Date: Tue, 8 Mar 1994 13:29:33 -0700 Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: L J Constantine Subject: The Rules of the Game III "The Rules of the Game" A Highlander/Forever Knight Crossover By Tara O'Shea Part III "Nick, I finished the work up on that sample you gave me..." Nat's voice trailed off as she took in the scene before her. "Ah." "It's okay, Nat." He turned to Niamh. "Nat knows everything." "Well, it appears you already know what I found." Nat covered her surprise well. "Let me guess, normal human blood. Type O." Niamh stared at Nick. "I did bleed all over your caddie." "Dr. Natalie Lambert, this is..." "Niamh O'Brien or Corrine Matthews, take your pick." Obviously, if she was in, she was in for good, with both of them. "Ah." Nat held out her hand, which Niamh shook. "Pleased to meet you. We have a problem." "Which is?" Nick looked confused. "Well, to start with, you are investigating a possible serial killer, and Stonetree is looking for results. Now. And you have one of the only leads in the case in your living room." "She's immortal," Nick added. "Oh, great." Nat was getting really very confused. "One more thing we get to try to keep from Schanke. So *that's* how you jumped from a moving car with a hole in you the size of a football." "Not quite a football, but yes." Niamh drained her glass, feeling the tension leave her shoulders. She refilled her glass, and Nat frowned. "Does alcohol affect you the same way it does a normal person?" "Yes." She smiled. "Isn't that a bit much?" "Probably, but I had a friend of mine die a few days ago, and my life may end any day now, so I figure I'm entitled." Niamh shrugged, and her calm made Nat's blood go cold. She was never going to figure out how to deal with this sort of thing, she had a feeling. "And Nick has no food here." Niamh added, feeling sleepy from the effects of the alcohol. "Nick, can I talk to you? In private?" Nat pointed towards the bedroom, and he followed meekly. "In case you haven't noticed, you have a trauma victim down there." "Nat, I really don't think--" "Look, I don't care how old she is--" "Nine hundred." Nat blinked, but didn't skip a beat. "She lost someone obviously very close to her, and has had her moorings ripped away by someone who has tried to kill her once already--" "Twice. The report of a sword fight wasn't a false alarm. Felice Martin almost took her head, but I stopped her." "Excuse me?" "It's a long story." He sat down on the edge of his bed. "Nat, I'm beginning to think this case can never go by the book. This is not a serial killer, this is some ancient game that has gone on for millennia, from what I can tell." He filled her in on what he had learned of the game, and she frowned all the while. "I checked out cases of unsolved decapitations over the past year, and, Nick, there have been cases all across North America. The Seattle police alone have reported over a half dozen. Schanke and the Captain are worried that it might be a serial killer, and have alerted the FBI in the States." "We have a problem." Nick agreed. "Yes, we do. How do we catch and prosecute someone who simply can't be stopped? What if your guest downstairs is the next victim, how do we explain your withholding evidence to the Captain? Do you honestly think he'd buy this story about immortals and a prize?" "I won't let Niamh die." Nick's blue eyes went flat and hard. "The immortal who killed Himiko... Nomura, the body in your morgue. She is..." he fumbled for the right word, "evil. It's the only way I can explain it. She'll take anyone out she has to to get to Niamh. She ran me through without a thought." "She what?" Nat jumped up, ready to examine him. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine. Niamh's fine, physically at least." "Aside from the fact that she's getting blind drunk in your living room." "I don't suppose you could go pick up some food for her?" Nick pleaded with his eyes. Nat sighed. "Yeah, I guess it's the best I can do. But I do want you to think about what you're getting into, Nick. In the end, it may be best if your friend leaves her shop and this goes on the books as unsolved." "Yeah, I guess you're right." Nick went to fish some cash out of his wallet, and she headed down the stairs to ask Niamh what she was hungry for. "Reeses Peanut Butter cups," she replied with great conviction. Natalie laughed. "I think I could get to like you." She jotted down some basics in her notebook, and called up to Nick "Time to try a protein shake again." "Ick." Nick made a face on his way down. "They're good for you." "Ick." Niamh seconded. "I thought you couldn't eat?" She cocked her head, like a bird, regarding Nick curiously. "Oh, is that what he told you? Try 'won't eat'. It's the blood that keeps him from coming over, and if he'd just kick the habit, he'd manage regular food just fine." "Do they teach a course in vampires at med school now?" Niamh laughed. "Hardly. I