Date:         Mon, 17 Apr 1995 22:41:47 -0400
Reply-To:     mikester@BIX.COM
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         Mike Breen <mikester@BIX.COM>
Subject:      THOSE WHO WATCH - PART 5

     Patrick stopped his car at the designated spot underneath the Tobin
Bridge, the major bridge leading into Boston from the north.  It had rained
sporadicaly all day, and the street lamps and dim headlights glistened off
of the water and fog.  Somewhere in the Boston Harbor, where the Mystic and
Chelsea rivers met, a foghorn wailed its mournful cry.
     Patrick wondered which soul it was crying for.  Sam's?
     Or his own?
     He untied and unbuttoned his coat and began walking, searching for Sam
and Bernard.  It did not take him long.  He felt him before he saw him
leaning against a green metal bridge support with Bernard beside him.
Bernard was unrestrained, and a physically younger man may have been able
to outrun the Immortal, but as Bernard was so fond of saying, he was _not_
a young man.
     "Patrick!" Sam said, "Old Teacher, you came!  I have your Watcher
here, all ready for you to do with as you please."
     Patrick pulled his katana out of his trenchcoat and shrugged the coat
off of his shoulders, where it fell onto the damp pavement.
     "Prepare to die, bastard," Sam said excitedly to Bernard.
     But Patrick did not advance towards Bernard as Sam had thought.  He
stood where he was, sword aimed at Sam.  He said, "Let the Watcher go, Sam,
and we can walk away from this."
     "You're...  you're going to _fight_ me?  Over _him_?"
     "I hope to ghods not."
     Sam just laughed.  "But... I did this for _you_!" he said.  "I brought
him here, all ready for the taking, for _you_."
     "No Sam, _we're_ not supposed to _take_ mortals.  We're supposed to
live _with_ them in _their_ world.  It's not our world, we didn't build
it."
     "Mortals, MORTALS!" Sam said.  "They're _not_ mortals.  They might
_look_ like mortals, and even _die_ like mortals, but they're _Watchers_!"
     "And are those who watch that much different from those who don't?"
Patrick said.
     "Yes," Sam said.
     It was then that Patrick realized that Sam was truly insane, and
possibly had been before he had even become Immortal.  There was nothing
that could have been done about that, true, but Patrick would never, as
long as he lived, be it days, weeks, centuries, or millennia, shake the
feeling that it was _his_ fault that Sam had gone so bad.  _His_ fault that
the sickness that rotted the core had festered and spread to the rest of
the mind.  And he knew that by coming here alone he had set himself upon a
path that was opressively straight, leading only to one destination.  Had
Rebecca accompanied him, the two of them may have talked him out of this.
If Rebecca and Dawson had both come, they defiantly could have overpowered
him.
     "You're like the others," Sam said.
     "Who?"
     "Diego Gonzalez and Paul Kellman.  I gave their Watchers to them too,
but they wouldn't kill them.  I had to take their heads _and_ kill their
Watchers.  I was afraid that Rebecca would react the same way, even though
she was taught by Darius, I would have had to take her head, and you would
have come after me.  But I was _sure_ if I showed you _first_, you'd see
it.  The justice of it.  Because you and Mei-Ling..."
     "Enough with Mei-Ling, Sam.  The killing _has_ to stop.  Here."
     "NO!"  And in a flash, Sam's sword was out from under his coat and
lungeing towards Patrick.

     Rebecca paced around the living room, uneasy.  She poured herself a
drink, and then placed it on the coffee table, untouched.  She looked out
the window, then out the door.
     "Would you just sit and wait?" Dawson said.  "You're making _me_ jumpy
with that."
     "Sorry."  She sat.
     "No, I'm sorry.  I just... all the shit you guys go through is tough
enough as it is, now this..."
     "As Patrick says, it's something every Immortal knows will probably
happen at least once, during the Gathering.  And it's also something each
of us dreads."

     Sam was good, no doubt about that.  There were times where it was like
fighting his own self.  Sam anticipated each feint, each attack, each
strategy, and blocked them all.  But Patrick was able to anticipate Sam
just as skillfully.  Their swords were a blur of clanging and sparking
steel.  Patrick swung, missed, and hit a girder, sending a shower of sparks
to the ground.  But he recovered quickly, blocking Sam's next attack.
     "All you have to do," Patrick said, "is walk away.  We can forget
about this."
     "NO!"
     Patrick took the offencive then.  He backed Sam into a girder, and
locked their blades.  It was then that they felt the Buzz and heard the
footsteps of the third Immortal approaching.
     "SAM!  PATRICK!"
     Nancy stared, wide-eyed, at her Teacher and her lover, locked in
combat.  "Stop!" she said.
     "Nancy!" Sam said, "This is what you have to look forward to!  Your
Teacher hasn't the balls to kill a weak Watcher."
     "Then you _did_ kill them."
     "Yes."
     "Sam..."
     "NO!" Sam said.  "You're beginning to interfere here, Nancy.  Remember
the second most important rule of the Game.  _None_ shall interfere."
     Sam pushed Patrick away from him, and attacked again.  The madness in
his eyes told Patrick that there was no way he could avoid the inevitable.
If he spared Sam he would come after him again.  It was Sam's head or his
own...
     He thrust his blade deep into Sam's gut.  As Sam sank to his knees, he
lifted his sword above his head.
     "Patrick, no!  There's gotta be another way!" Nancy said.
     "_Do_ it, Irelander," Sam said, almost pleadingly.
     The pain mixed with insanity in Sam's eyes was more than Patrick could
bear.  He swung his sword.
     "NO!!!"
     Sam's head fell from his body, which splashed into a puddle, his blood
mixing with the slimy rainwater.  Then the rainwater began to evaporate,
and the Quickening was released.
     Patrick tried running from it.  He didn't _want_ this one, but the
Quickening did not care.  It wanted _him_.
     And it caught him.  Absorbing itself into his body, shattering the
windows of the parked cars, striking against the metal of the bridge, and
overwhelming Patrick with Samuel Leonard's memories.  And Patrick screamed.
     But there was no pleasure in this Quickening.
     Only pain.
     The pain of insanity, loss, disappointment...
     The pain of death.
     When it was over, Patrick looked at Nancy.  There were tears streaming
down her face.  He stood and took a step over to her, but she turned and
ran, disappearing into the fog.  Patrick stared at the space she had
disappeared into, sure that he had lost two students that night.
     He turned and faced Bernard.
     "Thanks," he said.
     Patrick said nothing.
     "Look... I know this was hard for you.  I'd just like to say that if
there's _anything_ I can do for you..."
     Patrick still said nothing.
     "Look.  I'll go get a cab."
     Bernard too, turned and disappeared into the fog.
     Patrick picked up his coat and stared at the headless corpse of the
troubled Immortal, his, and all decent Immortals', worst nightmare come
true.  The body of Samuel Leonard spoke volumes, only Patrick O'Brien was
too afraid to open them and read.  He put his trenchcoat back on, hid the
katana, and disappeared into the fog as well.

