Date: Sun, 1 Jan 1995 17:52:30 -0500 Reply-To: mikester@BIX.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Mike Breen Subject: TWO IF BY SEA - PART II NEW YORK CITY, UNITED STATES, DECEMBER 1994 Rupert Highsmith waited outside of the convention center where Michelle Taylor, lover to Patrick O'Brien was attending the seminar she came to New York for. His plan was simple. He would terrorize her to the point that O'Brien would come after _him_, and would be so filled with anger that he would make mistakes. Fatal ones. She emerged from the convention center, and Highsmith followed her onto the subway, sitting across from her. He followed as she made a change, and as she got into a taxi, he also got into one, and instructed the driver to follow her cab. All the while, she attempted to steal glances at him without him knowing she was doing it. It was a simple strategy, one that had worked for him in the past. Fixate on the mortal lover, and the Immortal would work him or herself into such a frenzy of anger that they would fight badly. The _real_ purpose of revealing himself to O'Brien was not so much for the Irishman's benefit. Rather it was so that the mortal woman would know what he looked like so she could tell her lover when he began following her. To know what he sounded like so that she could tell O'Brien when he began calling her. Her taxi stopped on Hudson Street, right in front of Connor MacLeod's shop. She got out, paid the driver and went in, stealing one short glance at his cab. Highsmith paid his driver handsomely and got out. He walked across the street to where he was sure he could be seen out a window. "He followed me again," Michelle said to Patrick and Connor. She walked over to the window and looked out. "He's there now." "This is the second time," Patrick said. "I've never known him to do that. I was married during the Revolution. He didn't stalk my wife then. Why is he doing this now?" "Two hundred years is a long time," Connor said. "To _you_ it may not be, but that's almost half my life. People, even Immortals, change. This could be a recent strategy of his." "I wish we could find out." Patrick said from the window, watching Highsmith. "We may be able to. I think _I_ may be able to call in some very old favors," Connor said as he picked up the phone and dialed a Seattle phone number. Duncan MacLeod picked up his ringing phone. He had just come back to his apartment from working out in the Dojo downstairs and was heading for the shower when the phone rang. He picked it up and said, "MacLeod," "So," said the familiar accented voice on the other end, an entire continent away, "how's the Dojo business treating you, clansman?" "Connor!" Duncan said. "How've you been?" "Great," Connor said, "Look, I don't have time to talk now. I have a friend here, do you remember Patrick O'Brien?" "Of course," the younger Highlander said. "He and I have met on a few occasions." "Well, he has a problem I thought one of your connections could help with some information." "I understand. What is it?" Connor told him of Highsmith and Michelle. "I'm not sure if my connection will be open to helping Patrick out on this, but I'll get right on it and get back to you. Give my best to Patrick." Duncan hung up and dialed another number. "Joe's," said the gruff voice on the other end. "Dawson? MacLeod. Are you alone?" "Yeah. I was just finishing up February's bookings for the bar. I'm alone," said Joe Dawson. "What's up?" "I need to know some information on Rupert Highsmith." "He after your head?" "No. A friend's." "MacLeod, you know I can't be giving out information to every Immortal you happen to come across." Duncan sighed and said, "I know, but the information's for Connor." It wasn't entirely a lie, since the information _was_ for Connor. He just omitted the fact that Highsmith wasn't _after_ Connor. Dawson was silent for a few seconds and then said, "That's a bit different, since I know how you Scotsmen feel about kinship. I'll have to get back to you later this afternoon after I look him up. I can fax the information over to Connor." "No. Better if you fax it to me and I'll forward it to Connor." He didn't know how much, if at _all_, Patrick knew about the Watchers. Sending a fax to him, even to Connor's shop, with the cover sheet stating "From Joe Dawson" may not be a good idea. Like anyone, Patrick would want to know who this Dawson was, and like any Immortal, would want to know where he got all this information. "Thanks, Joe." "Don't mention it. But this is the first and _last_ time, MacLeod." The fax from Dawson via Duncan came that night. He had edited it, forwarding only the