chopsticks and dug in. "Wonderful, Joe. It's been too long since I've had your cooking," Patrick said. "Obviously," Joe said, sitting down opposite Patrick. "_Your_ cooking leaves _quite_ a bit to be desired." "No, not anymore. After eight centuries you pick _some_ things up." Joe laughed and said, "You went _four_ centuries either eating raw flesh stuffed in intestines or making a woman cook for you. I noticed that Rebecca cooked the other night." "The three of us take turns," Patrick said. "That night just happened to be Rebecca's turn." "Mmm hmm." "It's _true_..." "Mmm hmm." Patrick sighed and said, "Why am I even bothering?" Then he changed the subject and said, "What's up, Sensi? You never call me over to your house alone, without one of my, as you've called them, 'appendages,' for dinner since I was training with you." Joe sighed and said, "I wanted to see how you were doing. I wanted to be here if you needed someone to talk to." "I'm doing fine." "Are you?" "No, not really. I have never been able to stand _this_. Being a pawn in someone else's game." "Understandable." "I don't like people close to me getting put in danger because of me." "Patrick-san, I am going to tell you something. Myself, Rebecca, Nancy, even the mortals, and _even_ Rick, we all _choose_ to be in danger, and not _because_ of you, but _for_ you." "That doesn't make me feel any better." "It's not supposed to. It's supposed to make you realize that we choose the danger we are in because of loyalty. Loyalty and sacrifice are sacred to me _and_ to you. You know that as well as I." Patrick sighed and said, "Joe... sometimes your just too damn Japanese." "And this is supposed to be an insult?" "Who knows. Sometimes not having such a rigid code of honor helps." "Patrick, you are fooling yourself if you don't think you are a man of honor. You are one of the most honorable men I know." "Joe, I've done things..." "What?" "I spent the 1920's as a gangster bootlegger, for one." "Just a persona. Even as a criminal you are a man of honor. If you _weren't_, that would be _my_ fault. VonHoffer is the one without honor. He challenges you, yet sends his minions after you first and attempts to destroy your life rather than fight you. He kills mortals who are nothing but spectators. No, those who are honorable are destined to defeat those who aren't" "Is honor enough?" "It has to be." "I hope so." "Come on, Patrick. Snap out of it." Patrick smiled and said, "Now you sound like Connor MacLeod." "How so?" "He has a skill at telling brooding friends to snap out of it. And not just me or his clansman Duncan. Apparently a mutual friend of ours, Andrew Balfour, lost his wife recently. Connor gave him the MacLeod 'snap out of it' talk." "Did it work?" "It seemed to." "Isn't he the one who found a pre-immortal in an adoption agency?" "Yeah, a girl named Chris. I've met her a couple of times. She's a good kid and has a lot of potential." Patrick took a sip of the saki that Joe had placed in front of him. He was rather jealous of Chris, how she had her own father to see her through her Immortality transition. If Patrick's father had been an Immortal, he wouldn't have the bitter memory of his rejection. Wouldn't have the harsh echo of "Your not my son!" in his mind. He sighed. "You're brooding again, Patrick-san." "I know, Sensi." "This Balfour," Joe said, looking at Patrick sideways over his cup of saki. "I hope he doesn't make his adopted Immortal daughter completely dependent on him." "Yeah, that had occurred to me too. It's hard enough not wanting to continue to protect an Immortal who had mortal parents long after they're ready to be on their own..." Joe paused, then said, "Nancy is ready to be on her own. You _do_ realize this, do you not?" Patrick shrugged. "Patrick... I do not know what happened with your other Student this past year, but Nancy is a _strong_ young lady. She is ready." "Ready to fight, yes, and ready to win. But is she ready to be on her own? Is she ready to grow up? Immortals take longer to be nurtured than the standard eighteen to twenty years that mortals need. I had been married nine years when I became Immortal, had my own farm, was supposed to have had at least four children, and had fought the Normans once already. But in that instant, when I found out what I was, I became like a child once again, completely dependent on my Teacher. I... Ramirez was more of a father to me than my own father was." "I know. Young Immortals need that because of what we do. And like it or not, it wasn't Ramirez who made you a man. It was Sean O'Brien. Ramirez merely guided the man from mortality to Immortality. And if he protected you and kept you from getting slaughtered, well... that's a Teacher's job. I will be the first to admit that along with guidance and protection comes some parental-like duties, which you know as well as I. But, as you Westerners say, there _always_ comes a time when the cub has to leave the den." "I think you mean 'the chick has to leave the nest.'" "Mine is much more fitting. She _is_ ready to be on her own, Patrick-san." "Is she?" "Absolutely. In the short time _I_ have known her, she has grown from an innocent, almost childlike girl, to a woman. She is strong, and you have a lot to be proud of." "However strong she is, she's staying here until she cannot anymore." "And I'm not suggesting anything else. But VonHoffer _is_ out there, and one of his minions _has_ targeted her. When she wins... well, I can overlook the Rules in a case like Joshua Nabbis, when there was no fight, but _this_ will be a true Immortal battle, her very first. She will win, of that I have no doubt. And since she will win, _I_ will not overlook the Rules. Patrick... she is grown up. She has become he own person, and if you keep her here after she takes this young VonHoffer tool's head, you will be doing her more harm than good." Patrick stared at his saki cup. Joe said, "Let me ask you this. You are worried about your friend Andrew making his daughter completely dependent on him. But aren't you _already_ doing the same thing with Nancy?" Patrick still said nothing. "If you honor Sam's memory, Patrick-san, you will let Nancy go." BOSTON, MASS, UNITED STATES, NOVEMBER, 