Date: Wed, 26 Apr 1995 23:17:54 -0500 Reply-To: echelbar@MAILBAG.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: D Echelbarger Subject: Revelations (2/2) X-To: fkfic-l@psuvm.psu.edu Comments, complaints and "isn't this awfully derivative"s to: echelbar@binc.net *italics* ~music lyrics~ Revelations Part 2 A Forever Not story By Diane Echelbarger The headless corpse fell to its knees. A moment later, tendrils of energy snaked out of the body, arcing through the narrow alley in a fantastic pyrotechnic display. The few lights in the alley exploded, and the energy crackled in the narrow space--- ---and entered its new host. Schanke. He had just pulled himself to his knees when the Quickening caught him. He jerked like a badly-controlled puppet, feeling the energy enter him, filling a place deep inside he hadn't even known existed until that moment. His mind was overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, memories, sensations... Then it was over. Dizzy, and exhausted, Schanke shook his head. Nick was just standing there, the blood-stained broadsword grounded at his side, watching him. "What the---" Schanke began, but was drowned out by the roar of a powerful motorcycle. As it pulled into the alley, and stopped, Schanke felt a moment of disorientation. The rider dismounted, and removed his helmet. It was a curly-headed kid, early twenties, and the boy's eyes shifted warily from Nick, to the corpse, to Schanke. "Hello, Richie," Nick said, casually, and bent to wipe his blade on the corpse's coat. "How's Duncan?" "Nick?" The kid was obviously off-balance. His eyes shuttled between the two cops. "You aren't..." "No," Nick agreed. "He is." And he nodded at his partner. Richie nodded, absently, and nudged the corpse's head with the toe of his boot, rolling the face into sight. "Reichmann," he said. "Mac warned me about him. He specializes in taking on new Immortals, ones who haven't learned enough to be dangerous." He looked up at Nick. "That's what happened here, right?" He nodded at the sword. "And you stopped him." "Your 'rules' doesn't apply to me," Nick told him, and put the sword down on a packing case. The dizziness had faded, and Schanke had had about enough. "Wait a minute," he said, climbing to his feet. "Immortals? Rules? Just what the hell is going on here, Nick?" he asked. "Is somebody going to explain this, or are you trying to get me to die of curiosity?" The other two men chuckled. "Not possible," Richie said. "Trust me, I know. As for what's going on--- Well, there's no easy way to say it. You're an Immortal." "A what?" Schanke asked. Then, a horrible thought occurred to him. He looked down at his chest. There was a bullet hole in his shirt, just like--- "I'm---" He looked up at Nick, then at Richie. "Can I, like, still go out in the sun?" he asked the kid. The kid looked puzzled. "Yeah," he said. "And I can still *eat*, right?" the detective continued. "You'd better," Richie said, really confused now. "Why wouldn't--". "I think I'd better explain this, Richie," Nick interrupted him quickly. "I can give Schanke the basics, and he'd probably believe me sooner than you. Then you can fill in the details later, OK?" "Well, OK," the kid agreed, reluctantly. "But how---" "Where are you staying?" Nick asked. "We'll be in touch, but someone's probably called this in by now. You don't want to be involved with an attempted cop-killing, do you." It wasn't a question, and Richie apparently realized that. "No," he agreed, hastily. "I'm staying at a B&B in the Beaches." He recited the address. "Right," Nick said. "We'll be in touch." The kid nodded, got on his bike, and left. An awkward silence descended on the alley. The two detectives shot furtive looks at each other, neither wanting to go first. "Nick, I---" "Schanke---" They spoke at the same moment, and stopped. Stared at each other. Schanke took a deep breath, noted gratefully that he *could* still breathe, and took the plunge. "I'm--" he licked his lips, nervously. "I'm not like you, am I?" "You mean..." Nick hesitated. Schanke suddenly got tired of being long-suffering and patient. "I mean, am I a *vampire*!" he snapped. "Like you." As Nick stared, flummoxed, he added, "For God's sake, Nick, it's been *three* *years*! I'd think you'd know you could trust me by now!" "You-- you knew?" the vampire asked weakly. "How long---?" "Since you pulled that nut with the Uzi out the window, our first night together," Schanke told him. "You weren't exactly subtle about it, y'know. Jeeze," he added, "when I think of all the times I covered for you, didn't say anything about the bullet holes or the quick escapes--- How could I *not* figure it out, for crying out loud?" "But--" Nick stammered. "You-- you never said anything--" "Yeah, well, Stonetree told me to keep it quiet." "*Stonetree* knew!?" Nick yelped. "Yeah, well, anyway I think he did," his partner told him. "He didn't come right out and say so, but I always figured..." "Who else?" Nick asked, panicked. "Cohen? Does Cohen know?" He grabbed Schanke's shirtfront in both hands. "Calm *down*, willya?" Schanke, asked, trying to pry his partner's hands free. "No, I don't think she does. I don't *think* anyone else does, but I wouldn't be surprised. You haven't exactly been hiding things very well lately. I mean, jeeze, Nick, when IA went through your apartment, I thought they'd figure it out for sure. The blood, and those pictures of you with dates on the back.... You're just lucky I was there, pal." Nick stared at his partner in shock. He's always thought Schanke was just too unobservant to figure it out. Stupid, he realized now. No one who wasn't a good observer made it to Detective, these days. And to realize that Schanke had been covering for him, all this time.... He slowly released his grip on Schanke's shirt. Absently, he noted the bullet hole between his hands. Then, as exactly what that hole *meant* clicked home, he let go quickly and stepped back. Schanke looked down at whatever had snapped Nick back to reality. And saw a neat little, bloodstained hole in his shirt, and the perfect, undamaged skin below it. He swallowed. "So," he said, poking a finger into the hole, "you want to tell me what this *does* mean, *partner*?" Nick took a deep breath. Not that he needed the oxygen, but it helped him calm down. "Sure," he said, with what he hoped was an easy smile. "How about I buy you a souvlaki and we talk about it?" He put one arm around his partner's shoulder, and steered him out of the alley. "I think I owe you one. Or two. Just don't breathe on me afterward, OK?" "OK," Schanke agreed. "And you're still coming over tomorrow night, right?" He hesitated. "But, what *am* I, Nick? What's all this 'Immortal' stuff *mean*?" "It means," Nick said, "that you and I are going to be partners for a long, *long* time---" As the two cops walked away, a figure opened a window above them, and the strains of a tune from "Gypsy" floated out over the darkened street as the camera panned upward... ~Wherever we go,~ "Hey, Nick?" ~Whatever we do,~ "Yeah, Schanke?" ~We're going to do it together!~ "How old are you, anyway?" ~Through thick and through thin,~ "800." ~All out or all in,~ "800? No kidding?" ~We're gonna go through it together!~ "Well, give or take a couple of decades." ~Together, forever!~ "Wow....." ~Together, wherever we go....~ (Immediately followed by a promo trailer for "Knight and Daye", the adventures of two *very* unusual private investigators who have recently moved to Philadelphia ;-) [Hey, Rysher does both! It could happen....] My thanks to Karin Welss and Noah Johnson for this one. I read his "Blood and Steel" and her Forever Not story, "Mortality", back-to-back, and this idea grabbed my brain and wouldn't let go. So, thanks, both of you! :-) # D Echelbarger echelbar@binc.net # # # # "Practice random acts of kindness and # # senseless beauty" Anon (bumper sticker) # =========================================================================