========================================================================= Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 21:05:04 -0800 Reply-To: CF Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: CF Subject: Side Effects 2of6 WARNING: NC-17 rating (for strong, heterosexuality) Comments, suggestions, and/or flames (but please don't flame me for the above-stated content...you were warned) to cfc@goldrush.com SIDE EFFECTS Part 2 Meanwhile, Duncan was trying to decide what to tell her. Only other Immortals called him by that moniker. From his impression of young Henry, the boy hadn't been immortal long enough to have learned it by himself. Where had they heard it? "Yes, a place called Glenfinnan." "How old are you, Mr. MacLeod?" She paused, scrutinized him closely then averted her eyes. "I know that's a presumptuous question but my brother had only just turned nineteen. A miracle really when you consider that he *died* three months before his birthday." Her reversion back to formal address was not lost on Duncan. "What do you mean by died?" She confronted him directly. Her eyes never wavered from his in a deep, soul-searching gaze that probed beyond what was considered polite. "Please, don't play games with me. I was there when my parents and brother were killed in a car accident. I survived with barely a scratch and watched when Henry came back to life. We were close and shared everything." She broke her gaze. Picking up the paper napkin folded next to the silverware, she started to shred it into tiny pieces. "I know all about Immortals so, I repeat my question, Mr. MacLeod. How old are you?" Before he could reply a bored-looking waitress approached their table. Without looking at them, she brought a pencil from behind her ear and impatiently tapped the point on the order pad in her hand. "What can I get ya?" she asked. "Are you hungry?" Duncan inquired of his companion. Kate hadn't realized that she was ravenous until he asked. With all the worries over the last three months finally coming to an end, she, at long last, had time to think about her own self-preservation. "I'd like a hamburger with mustard and lettuce only and fries well-done." "You want something, mister?" "Just coffee, thanks." "What d'ya want to drink, ma'am? "A chocolate shake and water, please." With the waitress' departure they were again left alone. Duncan almost took the interruption as an opportunity to ignore the question that had been left dangling but, for some unknown reason, he felt he owed an answer to her. "I turned four hundred and three last December," he stated matter-of-factly. "Then Benton Hanshaw was right in his analogy," Kate said more to herself then to Duncan. She suddenly remembered that she had company and her statement had been voiced out-loud. "He used baby turtles to describe the survivability of an Immortal. If you could make it past the first few decades, you might have a chance but there are an awful lot of predators out there." The corners of Duncan's mouth lifted in a small smile and his eyes closed at the memories. "Ah, Benton Hanshaw..." * * * "Run like the duncan, Dickin's or they'll be hopping our cheads off any second." Panic laced through the tone of the big, burly man who held a pickax ready for immediate defense. Duncan scanned the rolling hills of golden grass dotted with oak trees and, in the distance, saw a column of dust rising from the hooves of several horses. "Relax, Benton. First of all it's going to take them another ten minutes to get here and second, I'll bet there's not an Immortal amongst them. Why would mortals want our heads?" "To get our claim." A hearty laugh rose from deep down then Duncan laid a hand on his large friend's massive forearm. "I hate breaking this to you, Benton, but this claim is worthless." He glanced at the idle sluice box sitting in the middle of a feeble trickle of water that couldn't even be called a creek. "We haven't found any gold in days." He shouldered the shovel he'd been leaning on then affectionately squeezed the bulky forearm under his grip. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this." The huge, muscular giant who had a heart a large as his three hundred pound body gave Duncan a pleading look. The expression that crossed his face would rival any five year old trying to convince his parent that they had to do whatever he asked. Otherwise, his spirit would be crushed. "Because we're going to make our fortune, that's why, if we can keep these claim jumpers from taking it." "We've already made our fortunes and, I'll tell you, amassing it over the last two hundred and fifty years was a hell of a lot easier than what we've been doing here for the past six months." Duncan released his friend's arm and turned back toward the rocker-cradle. "Let them have this worthless piece of land. We could go back to San Francisco and have some fun for a change." Benton dropped his arms and let the head of the pick fall into the dirt. "You know, Highlander, your brogue gets thicker when you whine." Duncan, unable to determine whether the Scot in him should be insulted or just the man, countered with, "Yeah, well, ye transpose letters and words when ye git nervous." Benton laughed and pointed an accusing finger. "I know you, Duncan. It's not the hard work that's bothering you. It's