1995 Patrick arrived home later that evening and went directly to Nancy's room. The gentle strains of an acoustic guitar eminated from behind the door. Patrick was reluctant to knock on the door and interrupt Nancy's playing. Eventually, there was a pause in the music. "Come in," Nancy said before Patrick had a chance to knock. It suddenly occured to Patrick that very rarely did any of the three of them ever knock at a closed door in the house. They just waited for the other to feel them outside and finish up what they were doing. Patrick opened Nancy's door and said, "Can we talk for a minute?" Nancy placed the guitar on her guitar stand and said, "You want to talk about this Immortal that's after me, don't you?" "Uh-huh." "You can take care of him." She stretched out onto her bed, propping her head up on her hand. "No, Nancy. I can't." "What..?" "This is _your_ fight, and you have to fight it." "B-but... I'm not _ready_..." "You are, and I think you know that." "You faced Riley for me, when he wasn't even after you yet." "That's because you _weren't_ ready." "But it took _you_ ten years to face an Immortal!" "And I was ready after only one. Technology is a tremendous benefit and a horrible curse. It's made Immortals more mobile, and changed alot of the nuances of the Game. We can be across the ocean in a day if we were after someone. Before the Wright brothers, you had a week or two, sometimes even a month, to plan." Nancy sighed, wishing not for the first time that she had been born earlier, _much_ earlier, and said, "What does this mean?" "It means you'll have to leave for a time. A few months, maybe a year. Find your own way for a while before you return here." "Ho man. I'll _never_ finish school." "Maybe not _this_ lifetime, but there are _other_ lifetimes. Countless others." Nancy wasn't convinced. She sat up cross-legged and said, "If I were mortal this wouldn't be happening." "Probably not, because if you were mortal, you'd most likely be dead." Nancy looked up and said, "What do you mean?" "That night it happened, you remember that don't you?" "Of course. How could I have forgotten?" "If you were mortal you'd probably have been in the same place at the same time, and _still_ would have gotten run over by that van." There was no way around it. She would have to face an Immortal someday. "Can't I stay here?" "No." "At least in Boston?" "Nancy, that wouldn't be a good idea. Listen, Connor owes me a favor or two. I'm sure he'd take you in..." "No, Patrick. This is about finding my own way, isn't it?" Patrick nodded, then said, "Nancy, this is harder on me than it is for you." "Why? Because of Sam?" Patrick nodded and said, "We'll talk later." Patrick closed Nancy's door and was about to leave the townhouse again when he felt a third Immortal nearby. He knew it wasn't Rebecca, she had said she would be in the new studio all night preparing for her show next month. He also knew it wasn't Joe, because he had a class at the dojo that night. He grabbed his sword from where it rested on the counter and unsheathed it. Then he walked over to the door and unfastened the locks. He swiftly opened the door, and raised his sword... The Immortal outside was about to ring the bell when he heard the door unlock. Instinct getting the better of friendship, he reached beneath his trenchcoat and took out his sword. He brought it up to a defensive position just as Patrick's sword came crashing down towards his head. As the swords met, sparks flew in all directions, one even igniting a dried leaf on the stairs. "O'Brien!! Are you crazy?!" he said. "MacLeod?" Patrick said. "Connor what the hell are you doing here?" "Are you gonna let me in, or are you gonna take my head?" Connor said, somewhat annoyed. "I'm sorry," Patrick said, bringing his sword down to his side. "Come in. I'm a bit paranoid these days." "I'll say," Connor said, picking up the burnt leaf and examining it before disposing of it and placing his sword beneath his coat. He entered the townhouse and said, "Where is everybody?" "Rebecca's working, Nancy's in her room, and I was just about to go out for a drink. Wanna join me?" "Sure." They ended up over the river in Charlestown at the Warren Tavern. It held a special place in Patrick's heart, for that was where he and Paul Revere lifted many a pint back in the late 1700's. Patrick took a booth in the corner, ordered beers for the two of them and then said, "I'm real sorry, Connor, but when I tell you what happened, you'll understand." "I heard about the body in the Garden last month. You must be in deep shit if you couldn't have gotten rid of it." "Yeah," Patrick said, "You could say that. VonHoffer's back." "Oh my ghod." "Yeah, no shit." "How many is he gonna send after you this time?" "He's sent one. He's gonna send at least two, probably more. I've figured out this time that he's gonna chip away at my happiness a bit at a time rather than destroy it all at once. The first one he sent after me was set up in the Garden, specifically, for the police to find the next morning. Now I think he's got Nancy targeted, but he won't allow her to die. No, he somehow knows about Sam and is playing off of that. After Nancy... who knows what his game is?" "And how do the police fit in?" "You of _all_ people should know that, Connor." "Yeah... forcing you to pick up and leave until the heat's off. Leaving your home turf." "Uh-huh. That and more. There's the whole demoralization of it too." "Patrick... if you need help, I'm here." "Thanks, Connor. I probably will." VonHoffer sat back and listened to the report of his underlings. McKinley was saying, "MacLeod arrived yesterday and made contact with O'Brien this evening. O'Brien mistakenly swung his sword at him." VonHoffer laughed and said, "Very good. John, is Simon Jamerson still among us?" McKinley punched up some keys on his ever-present laptop and said, "Yes, he is, and I believe he still travels with Sophia Ignala." "Excellent. Contact them and make them the usual offer. Tell Jamerson that his target is Connor MacLeod. If the Irelander can take the Highlander down with him, so much the better." <<>> (c) 1995 Mabnesswords =========================================================================