========================================================================= Date: Sat, 6 Apr 1996 20:32:18 -0500 Reply-To: LC Krakowka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: LC Krakowka Subject: Twists of Fate 5/5 Twists of Fate LC Krakowka -copyright 1996 hck1@cornell.edu part 5 The young woman lying on his bed roll would come back to life soon. Her body would heal, though that wound on her throat would likely leave a scar, and she would wake to the horror of knowing that her entire clan had been massacred by one like herself. Like himself. His urge was to get her cleaned up before she awoke, to try to erase some of the evidence of what had happened to her. But he knew that she would be frightened to awake to a man touching her; it was patently obvious that the man who had slit her throat had raped her previously. So, Peter sat by the small fire and waited, looking up into the starry Highland sky. He was traveling through Glenstrae by chance really, having finally tired of the decadence of Rome. The acrid plumes of smoke billowing on the shores of the otherwise pristine loch had attracted his attention earlier that evening, drawing him into the remains of the small village to find a horrific scene: bodies everywhere, blood soaking into the ground. All the men had been decapitated, even the small boys. And the women...it nearly flipped his stomach. He had just been ready to give up hope that anyone remained alive when he sensed the presence of another immortal. Faint, but there. He followed the buzzing in his head to the body of a young woman lying face down near a water trough. Her light hair was thick with blood and a dark pool on the grass near her throat told him she had bled to death. Her skirts were flipped over her back, exposing bloody legs. Peter scowled deeply, never having understood this urge to rape that so many men had. This woman was a child really. She looked to be in her mid twenties. Nothing compared to his great age. He looked around, undoubtedly her husband was one of those headless bodies lying in the yard. They'd deal with that pain later. He scooped her up onto his horse and headed for the woods. Now, some three hours later, a small stirring from behind him told Peter that she was finally awake. He turned in time to see her scramble to his pack and draw the dagger that was in the front pocket. "Easy now. I'm not going to hurt you," he said, holding out his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. This woman was of the clans, he had no doubt she knew how to use that knife with some skill. She glared at him warily with moss green eyes that were flashing with both fear and anger. "Ye dunnae look like a Norman." "I'm not," he smiled. "I found you, in your village. You're safe here." He saw the memories flash on her face and watched her color drain. "I was...I was *dead*," she muttered, clutching at the red seam that ran from under her chin diagonally down across her left collar bone. "Yes, well, you're not anymore. I'll explain that later. Right now, there are some of my clothes in that pack and a stream nearby. Why don't you go clean yourself up? You can take the dagger with you if you want, but I won't move." The young woman looked down at herself and her color drained again. She looked to be slightly nauseated and he wondered if she might faint. Instead, a look of grim determination crossed her brow and she got to her feet, picking up the pack and backing away from him. Several minutes later she returned, tying her hair behind her neck and wearing his green tunic and a pair of trews that she had cuffed at the bottom. He looked up at her and smiled, having suspected that there was an attractive woman under all that blood. She was tall, almost his height, and looked to be pretty strong. The question was, did she have the resolve to learn to fight with a sword? She stopped at the edge of the firelight and frowned a moment, then dropped the pack and took two steps forward. "Who are ye then?" "My name is Peter Lenahaughn. And yours?" "Sarah MacGreggor," she sat down a few feet away from him and stuck the dagger into the ground between them; a visible line he knew better than to cross. "Well then, Petey Lenahaughn, 'ow about ye tell me why it is I get this funny ringing in me head when I get close to ye. I dunnae think it's yer good looks." "Do you think Mac will find them?" Richie's words brought him back to the present with a jolt. Adam turned from the window he had been staring out of. It was late evening, Sarah and Amanda had been gone for nearly twenty four hours. Something must have happened by now. "I don't know. I doubt it." "Why didn't you go with him?" Richie asked. "What would be the point in that? Besides, the