had to learn from experience." She picked up her purse and waved on her way out the door. "You love her, don't you." Niamh regarded Nick owlishly, and he started. "What?" "I can't." He shook his head. "I'd kill her." "That's another difference between us, though not a large one. I can love a mortal man, but then I'd have to watch him grow old and die. Sometimes... sometimes I think I'd give everything up just to be able to grow old with someone I love." "I know just how you feel." Nick stared at the door, wondering how long the shopping would take. Maybe a protein shake didn't sound quite so bad. * * * Felice Martin hung up the phone in the dingy motel room, fingering the hilt of her broadsword. She had given the license plate of the caddie that had been in front of the antique shop the first night, to the hacker her friend in Philidelphia had hooked her up with. She was sure O'Brien was holed up with that cop someplace, and first she needed a name, and an address. She didn't know how he had survived being slashed through the heart, but she was sure even if he wasn't one of them, removing his head would have the desired effect. She had no choice, if she wanted to get to O'Brien. And seeing her cop friend dead might shake her up enough for her to get an opening and take her quickening. She had to be a wreck, what with Himiko gone, and her not able to go back to her place. Everything was working out fine thus far. No reason it shouldn't go as planned. Maybe when it was all over, she should finally go after MacLeod again. After all, she had picked up some new tricks from Himiko since she'd faced him last. And he would be expecting her, after that simpering little coward O'Brien had called and checked up on her. Mustn't disappoint the teacher, after all, Felice thought, with a grin. She might even bring an apple this time. * * * "Drink." Nat shoved the glass into Nick's hands, and he held it as far away from him as the length of his arm would allow. "You're such a baby." Niamh watched all of this with great amusement, biting happily into a roast beef sandwich. Nick made a face, and sipped the frothy mixture. Nat stared at him until he swallowed, and Niamh clapped. "Well done. Brava." "Very funny." He glared at the glass of pale liquid. "Maybe if it was red, it wouldn't be so bad." He rested his chin on his hands, looking forlornly at Nat. "Hah. You're hoping it's psychosomatic? Your body hasn't had anything but blood in so long, it's forgotten what real food tastes like. You just need to readjust, that's all." "It worked with the ketchup." "Work your way up to ketchup," Nat suggested, pushing the glass towards him again. He frowned, but sipped again. "So when do you think I can go back to the shop?" "You have to talk to the Captain. You're still wanted for questioning in connection to Himiko's murder." Nick pushed the glass aside. "The thing is, if I could find out about the real Corrine Matthews, so can the precinct. Even faster than I did. So first thing we have to do is make your alias a little more official." "I miss the good old days." Niamh frowned. "I just found a headstone with a name that sounded good, and had a birth certificate made up." "But the death certificate is on file in the computer." Nat carried the glass over to where Nick was sitting and pressed it into his hands. "So what we need is a hacker." Niamh nodded, wiping mustard from the corner of her mouth and licking her finger clean. "One who can work quick." Nat added. "I'll call Janette, she can put me in touch with Larry Merlin. This isn't so very different than getting me set up with the force." Nick tried to put the glass down, but Nat glared at him. He took another sip, feeling nauseous. "Okay, then what?" Niamh had forgotten how much she had missed company over the last few years. When she had set herself up in Toronto, she had done it all on her own, with a little help from Darius. "We need you to make a statement, describing your relationship with Himiko, I mean Nomura, and Felice Martin's first attempt on your life." "So we need to come up with a plausible story, that will check out." "Except the check turned up Nomura's phoney birth certificate too, so we need to find a way of making all of this make sense without having anyone check into your background too deeply." Nat was almost enjoying the puzzle. Almost. If a life weren't at stake, she would enjoy it a hell of a lot more. "Then what?" Niamh began to clear the coffee table of plates and napkins. "Then, we get a artist's sketch of Felice Martin in circulation, and put out an all points bulletin, and you get put in a safe house." "You have got to be kidding." Niamh stood rigidly, light blue eyes blazing. "That's not going to stop her. Nothing is going to stop her until she has my head. That's why I need to find her, and challenge her." "No." Nat and Nick said simultaneously. "Look, unless you want to pick up and move again, possibly with