Date:         Fri, 17 Nov 1995 13:02:25 +0000
Reply-To:     Vasna.Zago@COLORADO.EDU
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         Vasna.Zago@COLORADO.EDU
Subject:      The Gift 2/4

The Gift Part 2 of 4

     "But isn't it ironic, Duncan? A pacifist immortal, and, unlike Darius,
refusing to live on the safety of holy ground." Marie looked thoughtful. "I
tried so hard to live by her teachings, but just couldn't. The scent of
battle roused me too much, it would call to me until I had to ride out.
After I had sated myself with justice, then I would return, always afraid
that, this time, she would not be there to welcome me home. But she never
left; she always met me with wine and feasting."
     Marie fell silent, unwilling to tell Duncan the rest. How, when the
last drops of wine were drained from the cups, the food exhausted and the
fires banked, when the dogs were sleepily gnawing the bones under the
tables, Anna would take Marie to bed and whisper to her how afraid she was
that someday she would ride off and never return. Anna would weep and cling
to her and Marie would cry and vow not to be so cruel, never to leave her
again. A promise she tried to keep, many times, but could not. I will never
understand how she continued to love me, Marie thought.
     "We had almost 100 years together before I lost her, you know?" she
said, looking at Duncan. "More than two or three lifetimes. Some would
consider themselves lucky to have had so much. But it wasn't enough for
me."
     "You know, I wasn't even there when it happened," Marie said, biting
her lip. "I had gone riding. Anna wanted to look after a few things on the
estate and catch up with some papers. I don't think I even I said good-bye
when I left, after all, I was just going out for a short ride. That bastard
Phillipe came while I was gone, knowing that I would not be there to defend
her. The coward!" she exclaimed, fighting back tears.
     Duncan put a hand on her arm, the scene forming in his mind without
her having to voice it. He could see her approaching the house, fresh from
the wind and the ride, only to find it devoid of that particular spark of
life they sensed so well. He knew that sensation; he had experienced that
same strange feeling of empty nothingness when he had found Darius. He
could envision Marie slipping off her horse and entering the house, only to
discover the horror within. He closed his eyes, feeling her pain.
     "It was more than the end of all things," she whispered, and in her
voice he could hear all the sorrow of the world. "It was as if I had
descended into Hell."
     In his mind, Duncan heard the echo of gunshots ring out on a cold
night, that sinking feeling starting again in the pit of his stomach. He
could see Tessa laying on the asphalt, her body growing colder as its
warmth seeped into the concrete, her eyes open and staring in death's
vacant gaze. It was funny, he thought, how he could still feel the texture
of her hair, how it slid over his hand in a certain way...
     "Duncan? Are you okay?" She looked at him for a moment before
realization set in. "Oh God! You were thinking of Tessa, weren't you? I'm
sorry! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to remind you..."
     "It's okay," he said blankly. "It's all right."
     "No, it's not all right," she said, growing angry. "It's not fair. We
keep loving and they keep dying..." Her voice trailed off as her hands
clenched into fists.
     He picked up her hand and held it very tightly. "Please go on," he said.
     Marie collected herself. "After the numbness and shock wore off, I
exploded with rage. I was determined to avenge her death, and, fueled by
what I saw as the evils of the Game, passed the years in bloody retribution
on immortals and mortals alike. I began by hunting and killing Phillipe,
but it wasn't enough to satisfy me. In a way, I had regained Anna's energy,
but it wasn't like she still lived. I grew more infuriated, wanted more
blood. The things I did were terrible," Marie said, her eyes glazed with
the memory of that awful time.
     She could still hear the voice of that young immortal whom she held on
his knees at sword point as he begged for his life. She had tracked him for
nearly a week, watching as he wandered arrogantly through villages,
watching as he stole bread and wine from a peasant couple, watching as he
seduced a young girl and then staggered off to nap in a haystack, sleeping,
Marie knew, with dead, unrepentant dreams. She was providing a service, she
thought, as she walloped off his head and the quickening began.
     She looked at Duncan, realizing with a sudden shock that it could have
been him, two hundred years into the future. He had been doing those very
things when she first met him, drinking and wenching to excess, heedless of
the outcome of his actions. Not for the first time, she was pierced with
regret for the things she had done.
     "I killed anyone who I determined was evil, Duncan," Marie said,
shaking her head. "I bathed in blood as I took heads, and I gloried in it.
It was my own private version of the Dark Ages," she said bitterly and
sighed. She was quiet for a few moments.
     "Of course, I was convinced that what I was doing was just and right,"
she continued. "With my sword and my immortality I was going to eliminate
evil forever. And so the years passed, and I killed and killed and my
morality grew. I think it was shortly before I met you that my
righteousness began to wane. Yes," she said, nodding to herself, "it was in
the mid 1500's, right before you were born, that confusion began to set in.
I noticed that as much as I tried to destroy evil, more sprang up to
replace it."
     "I've felt that way before. The more you look, the more you see,"