last time I tried to interfere, Sarie clocked me one with the hilt of her sword." Richie chuckled, then got very serious. Ordinarily, he wouldn't presume to offer unsolicited conversation to the older man, but even since the incident in Glenstrae, Richie had felt a new affection toward him. He supposed that was due to the part of Sarah he carried inside. "You should tell her how you feel." "You're giving me advice?" Adam turned to face the window again, the image of Sarah by the fire back in 1068 still lingering on the edge of his mind. "Look, I know you know her better than I do, but I have part of her inside me. You guys are just going to go around and around until one of you says something. Or maybe you'll just go around until one of you gets killed." Adam sighed, he had a point. This had gone on long enough. Too long, really. If and when Sarie came home, he'd tell her. They'd sort things out from there. He didn't want to admit it, but he was slightly envious of this intimacy that Richie had with Sarah. They had traveled together for centuries and were the best of friends, but Adam had never experienced anything like Richie had. There was a bond between those two that transcended what he had with her, despite their great friendship. "Where are you going?" Richie asked as he stood suddenly and headed for the door. "I need some air," Adam grabbed his coat and sword and left the young immortal standing in the middle of Duncan's loft. *** "I need air," Sarah moaned, slamming her forehead into the door. Rick had taken Amanda upstairs about five minutes earlier. At first, Sarah was relieved that this whole mess would be over with soon. Then, she realized that Amanda's chatter had been distracting her from her phobia and the walls had started undulating again. The sound of the bolt sliding on the other side of the door brought hope and despair at the same time. It was over. But who had won? Instead of Amanda or Allison, Rick poked his head through the door. "Mrs. Benton told me to open the door, but not to let you upstairs. She said you were afraid of closed rooms." Sarah gulped at the cool air flowing into the room and nodded. He propped the door open and sat down on the bottom step. "Are you really a thousand years old?" "Nine hundred and fifty four." "Wow," he whistled through his teeth. She frowned at him. He couldn't walk away with this knowledge. Too many people knew about immortals as it was. "What's going on upstairs?" "They're fighting with swords again. Is it true that you guys can only die if someone cuts off your head?" She heaved a sigh. "You're the one who put a bullet in my gut, you tell me." "How many people have you killed?" "More than you want to know," she got up and stood near him, looking down at the crown of his slightly balding head. "No funny business," he patted the pistol sitting next to his thigh on the stair. "Of course not," Sarah said quietly, kicking him in the jaw with the ball of her foot. It was a move she had practiced at least a million times against walls and enemies alike. The man's head snapped backwards, making an audible pop that told her she had used too much force. She'd really only meant to knock him out. Sarah reached down and felt for a pulse, but his neck was skewed at a very unnatural angle and there was none. "Sorry, Rick." She grabbed the pistol and took the stairs two at a time. Amanda and Allison had taken their fight to the back yard. Sarah nearly collapsed with relief as the fresh air hit her lungs. Then she leveled the gun at Allison's back and pulled the trigger. "Don't even think about it," she said when Amanda raised her sword to strike a death blow. "I'll pick up Allie's sword and then we'll see what Mac and Petey were so worried about." Amanda looked down at the young woman lying prone at her feet. "It really was just an accident," she said. "I'm sorry you lost your family." "Come on, help me get her inside. Then let's get the hell out of here," Sarah grabbed Allison's arms and started to drag her across the lawn. "What makes you think she won't do this again?" Amanda asked, taking the girls legs. "She won't. She just needs some time to grieve." Duncan never would have found them. Allison had taken her prisoners to a house nearly a hundred miles up the coast. After leaving Rick's body at the base of the stairs--hoping it would look like he had simply fallen--Amanda hot-wired the VW and they were on their way home. "So," Amanda said as they sped down the dark highway, "tell me a Petey story." Sarah pulled her head in from the open window and looked at the other immortal. Their was an unlikely alliance, but not without potential. "What do you want to know?" Amanda shrugged. "Richie told me you