Date: Sat, 27 May 1995 21:34:58 -0400 Reply-To: mikester@BIX.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Mike Breen Subject: TO FORGIVE IS DIVINE - Part 4 BOSTON MASS, UNITED STATES, MAY 1995 Rebecca parked her car on Mass Ave by MIT, far enough away that Rightman would not be able to feel her. She waited... and waited... finally at nine o'clock her car phone rang. "Yup?" "He's leaving now." "Can you tell where he's heading?" "Not yet. No... how the hell did he find a parking space there? Ok... he's driving off... Jesus he's driving towards you." "Gotcha." Rebecca started her car and ducked onto the nearest side street. "Where is he now?" "I don't know. He drove down Mass Ave towards you, that's all I know." "Ok. Did you see what kind of car he's driving?" "No. All I could see was that it's a black sports car. Maybe German." "Damn it." "I'm sorry, Rebecca." "No... you did the best you could, Bernard, thanks. I'll have to risk him feeling me." She turned the car back towards Mass Ave, just as she felt the last remnants of Rightman driving out of range. She _hoped_ he would think he was imagining it. If not... she had her sword, so she could only hope for the best, as any Immortal does when facing another. Of course, Rightman's parking space had been taken almost immediately. She ended up having to park a block down, and on the opposite side of the street. She had cased the building the previous afternoon and evening, and knew that there was no security guard after eight, though they left the sign-in/out book on the desk. She also studied the type of electronic locking mechanism, and was confident she could open it. So... here she was, dressed not like someone about to break into a building, but like someone returning to her office to get some work done. She headed towards the Middle East and TT The Bear's Place, seeing that the week-end lines were already forming. Break into a building in front of as many people as possible, Amanda had once told her, and you can be assured that they'll all assume you belong there. She crossed the street and stopped in front of the door. She took the forged key-card she had acquired and slipped it into the lock. This was the most important part of the caper. If the forgery wasn't good enough, the alarm would sound and that would be that. She removed it. For a split second, her heart had leapt into her throat because the red light hadn't turned green. She was _sure_ that the alarm would sound. But the light turned green, and she opened the door. She watched the security cameras carefully, and swiftly moved to every blind spot. She reached the stairwell and opened the door. She could relax, since there were no cameras in the stairwell. Still, she quickly climbed the stairs to the forth floor. She reached the personnel office and took out her flashlight. She found the "R" file draw and began shuffling through it. She found "Rightman, Seth," and took it out. His address was listed as Washington, D.C., but he also had alternate addresses in New York, LA, London, Hong Kong, and Tokyo. No Boston address. "Shit," she said. Remembering that she had seen Rightman on either the fifth or sixth floor fire escape, she decided to search for an office there. She returned to the stairs and climbed one more flight. She found herself on a floor of several private offices. She looked at the names on all the doors, names like "John Wallingford," "Robert Fried," "Frederic Goode," and one marked "VIP." If Seth Rightman had no Boston address and only visited, chances are he wouldn't have an office. Chances are he would take the VIP office. She tried the door, locked of course, so she began trying her lock-picks. Seth Rightman couldn't get the faint feeling out of his mind. For a split second he had been sure that he had felt... _some_one. Weather it was DeJeniere or not he wasn't sure. The feeling had been so faint that he couldn't _really_ be sure that he _hadn't_ imagined it. Still... he made an illegal U-Turn on Memorial Drive and began heading back to his office, _just_ to be sure. SOMEWHERE IN THE MAINE WOODS, UNITED STATES, MAY 1995 Nancy couldn't reach Rebecca. There had been no answer at the townhouse the entire day. She stayed on Holy Ground, which was a local church, for most of the afternoon, attempting to reach Rebecca every hour or so. She had taken her sword just incase Patrick _did_ loose and Nabbis came after her. Finally, just before sunset, she couldn't take the waiting and left the church to go in search of Patrick. Patrick hiked through the woods for a long time that day. He had his sword at his side instead of hidden underneath a coat. It was frighteningly familiar, even though he hadn't carried it in the open for nearly two centuries. Not for the first time, he worried that Nabbis was right. He finally found Nabbis at about nine o'clock. The woodsman was relaxing in his camp when he felt Patrick approach. He looked up and said, "Evening, Irelander." "I have a name, you know," Patrick said. "And you haven't used it once since I met you." "I know. And it's all part of the plan." "Oh?" Patrick said, unsheathing his sword, "You have a plan?" "Yup. I'm going to prove that there's no