Date: Tue, 6 Feb 1996 08:30:42 -0500 Reply-To: Frank Balon Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Frank Balon Subject: The Old Timer 3/5 The "Old Timer" part 3 of 5 A Highlander Story by Frank D. Balon The group made their way to the elevator, and rode up to MacLeod's loft. Seeing the state of the old man's clothing, Richie took one of Duncan's sweaters and gave it to him, saying "Here Sir, this should be a little better than that old hospital top." While Anne moved to the kitchen island, and pulled out the coffee supplies, the three men took seats in the nearby living area. Richie began to explain, as well as he could, aspects of Immortal physiology. He spoke of the rapid healing and of temporary deaths. Going on, he told of his relationship with MacLeod. Pavelski seemed to listen for a moment, but then, looking from Richie to Dawson, he interrupted. "Wait .... WAIT ..." His voice rising, "You mean to tell me that I can't die ... and I can't get hurt ... or even sick?" Richie nodded. "Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying." "And what is this ... feeling?" He asked, excitedly touching his hand against his chest. The poor man seemed to be fighting panic. Anne, sensing this, sat down beside him and put her arm on his shoulder. She thought to herself, 'He was so calm in the car, but now its all hitting him. And now they're telling him this.' She wanted to tell the others to back off for now, but another part of her knew that the poor man had to be told everything, that his *life* would depend on it. Richie continued, telling of the *buzz* and of how all Immortals felt this when around others like themselves. "Are there many others like this?.... How ... Why ... does it happen?" Joe Dawson expanded on this. He said, "All through history, a few people have been born, destined to be *Immortal*. As near as anyone can figure ..." he shrugged, "... there are hundreds, maybe thousands of Immortals. As to the whys and hows, no one knows... As to a purpose ..." He hesitated, looking toward Richie. " ... Maybe." The young man shook his head, almost imperceptively. He didn't want to breach the subject of "The Game" just yet. A new thread of thought entered Pavelski's mind. "Is this a Fountain of Youth? Will I get young again?" Richie sighed, then looking him straight in the eye and responded. "No Mr. Pavelski, you won't get young again. You will always look the way you do now. The way you are when you ... die .... that first time, is the way you'll stay." The man covered his face with his hands. "Oh God ... " he sobbed, starting to break down, "I'll live forever ... and I'll always be 75... just an old ... old ... man. How could this happen ... to me ... now?" Richie searched for something to say. "Listen to me!" He pleaded. "You're still in good shape... You look like you're still active.... What about aches and pains? Do you have any spots where arthritis flares up?" Pavelski looked up, considering. "My shoulder..." He answered as he slowly rotated the joint. He speeded up the circular motion, stopped and reversed the direction. Then, turning his head, stretching his neck from side to side, he went on. "I would *always* have stiffness and pain here. Always... but now..." swinging his arm, "... nothing... nothing!" Richie commented. "This is part of the healing thing." He smiled, "Although I don't know that much about it, I gather from what MacLeod has told me, that your body will tend to rally to a certain state of fitness. You will always be ....75.... but you will be as healthy as anyone at 75 could ever be." This revelation appeared to have something of a calming effect on the man. Speaking again, his voice already more even and in control, he turned toward Dawson. "You mentioned other ... Immortals... all through history. How do you know about them?" Dawson answered by saying that some mortals did indeed know about the coming and going of Immortals, but he didn't go as far to acknowledge the existence of his "Watchers" organization. Instead, Joe took the opportunity to elaborate on the historical perspective of Immortals throughout the centuries. This actually seemed to relax the older man even more. Noticing this, Dawson attempted to draw him out. "Sir." He queried. "Tell us about yourself. Where are you from? What do you do?" As it turned out, the man was an engaging and interesting speaker. His earliest memories included being raised in a church-run orphanage. There, as the years went by, he developed some degree of talent in both basketball and baseball. By the time he was a teenager, he even attracted the attention of several minor league ball clubs. Eventually he played semi-pro ball for a few years until World War II broke out and he was drafted. After the war ended, he returned to the States where he eventually worked his way through college. Always possessing a sincere love for history and reading, he became a high school teacher. He married and settled down in Seacouver in 1949. He retired from teaching in 1975, and then he and his wife traveled until her death in 1980. Richie reflected on what Mr. Pavelski had said about playing sports. Recognizing a bit of an opening, he returned to one of his earlier comments. "What do you do for exercise? Like I said before, you look like you're still in good shape." Joe considered this. "I' ve always stayed active. I walk regularly and even swim once a week." "That's good." Richie answered. "Real good... But let me ask this. You said that you used to play basketball and baseball." He hesitated, choosing his words. "Did you ever do any .... fencing?" Slowly, carefully, Richie began explaining "The Game". With Dawson's help, he spoke of swords, quickenings, Immortal battles, and the "Rules". Rising from the sofa, he picked up his jacket and withdrew his rapier. Stepping into an open area, Richie performed a short flourish, ending with his blade held at eye level. He told of his ongoing training with MacLeod. Surprisingly, Pavelski listened to all of this, seeming to take it in. Finally he asked, "Are you telling me ... that I need to fight ... with a sword? I can't ... I don't know if I can learn to .... sword fight. What If I refuse to fight, if I... avoid ... this "Game" of yours?" "This is so hard to explain." Richie acknowledged. "There are some Immortals who would take your head in a second. Unless you stayed on Holy Ground or if you stayed near someone who would protect you, you would eventually meet one of these. You need to at least learn how to defend yourself." Surprising even himself, the old man was intrigued by this notion. "Do you mean that I will need to get a sword?" He thought of his attack in the street. If having such a weapon would have made any difference. If he could have done anything to save himself. "Richie, would you ... show me ... how to ... " he nodded toward the young man's Toledo Rapier, " ... use that?" Relieved that the new Immortal was at least trying to accept this incredible twist of his fate, Richie flashed his engaging grin. "We can certainly try." End of part 3 of 5 =========================================================================