========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Mar 1996 12:35:14 -0500 Reply-To: JJSWBT@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Wendy Tillis Subject: Hidden Potential 18/22 Hidden Potential By: Wendy Tillis March 1996 All standard disclaimers apply. Chapter 18 Duncan sat around his loft waiting for Maggie to call. It was almost 9:00 am. He supposed she might still be asleep, but something told him she was not. Why didn't she call? He waited a few more minutes then gave in to his inner foreboding and headed for her place. Duncan parked the car behind a red Mustang and walked up to the door. The curtains on the lower floor were all pulled closed. He started to ring the bell , then stopped. Trying the door knob, he found the door was unlocked. He stepped into the silent, darkened house. From upstairs he heard a warning "chuff" as Angus announced the his presence. "Maggie?" There was a pause. "Up here, Duncan. Come on up." Duncan climbed the stairs to the second floor. At the head of the stair he turned left. Her bedroom stretched across the entire front of the house. The door to her room was open. Angus came into the hall and stopped. Duncan heard Maggie snap her fingers and Angus retreated into the bedroom. Duncan came ahead warily. The bedroom was - undistinguished. Three dormer windows facing the street. A double bed, night stand, chest of drawers against the wall opposite the windows. A closet - door open. On the bed , a large steamer trunk was open- the lid was raised so that he could not, from the doorway, see what was inside it. Maggie was on the far side of the bed, folding a shirt which she promptly laid in the trunk. She turned to the dresser and removed a small statue. She began wrapping it in a T-shirt that had been laying on the bed. " So. You're leaving? Just like that? Were you going to even call before you left?" "No, I'd planned on being a few hours gone before you realized I wasn't coming back." " Why? Why run off without a word? I know you had a fight with Richie - but that isn't any reason to pack up and leave without a word. Richie may be hotheaded sometimes but he'll cool off in a few days." "Duncan!" < she cut in> "I have to leave and I have to leave now. Please- I can't explain it to you." " Can't ? Or won't? I thought we were friends . . . if not more." " Hand me that frog" Duncan blinked - the sudden change in subject threw him off stride. Then he looked down at the night stand by his right hand and saw a small golden frog about the size of his fist. His trained eye told him it was Mayan - worth tens of thousands of dollars. He picked it up and handed it across the bed to her. Their hands met for a moment and she stopped packing and looked at him. " I do have to leave, Duncan . I wish I didn't. But Richie. . . I . . . I have to go." " What about Richie? What happened?" She looked up - anger evident in her face. " What happened? I'll tell you. Most of what I told you yesterday was the truth. The whole scene with Richie was awful. They all stayed drunk most of the time - when they weren't out crashing their bikes for fun. By the time we'd been there a week I was fed up. His Hell's Angel wannabee 'friends' kept ragging on him because I didn't like him staying up until 3:00 every night getting stoned. I got sick of it and told Richie I was going home. I went back to our room and locked the door. He stayed in the bar a few more hours - getting his courage up - the other guys egging him on. Finally he broke into the room - kicked the door in. He was drunk - stupid mean drunk. He told me I wasn't leaving, that I had embarrassed him in front of his friends. I told him to go to hell and started packing. He tried to stop me and I shoved him away. He backhanded me across the face and I hit him back. When he came at me again with his hand raised, I put a 6 inch switch blade up under his ribs. That's what happened." Duncan was shocked. Duncan knew that the crowd Richie had been running with were trouble but he had hoped Richie would outgrow them before he got in serious trouble. But - of course! Now he understood Maggie's desire to flee. She thought she had killed Richie - she was afraid of the police. Perhaps if he told her the truth, or some of the truth anyway, she would stay. " Maggie - I'm sorry about Richie. I can deal with him later - but you don't have to run. I'm sure Richie will be OK - knife wounds often look worse than they are. Let's wait and see what happens. When he sobers up and realizes it was his fault - he won't press charges. He probably won't even tell the police." She stopped packing. She stood there looking at him for what seemed like forever as she settled some internal struggle. Then, the decision evidently made, she dropped her left hand to the bed - out of sight behind the trunk - and spoke. " I know Richie is fine." "What do you mean you know?" " I mean I *know* he's fine. And the reason I know is that 10 seconds after I put that knife in his ribs, he pulled it out and stuck it in my back." " What!" Now he was truly confused. She reached