Date: Tue, 27 Feb 1996 01:31:07 -0800 Reply-To: Selma McCrory Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Selma McCrory Subject: With Human Blood, 1/6 X-To: tpfict@xmission.com With Human Blood and Human Tears by Selma McCrory (Sequel to "Differing Varieties") copyright 1996 part 1 The flat was way too cold. Two people sat in cheap chairs silently regarding each other. The flat was just recently moved into, with everything not completely where it was meant to be. The woman shifted, trying to wrestle with the uncomfortable chair and the uncomfortable question the young man had posed. He was uncharacteristically tense, shifting as much as she did. She folded her hands on the table and spoke. "I usually go to you for advice, not the other way around, Adam," Greer said, pausing for a moment to sip her tea. "I don't know if I can help much." The young Australian shrugged, and took a gulp out of the mug, nervously. "I'm just trying to understand ." Greer looked at the young man. Even though she was his elder by a decade and a half, he'd always seemed wiser. Now, he seemed like the young man that he really was, and she quietly considered the question, trying to sort out her jumbled thoughts. "Why people want to kill? People kill for greed. For hate. For pure satisfaction, sometimes. I'm not that much an expert in human nature, Adam. I know about my own kind. I know why we kill. But I don't know a full-depth answer to your question. You'd be better off asking questions of a bomber, or someone like that." "You told me once that you needed to kill." "Sort of. It's part of who we are. We can avoid it. I have, if you haven't noticed. I haven't killed in the last four years," she said, getting up and pacing. Then she looked down, confused, at the young man. "But why all this fascination with homicide, Adam? Forgive me, but you don't have any killing instincts left. Why would you need to understand them?" The young man shrugged again, miserably. He turned the mug once around in his hands, then ran his hands through his dark hair. Greer made a circle through the room, passing her hands over the wallpaper, making minute examinations of her furniture. Adam sat there, looking so distressed and vulnerable that she wanted to hug him, put a bandage on his wounds, tell him that it was all right, and send him off. Not a wise idea with a young man out of his teens, even one prone to physical contact. Besides, she had no idea where to start. "I killed." Greer sat down, stunned. The young man in front of her fell silent. Greer was quiet also, trying to absorb the full implications of what Adam said. Finally, she looked at him, sitting across from her and said, "You -- killed? That's impossible." "I thought it was, too," the young man said miserably. "But I think I managed it." "Tell me," Greer said. * * * "That's quite a story, Adam," Greer said. "I can see why you'd be confused. But it sounds like you *did* kill them, as impossible as it may seem." "I thought you might be able to figure it out," Adam said quietly. "But *how* is it possible?" "I have no idea. It's like one of us killing on Holy Ground and getting away with it," she said. "An impossibility." "I was happy at first," Adam said. "But then I'd realized what I'd done." "Tell me more about these alien smoke pod beings. Obviously there's got to be some reason why you were suddenly able to kill." The young man shrugged. "I don't know anything beyond what I've told you: they possess people, they reproduce by seeds and are killed by bright light, that I know." Greer sighed. "I don't know. If you were Immortal, I could explain it. Of course, if you were Immortal we wouldn't be having this conversation." "I know," Adam replied. "But I'm not sure what's going on." "Oh, dear." Adam nodded. "Adam, this might be something you'll have to work out yourself - I don't know if I can be of any help -" "But somehow, you should know. You've been an observer for so long." "Observing doesn't always mean understanding, Adam. And besides, we're trained not to interfere." * * * "You sound like a mad scientist, babbling about biology and such," Michael teased her. "Not funny, Michael." "My, we're in a mood today." "Sorry." Michael, Greer's husband, sat down beside her. "So are you grumbling so much about biology?" Greer sighed and put down the genetics book she was reading. "I told you that Adam was here today?" "Don't think that you did," Michael said, picking the book up and looking at it. "He was," Greer responded tiredly. " has a problem, and I think he was looking for some advice that I couldn't give." "So, what's this got to do with biology?" "I'm trying to figure out what part of him is responsible for his inability to kill." "Kill? Adam? Adam hasn't the slightest idea about killing!" Michael said incredulously. "Oh, he has the slightest idea. He just doesn't have the ability. He could be perfectly willing to kill someone, he just wouldn't be able to do it even if he was so inclined." Michael rolled his eyes. "Great. So what brings us on the topic of Adam's biology?" "He thinks he managed to kill." "I can see that this is going to be occupying your time for a while. Still up to the trade?" "Yeah, do you know who's to meet?" "Um...let me check. Another Adam. Adam Pierson." "Wonderful. I hope he's less of a problem than our Adam." "Should be - it's the usual drill. He picks up the package, hands me the request, I hand him their request. We have two happy camper groups." "It's weird. Somehow, I didn't expect to be spending my life