Date: Tue, 12 Sep 1995 23:23:11 -0400 Reply-To: Mike Breen Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Mike Breen Subject: REVENGE AND REBIRTH - PART 0 Rated th' big R. There's an extremely naughty scene here. BOSTON, MASS, UNITED STATES - JANUARY, 1995 Rick Marriman and Elaine Chew walked hand-in-hand through the crisp Boston night, admiring the Christmas lights on the Common. It was a pretty picture, and romantic. Rick fingered the small box in his pocket and stopped. "Something wrong?" Elaine said. "No. Elaine, I was thinking... about us." Elaine just stared at him, wondering what this was all about. "Here." Rick took out the box and handed it to her. Elaine opened the box. Inside was a ring with a small diamond set in it. "Oh my..." she said. "Rick, I don't know what to say." "Say you'll marry me." "I... Rick..." "We'll both get jobs as soon as we graduate, Elaine. And we don't have to get married right _away_, but we can wait a year or so. I just want to know... I want the _world_ to know that someday, eventually, you'll be my wife." "My my my," Rupert Highsmith said in another part of the Common, facing Michele Taylor, the bait of a trap. "What a pretty picture we make. Ok, I confess, I fell for it again. Two centuries, and I still haven't learned. Oh well." Then he turned to the shadows and said, "O'BRIEN!! COME OUT!! I FELL FOR IT AGAIN!" Patrick O'Brien stepped out of the shadows, katana ready. "It ends tonight, Highsmith." His voice was calm. There was no trace of the anger he had the night before at the bar. "How right you are, deserter." Patrick turned to Michelle and said, "Go to the bar like we planned. Wait for me there. If I'm not there in an hour..." Michelle said, "Don't _say_ that. You'll be there." She kissed him and ran off. But as she heard Highsmith's blade and Patrick's Katana clash, curiosity got the better of her and she turned to watch... "You always were the romantic one," Elaine said. "And you always were the practical one. And you always have wanted me to be more practical. Well... I did _not_ buy you the biggest diamond they had. I settled for one more practical. I am _not_ forcing you to commit to a date. I'm being practical and saying we can take our time. Now, can you be romantic and say yes?" Elaine smiled. What could she say? "Yes," she said, "I will marry you... eventually." Blades locked, Highsmith and Patrick stared at eachother, neither giving an inch. Then both men began to back off, sparks emitting from where the metal touched. Once the blades were unlocked again, Highsmith attacked. He lunged, but Patrick parried skillfully and turned his attack away. "You can't win, Irelander," Highsmith said. "We'll see about that." Patrick said and mounted his own attack. But Highsmith managed to envelope Patrick's blade and send it flying behind him. He then slashed Patrick's chest. Weakened, Patrick nearly sank to his knees. "And here it ends," Highsmith said. He brought his sword down towards Patrick's neck. "NO!!" Michelle screamed. "Did you just hear something?" Rick said. "I thought I heard a woman scream," Elaine said. "Call the police," Rick said. "I'm going to see what's going on." "Rick... wait. I'm coming with you." "That's not very practical." "No... it's not." But just as the blade was about to connect, Patrick's strength returned and he executed a backflip worthy of an Olympic Gymnast. He recovered his sword and noticed Michelle standing there. "Get OUT of here!" He said. But Michelle refused to go. She was transfixed. When he faced Highsmith again, Patrick was a renewed man. His strength flowed from his body down into his sword. And it _always_ came down to two men and two swords. Highsmith, dodging Patrick's renewed attacks, knew the battle was lost, but tried, however in vain, to turn the tables again. Rick and Elaine burst onto the scene. They saw a woman standing, nearly hypnotized, watching two men fight. "Those are..." Elaine said. "Swords," Rick said. Patrick slashed Highsmith's _own_ chest, leg, and sword arm. Then, extending his arm and aiming his sword along it in a manner taught to him by Ramirez, Patrick waited for the proper moment. Highsmith sank to his knees. He looked up at the man who was about to vanquish him and said nothing. Patrick brought the sword up and swiftly sliced down to Highsmith's neck, severing the head. "There can be only One!" "Oh my God! Oh my God!" Elaine said, burying her face in Rick's chest. Rick clutched her like a lifeline, but could not look away. The Quickening exploded from Highsmith's body, the semi-electrical energies binding themselves to Patrick's body. It worked its way into his eyes, ears, very pores. Patrick screamed in pain and screamed in delight as Highsmith's lifeforce merged with his own. And still the Quickening came, arcing from Highsmith's body, shattering windows and lights, and showering Patrick O'Brien with sparks and electricity. The lightning made Elaine turn back towards the horror in front of her. The man... the murderer... stood, arms extended, screaming as sparks of raw energy struck him. He screamed, as if he enjoyed it. It was wonderful. It was horrible. And in one final burst of energy, it was over. Rick and Elaine wasted no time reporting the incident to the