difference 'tween you and me." He got up and kicked Patrick in the knee, shattering the kneecap. Patrick dropped his sword and collapsed, writhing in pain from Nabbis' steel-toed boots. Nabbis then kicked him in the gut. He said, "I know yer type. You come here all high-n-mightily with thoughts of makin' friends and sparing my head by the grace of your mercy, even though jus' below the surface there's a rage bubblin'. Anger enough for you to actually come after me. Well, HERE I AM!!" He kicked Patrick in the head. BOSTON MASS, UNITED STATES, MAY 1995 Bernard saw Rightman walk back towards his office building. There was no _way_ Rebecca could be warned, and besides although he broke several rules already since Patrick saved his life, he would _never_ interfere in a fight between two Immortals. If he found her there... but of course he would. He could only pray that Rebecca would be good enough. The locked desk drawer was easy enough to open. There was a single file in it. Rebecca opened it and saw her own picture, taken at an art exhibition given for her early last year in Paris. There were several others like it, pictures of she and Patrick, she and Nancy, the three of them... Pictures of she and Amanda... she and Duncan MacLeod... and many pictures of her alone. There was a lengthy dossier giving the biographical details of _this_ Rebecca DeJeniere, birthdate unknown but assumed to be between 1963 and 1973. Place of birth unknown but assumed to be France. A career artist, specialty painting, but known to dabble in sculpture and pottery. Currently "co-habitating" with Patrick O'Brien and his ward Nancy Peters. She had been watched, not by the Watchers, but by... She felt him before the elevator reached the floor. There was nothing to do. He would catch her red-handed, because there was _no_ time to leave. The elevator door opened and Rightman walked out, directly towards his office. "Clever," he said. "But not clever enough. All I have to do is call the police, and kill you long enough to keep you here." "We both know you won't do that, Rightman," Rebecca said. "No. You're right. Unfortunately, you've forced matters. I had this all planned out to the last _detail_. Down to the location of your death. We were to fight in the closed garage beneath the Common, where no one would find you for _months_. And by that time I would be _far_ out of the country, where not even O'Brien could find me. Now... I'm afraid I'll have to set fire to this floor and make the Quickening look like arson." "Well that's too bad, isn't it," Rebecca said, removing her sword from her coat. "Yes," Rightman said, removing his and swinging. SOMEWHERE IN THE MAINE WOODS, UNITED STATES, MAY 1995 "Wassamatter, Irelander?" Nabbis said. "You fall? Cat got yer tongue?" He kicked him again in the head, and the blood began gushing from the wound. Patrick concentrated on remaining conscious until he thought of something to do. He could tell, from his light-headedness, that he had a concussion, and a severe one. He also knew that it was healing rapidly, though not rapidly enough. "All cultured and cityfied," Nabbis was saying. "They've _domesticated_ you!" He kicked him in the kidneys. "They've _tamed_ you!" He kicked him in the lower back, breaking a vertebrae and snapping the spinal column. "Like a _dog_!" He kicked him in the chest, breaking a rib and puncturing a lung. Patrick began coughing up blood. The light-headidness was dissapating, but he could not feel his legs. He was paralyzed, although temporarily, and could not move away from Nabbis even if he wanted to. It was then that Nabbis and Patrick both felt the presence of the third Immortal. Nabbis turned towards the sensation. "STOP!!" came the voice Nancy found Nabbis and Patrick then, though she didn't know she had found Patrick. From Nancy's vantage point, Nabbis was kicking at a wounded animal and screaming at it. She assumed he was kicking a dog for revealing itself in the wrong place. She couldn't bear to watch, but she would stop him from killing that helpless animal, even if it cost her her head. Then she heard what he was saying. "They've _domesticated_ you! They've _tamed_ you! Like a _dog_!" As she moved closer and Nabbis turned to her she realized that the animal was Patrick. "STOP!!" she said. Nabbis said, "Well well well. If it isn't the Irelander's cub." Nancy took out her sword and said, "I'm warning you. If you hurt him any more..." "You'll what?" Nabbis said. "Take my head? Go ahead pretty. Stab me in the stomach and kill me. Then take my head. Go ahead." He walked over to her and placed her sword-tip against his stomach. BOSTON MASS, UNITED STATES, MAY 1995 They ended up in the hallway, Rebecca's agility more than an asset in the small space, but Rightman was slow-moving in the limited area. He directed the fight towards the stairwell and opened the door. Rebecca followed, climbing the remaining three flights towards the roof. "Now," Rightman said as she emerged, "the odds are a bit more even." He lunged at her. She blocked his blow, barely. She was able to push him back and perform a back-flip, but she nearly fell off of the roof. He came at her again, and she dodged his blows. "Stop