down to the floor and tossed a balled-up shirt at him. He caught it . It was one of hers, he had seen her wear it many times. Now it was blood soaked and had a slit in the back. " I don't understand. You healed? You healed again?" " Of course I healed. I always heal." " I don't understand." He knew he sounded stupid but he couldn't help it. " When I stabbed him - I thought I'd killed him. Oh - not really dead, you know - but that he would stay down for a few minutes. So I turned my back on him. That was a mistake. He pulled the knife out of his ribs and stuck me in my back. Since it was unexpected, I . . . I let down my guard for a second. When he realized what I was, he went for his sword. I hit him with a lamp. That put him down. I took his truck keys, went out and slashed the tires on his bike, and hit the road like the proverbial bat-out-of-hell. I drove for a few hours, until I got to Fresno. Then I realized it was stupid to drive. I went to the airport and chartered a plane. Now - all I want to do is get packed and get out of here before he arrives. If he got his bike fixed right away, he should be here early tonight. I don't intend to be here when he arrives." Duncan was dazed. "What did you mean - when he realized what you were?" " I mean this." And for just a second it seemed to Duncan that the whole room spun - he was dizzy and disoriented. His hand moved instinctively to his sword. Even as he drew it out from under his coat, her hand which had been hidden behind the trunk, came up holding a sword. His head cleared and he immediately sensed the presence of another Immortal. Maggie. " That's not possible." " It isn't? Ask Methos. He knows. Not how to do it - but about me." She paused and looked at her sword. "Are we going to need these? Because if not, I'd like to get back to my packing." Duncan looked at the sword in his hand as if he couldn't remember drawing it. He lowered it and she lowered hers, placing it on the bed, in sight and hilt within easy grasp. " If you're Immortal - why didn't you just kill Richie when you had the chance?" " I could have killed him. But I knew that if I killed him - then any chance for *us* was gone forever. " She moved to the closet and pulled out a few more clothes. Duncan went to the window and looked out. She had left Richie during the early morning hours of Saturday - it was now Sunday morning. Richie couldn't get here before dinnertime at the earliest - unless he too remembered the existence of planes. If he had enough money for that. Most likely he would just barrel along on his bike. Duncan turned back from the window. From here, he could see into the trunk. It contained a few clothes used mostly as padding for small knic-a-knacks and pictures. " You travel light." She turned and smiled ruefully. " Years of practice. Of course, I can send for the rest of this stuff later. There are just a few things I've had with me for a long time. Things I hate to be parted from. You must know the feeling." " Yes, I know it. How long - I mean . . how old *are* you?" " What a question to ask a woman." She smiled. "I'm *old*, Duncan, older than you, older than your beloved Darius, older than Methos." " No - you can't be. The Watchers say. . Methos said. . . " " The Watchers? Don't put too much faith in them, Duncan. They try hard but they don't know everything. And Methos has a seriously warped sense of humor - in case you haven't noticed. He made up that line about being the oldest millennia ago - he used to use to impress women. Sometimes I think he forgets it isn't true. I reminded him of that fact this summer." Duncan was still trying to adjust to this newest revelation. "But . . . how have you avoided being picked up by the Watchers - Joe couldn't find any trace of an Immortal fitting your description anywhere, anytime, in any of their records. I know - I had him check -twice - right after we first met." " I've worked at it. I've crept into their chapter houses in the dead of night and destroyed records. I've killed couriers carrying reports. I've killed more Watchers than I can count. I've *been* a Watcher dozens of times. Stayed until I could get into the records, covered my trail and gotten out again. Hacked into their computers. Whatever it took - whatever it takes. And by the way, if you value the life of your friend Joe - I wouldn't tell him about me." She looked around the room and nodded. "Would you mind carrying that downstairs for me?" "Sure. He put his sword, which had been dangling from his hand, back under his coat. He picked up the trunk and headed out the door. It was unwieldy but not heavy. She came down behind him with Angus bringing up the rear. "Where do you want this?' "In the living room would be fine." He turned and went into the living room. He sat the trunk on the floor in front of the couch. Maggie began wandering around the downstairs, picking items up, sometimes putting them back, other times bringing them over and putting them on the couch. Statuettes, miniature portraits, a silver vase, a small Chinese dragon in red porcelain, a tattered