Boston Police. They sat at a desk in the Area A precinct, dictating the gory details to the detective sitting across from them. "Now let me get this straight," he was saying. "You heard a woman scream, ran to investigate and saw two men having it out over her with samurai swords..." "Only one had a katana, Detective D'Gornio," Elaine said. "And you expect me to believe that you can identify these swords in the dark, miss Chew?" "I expect you to believe me, yes. History has always been an interest of mine, especially family history. My family can trace itself back over nine hundred years of Chinese history, Detective. How far back can you trace _yours_?" Detective Frank D'Gornio ignored that remark, but instead said, "But even _I_ know that samurai swords are Japanese." "True," Elaine said, "but one of my ancestors was a Japanese samurai who was stranded in China on a spying mission. He fell in love with a Chinese girl. He felt he dishonored his family by failing in his mission, but he loved the Chinese girl too much to take his own life, which to him was another dishonor. So he remained in self-imposed exile in China, with the Chinese girl, though he never picked up his sword again. It was instead passed onto his son, and his son's son, and then, supposedly, to his grandson's son-in-law who was European. From there it was lost, possibly because the daughter that married the European was barren, but it was lost in legend all the same." "And you expect me to believe _this_?" "As I said, all this is supposition." "What does this have to do with _anything_?" "I am _trying_ to demonstrate my knowledge of ancient Japanese weaponry." "Look, _Detective_," Rick said, "why don't you just send the beat cop over to where the body is. This guy chopped his head off. He had the other guy on his knees, so this wasn't _any_ self defense. He just _killed_ him." "It was like a ritual beheading," Elaine said. "Listen, Rick... can I call you Dick?" D'Gornio said. "Dick, we've _got_ the beat cop over there right now. We _are_ taking you seriously, and we _do_ know our job, thanks. We may not know swords, samurais, and what you call ritual beheadings, but at least give us credit for knowing our jobs." A uniform cop came over and whispered something into D'Gornio's ear. D'Gornio nodded, turned back to Rick and Elaine, and said, "That was the desk sergeant. He heard from the beat cop. Guess what? No body, no head, no swords, no evidence. Just some vandelized windows and Christmas lights, which happens every night, and some winos babbling on about lightning, which _also_ happens every fucking night. Goodnight, kids." "But... this guy looked like he knew what he was doing!" Rick said. "He's probably killed before and he'll probably kill again! How many bodies will have to be decapitated before he's brought to justice?" "Leave my squadroom before I have you arrested for wasting police time." "But..." "Come on, Rick," Elaine said. "Let's go home." "Goodnight, Dick," D'Gornio said to their departing backs. When they were out of the squadroom, he added, "head." BOSTON, MASS, UNITED STATES - SEPTEMBER, 1995 June was beautiful. July and the first half of August were oppressive. It had been an extreamily dry and hot summer, not the type of weather to run around with swords hidden in overcoats. Late August and September were wonderful, warm, comfortable days and beautiful, cool nights. It promised a glorious fall ahead. In the three months since their marriage, no heads had fallen, no sword had been unsheathed in blood, no Quickening had been released. It was peaceful, enabling the newlyweds to enjoy eachother. Rebecca O'Brien walked over to the couch with two beers. She gave one to her husband, and entwined her legs into his. She said, "Is it just me or can you sometimes hardly believe we're actually married?" "Sometimes," Patrick said. "Sometimes I think we've been married for years." "We _have_ been," Rebecca said, "on and off..." "...for centuries," Patrick finished. "But never officially." "You know... if we were mortal, I'd probably be pregnant by now with the way we've been going at eachother since we tied the knot." "If we were mortal we probably never would have met." Rebecca looked at Patrick, slightly shocked. She said, "How can you be so sure about that? You've studied Zen, Buddhism, and the Wheel of Karma, not to mention some of the similar concepts in the Old Faith in Ireland. Some things are _fated_ to happen. Our souls... they were _supposed_ to connect, whether or not either of us were Immortal." Patrick stared at Rebecca and said, "That's the most beautiful thing I think anyone has ever said to me." He put his beer down, took hers out of her hand and placed it on the coffee table, and shifted their bodies so that he was on top of her. He kissed her lips gently and tenderly. Then he unbuttoned her blouse, unfastened her bra, tossed it on the coffee table and began kissing her naked breasts. Rebecca unfastened her skirt and let it fall open. Then she unfastened Patrick's belt and jeans, and unzipped his fly. She pulled his jeans and briefs down his legs while rubbing the palms of her hands down his thighs, feeling and seeing him grow ever-more excited. They kissed hungrily. He kissed her breasts