Date: Fri, 4 Nov 1994 10:34:03 MST Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Wendy Milner Subject: To Be or Not To Be To Be or Not To Be Wendy L. Milner To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? Shakespeare Hamlet (1601) act 3, sc. 1, 1.89 Duncan MacLeod drove his black T-bird slowly up the winding mountain road. His melancholy mood was reflected in the gloomy weather. The rain that pelted the windshield was not the only moisture that obscured his vision. In his four hundred odd years he had loved and buried many people. It never got any easier, the heart ache, the pain, the good byes to those mortals who touched his life for so short a time. The road turned sharply. Duncan swerved, skidded and almost lost control on the slick wet black top. Ahead a sign prompted him to pull over and stop the car. A turn out, photo opportunity, charming vista on a day when the clouds didn't hang so low as to hide the deep valley. He parked and layed his head on the steering wheel, closed his eyes and gave in to the grief. Jeff had been a friend for just a few years. The funeral had been populated with many friends, family, co workers, and general acquaintances. A well liked man who had died too young. Duncan had been closer to others without being affected by death so severely. He knew it wasn't really Jeff's death that was the cause of his misery. It was Jeff's death so close to that of Tessa's. In the last year he had buried too many friends, some dead by his own hand. With Tessa beside him, it hadn't been as hard to say good bye. But even now, he couldn't really let Tessa go. Headlights streaked through his car. He looked into the rear view mirror to see a light colored car swerve through the curve that had almost taken him. Only the driver didn't stop. The car slid sideways, lost all traction, rolled once on the road and then began a seemingly slow tumble down the side of the mountain. Duncan ran from his car to the guard rail that ended just a few feet to soon for the other driver. The tail lights of the car shown up from a hundred yards below. The car was upside down and still sliding down. Duncan plummeted down, falling as the dirt gave way, slipping in the mud and halting when his feet hit the hood of the car. His impact propelled the car further in its descent. The scree gave way to dirt, then crushed bushes caught at his clothes. With a abrupt shock, the car stopped moving. Duncan ignored the minor scratches he had received and pulled himself along to get to the driver. The inside of the car was dark and smelled of blood. He heard a groan, almost a wail, from the far side of the car. A flash of lightening showed him a crumpled body pinned between the car and the tree that had halted its downward progress. He moved around to see what he would be able to do. The woman had been thrown half out of the car. Her face was covered in blood. Cuts showed where half her scalp was torn away. Her shoulder was pinned by the tree. The arm was crushed. Her back showed white where a rib stuck through her blouse. Her legs were in a tangle, broken, smashed and mangled. Some how she was still alive. Almost conscious she reached out her free hand to Duncan. Immortal. He should have felt it before. At the touch he knew for a certainty that she would be part of the immortal world when she died for the first time. To die: to sleep; No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. In her present state, her death was not long off. Perhaps with an emergency air evacuation, medical staff could save her life. Duncan could call from his car. A rescue squad would be there in only a few minutes. Considering her injuries, the recovery would be long and painful. Physical therapy might be able to give her some use of her arm and legs again. Plastic surgery would be able to paste together the puzzle of pieces that made up her face. She would suffer through it all. The scars would last forever, not just the few years that mortals normally lived, but for the lifetime of an immortal. Injuries sustained before the first death would haunt her in her future life. Should she be paralyzed by the accident and recover her life, she would become easy prey for the head hunters. She might loose her arm entirely, then have to fight one handed later. Was the pain of recovery worth the life she would lead? Duncan could delay his call or not call at all. She would die and recover before anyone arrived. To die: to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. And yet to become immortal had its own liabilities. To watch your loved one grow old and die. To bury your friends after only a few years. To be alone so much of the time. Not trusting friends with your most personal secret. Not trusting the immortals with your life. To fight for your life continually to the end of time. Running and hiding from all who might suspect. Moving every few years to protect yourself. Loneliness such as no mortal could know or understand. To watch the world change around you and know that you are not part of that world and never will be. Who would want to travel that world as a voyeur? Always looking on, never taking part, playing out your life in a world that others never knew. They had no choice. They would all die at some time, and then resurrect as immortals. But the time of that death could be postponed. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life: For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of disprized love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, It wasn't all bad. Duncan had traveled the world many times over. He had been a part of history in its making. He had time to do all the things that mortals only dreamed of. He had loved many women and through their loss loved them all the more. Friendships could develop and continue through the centuries. He thought of the zest of life that Fitzcaren held. The trouble that he and Connor had gotten into and out of. Amanda who brought her own trouble with her. Even Richie in his own adolecent way. Friends all of them. No mortal could understand the carnival of life the way an immortal could. The experience of living for centuries, each day a new challenge, a new horizon, a new prospect for action. The undiscovered country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment The woman's hand clutched at Duncan's arm. "Help me," she said in a voice weak and slurred. "I'll stay with you," he said. With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. -- Wendy \|/ /\ -O- /**\ /|\ /****\ /\ / \ /**\ Here there be dragons / /\ / \ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\/\/\ /\ / / \ / \ / \/\/ \/ \ /\/ \/\ /\ /\/ / / \/ \ / / \/ /\ \ / \ \ / \/ / / \/ \/ \ / \ \ / / \/ \/\ \ / \ / / \ __/__/_______/___/__\___\__________________________________________________ Wendy Milner HPDesk: wendy_milner@hp4000 Hewlett-Packard Co. e-mail: wendy@fc.hp.com Mail Stop 102 Telnet: 229-2182 3404 E. Harmony Rd. Phone: (303) 229-2182 Fort Collins, CO, 80525 FAX: 229-4292 =========================================================================