the fact that there aren't any women up here." "There be women." "Whores don't count." "Why not? They're women, too. "Oh, never mind. There's no use arguing with you." "If you'd of listened to me in the first place we wouldn't be arguin' a'tall. We could have invested all our money with Levi." "The tailor? Be serious, Duncan. The only reason you got friendly with him was because you wanted to practice your German. If I hadn't stopped you, you would've given him your whole grubstake. Trust me, nobody is going to buy trousers made out of sails." He inclined his head toward Duncan's pants. "They look ridiculous." "Yeah, well, he only used sailcloth 'cause his canvas got tied up back east. You've got to admit these have lasted a sight longer than those you've been wearing " "I work harder than you do." Duncan paused, took in deep lungsful of air then started shaking his head in disbelief. "Ach, we've been alone in this glen for way too long, friend. Before ye know it, we'll have killed each other and saved these hoodlums the trouble." He pulled his six-shooter out of his holster and checked the chambers before replacing it. "What'd'ya say we deal with them then head down to Columbia for a bit of town life?" Benton exchanged the pick for the Sharp's rifle that he'd left leaning against a boulder and checked it as well. "Just as long as we come back eventually. I know we're gonna hit the Mother Lode." "Fine." As best he could, Duncan wrapped his arm around the bigger man's shoulders. "I can compromise. That's what partners are supposed to do." * * * "...How is Benton these days? I haven't seen him in years." "My brother took his head three days ago." The blood drained from Duncan's face and a wave of vertigo passed through him. Not Benton. Not that lovable ox of a man who hadn't had the heart to hurt a fly, let alone fight another Immortal. When they had been together in 1853, it had been three hundred years since the giant had taken a Quickening. If sheer size hadn't put off an opponent, then his kind nature and his powers of persuasion had always protected him. But, in the end, they hadn't shielded him from a nineteen year old who hadn't known any better. *There can be only one!* Kate watched his color wane and sympathetically reached across the table to lay a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have blurted it out that way. I know he was your friend." She stared out the window and struggled to find the right words to continue. "It's just, I'm so confused." Duncan's shock quickly turned to anger. "What happened?" he demanded and immediately regretted his outburst. Whatever the circumstances of Benton Hanshaw's death, there was no way this woman was responsible. "I don't know." Frustration laced her tone. "Somehow. Mr. Hanshaw found us, or rather, he found Henry right after the accident. He was such a sweetheart. He explained what had happened and laid out the rules of the Game. He even taught Henry how to use a sword then gave him the falchion. After a month or so Henry started getting real cocky. He broke off all ties with Benton and wouldn't tell me why. "With our parents dead, I became the sole executor of the estate. It wasn't very much but it would have seen the two of us through until everything settled down, but Henry kept taking money to travel all over the country by himself. When I quit my job and tried to go with him, we argued. He said he was over eighteen and didn't need a chaperon. "During this time Benton and I stayed in contact and he finally told me that Henry was going around the country seeking out other Immortals and ambushing them. Now, mind you, I was thirteen when my parents adopted Henry as a infant. He was more like my child than my brother so I didn't believe it at first. Poor Benton was so upset, not only because he'd taught Henry the skills to murder but because I wouldn't believe him." She shook her head slightly, disgusted with herself. "My brother had turned into a monster and I wouldn't see the truth. "The day before Henry killed him, Benton came to the house and we talked. We talked for hours about Immortals, the Game, Quickenings and, after awhile, I understood. When he finally got around to describing the sensation of a Quickening, I instantly knew what had happened to my baby brother. Like a sex fiend, he'd become addicted to the feeling. Benton wouldn't come right out and say it but it's like an orgasm, isn't it?" The color that had returned to Duncan's face during her story changed direction and flushed bright red. "That's one way to describe it," he concurred without going into further detail. "Only more intense and lasting minutes instead of seconds. I'm right, aren't I?" The flustered expression on his face confirmed her theory. "Don't you see? A nineteen year old boy with a relentless libido could easily be lured into getting as much as he could. Euphoria more powerful than any drug." Duncan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This topic of conversation while sitting across from a beautiful woman was getting rather difficult. Not about the Quickening, he'd long ago learned to separate the sensations of a Quickening from sex but the other part, that was a whole different story. Images of thrusting naked bodies clouded his vision and he realized it had been a long time since