Date: Fri, 8 Apr 1994 13:12:42 -0700 Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Selma McCrory <94smccro@ULTRIX.UOR.EDU> Subject: These Daughters, 1/5 This is a sequel I wrote to "A Change of Perspective." I strongly recommend reading that story (availiable in the archives), as it is essential to understanding this one (at least, at the moment). Feel free to send any comments, as this is not a final draft. ------------------------------------------------------------------ These Daughters and These Sisters by Selma McCrory part 1 The woman paused in the bookstore aisle, quietly looking around her. The bookstore was a chain bookstore, but one she preferred. She could sit down on the chairs meant for browsers and scan around for people who engaged in things other than buying and selling books. No one was watching her. She guessed that they had lost her track. Throughout Boston, and Albuquerque, and smaller cities like Pasadena, California, and Ashland, Oregon, she had not seen anyone inconspicuously following her. She wished that she could completely relax, enjoy a book, get on with her life, but she knew that unless she did this one thing, she would never have peace. Even if the choice she made ensured that she would not have a chance of being left alone again. Greer got up out of the chair and left the bookstore, calmly wending her way towards the entrance of the mall. She had planned her route carefully, but carried the bus schedules just in case. She was glad that the rain had stopped, and the Seattle skyline would be splendid once it cleared up. She walked to the nearby bus stop, her gaze absentmindedly on the monorail track that ran from the mall to the park where the Space Needle stood. She paused suddenly, noting the chill down her back which meant that one of her Immortal kind was near. A figure on a red motorcycle attracted her attention. He had been moving smoothly on the street and she had apparently noted him as peripheral movement. He had caught her attention as he stopped. She was reaching for her sword under her trenchcoat when he pulled his helmet off. A young man, not over nineteen, gazed around. She almost gasped as she recognized him. Trying not to show any recognition in her face, she looked at him, as he stared back. He parked his motorcycle and approached her. "I'm Richie Ryan," he said, plainly challenging her. "Greer Lewis," she responded, taking a look at her watch. "And I have a bus to catch, and a friend to see, so we can continue this _later_." Her bluff worked. Richie, apparently surprised, backed off. Greer walked the last few feet to the bus stop and watched him leave on his motorcycle. She saw the one assigned to Richie. He paused for a moment, looking at her and deciding whether or not to follow Richie or report her. He finally decided to go after Richie, and she relaxed and caught her bus. She stared out the window and gazed at nothing. The last time she had seen him was a year ago, in this very same city. She remembered sitting at the cafe, carefully watching and mentally recording what the woman a few tables down had been doing. The woman had risen abruptly, and wandered along until she came along to an antique store. Greer had not followed inside, but she watched the events through the window and noted the young man, the mortal young man, who had been minding the store. The _formerly_ mortal young man, she reminded herself. The information she had was a year old, and certainly the bulk of the information she had on that particular case was on the Immortal she had been watching, a woman named Felicia Martins. Her bus left her a block from where she wanted to be. She walked casually down the block, stopping in the middle to gaze at the bookstore. Putting a hand on the door, she pushed it open and walked in. Besides the staff, there was no one else in the store. She stopped before the counter and cleared her throat. The man looked up. She did not recognize him, and supposed that the previous clerk, a young man named Robert, had moved on. "May I help you?" "Yes," she said, and smiled. "I'm looking for Joe Dawson. He used to run this place." "He still does," the man responded. "Unfortunately, he's out at the moment. Business." "Well, then I guess I'll catch him next time I'm in town, then," Greer said, sighing. "If you'll tell me your name, I'll tell him you dropped by." "Thanks," she responded. "I'm Greer Lewis." The man's jaw dropped. He hurried off to the back of the shop, to the office behind the curtain. Greer nearly laughed in amusement. _I guess the poor fellow isn't used to talking with Immortals,_ she thought. _Joe wouldn't have missed a beat._ While she patiently waited for the man to come back, Greer examined the history titles. She looked up when he returned. He still looked rather shocked, his pale face looking even paler above his dark blue jacket and ghastly purple tie. "He's coming. He says to wait for him here." She nodded, and he moved to ostensibly rearrange some books, although she noticed that it was only to keep as much of the store between them as possible. She obliged him, trying to keep him relatively calm until Joe had a chance to talk to him. He needed to be reminded of what he was, because he was doing a