Duncan offered. "Pretty soon it becomes your whole world."
     "Exactly!" she said. "It wasn't that there *was* more, but it was all
I was seeing. I was horribly confused and wanted to stop. I had killed for
so long, however, that it took a while for things to sink in. There is
something terrible and wondrous about sheer amounts of death, to be riding
that wave of power; to hold the fate and the life of another being in your
hand. Don't you think so, Duncan?" Marie stopped and looked at him
pointedly.
     "Certainly you're not implying that I enjoy killing?" Duncan asked,
astonished. "I only kill when I have to."
     "Oh, no, not at all, Duncan," she replied. "I would never imply that
you love contests, fighting, and act as judge and jury on occasion." A cold
silence settled on the room; his face became grim, unreadable.
     "Okay, so I'll continue, since you're not taking the bait," Marie
said. Duncan snorted derisively to cover his uneasiness at how close she
had come to the truth. "I remember the last person I killed during those
times. It was a poor, feeble peasant who had poached a hare from my estate.
I killed him myself. I ran him through with no more thought than I would to
crush a fly. Yet, that night, I couldn't sleep. I kept seeing his eyes as
the life flickered out of him. Did he have hopes and dreams? Did he have a
family? Those who loved him? I didn't know; I hadn't cared enough to know."
     "We can't know everything, Marie. We're not gods." Duncan said gently.
     "I didn't understand that at the time," she responded, ashamed. "I
thought we were." She was quiet for so long that he wondered if she had
forgotten where she was.
     "Since then," she began again, "I have often wondered why the death of
that particular man was to push me over the edge. Why not the one before or
the one after? I guess the pendulum of death had swung as far as it could
in my hand, yet time and coincidence are funny things, aren't they?"
     He nodded, understanding. How many times had he been a few minutes too
early or too late? He thought of all the random building blocks of
circumstance that led to the unfolding of each moment in time. What would
happen if one of those blocks was moved? Would Anna still be alive? Would
Tessa? He shook his head. He couldn't start thinking like that. He had
known stronger men who were bent into madness by such ideas.
     Marie's words cut into his thoughts. "That man haunted me, Duncan, and
before the morning sun rose, the enormity of what I had been doing for the
past 135 years struck me. Please don't underestimate the depth of my
confusion and sorrow. I was almost crushed by the knowledge of what I had
done. Astonished and horrified, I was forced to admit that I had
slaughtered hundreds of innocent people. Who can live with such a
realization? How can one atone for such horrendous deeds? I had to confess
that my quest had turned into a bloody crusade. As you said before: we are
not gods. Who was I to judge who lived and who died?"
     Marie hung her head before glancing at Duncan. It had taken all her
strength to seek him out, to tell him this story, and he was looking at her
with such love and understanding that it nearly broke her heart. She prayed
for enough courage to continue.
     "I went mad, Duncan. I found my way home to France and lay in a cave
for years. I refused to go out. Still in my hubris, I thought I could will
my own death. It was then that the full impact and understanding of the
nature of my immortality came to me. I had to live with my past; it could
not be unwritten, and I couldn't die, save by the hand of another immortal.
And I was not really ready to die, not yet."
     She fell silent, lost in the past.
     "What brought you out of the cave?" he prompted. "What made you want
to continue?"
     "Necessity!" she answered. "We go on. It's what we do. Besides, I had
felt sorry for myself long enough. When I came out, though, I felt like a
baby. Since Anna's death, anger had been my only companion; without it I
was alone and afraid. Deeply humbled by my realization, I vowed to redress
the wrongs I had committed, and so I turned myself to service. I went to
Italy. It was around 1640 and I had heard of the wonderful things that were
happening there. But, do you want to know what really makes me angry,
Duncan? I missed the damned Renaissance!"
     Duncan choked back a laugh. Marie continued as if she hadn't noticed
the interruption. "I was so busy killing people that I missed one of the
great flowerings of human experience! I really don't believe it," she said,
shaking her head before looking at him. "One good thing came out of it,
though. It was in Milan that I met you, remember?" she said, grinning.
     "How could I forget," he smiled back. "you were still righteous beyond
belief, just in another way. But, you were still looking for an answer."
     "Say, are you hungry?" she asked, suddenly, stretching.
     The change of topic threw him off for a moment, but then he realized
that yes, he was. He looked out of the window. It was twilight and the
outside lights were just coming on, throwing strange shadows on the walls.
The streets were shiny with rain. When did it get dark? he wondered. She
had always possessed this uncanny ability to draw him so completely into
her life that he would lose track of time, lose track of his own thoughts.
"I don't keep much food here," he said. "Let's go out. There's this
fabulous restaurant you should try."
     "That sounds wonderful," she answered. "Besides, I need to clear my
head. How do you get me started on these heavy topics?" she laughed,
nudging him playfully.

End of Part 2
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