     "Nancy?"
     Nancy sped by Rebecca and slammed the door of her room.  Rebecca
followed her and opened the door.  "Nancy?" she said again.
     "He killed him.  He just swung his sword and killed him."
     "Who?"
     "Patrick!  He killed Sam!  He didn't even _try_ to find another way."
     "Nancy, I'm sure that's not true, and I know you realize that.  I'm
sure Patrick did _everything_ to stop it without taking Sam's head."
     "I don't care.  I'm leaving.  I can't stay with him."
     Patrick entered the house and Nancy's room, disheveled, red-eyed, and wet.
     "Nancy..."
     She looked at him, tears streaming down her own eyes.
     "Nancy, I know you must hate me now, but I hope someday you realize
that there was no other way.  And I also hope you can find it in yourself
to forgive me."  He turned and left.

     Dawson met Bernard at the parkbench on the Common the next day.  He
handed the old sax case to him and said, "Here you are, my friend.  No
worse for wear.  How about you?"
     "I'll be fine," Bernard said, taking the case from Dawson.  "You going
back to Seattle now?"
     "I don't know.  MacLeod's in Paris, and I may head over there.  But I
_do_ have the bar to take care of.  I suppose I'd better decide soon."
     "I can't imagine how they're all feeling in there," Bernard said,
indicating the townhouse.

     Rebecca sat in the living room, alone.  Nancy had not left yet, but
she hadn't left her bedroom, aside from getting food or going to the
bathroom, the entire day.  She just wasn't ready to face Patrick yet.
     Patrick had gone for a long walk.  He needed to get out of the
townhouse.  For the first time in the century he had owned it, he felt
caged in, he explained to her.  But that was several hours ago, and he had
left his sword.  She was getting worried.
     She knocked on Nancy's door and said, "Nance?  I'm going out for a
while.  I should be right back."
     A non-committal "Uhnh" came from her room.
     Rebecca put a jacket on, left her sword behind, and stepped into the
bright sunshine that had evaporated the rain.  And suddenly, she knew where
Patrick had gone.

     Patrick sat up in the pue of the Park Street Church when he felt the
Buzz.  He turned and saw Rebecca walking towards him.  She sat next to him
and said, "Feeling any better?"
     "No."
     "Oh."
     "Rebecca, I have to get out of this city for a while.  It's not you
but...  I hadn't faced _anyone_ in five years before this year.  Then in
four months I took three heads.  I don't know if this is the beginning of
the Gathering, but... there's some things I just have to work out."
     "I know."
     "And I'll be taking Nancy with me.  Part of those things the two of us
have to work out together and alone.  I don't want to loose her."
     "How long will you be gone for?"
     "I don't know.  A week, a month.  If it's longer than a few months,
I'll send for you."
     "No no.  If you have to work things out between you and Nancy, it
would be best if I _wasn't_ there."  She stood and said, "I'll watch the
townhouse."  She kissed him on the top of his head, tenderly, and left the
church.
     Patrick sat in the church for a while longer, then he, too, left Holy
Ground.  As he walked back to the townhouse, he stopped at Bernard's bench
and tossed a bill into his case.
     "Afternoon, Patrick," Bernard said, as he had said every afternoon of
every day for the last fifteen years.
     "Afternoon, Bernard."
     "I'll request reassignment if you want."
     "No... that's fine.  If I have to be Watched, well, I'd rather have it
be a friend than someone I don't even know."  He extended his hand, and
Bernard took it.
     When they released eachother's hands, Bernard said, "There's just one
question I've got."
     "Shoot."
     "How did you figure it out?"
     Patrick shrugged and said, "The best place to hide something from
someone is right under their nose.  An Immortal learns _that_ fairly
quickly.  And where better to keep tabs on me than right out front of my
house."

     Patrick entered Nancy's room, to find the young Immortal curled up on
her bed.
     "Nancy, we're going on a trip.  Get packed for the outdoors, because I
know you like camping."
     Nancy shrugged, but got packed anyway.

     Patrick drove north on route I-95 towards Maine.  Away from the city
that he hated, that held so many painful memories.  But he loved it as
well, and there were wonderful memories too.  With Nancy beside him, they
would work this out.  And they both would learn to take the bad _and_ the
good.  Emotions were a very human thing, weather you were twenty-two years
old, or over eight hundred.
     Very human indeed.

<<<end of Those Who Watch>>>
(c) 1995 Mabnesswords
as usual, e-mail mikester@bix.com with comments!
=========================================================================