again, then began caressing them as he worked his lips down from her breasts to her belly and below. He pulled her panties down. She then gripped his back and pulled him down to her... And they felt the presence of another Immortal outside. "Fuck..." Patrick said. The lock clacked open. "Shit..." Rebecca said. The door opened and the currently newest Immortal walked inside the townhouse. "GO AWAY!!!" Patrick and Rebecca both said. Nancy Peters walked into the living room and was greeted by a tangle of clothing, furniture, and flesh. "Ohmygod!!" she said to the tangle. "I'm _sorry_!!" "I thought you were working until six!" the tangle said. "_Four_, Patrick!" Nancy said. "My schedule said _four_! I'm sorry. I'll be back in a couple of hours." She raced outside, blushing, and slammed the door behind her. "Well..." Patrick said, "So much for that. The mood's completely gone now." "I'm not so sure about that," Rebecca said, resuming her massage. Patrick smiled and kissed her belly again... "God I'm embarrised," Nancy said to Bernard Willis. "Why?" the Watcher/street musician said. "You know those stories about kids walking in on their parents while they were having sex?" "Yeah," Bernard said. "I did once when I was about five. Nine months later I had another brother. It took me a while to connect it, though." "Well I never walked in on my adoptive parents, but..." "Lemee guess. You walked in on Patrick and Rebecca." "You got it." "Ho boy! It's probably _more_ embarrising when you're an adult than when you're a kid. Hey... you think Patrick would object to this incident being entered into the O'Brien chronicle?" Nancy burst out laughing. Yoshihiro Ammamoto looked at the main room of his new dojo. He had decorated it exclusively in Japanese samurai style, and there were both practice and combat katanas hanging on the walls, along with other weapons, weights, and training equipment. The Ammamoto School of Martial Arts would soon open, and he was excited about it. Ever since the decline of the pure samurai, Ammamoto had wanted to teach the Arts again. But this time he would have a partner... Patrick and Rebecca eventually ended up in their bedroom. When their lovemaking ended, sometime after Nancy had come home and had _not_ found them in a "public" area, they quietly lay on the bed, Rebecca resting her hand and head on Patrick's chest. "I wish we could go on like this forever," Rebecca said. "So do I," Patrick said. "How long can we? I mean before someone comes for one of us?" "I don't know. I haven't taken a head since March, so maybe that small spurt of action was just that. I hadn't taken a head for ten years before Highsmith showed up. I hope we _will_ go back to a peaceful period." "But you don't think so?" Patrick paused for a long time before answering. Finally, he said, "No. I don't." ATLANTIC OCEAN, 40,000 FEET - SEPTEMBER, 1995 They were flying into nighttime. The only fear he _really_ had, aside from losing his head, was crashing during the night over the ocean. Crashing in a night so thick that everything would disappear without a trace before rescuers could find anything. Before anyone could find his lifeless body, sinking like a rock to the bottom of the ocean, there to sit, for centuries or millennia, until the currents caused it to drift towards land. Emerging countless decades later to an unfamiliar world, finding that he could not understand anything or anyone. Finding himself a primitive throwback to an earlier era, long turned to dust. He closed his eyes and took several deep breathes before closing the shade on his window. He glanced at the young man in the seat next to him who had been constantly fiddling with his laptop computer. "Oh," the young man said, "you're awake. Good. I'm going to need some money once we land." Tiredly, he said, "Your next payment will be transferred to your account the day _after_ we land." "The day _after_?" "Yes. The day _after_. I need at least a day to settle in and scout the area and the players. You _know_ the plan as well as I do. You helped me write it." "I know... I know. Forgive me for asking." "Don't ask again." He turned away from his companion and closed his eyes, attempting to sleep and get his brain away from thoughts of dark cold ocean. BOSTON, MASS, UNITED STATES - SEPTEMBER, 1995 "I used to tell myself that I no longer wished to be mortal," Patrick said. "I even told that to Nancy. I was kidding myself." Rebecca was silent, listening to his heartbeat and his voice. "If we were mortal," he said, "living in this time, we wouldn't have to worry about the Kurgans of the world, the Highsmiths, or the Rileys. We wouldn't have to kill our students. There's nothing in the world I want more than to father your children." At that Rebecca did lift her head. She looked at him with tear-filled eyes and said, "I have always wanted to have your children, ever since I met you." "But we're not _supposed_ to _have_ children," Patrick said. "Yes," Rebecca said, "we are. We have Nancy. She's more than a mere student to either of us. And Ramirez was more than a teacher. And I think you know that he saw us as more than students as well." "I know," Patrick said. "I know..." <<>> =========================================================================