very good job of breaking his training. If it was another Immortal in the shop, the man might have been dead by now. The front door opened, and both she and the clerk stared at the figure in the doorway. Joe Dawson, a smile decorating his face under the black-and-grey hair, stepped inside. "Greer! How are you?" he asked. "I'm fine," she replied, a smile forming on her face in response to his. He was just what she needed to cheer up her spirits. "Want to take a drive?" he asked. "Gladly," she told him. He nodded, and held out his hand. She took it, and he grasped it firmly. "Jasper, I'll be a while," he called to the man. Greer saw the man sit down at the desk out of the corner of her eye as Joe led her out the door. * * * Joe drove them to a lovely little park. She remained silent throughout the ride, her head turned towards the scenery progressing outside the car window. Still, she had caught Joe's gaze upon her once or twice, and she knew he was committing all that he could into memory. As they walked through the park, she was the one who asked the first question. "Joe, does everybody know that I'm Immortal?" Joe shook his head. "Just any supervisor you've worked with over your time with us, and their staffs. We took the chance that you'd come back to someone you'd worked with before." She laughed. "I didn't even think of that. I remembered hearing that you had talked with an Immortal, and that you'd told him about us." "Yes. I did," he said. "Not really by choice. That's when the renegades were trying to kill Duncan MacLeod. He had to straighten me out as to what was really going on." She nodded. "You'll have to tell me that one, sometime." "I will. But first I have about a million questions to ask you." "Well, then, you better start." "You don't have any reservations about telling me?" "Well, as much as I would like to go away and never be found by any of us again, I feel that I shortchanged everyone by not being able to tell at the time what had happened. I'll tell you what I can." "OK," he said. "I'm familiar with the reports we have, both Robert Slevin's and your own oral ones, but we know you weren't telling the truth after what happened in that warehouse." "Well," she said, pausing to think about how to go about telling her story, "what happened was that I had climbed up some boxes to get a better view. I missed a step up, and had to grab a cable, which I found out too late was live. "When I woke up, Alberta had laid me out comfortably on the floor. She told me I was Immortal, and then told me the rules. It was quite an experience. She then took me home. The next day, she came back to start training me, because of course there was the other Immortal, Leland, around. "She managed to give me some training, but she discovered along the way what I had been doing in the warehouse, and started avoiding me. She went to hunt Leland down, but he found me first and challenged me. I was forced to fight. Thankfully I won. Unfortunately I spooked poor Robert along the way." "And you didn't tell anyone that you had become Immortal." Joe said softly. "How was I supposed to have told them?" Greer responded in quiet anger. _How idiotic can he be?_ she thought. "Maybe because I didn't want to be watched. I know when we are there. Ignorance is definitely bliss! But I will never have that bliss." She tugged her left sleeve up, exposing the blue tattoo on her wrist. "I can never forget I'm a Watcher, one of us, but the situation has changed. I'm pulled in two different directions at once. My loyalties are mixed, have been mixed ever since I woke up on that warehouse floor." "You're here," he said, catching her arm with his free hand before she had a chance to pull her sleeve back down. "That counts for something. You said you wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere where you could hide." "I'm a fool with a too strong sense of duty, then," she said. "I was a part of our organization for nearly thirteen years. You don't shrug that off in a day." "You didn't sound this bitter last time I saw you. Are you sure you haven't changed that much?" "My personality didn't change a bit. Have you studied the records? I have, a bit. It's mostly the physical structure that changes." "Yes," he said. He cocked his head thoughtfully, gazing at her. He released her wrist. "Well, now we know for sure that tattoos survive the change." She sighed, and brushed her sleeve down angrily, hiding her wrist. _What are you up to, Joe?_ she thought, looking at him. "You said you had how many days of training by the time you fought Leland?" he asked. "Three or so." Joe looked thoughtful. "Was it anything like when you were here last?" he asked. "A little. Mind you, I didn't get a good look at them during that time. That warehouse wasn't one of my favourite warehouses." Joe seemed to be deciding something. Then he looked over at her and smiled. "How would you like another teacher?" he asked. She looked at him startled, unable to answer. He took her hand, and lead her on the path towards the car. * * * part 2 soon... Selma McCrory "Maybe what the world needs 94smccro@ultrix.uor.edu are more Selmas." selmamc@aol.com -Time Trax =========================================================================