guys used to fight for money, is that true?" Sarah nodded. "I envy you." "Why, because Petey and I used to beat the hell out of each other so we could eat?" "No. Because you have this way of getting along with men that escapes me. I mean, they treat you like an equal. Even Duncan." Sarah shrugged. "But nobody ever gave *me* his wife's emeralds. I'd rather have that kind of power than have to use my sword to prove I'm worthy...that gets a bit old." "It's all in the way you carry yourself. You could dress like I do and wrap men around your fingers too. You just choose not to." Sarah shrugged again and a comfortable silence fell between them. "Thanks," she said suddenly, "for what you did for me back there. I would have lost it if you hadn't been there." "No big deal. We all have our weaknesses." Another silence fell. This time Amanda was the one to break it. "So...tell me a Petey story." "There are so many of them," Sarah smiled and thought a moment, flashes of their escapades racing through her mind. "How did you two meet?" "He was the one who found me in Glenstrae, after the Normans--after Martin--destroyed my clan." "Sounds depressing. Tell me something about him that no one else knows. No. Wait. Tell me about the time you first realized that you loved him." "He's afraid of spiders. He gets motion sickness--especially on boats--and he was a *terrible* rider when we first met. Had this mare that must have been about a hundred and fifty and could barely canter." Amanda looked over at her and raised her eyebrows. "Out with it." "Okay, okay. But if you say anything to him before I work up the nerve to, I swear I'll take your head off with my bare hands." Amanda held up her right hand. "Scout's honor." Sarah propped her feet up on the dash and rested her chin on her left knee. "I walked in on him with another woman once. We were in France. She was the Earl's daughter and absolutely beautiful. Refined, elegant, no scars, no calluses from a sword hilt. She wore silk, head to foot. And I was perpetually grimy from the road and sweaty from teaching her incipid little brother how to ride. Petey and I were supposed to be sparring, but he was late. So, I went up to his room and just walked in without knocking." "And there they were," Amanda said, shaking her head slowly. She knew what that felt like. Sarah nodded. "I don't know why I got so mad. I mean, we never had a *relationship* or anything. I'd never even *thought* about him that way. But I just lost it." "What did he do?" "Nothing. I don't even think he knew I was there," Sarah paused. "What happened then?" "He showed up in the practice yard a couple of hours later--saying he had been discussing military strategy with the Earl." "Men!" Amanda exclaimed sympathetically. "Then I beat the crap out of him. I mean, we've always sparred hard but..." Sarah sighed and looked out the window, lost in the memory. Peter panted and watched as Sarah stalked a circle around him, breathing hard herself. She noted with great satisfaction that his lip was bleeding where she had split it open not moments before. See if that tart would want to kiss him now. "Take it easy, Sarie," he said. She swung at his knees, forcing him to engage her. She was using a lighter sword than usual and it felt far more comfortable in her hands than the long sword he had given her two hundred and ninety years prior. Of course, this increased his weight and strength advantage, but she was faster and he was tired from previous activities. He swung at her chest, but she ducked and jabbed him in the thigh. "Christ! Knock it off!" He swore, glancing down at the blood welling on his leg. Sarah swung again, but he brought his sword up to block and used brute strength to force her swing into the ground, thinking he would hold her there until her strength gave out. Sarah responded with a kick to the wounded leg and that just made him mad. He lunged at her, but she ducked again and threw her shoulder into his chest. They tumbled to the ground, rolling, and Peter took the opportunity to elbow her in the gut. "What's wrong with you, Sarie?" He asked, grabbing his sword and getting to his feet. He wiped the blood from his chin and looked down at her. Sarah was doubled over, struggling for her breath, but she glared up at him. "Are you okay?" He leaned over her and rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'm *fine*." She grabbed his elbow and planted a foot on his ribcage, pulling downward and flipping him over her head. He landed hard on his back and stared up at the sky, wondering what had gotten into her. Peter closed his eyes for a moment to catch his breath. They flew open again as her sword bit into his throat. "Okay Sarie, you win." She stood