bouncing, little rabbit!" he said and swung at her midsection, slicing into her side. She held her side, and felt her blood. Her only hope was... she looked again at the edge of the roof. She would land in the alleyway where she had first seen Rightman. Her _only_ hope was to jump. Hopefully she wouldn't be dead too long. She jumped, landed, and died. She inhaled sharply. She stretched her arms and legs out, hearing the popping of her bones setting themselves. She felt for her sword, it's comforting hilt within reach. Rightman was heading down the fire escape now. She closed her eyes and continued to play possum. He knew she was alive, he could feel her. But if she could make him think that she was still groggy and weak from dyeing (she was, as a matter of fact) she could win. She hoped. She heard him jump the last few feet into the alley. She heard him walk over to her. "It was fun, DeJeniere," she heard him say. She opened her eyes, tightened her grip around her sword and thrust it into his abdomen. Stunned, Rightman dropped his sword. Rebecca stood, just before Rightman collapsed. She lifted her sword high above her head and swung. SOMEWHERE IN THE MAINE WOODS, UNITED STATES, MAY 1995 "Go ahead, cub," Nabbis said. "Do it. I bet you don't have the balls. The tame li'l Irelander over there hasn't been able to teach you that. He couldn't. He's just..." Nabbis collapsed from Nancy's thrust sword in his stomach. He fell to his knees, and Nancy stabbed again, this time through the back, piercing a lung. Nabbis began coughing up blood. Patrick stood, most of his wounds healed. He gathered up his sword, and held it close to him, Japanese style, at the ready incase Nabbis recovered. Then he did the only thing he could do. He watched. Nancy lifted her katana above her head, and with a scream brought it crashing down onto Nabbis' neck. Nabbis' head rolled over to the fire, his eyes reflecting eerie images from the firelight. Nabbis' body fell at Nancy's feet. BOSTON MASS, UNITED STATES, MAY 1995 The Quickening emerged from his body. Its electrical energy shattered windows and bounced off of the metal fire escape, and worked its way into Rebecca. She screamed in delight and pain. Screamed in victory, as the memories of Rightman and all those he had killed intertwined themselves with all those _others_ in her head. She screamed again and again. "What the hell is _that_?" said one concert-goer in line at the Middle East. "Lightning in an alleyway? "Should we call the police?" his girlfriend said. "They'd never believe us. They'd probably arrest us for drug use." Bernard saw the Quickening from his vantage point across the street. He honestly did not know if Rebecca had won. He had seen the swordfight on the roof and had seen her jump. After that... Five minutes went by. Then ten. He couldn't wait any longer. He left his office building and walked onto the sidewalk. He saw the door to the RFW office open, and saw Rebecca emerge, looking exhausted and disheveled, but alive and victorious. "What kept you?" he said as she met him on his side of the street. "I had to erase all evidence that I was here," she said. "After all, breaking and entering _is_ a crime." Bernard laughed and walked her back to her car. SOMEWHERE IN THE MAINE WOODS, UNITED STATES, MAY 1995 For the first time in her hopefully long life, the Quickening took Nancy. She was completely unprepared for the intensity of it. When it hit, she screamed, more in fear than anything else. It poured into every fiber of her being, the electrical energy exploding off of trees, Nabbis' tent, his equipment, and even knocked Patrick to his knees. Then the memories came. The memories of Nabbis, and all those he killed, and all those _they_ killed, and on and on until the beginning of humanity, and Immortality. She was knocked to the ground, and screamed. "NO!!!! I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH!!!" After a seeming eternity, during which she wasn't sure if she wanted it to end or not, Nancy opened her eyes, or rather the eyes she assumed were hers, to see Patrick looking down on her, worried. Then the disorientation faded, and she knew she _was_ strong enough to hold all that. She looked up at Patrick, smiled, and said, "I forgive you, Teacher." "Thanks," he said, and helped her up, singing a song in a language she didn't know, but thought she recognized. The two began hiking back towards their campsite, Patrick shining a propaine lamp that had survived the Quickening ahead of them to light their way. "Is that..?" "Japanese, yes. My Teacher taught it to me, though I didn't understand it until after I had been to Japan." "What does it mean?" Patrick sighed and said, "It's a song of parting, though a happy one." Nancy fully understood the implications of what Patrick was saying. "I have to leave, don't I? The Rules..." "The Rules state that a young Immortal must find their own path after taking their first head. They must have a life _away_ from their Teacher for a time. Search the Quickening you've just taken and you'll know that it's true for each and _every_ Immortal." Nancy did. How, she did not know. She just knew, instinctively, what to do. She nodded, sadly. "But