leather bound book. The last time she returned to the room, he realized that he couldn't "feel" her anymore. It was an odd experience. When she had a small pile of loot, she went into the kitchen and returned with a pile of dish towels. She knelt by the trunk and began wrapping the items in the towels and packing them. Duncan looked around the house. Now that he looked closely, he couldn't believe that he had missed the signs of an Immortal. The odd mix of anonymous furnishings with very expensive old pieces. The house looked a lot like his loft - easily replaced furniture and irreplaceable mementos. He reminded himself that he has only been here twice before and neither time had he been looking at the furniture. " Will you tell me what it was all about? What game were you playing with Richie and me? Trying to see who would kill the other first?" She looked up sadly. "No. Not that. Never that. It is all my fault but I never intended either of you to get hurt. I admit it now- I went out with Richie to make you jealous. To attract your attention. You didn't seem interested. By the time I knew you were interested, I couldn't shake Richie. And, by then, I had decided to stay with Richie, try to help him grow up - become the kind of decent Immortal he could be. What a joke." " And what did you think *I* had been doing with him all these years?' "I know. I know. My ego said I could do a better job. I was stupid. It happens. At least no one lost their head over it." She went back to packing. Another question occurred to Duncan. "That story you told us at Joe's that night . . about your family. . ?" "It was generally true. Except I was sixteen instead of six. And when the three men got done raping me, one of them strangled me to death. My first death. My uncle did find me and I did stay with him until he died." "But you said you had a brother, parents. Immortals never know their parents. Were they really your parents?" "They said they were. No one ever said I wasn't their child. I don't know." She finished wrapping the last item and looked around. The trunk was almost full. He watched her scan the room - he couldn't believe it was going to end like this. Her eyes lit on an old quilt folded across the back of a chair. She got up and walked over to it. She brought it back and folded it down on top of everything in the trunk. Then she closed the top and locked it. " Time to go." She stood looking at him a moment as if there was something she wanted to say. She shock her head slightly. "Would you mind carrying that out to the car? It's unlocked - the red Mustang. " Duncan just nodded and picked up the trunk. He carried outside to the Mustang and placed it on the back seat. Then he returned to the house. She was standing in the foyer. As he came in, she snapped her fingers and said "Oops! My sword. Shouldn't forget that, I suppose. I'll be right back down" She hurried up the stairs. Duncan tried to think of something he could say to make her stay. When she didn't return after a few minutes, Duncan went up too. She was standing in her bedroom, back to the door. Her sword lay on the bed where she had left it . It was clear that she was crying. Duncan waked over to her, turned her towards him, and put his arms around her. He just held her gently while she cried. He supposed saying good-bye wasn't any easier at 5000 than at 500 or 50. After a few more minutes, she stopped crying and Duncan felt her get control of herself again. He released his grip slightly and she pulled back to look him in the face. He could feel her heart beating against his chest. He waited - hoping she would make the first move. A minute passed and she sighed and stepped back. He dropped his arms and turned to go. Suddenly she said "Oh Hell" and reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt in her hand. She pulled him close and kissed him, her other arm coming up to hold the back of his head, her fingers entwined in his hair. He wrapped both arms around her and they remained locked together for some minutes. When they separated, it was only to begin shedding clothes. He pulled her shirt up over her head, she undid the buckle on his belt. For a few minutes there was a hail of clothes hitting the floor. Naked now, they moved to the bed and began to explore each other. After a few minutes he realized he could "feel" her again. She laughed softly and whispered something about "no self control." Sometime during the next hour Angus wandered into the room and tried to climb up on the bed - they yelled "Down" simultaneously and Angus jumped away. They laughed and went back to what they had been doing. Much later, when they were too exhausted to continue, Maggie lay with her head on Duncan's chest. He had both arms around her - as if he meant to hold her so forever. "Maggie' " Hmmmm.." " That was . . amazing. I don't know what to say. I love you. ." He felt her stiffen at those words but she didn't say anything. " That was stupid of me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." "No, Duncan. Not stupid." She kept her face turned away from