pertinent information. The list of encounters, even one that said "Encounter: Patrick O'Brien, Boston MA 1776. Fight stopped, both Immortals survived" was not present. All that the fax said was: "For the past century, RUPERT HIGHSMITH has tended to follow his targets and get to know their lifestyles and use it against them. His favorite recent strategy consists of stalking the target's mortal lover to the point of terrorism thus forcing the target to come to him. He takes enjoyment out of terrorizing the innocent mortals and it has seemed that the Quickening gained from the enraged Immortal is merely a bonus to him. He has never actually physically harmed a mortal lover." "That's not much of a reassurance," Michelle said. "I don't want to be stalked. But I don't want you getting yourself killed. How do we fight this?" Patrick read the fax again and said, "By playing his game. If you don't want to..." "No," Michelle said, "he's threatening _our_ life, so I want to do what I can to help." Patrick nodded and said, "Well, this is his game. If you can keep tabs on him, you know, maybe try to find out where he's coming from, that would help. Meanwhile, I'll dutifully act the part of the enraged Immortal. He'll be easier to fight since we have this." He waved the fax, then said, "By the way, Connor, where did Duncan get this information?" Connor did not want to lie to his friend, but he also would not compromise Joe Dawson's secrecy, and his friendship with his clansman. He said, "I'm sorry, Patrick, but I can't tell you. Just try to be content with the fact that Duncan was able to get this at all, and only as a favor to me. Look upon it as a Christmas present." Patrick understood. Loyalty to one's clan was something deeply engrained in _all_ Celtic peoples, whether from the Highlands of Scotland or southern Ireland. "By the way," Patrick said, "I never thanked you." "For what?" Connor said. "For killing the Kurgan. I'm sure that Ramirez would thank you too." BOSTON, MA, NEW YORK CITY, AND SEATTLE, WA, UNITED STATES, LATE DECEMBER, 1994 - EARLY JANUARY 1995 Rupert Highsmith was in his temporary office overlooking the Charles River. He looked at the dossier his people had forwarded him on Patrick O'Brien: SUBJECT: Patrick O'Brien DESCRIPTION: Height: 6' Weight: Approx. 180lbs Build: Wiry, agile, similar to a dancer Hair: Red Eyes: Green No visible scars or tattoos DATE OF BIRTH: Unknown PLACE OF BIRTH: Unknown OCCUPATION: History professor, Harvard University NET WORTH: Estimated greater than $1,000,000 INTERESTS: HISTORY, esp Celtic circa 1100-1400 AD, Renaissance, Ming Dynasty China, American Revolution, Napoleonic Era, Victorian Era, World War eras. SWORDPLAY, Uses an ancient Japanese blade, possible a Katana. Practices with various sparring partners. OTHER INFORMATION: Is lover to Michelle Taylor, computer programmer for Lotus Development Corp. See separate dossier. Enjoys theater, music (Rock, Jazz, Blues), restaurants, baseball. REMARKS: It is unknown where Patrick O'Brien gets his funds from. His lifestyle is rather expensive for the salary of a history professor. When asked, he merely shrugs it off to a "dead rich uncle." His sword skills are advanced for someone who cannot be older than 35, and it is unknown where he acquired his sword. He and Michelle Taylor have been together for approx. 5 years although there is as yet no talk of marriage. Highsmith put the dossier down and mentally filled in the blanks himself. Date of birth was hard to pin down, but he had heard from other Immortals that O'Brien was born somewhere between 1150 and 1200. He also knew that he was born somewhere in county Cork, Ireland. His specialties in history were obvious. They were the periods he did _something_ in. Highsmith himself often thought back to the American and Russian Revolutions. His sword skills being "advanced for someone who cannot be older than 35" was itself a laugh. And as far as his funds, they were being accumulated over 800 years. Although filled with holes, the dossier gave him the information he needed. He placed it on his desk and stared across the river in the direction of Harvard University... At that moment, Patrick was in his office at Harvard correcting finals. Some students would come back just before leaving for the holidays to find out how they had done and what they did wrong. Patrick was not able to get much work done during his recent trip to New York since he was either worrying about Michelle or sightseeing with Connor. But he just couldn't concentrate. Something _really_ was bothering him, and that something was sitting in a pile of faxes. It was the information faxed