Date:         Thu, 20 Apr 1995 21:37:00 +0200
Reply-To:     Marina Bailey <tmar@CDS.ALT.ZA>
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         Marina Bailey <tmar@CDS.ALT.ZA>
Organization: CDS OnLine BBS, Johannesburg, SOUTH AFRICA
Subject:      Until Only One Remains (2/2)

It had been a somewhat arduous journey, landing in England, hiring
a car, driving for a long time... But finally the two of them reached
their destination: the village of Glenfinnan, on the shores of Loch
Shiel. "So, this is where you lived, huh?" asked Duncan, his bag
slung over his shoulder.
   "Yeah."
   "I lived... I don't think it's there anymore... a bit further
north... the other side."
   Connor nodded. "That's where I went when I heard the rumour of a
highlander from the MacLeod clan being killed in battle and
reviving."
   Duncan smiled without much humour. "At least they didn't try and
burn me at the stake!"
   "They would have if you hadn't got the hell out of there."
   Suddenly Duncan stopped and looked at Connor. "Am I imagining
things, or..."
   "I don't think so. Say something to me."
   "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."
   "Well, we're not imagining things. Your accent has come back."
   "So has yours."
   They started laughing for no reason, except it was a happy feeling
to be back in the highlands, together again. And yet... the reason
for them being here was not a good one. Eat, drink and be merry, for
tomorrow we die. And one of them would.
   "Shouldn't we be at the hotel yet?" Duncan asked. They seemed to
have been walking forever in the chilly air.
   "Here it is," said Connor.
   It was not a large hotel at all - just one for people passing
through - but it was cosy, and the woman at the desk was waiting.
"I'm Connor MacLeod. We have reservations."
   "Ah, yes, Mister MacLeod. Two rooms, just like you asked."
   Duncan and Connor both signed, and the woman was amused to see
their names. "Two MacLeods. Are you brothers?"
   "No, clansmen."
   "From the actual Clan MacLeod?"
   Duncan smiled. "The actual Clan MacLeod, yes."
   "These days one can never be sure. We get tourists with Scottish
blood who claim to belong to almost any clan, but can't authenticate
it. How are you part of the clan?"
   Connor and Duncan looked at each other. Saying they were born into
it over 400 years before somehow would not wash, they could tell!
Finally Connor chose the best answer. "Our fathers were MacLeods of
the Clan MacLeod."
   "We've been away for... a long time," added Duncan.
   "I see. Well, here are your keys. Everything you need should be
in your rooms. Supper is from eight to nine."
   "Thanks," said Duncan, and they proceeded to their rooms.

To emerge a few minutes later, ready to see what they could see. They
went out and walked around the village for a bit, finally finding an
open bar... er, pub, where they could have something to drink, and
talk.
   It wasn't long before civilized talking turned into something
else: hysterical giggling and rowdiness on both their parts. "Well,
I wasn't the one who got into that duel on Boston Common!" laughed
Duncan. "And got run through... what was it, six times?"
   "I think so..." laughed his clansman. "I apologised for calling
his wife a bloated warthog, and then he stopped."
   "You were lucky." Duncan started laughing hysterically again. "I
remember a time... that girl in London..."
   "Well, I only got knocked senseless. You're the one who wanted to
pledge your eternal love... by jumping from... what was it, London
Bridge?"
   "I wouldn't really have jumped!"
   They looked at each other and fresh giggling broke out. "Well, she
still chose me!" grinned Connor. "Sometimes I got a good woman."
   "But I got all the fun!"
   The other patrons of the place were not quite staring at them, but
they had tolerant smiles on their faces. Eventually the two Immortals
ran out of one-upmanship stories, stumbled out, returned to the hotel
and collapsed.