over him, sweat dripping into her eyes and fire burning in her lungs; her sword leveled for a stroke that would take his head. But, instead of swinging, Sarah slammed the tip into the ground near his cheek and walked away. Peter gave an audible sigh of relief and blinked up at the sky... "What made you walk away?" Amanda asked, reminding her of the present. Sarah shrugged. "He looked so damn vulnerable and cute. I couldn't. And then I realized that, if I killed him, I would be even more miserable than I already was." Amanda nodded. "Then what?" "The Earl found out about them two days later. We ran like hell. Didn't stop until we got to Germany. About six months later, I went off to fight and came back in time to see a quickening near the inn where we were staying." "Duncan told me this part. You guys missed each other by minutes and then by six hundred years." Sarah nodded. "And what did you think about Alexa?" "Nothing really. I was happy that he was happy. It's not like I spent those six centuries pining away for him. I mean, I thought he was dead. I didn't realize until recently that I still felt that way at all." Amanda pulled into Sarah's driveway and put the car in Park. "Well, are you going to wait another six hundred years to tell him how you feel now?" "I don't know," Sarah got out of the car and shut the door, leaning in through the window. "I'm too tired to think about this right now. Go home to Duncan." "Don't make the same mistake twice, Sarah," Amanda said, putting the car in gear again. "That's why we have so many years, so we can learn from our own stupidity." Sarah watched as Amanda pulled out and sped off. Her thoughts went to the conversation she and Petey had in the garden. Maybe Amanda was right. Fate had brought them back together for some reason. With a sigh, Sarah climbed the stairs to her door. She was exhausted, but showered until the hot water ran cold, scrubbing the grime and blood off until her skin was red. Then she opened every window in the apartment and brought a blanket out onto the balcony to sleep, not ready to be enclosed again just yet. One more thing. Her sword. She wasn't going to let that out of her sight for a while. Sarah turned back into the living room and looked to the empty spot above her mantle where the rapier usually hung. Even the scabbard was gone. She panicked for a moment. But the three empty beer bottles sitting on her coffee table gave her a good clue as to it's location. *** Adam was sitting on the floor leaning his forehead on the hilt of Sarah's sword when the buzz came, followed shortly by a quiet knock. This was not the sword he had given her on the shores of Loch Lomand in 1068. That one hung in her office at the university. He had been mildly surprised that she still had it. This rapier was far nicer; had a better balance to it, and was custom built for her hands. Long swords weren't her style anyway...too clunky...too heavy for the wrists that he had taught her to tape by tearing strips from his own cloak. This one was elegant, but lethal. Like Sarie. He groaned inwardly. He should have told her long ago. Back in the Middle Ages. Now it was probably too late. His back was to the door, but he guessed that it was either Duncan or Richie, coming to tell him there was still no news. Or worse, that there *was* news. Another knock sounded. "It's open," he said loudly, not moving. Sarah walked in and took in the scene, leaving the door ajar behind her. He was wearing the same clothes he had been when she had asked him to go skating. Half-cooked stir fry sat on the stove. A dirty spatula lay on the counter. Her skates sat on the couch and the coffee table was tilting precariously on three legs. "Well? Anything?" He asked. "I'd like my sword back, if you don't mind," she said. "Someone once told me never to go anywhere without it." Adam leapt to his feet and spun around. The sword clattered to the floor. "Alive and well," she bowed, sweeping her arm out to the side. "Worried?" "Sarie, what happened? Never mind," he crossed the room in three strides and kissed her. Hard. Sarah pulled back slightly to catch her breath, but Adam wrapped his arms around her waist tightly and pulled her into another kiss. "Please don't hit me," he said a few moments later, still holding her tightly. "Hit you?" Sarah grinned up at him. "Hell, do it again, Petey." He grinned back and obliged. This time she kissed him back. Hard. Adam kicked the door shut and thought about carrying her into the bedroom. But he couldn't wait that long. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that she was already pulling his shirt over his head. *** "So, do you think this Allison Benton will come after Amanda again?" Richie asked. Sarah shook her head. "Allie's not a bad guy, Richie. She was just pushed over the edge. It'll happen to you someday. It happens to all of us." He nodded and watched as she flipped a stone over her head into the pile nearby. "I've seen it happen to Mac." Sarah grunted. She'd seen it happen to every immortal she knew. It had happened to her several times. Germany came to mind. They were almost finished turning over the garden. By this time tomorrow she would be planting. Maybe once the garden was in, things would be normal. She had come to Seacouver to be with friends and live a quiet life. So far, it had been anything but that. Everything was pointing to the suggestion that the Gathering was nigh, and in Seacouver. At least she had the company of close friends to share the anxiety with. "But good did come out of the whole thing," Richie continued. "I mean, you and Amanda are friends now. And you and Adam finally got together." Sarah looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. Richie blushed. "At least that's where I thought you were...I mean...you weren't here this morning when I stopped by and you came home wearing one of his shirts...and you're...well...all lit up." She grinned, then forced her face into a mock scowl. "Just remember you're here to dig." "Still, I think it's great. Where is he anyway?" Richie hefted the shovel and turned the sod into the trench. "Sleeping I expect. I left before he woke up this morning." "Why? Amanda told us not to expect to see either of you for a few days." Sarah looked up at the sky for a minute, debating on whether or not she wanted to share such intimate details with him. "I just needed to be outside. He was sleeping on top of me and I couldn't breathe. I'm claustrophobic, you know. And being in that basement for so long didn't help me any. Besides, if I don't get this garden in soon, it'll be Fall." He grinned at her. "I'm glad you two finally worked things out. It took you long enough." Sarah squatted and pulled another rock out, tossing it over her shoulder. "Richie, I'm going to pull a MacLeod here and give you unsolicited advise. If you ever find someone that you can have a relationship with like the one Petey and I have, grab her, tell her you love her, and never let go." He smiled again. Somehow, coming from Sarah in a casual tone, unsolicited advise weighed pretty heavy and made a lot of sense. "I'll go get that last bag of peat moss from the front porch," he said, sticking the shovel into the ground and heading for the house. On his way back to the garden, he saw Adam pull into the driveway. Richie waved and waited for the older immortal to get out of the car. "I see Sarie's conned you into manual labor as well," Adam said. Richie laughed. "I don't mind. She's great to be around." Adam dropped his eyes for a minute, then forced himself to look at the boy. "Is she okay? I mean..." "She's fine," Richie smiled and chucked him on the shoulder. "She's out back. You should go talk to her." Adam looked at Richie and couldn't help but feel the irony of the situation. Here he was, getting advice from a mere child again. "I never got the chance to thank you for what you did in Glenstrae," he said. Richie shrugged. "It was no big deal." "If you hadn't been there, she'd be dead." Richie shrugged again, slightly embarrassed. "No, really. I owe you one." Richie smiled. "I'll remember that," he paused. "I think I'll just go for a ride on my bike. Will you take this back to her?" Adam took the bag of peat from him and smiled. Sarah knew it wasn't Richie that was approaching from behind, but she didn't turn around. Instead, she straightened up and stomped the spading fork into the ground, looking out across the lawn. Moments later, she heard the sound of the peatmoss thunking to the ground and a pair of very familiar arms wrapped themselves around her waist. "You know, Petey will kill you if he sees this," she said. "Damn straight he would," Adam smiled and hugged her closer. "How are you this morning, my Sarie?" "I'm fine. I'm more than fine. I hope I didn't worry you when I left...I just needed air." "I panicked for a minute, thinking it was all a dream," he said. "But then I realized that the sheets smelled like you, so I knew it was real." Sarah sighed contentedly and leaned back against him. "We should have done this a long time ago, Petey. What on earth were we thinking?" "We weren't. That was the problem." [end] author's note: Okay. So it wasn't nearly as much a sweeping epic saga as Cardinal Rules. At least it had a happy ending. Now I suppose I'll have to kill one or the other of them off. I think there's only one more Mary Sue--I mean Sarah MacGreggor--story in me anyway. -- LC Krakowka/hck1@cornell.edu