ties to an unsolved murder case looming over your head, you are going to have to try and stick this one out." Nick carried the shake over to the sink, dumped out the remaining and set the glass to soak. Nat pinched him in the arm, but he ignored it. "Do you really want to do that?" "I've done it before." Niamh had a stubborn streak a mile wide, but he could tell from the way she would not meet his eyes that it was bothering her. He knew how it felt, to finally establish ties to a place, however tenuous, and then have them ripped away because of his nature. There was a lengthy pause, while Niamh fiddled with the plates, and then set them in the seldom used drying rack. She sighed. "No. I don't want to have to start again. I am just so tired of running." "Okay. So how do we start this?" "The Masamune daito." Niamh said to herself. "That ties the three of us together. What if... what if we said that was the motive for murder. They are very rare, and Felice Martin has been in Seattle, and harassed the collector who has three of them. Duncan is in Paris now, but I'm sure he could answer any question put to him easily. He's had practise with this sort of thing." "So we say that Martin is crazy enough to kill for the sword. Maybe Nomura was taking her to you, as a potential buyer, and she couldn't meet the price, so she killed Nomura and went after you." Nat was beginning to see the shape of a viable plan. "But how do we explain Nomura's passport?" "If we say Himiko was not entirely legal about the way she acquired merchandise..." Niamh felt terrible, thinking of sullying her friend's name, but then, Himiko wouldn't of cared, if it helped someone she loved. "And so she entered the country under and assumed name." Nick finished for her, and the three of them beamed. "And of course, I could always say I thought Nomura was a legitimate buyer, and had only known her a few years, and never had any idea." Niamh grinned. "I think this just might work." "Then we've got to let Schanke in on this too." * * * When the three of them walked into the station that night, Schanke was waiting for them. Niamh, in Nat's borrowed clothes, did her best to stay calm, yet just frazzled enough for everyone to believe someone had tried to kill her very recently. It wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. Schanke explained, redundantly, to Niamh exactly what was expected of her, and that they would do their best to put Martine Phillips away for life. Niamh gave Nick a sidelong glance at that part, but Schanke was oblivious. After her statement was recorded, she sat down with the artist, and Stonetree motioned Nick into his office. "Captain, I think under the circumstances, instead of placing her in a safe house, would it be okay if she holed up with me and Nat? She is very skittish right now, but I think she trusts us, a little." Nick tried to sound as convincing as he could without outright lying. Stonetree appeared deep in thought. "I was just about to suggest that." He nodded, and Nick relaxed a little. "I'd also feel better if we put a man on your place, outside, just to keep watch." "That sounds fine." *Oh, great*. "I also want to fax the sketch over to the Seattle Police, to see if they can match it with any suspects in their unsolved cases. Even if this is over an old sword, I want to make sure." "Okay. Well, in that case, I'll head back to my place with Nat and Ms. Matthews." "Any sign of this crazy lady, and you call in." Stonetree reminded Nick for the umpteenth time. "I know, Grace." Nat said into the receiver for the third time. It was her night off, and she had just wanted to tell Grace where she was going to be. "It was a woman's voice, I swear. Asking for *clothes to borrow*." "Grace, it's okay." Nat sighed. "Well, if someone was moving in on *my* man--" "Oops, my ride is leaving! Gotta go, Grace." Nat hung up. "So it's all set?" Nick nodded, and looked over to where Niamh was bent over the sketchbook, and then she looked up and met his eyes, and nodded, smiling. She brought the sketch over. "That's her." Nick agreed, marking the cold, flat eyes, strong jaw and pouty mouth beneath the sleek cap of jet hair. "Let's get this out over the wire." * * * "No, Darius, I'm not leaving Totonto." Niamh paced with the cordless, silent in her stocking feet. "Tell your friend the police may be contacting him. It's mortal red tape, you know how that can be." Nick watched her as she popped one of the mini peanut butter cups into her mouth with a look of sublime pleasure on her face. "No, I'm at a friend's place." She shrugged, catching Nick's eye. "No, he's not one of us," there was a moment of silence, and then she giggled like a little girl. "No, he's not either. I haven't done that in ages. Speaking of, have you seen Fitz? I haven't since Dublin, um.... '29 I think. Could have been earlier." She laughed at something, and then got a thoughtful look on her face. "I'll call again