to him from Duncan. _Who_ had the information, _what_ did they have it for and, _why_ did they even bother? Patrick was filled with a sense of foreboding, and a sense he was being watched... Joe Dawson thought he'd been had. Duncan had asked for that information because he claimed his kinsman Connor had needed it. But there just was no evidence that Highsmith was after the elder Highlander. For the last fifty years, Highsmith was playing "cleanup." Going after the heads of Immortals encountered decades, even centuries before but, somehow, had gotten away. His cleanup was nearly done, with only two or three previous encounters remaining. Why would he suddenly change his tactic and go after one who he _haden't_ met in battle yet. He punched up Highsmith's information on the screen and read through the "Encounters" section. The first that was still alive was an Immortal named Patrick O'Brien who Highsmith first encountered in combat in 1776. Details were sketchy as to just how the battle was stopped. The next was Marcus Constantine in 1884 near Madrid. Mortals had walked in on their duel, forcing the two Immortals to cease. The last was Xavier St. Cloud in 1914, France, the later escaping when his gas canister failed to discharge. St. Cloud was dead, killed by Duncan after a terrible incident involving Joe's own brother-in-law. Constantine was no where _near_ New York, and as far as Watcher records went, did not know Connor MacLeod. Which left Patrick O'Brien. Dawson punched up his record on the database and looked at one section and line in particular. Several lines down from the header that read "Known friends and allies" was the name "Connor MacLeod." Joe Dawson had been had... Connor MacLeod hoped that Patrick would be allright. He had done all he could in getting the information from Duncan, but in the end it would come down to two men and two swords. In the end, it _always_ came down to that, even his own battle with the Kurgan nearly ten years ago, despite all the bad blood that existed between them, came down to just the two of them and their swords. Connor knew that Patrick would do fine against Highsmith. Patrick, over and above his training under Rameriz was a fine swordsman. He was mostly worried about Michelle... Michelle Taylor entered her and Patrick's apartment. Highsmith had followed her again. It was beginning to become more than just a nuciance. Michelle could, at least, take comfort in the fact the he just was following her home. She dropped her things on the kitchen counter and went looking for Patrick. The Immortal was in his study, examining his sword. "Pat?" she said, tentatively. He just sat. "Pat?" Patrick turned with a far-away look in his eye. Then he focused on her and said, "Oh, hi. You're home." "Pat, are you allright?" "Yeah, why do you ask?" "Well, you seemed not... _here_." "I was just remembering something. From the past. Happens to us." Michelle nodded. "I imagine it goes with the territory of living with an 800 year old man." She sat down next to him and said, "What were you thinking about?" "Hm? Oh, just something that happened to my... um, someone I knew." "Pat? You were about to say something else, weren't you." Patrick didn't answer. "Pat, it's Ok. I know there've been others. You were about to say your wife." It wasn't a question. Patrick nodded. "There have been others. And yes, the woman I was thinking about was a wife of mine." Michelle wondered how this conversation had actually _started_. Here they were, she was all set to go off on Highsmith, and instead she was about to ask her lover something extremely sensitive. And perhaps very painful. "Pat? I'm going to ask you something," she said very slowly, "and you don't have to answer if you don't want to. How many have there been?" Patrick looked away from her and began studying his sword again. After a time he said, "Four." Michelle wasn't sure _what_ to think. That she should be relieved that there were only four wives, or that she should wonder why there weren't more. On average, he was married once every two hundred years. "There've been others that I've had relations with but haven't married for one reason or another," he said, "but I've only actually married four times. When you love someone so much that you want to spend the rest of your life with them, do anything so that they won't grow old or you will, it takes time to go beyond it. It took Connor nearly all of his 450 years to go beyond his first wife, Heather. And you never _really_ get over them." Michelle was silent, tears welling in her eyes. It was always an unspoken assumption that they would marry one day, even after Patrick revealed his immortality to her. He even told her that she'd never see grandchildren. It would be rather selfish to think that it would take him 200 years to get over her when she died, but still and all... And what of Patrick himself? Each time falling for a mortal, only to watch her age and die. "My teacher tried to tell me _not_ to get involved with mortal women," Patrick continued. "He was married three times and was over two thousand years old when I knew him. His last wife was a Japanese princess. When she died, he told me, he nearly couldn't go on. 