exchanging information between British Intelligence -MI5 I think it's called? And the Watchers." "It is weird. It's also called life." "Yes. It's weird, all right. Okay, you trade, I'll figure out what's gone wrong. Lunch first?" "Lunch." * * * It was a good, if noisy day. The streets bustled with Saturday shoppers. They'd always chosen this particular cafe for lunch before their afternoon drops. Michael held the disk with the information on it carefully with his hands. Greer was pondering the menu with more interest than she even had before, probably because she was paying half of her attention to it. She'd be busy trying to figure out Adam's problem for probably the rest of the day and possibly the rest of the week. He knew how she felt about them; being unable to have children had somehow caused her to be concerned about the young people who heralded Humankind's future. Greer looked up, greatly startled, and started looking around. Michael saw a woman coming into the shop, who also had the standard look of an Immortal trying to figure out who they've sensed. He figured that they'd either miss each other, or they'd begin a short conversation. He was quite surprised when Greer began smiling and waving. The woman, astonished, came over to their table. "Georgina Lewis? Is that you? What happened? How?" "'Tis me, Charity," Greer said. "Want to join us for lunch?" The woman smiled in return and sat down. "And who is this?" "This is my husband, Michael Gardner. Michael, meet Charity McCullen, she was a classmate of mine." * * * Greer smiled as she sat down on the bench. She'd had an enjoyable lunch with Charity and Michael. Once assured that Michael knew about Immortals, Charity had started chatting animatedly. They'd compared notes, talked about the university, Charity's deli (which she still ran), and how each other's life was going. Charity had told them that she detected that Greer was going to become Immortal, which had startled the both of them, and that she had taken on a protege named Gabrielle, who know yet that she was going to become immortal. Greer was overjoyed to come in contact with Charity again, since she had enjoyed being around her before, when she was assigned to her by the Watchers. She'd had to explain, of course, how she'd become Immortal, and how she'd known Charity was Immortal, but the evasions that she'd learned in the Watchers server her in good stead. Even if she wasn't sure if Charity had bought her story about being good at observation. She'd left the entire deal with the Watchers out. It was too bad that Charity had to leave for her flight later that day. Greer gave her their address and phone number so that she and Charity could stay in touch. She'd needed the uplift in spirits, with Adam being in the mood he was. The park wasn't helping, and neither was the weather. Her husband was sitting on a park bench a few yards away. She'd settled down first, seemingly a young woman enjoying a bright (if cold) day. He'd sat down a few minutes later, on a bench under a tree. One might think that they were young, secret lovers instead of husband and wife. She shivered, partially due to the cold weather (which was totally normal for London at that time of year) and partially because of the problem that she was considering. And then she realized that there was another reason. And that reason was walking down the path towards her husband. The other Immortal was male. Dark haired, but the sunlight obscured her efforts to discern his eye colour. He was thoughtfully looking around, and she was glad she had muted her own reaction, the one that would have given her away as another immortal. She looked away, and watched as he shrugged the feeling off. For the moment, anyway. She had no doubt that he was being very cautious. Greer continued her watch of the Immortal while keeping an eye on her husband. And then, he did something unexpected. The Immortal was sitting down with her husband, talking with him. They had a few words, obviously some kind of discourse of ideas, and then the man left. She waited until he had left her sensing range, and then moved off. * * * Michael didn't remark on her mood as they came up to the flat. They had paralleled their courses for a few blocks, and then had ended up together, taking the Underground to the proper stop on the proper route. They settled down in the chairs, Greer nervously braiding and unbraiding locks of her hair. "What did you say his name was again?" she asked Michael. "Who?" Michael said absentmindedly. "Oh, you mean my contact? Adam Pierson." "You haven't met him before?" Greer asked him, concerned. "Of course not," Michael said, clearly puzzled. Greer twisted her hair around, then tried to braid some of her braids together, rather unsuccessfully. She tried paying attention to the newspaper. She looked up to see Michael, who was staring at her rather anxiously. She then decided to speak up. "He's an Immortal." "WHAT?" Michael exclaimed, then calmed down. "You're kidding, of course." "No, I'm not." Michael sat back down in the chair. "There's an Immortal in the Watchers?" "It's happened before, you know." "Yeah, but I didn't think it would happen twice. And the scary thing is, I think I've heard his name before. Can't remember where." ----------------------------- Next part will be posted in a few days. Selma McCrory "Maybe what this world needs smccrory@calweb.com are more Selmas." selmamc@aol.com -Darien Lambert, Time Trax =========================================================================