when this is all over." She ignored the voice in her head that screamed if.. if you survive, only if... "I'm sorry it took something like this to remind me what a wonderful friend you are. You're a sweetheart, Darius. Too bad you're a monk." She wrinkled her nose, and then replaced the phone in its cradle. "Let me guess, old friend?" Nick noticed she seemed markedly relaxed for the first time since they had returned to his loft. She had shed Nat's clothes, and returned to the Bears shirt and sweats, and had carried the sword from room to room, anxious. Waiting was hard on her, obviously. "Very, very old." She smiled. Nat reappeared and dug into the bag of candy, curling up on the couch across from Nick. "Want one?" Nat offered him the bag. "No thanks." He glared, and Niamh laughed. "So now what do we do?" Niamh said around a mouthful of chocolate and peanut butter. "Do we wait for her to come to us?" "I hope not." Nat's eyes were saucers. "Well, I'll have to face her at some point. A few cops aren't going to stop her, you both know that. And I can't use you as a shield forever, that's against the rules. Once challenged, I can't run away. It wouldn't be right. She may flaunt the rules of the Game, but I've lived by them for too long, and usually I have too much respect for my opponent to set them aside as it pleases me." "Even if you don't respect your opponent?" Nick asked. "I have to face her. If someone like her were to get the Prize.... It's not a future I would condemn you to if I had a choice." She included Nat and Nick in her statement, and by default, the rest of humanity and whatever others may live among them. "That's why I want to ask you something." She faced Nick, all traces of humour having fled from her eyes and face. "If I die, I want you to take her head. It would be justice, after what she did to Himiko, and probably countless other of my kind." "Niamh...." "Please, just say you'll do it." She put her hand on the daito, and pushed it towards him. "I can't bear the thought of her living on, with all that power. Himiko's, mine... It would bring her that much closer to the Prize, and I just can't bear it." Nat shifted uncomfortably in her chair, staring wide-eyed at Nick, waiting for his response. "Okay." His glance slid over the blade, and then up to her face, grim and unyielding yet still somehow childlike. Eternal youth, perhaps not so eternal after all... Niamh smiled, chewing on her bottom lip, and then the door buzzed. * * * Felice Martin glared at the patrol car as it made it's twelfth circuit around the block. She glanced at the loft as the blinds went up, and shapes moved behind the windows. She could try making it across from the roof, or wait until the cops had their backs turned and go up the fire escape. Not that she could really sneak up on O'Brien. But all she had to do was get inside and get rid of the cop before he could call for reinforcements. How hard could it be? He was mortal, and mortals die so easily. She knew. She'd killed so many, over the years. Detective Knight obviously meant something to O'Brien, was a weakness that could be manipulated. If he hadn't interfered before, she would have had O'Brien's quickening, and would be on her way back to Paris by now. She still couldn't understand how he had survived. Perhaps her aim had been off. It didn't matter, this time she would make certain. Taking his head may not give her anything except the satisfaction of demoralising her enemy before the end, but for now, that was just enough. * * * Schanke balanced the pizza carefully as he punched in the door code. "Pizza man's here." He said into the camera. "Come on up, Schank." Nat appeared on the black and white screen, "Pizza!" he heard Niamh chirp in the background. He saw Carslile make another pass around the block in the unmarked car as he pulled open the door. No one was getting in here easily, he smiled. Not with Carlisle, and the two officers parked across the street keeping close watch on the place, and he and Nick-- The kiss of steel at his throat belied this happy thought. He froze, and a woman at the end of the sword appeared out of the shadows. "Going up?" Her smile was feral, and his blood went cold. * * * Niamh ran upstairs to get her shoes, and Nick got the plates out of the kitchen, and unplugged the blender, but Nat came over and plugged it back in. "I think we have just enough eggs left. Maybe one of these days you can actually share a pizza with us that way. You've never lived until you've had pizza." She laughed, and turned as the elevator stopped with a clanking sound. "*Nick*." Niamh appeared at the top of the stairs, pale as milk, her sword in her hands. The elevator door slid open, and Nat froze as its occupants were revealed. "Surprise." Felice Martin held Schanke at an arm's length, her sword still at his throat. "Don't try anything, or Elvis here get's another mouth." Nick flinched, clamping down hard on