'I would spare you the pain I knew' he said. But he couldn't. When you meet someone and fall in love, _everything_ goes out the window. And Highsmith knows this." She inhaled sharply, her original plan for conversation suddenly brought into this talk of loneliness love and death. She said, "He followed me again today." Patrick nodded and said, "You'll have to leave Boston." "Why?" "Because this is my fault. I shouldn't have asked you to do this. It's too much to ask _anyone_. You can go to New York to stay with Connor, or better yet, go to Seattle and see Duncan MacLeod, Connor's kinsman. When Highsmith is gone, I'll send for you." "Patrick, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this what you and your race _do_? Kill eachother on a regular basis?" "Yes." "So do you intend on sending me away whenever an evil immortal is in town?" "No, not every time. But this is still new to you. You can't expect..." "Patrick, if we're to have _any_ kind of life together, we have to face these things _together_." Patrick felt like a fool. He let his feelings _and_ the past get in the way. He decided to come clean with Michelle and said, "One of my wives was nearly killed by an Immortal. Not Highsmith. This was in 1559, before I knew him. This Immortal was after my head and had captured her, and held her in a cave for four days with nothing to eat. Eventually this Immortal told me where to find her, and him. Obviously, I took his head. She never told me what happened during that time, but she was never the same after that. She died in 1562, and it wasn't of any disease." "Oh, Patrick..." "And I _don't_ want anything to happen to you. But as you said, we have to face these things _together_." "Pat," Michelle said that night after making love, "what were they like?" Patrick knew what she was asking, and she had every right to know. Besides, it was nearly 200 years since Sarah... It would do him good to talk of them. "The first was Gwenna. She knew me before I became Immortal, and we were married just before that happened. But despite all the pain and persecution I suffered at the hands of the people of my village for not dieing, she stood by me, and went with me when I left. She and I lived in peace for twenty years, until she became ill and died. Rameriz pleaded with me to leave her, but I couldn't. How could I leave her when she had stayed with me? She had every right to throw that first stone and condemn me as a demon. She was strong, beautiful and _very_ smart. Not unlike you. "The second was a simple farm girl in England in 1330. Her name was Katherine. She had dreams of seeing Oxford and London. But that would never be because she died in 1348 of the plague. She took such pleasures in the simple things. Winter turning to spring, chicks hatching, crops growing. I swore I would heed Rameriz's advice after the plague. "Of course I didn't heed it. I met Yi in China in 1534. She was the daughter of a Chinese trader. He had taken me into his household as someone to guard his extensive holdings, and Yi and I met. Her father knew of my Immortality before she did. It was with Yi that I finally found some peace after the nightmare of the plague. We lived together for nearly thirty years, until... well, you know the rest of her story already. It was her father that gave me my Katana. His grandfather was Japanese, and came to China on a spy mission for his Shogun. But he was set upon by a band of Chinese outlaws and left to die. It was apparently seven against his one. He was found by a Chinese girl, nursed back to health, and fell in love with her. Eventually he found the outlaws, killed them all and recovered his sword. But he would not dishonor his family by returning to Japan, and his love for the Chinese girl was too strong for him to leave her by committing Hari-Kari. Yi's father was very old when he gave the sword to me, and knew I'd carry it always. I had wanted a katana since Ramirez once let me use his in practice. "My last wife was Sarah. She was the daughter of a Boston statesman who was vocal about American Independence. We