he'd made love, not had sex with, but had made love with a woman. Lucky for him, the waitress chose that particular moment to bring their order to the table. "Hamburger and fries," she announced as she plunked a plate down in front of Kate then poured coffee into the mug Duncan was idly playing with. "Um, I think I've changed my mind," Duncan began, knowing ahead of time that his amendment to their order would not please this particular waitress. But he needed a diversion and he needed one fast. He'd just killed this woman's brother. He had no right to be fantasizing about her, especially when he considered what she must be feeling toward him. "I'd like an ice cream sundae, please." The tired blue eyes gave him a withering look before they turned away. Exhaling an exasperated sigh, she walked back toward the kitchen without saying a word. "I don't suppose you come here for the service, do you?" Kate lightly asked between bites. "No," Duncan tossed back with a chuckle. "I believe they have to pass a test in surliness before they get the job." She picked up a French fry and waved it a couple of times before plopping it into her mouth. "I can understand why you put up with it. The food's delicious." Within minutes, the waitress brought out a huge sundae topped with lots of whipped cream and a bright red cherry. Duncan thought as he quickly dispatched the cherry to the ashtray and spooned the fluffy white stuff into his coffee just to get it out of his sight. It wasn't a cold shower, but hopefully, the ice cream would cool his blood. Kate watched him through her peripheral vision and found his behavior surprisingly charming but a little silly. After living for four hundred years, a man shouldn't be uncomfortable talking about orgasms. After all, age should have taught him that sexual urges were as natural as breathing. And while Duncan's reaction hadn't exactly been embarrassment like Benton's had, it was still very evident that he was not entire comfortable with the subject. They finished their food in relative silence, the only noises coming from the clinking of silverware against china and glass or china and glass knocking against Formica. The waitress returned to clear away the dishes and refill Duncan's mug. "Coffee?" she snapped at Kate without taking her eyes off the steaming dark liquid as she poured it into the ceramic. "Please, if it wouldn't be too much trouble," Kate replied sweetly. "Harumph, trouble is being a single mom with three kids in this day and age," the woman mumbled as she flipped the unused coffee mug over and filled it. Without another word, she left. Kate wrapped her hands around the warm cup and peered at Duncan. "Speaking about this day and age...I know the changes I've seen in my lifetime of only a measly thirty-two years are extraordinary but, geez, the ones you've seen must be mind- boggling. How do you cope?" "Cope?" "Yes, cope. Not with the technological advances, Those are obvious transitions. What I'm talking about are changing attitudes and the constant loss of friends, both mortal and immortal. How do you manage to stay sane?" Remembrances of how empty he'd felt when he'd held Little Deer's lifeless body close flashed through Duncan's mind. And, with that image, came the memory of the undiluted psychotic fury that had coursed through his veins when he'd seen Kern a hundred and twenty-two years later. Then Darius... And Fitz... He closed his eyes and released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Sometimes you don't," he divulged. Kate had watched the sadness come over him. Obviously painful recollections resulted in a furrowing of his brow and a pinching of his lips. For the second time that night she had inadvertently hurt him and she hated herself for it. Duncan shook off the melancholy. Shifting his weight to his left hip, he reached into his pant's right pocket. "It's getting late," he announced. "I should take you home." He pulled out a wad of bills, selected a twenty and a ten and threw them on the table before getting up. "Shall we go?" As she slid out of the booth, Kate glanced at the twenty dollar tip given to a woman who hadn't deserved twenty cents and sent a silent blessed to whatever deity was looking after Benton Hanshaw. After all, before his death, the gentle giant had given her Duncan MacLeod. It was the least she could do. In light of their conversation before they'd left the restaurant, the atmosphere inside the Thunderbird was a little tense. Less so than during the ride over, but there nonetheless. Kate used the time to observe the man Benton Hanshaw had referred to as the Highlander. He appeared perfectly suited to the classic car. Not only by the ease with which he handled it but by the elegance and style it portrayed. The only other vehicles she could imagine him in were a Rolls Royce from somewhere in the twenties or one of those 1959 Cadillacs with the big fins. She smiled to herself over that one. Her father had brought one of those home in the early seventies with the intention of restoring it then reselling it for a big profit. Poor Dad. How was he to know that after he'd invested thousands of dollars in that old gas guzzler the 1973 oil embargo would hit. She hadn't thought about that car in years. End of part 2 =================================================