him. It was easier to talk to him that way. To say what had to be said. "You're lucky - you're able to say it. Able to feel it. I can count on two hands the number of times I've really been in love. And on one hand the number of times I told the person how I felt." She thought of Pierre in Brussels in 1330, dying of the Plague before she ever told him how much she loved him. Of Rojer, dying before the gates of Rome , fighting beside Hannibal. Victor Cheng in Hong Kong after the War - she had loved him but never told him because he was engaged to another woman. He had killed himself 5 years later. She didn't know why it was so hard for her, but after all these millennia, it probably wasn't going to suddenly get any easier. " I wondered . . Methos. . . you knew him, didn't you." It was both a statement and a question. " Yes, I knew. . . . know Methos. He and I were together a long time. It was a long time ago." " But you *did* love him?" He didn't know why it was important to for him to know , but it was. She shifted around until her head was on his shoulder and she could see him. His arm came around her, his fingers playing with the long hair that spread out all over the bed. "Yes. I loved Methos. I suppose he was the one great love I've known. When I met him - he was - he was so utterly clueless about what immortality could be. And I saw such potential in him. I wanted him to learn to live forever and enjoy doing it. In the process I fell in love with him. Maybe Richie touched that same chord in me - the cluelessness, the potential. But - it is over between Methos and me. I mean, I still love him. I always will. But I'm not *in* love with him anymore." " Are you in love with me?" " I don't know. Duncan . . . I know I wanted you - from the first. But wanting someone isn't the same as loving them. I . . this has been a bad summer, Duncan. Maybe it's the heat. A long hot summer, huh? I don't trust myself right now. I've done some stupid things, made some stupid mistakes - mistakes someone my age shouldn't be making." Maggie, I . . . ." She raised her head and looked at the clock beside the bed. 4:00pm. " Duncan. Time to go." " Stay. Please" He was no longer above begging. "We'll work it out. Or we can leave together. I don't want to lose you now - just as I've found you." Maggie rolled back to the other side of the bed and began picking up pieces of her clothing. Duncan sat up and made a half-hearted grab for her, but she dodged easily out his grasp. "No Duncan. I can't stay with Richie coming - and he'll be here soon. He's going to be angry and hurt and confused. He thinks I made a fool of him - in more ways than one. I suppose I did. He'll have to challenge me - or you - and either one of us can beat him. And you're not ready to kill him . Neither am I. I need to get away. We *both* need to think about a lot of things. Time will tell." Duncan had started dressing while she talked. He knew she was right - that didn't make it any easier. When they were both dressed, she picked up her sword from where it had fallen on the floor while they had been making love. They went downstairs. Angus was asleep by the front door. He had gotten tired of waiting for them. Together they made one more walk through the downstairs rooms, checking to see that the lights were off, the coffee pot unplugged, the windows locked. When she was satisfied that all was ready, they went out the front door and she locked it. Maggie looked at the keys and handed them to Duncan. "My agent has an office down on Market Street, Mr. Jackson. Would you drop these off with him? He's not open on Sundays and I can't hang around until tomorrow." "Of course." They walked to her car. She opened the passenger-side door and Angus jumped in. He turned around three times on the seat, trying to get comfortable, then settled down facing forward. He looked ready to roll. Maggie and Duncan walked to the driver's side. Duncan reached over and opened the door for her. They stood in the street looking at each other - both trying to think of something to say. " Will I ever see you again?" It sounded lame but it was all he wanted to know. Well, maybe not *all*. " I don't know. Forever is a long time for our kind. Don't wait for me, Duncan. Go ahead with your life. When . . if. . I find an answer to that question you asked upstairs. . . . I'll find you." " If that's how it has to be. . all right." "Do me one last favor, Duncan. I want you to promise you won't kill Richie. If he shows up here, no matter what he says, don't take his head. I treated him badly - what happened wasn't all his fault. I don't want to be responsible for him dying. I don't want *you* to be responsible. Promise?" Duncan thought about it before he answered. " I promise." She leaned toward him and they kissed again. But this time it was just two friends saying good-bye. She got into the car and Duncan closed the door for her. She started the car and looked up at him for just a second before putting the car in gear and driving away, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the street.