met soon after the Tea Party, and married on nearly the eve of the Battle of Lexington. Unfortunately, because of my Immortality, we had to keep moving around so that I wouldn't be found out. We both had to change identities several times. In the course of the nearly fifty years we were together, she not only was my wife, but posed as my older sister, aunt, mother, and finally grandmother. She died in 1821 and we had returned here from Europe so she could die at home and with me. And I still loved her. You know the painting of the young colonial woman in my office? That's her." "She was beautiful," Michelle said. "And she was a beautiful person. Fiery and full of spunk. The perfect wife for a 'radical revolutionary Yankee' like myself. And she also helped heal the wound left by Yi's death." "And," Michelle said, "Have I helped heal the wound left by Sarah's death?" "Yes," Patrick said as he rolled over and kissed her. BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS, BRITISH EMPIRE, MARCH 14th, 1776 Patrick O'Brien studied his sword. He had encountered Highsmith yet again that afternoon, the evil Immortal positively giddy with the occupation of Boston. "But I will not kill you now, O'Brien," he had said. "The time will be right for us to meet. Once the pitiful revolution of your is over, you will stand trial and _I_ will mete out your punishment." "You... our Game isn't for mortal eyes," Patrick said. "Of course not," Highsmith said. "You will be in prison, and I will capture you escaping. We will fight, and I will cut your head off. _That_ will be the story. Nothing more, nothing less. And no violation of Game rules." That was earlier that day. Patrick was sharpening his Katana. He had to put an end to Highsmith and his constant interfearance. It was all an Immortal could deal with knowing that there was some other Immortal after your head, but to see him week after week, month after month was more than he could bear. Highsmith had to be stopped and _now_. There was a knock at his door. "I'll get it," his wife, Sarah said. She got up and answered the door. "Well! If it isn't Paul Sumner! Come on in and get out of the cold march air." She took his coat and ushered Paul into her and Patrick's sitting room. "I found him," Paul said to Patrick. Patrick looked up from the Katana and said, "Oh?" "Yes. He doesn't live in the British barracks. He lives over the river near the University. You're going to kill him, Pat, aren't you?" "Yes," Patrick said. Because 'ee'll keep on coming until I do, or 'ee kills me." "But why, for God's sake?" Sarah was silent, knowing of Patrick's Immortality. But Paul Sumner didn't. She didn't want to tell him if that wasn't what Patrick had in mind. She looked at her husband waiting for him to speak. "Because technically I'm a citizen of the British Islands, _not_ the Colonies. 'Ee 'as taken an interest in me because of this. 'Ee'll run me in for treason, but 'ee'd rather just kill me." Eventually, Paul left and Sarah and Patrick were alone. "Put that damn sword down and _talk_ to me, Pat," Sarah said. "About what?" Patrick said. "About what's on your mind!" She sat at Patrick's feet and placed her head and hands in his lap. "I know you have a lot on your mind, but we're married now. If I can't know what's going on in here," she tapped Patrick's forehead, "then who can?" "You're right," Patrick said. "I told you about Yi, my last wife, right?" Sarah nodded and said, "She died shortly after being captured by an Immortal." "I'm just afraid the same thing will happen to you," Patrick said, coming to a decision. He disentangled himself from her, placed the sword down and went to a drawer. He took out an elaborately carved knife and gave it to Sarah. "If he captures you, you have one chance. Stab him in the heart and before he revives take his sword and cut off his head." Sarah took the knife and stared at Patrick, wide-eyed. "You think it'll come to _that_?" "I hope not," Patrick said, "but if it does..." he let the words hang. BOSTON MA, UNITED STATES, JANUARY 1995 Patrick handed Michelle the knife. The same one he had given to Sarah over two hundred years ago. Eerily repeating the same scene played out with his last wife, he said, "I'm just afraid the same thing will happen to you, that happened to Yi. If he captures you, you have one chance. Stab him in the heart and before he revives take his sword and cut off his head." Michelle took the knife and stared at Patrick, wide-eyed. "You think it'll come to _that_?" "I'm afraid that it will," Patrick said. <<>> (c) 1994 Mabnesswords =========================================================================