the instinct to rip her throat out. He clenched his fists, and Nat could tell it was the hardest thing he had ever done. "Drop your gun." Nick complied, kicking it over under the coffee table. "Let him go, he's nothing to you." Niamh seemed so calm, so confident... Only Nick could hear her heartbeat like a trapped bird's in the tense silence. "You're right. He's nothing to me. But he's something to you. All of them are, that's what makes you weak." "And you, like a coward, exploit that weakness. You have me here, now face me. I challenge you. Prove you're better than a simpering coward. Prove you are stronger. Prove it to me, prove it to yourself. Stop using these people as shields." Blood welled at the tip of Martin's blade, and Niamh held her breath, tasting the salt tang of sweat on her lips as she tried to stare the other woman down. Felice suddenly thrust Schanke away from her, growling like an animal, and Niamh flicked her blade up in a salute, and assumed the ready position. Nat knelt next to Schanke by the elevator, blotting the prick at his throat with a napkin as he stared, open mouthed like a fish, at the dance beginning to play out in front of him. Nick remained frozen in the kitchen, backed up against the cupboards watching every move, every feint. This was between the two of them, and when it was over he'd either take the victor's head himself, or he called the station to tell them it was all over. Niamh smiled, almost relieved that it had finally come to a real confrontation. She danced around Felice, touching blades teasingly, relishing the song of steel. It was quick, it made her feel alive, dancing so close to the edge. Their blades met again and again, shadows chasing eachother across the walls as they passed the lamps, one turning over to fall with a soundless crash, the scream of metal scraping against metal drowning out everything. Felice wiped her face with a quick motion, flinging her trenchcoat into the centre of the room where it fell in a grey black heap. She had a longer reach, and was trying to use it, but the slighter woman danced away from her blade, mocking her. She kicked furniture aside, trying for Niamh's head, arm and flank, and was met at every turn, the impact ringing up and down her arm. She held her longsword two handed, putting as much power as she could into each movement. They danced around eachother, first one, then the other pressing the attack. Niamh was toying with her, smiling even, and it infuriated her. Felice swung, and the blade passed only though Niamh's shirt, never touching the flesh beneath. Niamh found laughter bubbling up in her throat as she pressed Felice back towards the windows. Insane laughter, even as she was tiring. The other woman drew a fine line of red down her thigh, and she didn't even acknowledge it. She simply pressed on, until she met the wall, then she turned, giving Felice the chance to escape back into the space in the centre. Madness shone in her opponent's eyes, but she didn't care, for she was beginning to feel quite mad herself. "You didn't give Himiko this chance." She whispered as their swords locked, bringing them face to face, struggling for dominance. "So I'm giving it to you now. Were you afraid she would beat you? Were you afraid that the student could never best the teacher?" "When I'm finished with you, I'm going to kill your little cop friend. Take his head clean off. Maybe I'll just leave you bleeding, and kill them all in front of your eyes before I take your head." "I'd like to see you try." Niamh smiled, and sprang back, gesturing for her to follow. And like a fool, she did. Niamh sidestepped, and kicked Felice in the head. Her head snapped back, and she staggered backwards a few steps. Niamh hit Felice's sword arm with the flat of her blade, then again until the longsword fell to the floor with the ring of metal on stone as it grazed the hearth. She kicked again, and when Felice tried to catch herself from falling, she stepped on her forearm, hearing the satisfying crunch of bones breaking. A dazed Felice Martin crouched on the floor, cradling her sword arm, anger still blazing in her eyes, as well as a new emotion as well. Fear. Nick stepped out of the kitchen, towards Niamh, who seemed frozen in place. Then she brought up her sword, the smile gone from her face to be replaced by something else. Something cold, and ancient, and very, very human. "There can be only one." She swung, and there was silence. Felice's dead eyes stared up at her, and her body, still in a sitting position, seemed to topple ever so slowly, as if time stood still. Schanke, backed up against the wall, felt as if he was going to be sick. Nat blinked, and then sucked in her breath with a faint hiss as the crackle of lightening filled the air. It hit Niamh like a wall, and she could only stare as the light seemed to pour from the dead woman's body into the air. It was fire along her every nerve, pain