I'm not _ready_ to be on my own," she said. "If this were normal circumstances and you had taken your first head naturally, you would still say you weren't ready to be on your own. And I would disagree with you and send you on your way. But... it _didn't_ happen naturally. You broke a Rule and interfered in our fight." "But it wasn't a fight!" Nancy said. "Nabbis wasn't out to take your head! He was trying to anger you into coming after him. How can my trying to stop that be interference?" Patrick thought of this for a while, until they reached their camp. Nancy made the fire and lit it. Finally Patrick said, "I agree. It wasn't a duel, therefore there was no interference. But you _still_ have a problem." Nancy nodded. "I'll go as soon as we get back to Boston." Patrick said, "We'll talk about that when we get back." MAINE TURNPIKE, UNITED STATES, MAY 1995 Patrick and Nancy once again were silent for nearly all of the three hour ride back to the city. But where the silence during the ride up was caused by anger, this silence was caused by worry. Worry about the future. Worry about destiny. Worry about sending a half-trained cub out into the world to be slaughtered or turned to evil. Patrick had three choices. One, send her off on her own and hope for the best; two, send her to a friend like Connor MacLeod or Joe Ammamoto to complete her training, though that was against the Rules; or three, break the Rules completely and _not_ send her away. It was a choice Patrick did _not_ want to face. "Patrick?" Nancy said. "Mm?" "I just wanted to say... whatever happens, thanks. For finding me and showing me the ropes." "Your welcome, Nancy." BOSTON MASS, UNITED STATES, MAY 1995 They entered the townhouse and dropped their bags into their separate rooms. Rebecca felt them enter and came upstairs from her studio. "You guys smell like hell," she said. "All smoke and..." she stopped and stared at Nancy. "Oh my ghods. You took a head." "You can tell?" Rebecca nodded. "Your Buzz is a _lot_ stronger than it was." "Why am I not happy to hear about that?" Rebecca, Nancy, and Patrick swapped stories that night. Rebecca told them of how she jumped seven stories to save her life, and Nancy told Rebecca how her first Quickening felt. After a few hours of talking, Patrick said, "Nancy, could you go somewhere? Rebecca and I have to talk alone." "Sure," she said, heading for her room. When she got there and closed the door, she sat on the floor in front of the door and listened carefully. Rebecca was saying something indistinct, then Patrick. Then Rebecca said, very clearly, "We _have_ to send her away, Pat. The Rules..." "The Rules be DAMNED!" "Pat... listen to me." "No, Rebecca, _you_ listen to _me_. I've thought about nothing but this for the past day. Nancy _isn't_ ready. It shouldn't have happened." "But it did..." "Will you ease up on the 800 years of stubbornness and _listen_? Have you forgotten about Sam already?" "Of course not." "We sent Sam away too soon, but he had taken a head and that was that. We _had_ to follow the Rules like good little soldiers. "Patrick, the Rules are meant to _protect_ us." "Ok, no fighting on Holy Ground. No two against one. No fighting in front of Mortals. But _this_?" "Is meant to make the young Immortal grow. Sam knew that as well as we did." "But Sam _wasn't_ ready to be on his own. We both know that. Nancy isn't ready, either, and I will _not_ have another Sam on my hands. Or my conscious." "Is that what this is about? Sam? And easing your guilt?" "Maybe. But it's also about the needs of a very young Immortal, and _her_ fear. _Her_ needs. And _right_ now she needs us. Not Connor, not Joe Ammamoto, not Amanda, not Ceirdwyn, not even Ramirez if he were still alive. _Us_. Or at least one of us. And if you can't break this one Rule this one time, then these last four months have been fun, and I'll see you in a few decades." Nancy wished she could see their faces, for she would have loved to have seen Rebecca's face at that moment. Rebecca was silent for a long while before she said, "You'd really do this? Send _me_ away?" "No," Patrick said, "I wouldn't send you away. But Nancy is my Student, after all, even with the bond you two have forged. I was the one who discovered her, and I should be the one to make this decision, but I can't make your decision for you. If you can break the Rules for her good, you can stay with us. But if you can't... you'll have to leave, because _she_ isn't. Nancy is staying with me, and I'm not budging on that." Rebecca said, "And what about Nabbis?" "As far as even _Bernard's_ concerned," Patrick said, "_I_ took Nabbis' head." "But what about her Buzz? I could tell right off she had taken a head." Patrick sighed and said, "We'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. I can't imagine that any of our friends would hold this against us. We're insuring that a young Immortal lives and grows stronger." "So that she can fight another day," Rebecca finished for him. She again paused for a long moment before saying, "You're right. She isn't ready. We still have a _lot_ to teach her." <<>> (c) 1995 Mabnesswords As usual, e-mail mikester@bix.com or mikeb@usa1.com with comments!