and pleasure so intense that she was sure she could not hold it all, that it must rip her apart, and she would be ripped to pieces. She could hear the tiny explosions of light bulbs shattering as the blue fire climbed the walls, and then returned to send her into convulsions. Nat hit the floor, dragging Schanke with her so as not to be torn to shreds by needles of glass as the florescents in the kitchen shattered, showering the counter with sparks. The wind, not the wind-- something roared through the room like a frightened animal, deafening them. Niamh finally had to scream with the power flooding her, and then as quickly as it had begun, it was gone, and she dropped to her knees, sucking in air as if she had been drowning. Hot tears streamed down her face, stinging her cheeks, to mix with the smell of blood and sweat, and her heart was so loud in her ears, she could not hear herself think. Schanke scrambled to his feet unsteadily, and Nat followed. Nick was already at Niamh's side, touching her shoulder hesitantly. "Jay-sus." Schanke was shaking like a leaf. "What the hell was that?" "What?" Nick stared intently at Schanke. "It was like lightning--" "There was no lightning, Schank." Nick caught his partner's gaze and held it, his blue eyes lightening to amber. "No lightning?" Schanke parroted. "No lightning." Nick confirmed, and caught his friend by the shoulders. "It was a short, that's all. Blew out the lights one by one. A power surge." "A power surge." Schanke agreed, nodding. Nat let out her breath in an audible sigh, and Niamh shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs. Schanke stared at the fallen body and the growing pool of blood, and swallowed. "I'd better call this in." As if on cue, Carlisle, Miller and Sanderson dragged open the elevator door, guns drawn. "What happened? We saw the lights go out from the window." "It was a short, guys. The nut with the sword must have hit the fusebox." Schanke stepped into the elevator to retrieve the pizza and his gun from where he had dropped them. "You guys missed one hell of a fight." "You okay?" Nat whispered to Niamh, who nodded, running her fingers through her sweat drenched hair. "Yeah." She turned to Nick, poking him in the shoulder. "Neat trick, I wish I could do that. It would be damn useful." She gave a shaky laugh, and picked up her daito from where she had dropped it, cleaning the blade on the remnants of her t-shirt before sheathing it. "Yeah, Captain. It was her alright. She must have been high as a kite, I'm telling you, nothing was gonna stop this woman. It was like she was feeling no pain." Schanke opened up the slightly crushed pizza box, and lifted a piece to his mouth, dripping tomato sauce on his tie, as Nat pulled a pair of gloves from her purse, and bagged Felice's sword. "If there are any blood traces on this thing, the lab will find them. I think this case is wrapped up, wouldn't you say?" "I guess it is over." Niamh looked up at Nick, as if to confirm it. "Yes, it is." He squeezed her hand. * * * Niamh mopped her forehead with the back of her wrist, and shifted the paintbrush to her other hand, massaging her wrist for a moment. The peice of plywood the police had nailed up over her bay window had left cracks in the plaster, and she had always wanted to repaint anyway. Well, not really, but at least now she had no excuse. "Hi." Nick said behind her, and she jumped about three feet in the air. "Don't ever do that!' She burst into laughter. "I'm armed you know." "Just thought I'd check on you." "Aside from the fact that I had pidgeons nesting in my closet, I think I've survived admirably. I've hired some help for the shop too, I'm headed off to Paris this weekend." "To see your friend?" "Darius was a good friend to both Himiko and me. It's time I saw him again." She shrugged, and then sneezed from the paint fumes. "I'll be back in time to bid on Felice Martin's sword when they get around to auctioning it. I need to make a living, after all." She winked. "And how are we doing, Monseur le Vampire? Have you thought of using food colouring on those shakes yet?" "Well, Nat's determined. And I can't blame her." "Some day I am going to cook you the best dinner you've had in centuries, just you wait and see." She pulled her hair back and secured it with a band, and perched on the edge of her dropcloth covered bed. "It's a date." "We'll have a party, you me, Nat and Schanke. And Jeanette. One of these days, I'm going to have to meet her, and have a immortal girl to girl chat. I owe her for scaring up Larry Merlin on such short notice. If I ever need to change identities, now I know where to go. But I think I'm going to stay here a while longer." "I hope so." "Yeah, me too," she said quietly, and refused to dwell on the future, only the present, a sweet smile on her face. The present would suit her just fine. *Fin* =========================================================================