"Oh, my head!" Duncan looked at Connor with bleary eyes over the
table.
   "Mine too. We must look terrible."
   "Yeah. Where are we going today?"
   "We're going to look around a little."
   So they took the car and drove around the area where they had
lived. Duncan finally got to ask a question he'd been wanting to ask
for centuries. "Where did you live, when Ramirez found you?"
   "A couple of miles... that way," replied Connor, pointing. Then
he slowed the car, looking sad.
   "What is it?"
   "Heather, my first wife."
   "You never told me much about her."
   "She was beautiful and delicate. We were so happy. The only thing
that would have made us happier was children. And she didn't
understand why I stayed with her."
   "But you loved her," said Duncan, as if that was obvious.
   "You and I are similar that way, Duncan. We both love very much.
Heather was the love of my life. I never began to feel that until I
met Brenda, and then..."
   "Yeah. I still sometimes wake up expecting Tessa to be there. And
when she isn't, the pain is the same as when she died."
   "I know." It was true; Connor did know.
   Eventually they came to another loch. They stopped the car and
walked next to it. "It's beautiful here," said Connor.
   "Yeah." Silence for a long time. Then Duncan broke the silence.
"Where do you want to do it?"
   "Anywhere in the Highlands... it's all our home."
   "Agreed. When?"
   "Tonight."

They didn't go back to the hotel, however. Best to keep savouring the
look and feel of home. It didn't matter that it drizzled for most of
the day. It didn't matter that they were going to have to try and
kill each other. All that mattered was spending time together before
the inevitable.
   They stopped at a small village for lunch. The girl who served
them was very talkative. "Are you foreigners?"
   "No... not really."
   "We've been away for a long time."
   The girl looked at them carefully. "You're clansmen, right?"
   "How did you know?"
   "Something... I don't know. The way you two move, or... something
about you is familiar. Who are you?"
   "I'm Duncan MacLeod, and this is Connor MacLeod."
   "Funny," she smiled. "I'm Susan MacLeod. You'll find many MacLeods
in this area."
   Connor and Duncan exchanged looks. They knew that, this used to
be MacLeod clan territory.
   "Do you know the stories of the famous clan members?"
   "Most of them." In truth, Duncan - and Connor too - had probably
lived some of the stories.
   "Do you know the story of the clansmen killed in battle who
revived?"
   Duncan answered very quickly. "No."
   "It's been in our clan for a couple of hundred years. It isn't a
story we bandy about casually, but for two more MacLeods... Would you
like to hear it?"
   The two more MacLeods nodded.
   "After a battle with the Frasiers, one of our clansmen was killed
in battle and revived. Everyone thought it was witchcraft, and they
banished him from the village. They never knew what happened to him."
   "What do you think happened?" Connor had never gotten to hear
about his ordeal from the other side before.
   By now the girl was sitting at the table with them. "I think he
was probably in a coma, with shallow breathing, and they assumed he
was dead. And then, when he came around, they couldn't handle it."
   "Makes sense," said Duncan.
   "Yes, until you consider that about a century later, the same
thing happened to another clan member."
   Duncan waited, but she didn't continue, so he had to ask her to
carry on.
   "The same thing. He was killed in battle and revived. But this
time there was no banishment, he left by himself. There were stories
that his father had seen him and that he was all right, but no one
knows. To this day that story is told, and no one knows how much
truth there is to it. Probably the same thing happened twice: a deep
coma, or something."
   "Is that what you think?" asked Connor.
   "I think that what Shakespeare said about there being more things
in heaven and earth is true."
   "Yeah, a kind of magic," said Duncan. That was Connor's
description of the what and why of Immortals.
   "Exactly. I would have liked to have known more about it. We have
many tales like that."
   Connor and Duncan spent the time in the village talking with Susan
MacLeod about clan stories and clan history, then they had to move
on. "Are you coming back this way?" she asked.
   "Well, we haven't decided. Probably I will, or he will," replied
Duncan.
   "Stop in and say goodbye when you do, all right? I'll have some
haggis ready for you."
   The two Immortals smiled, as Connor remembered explaining haggis
to Ramirez, and Duncan recalled Connor's description of the scene.
"We like haggis," they said in unison.
   "Good," said the girl.

It was almost nighttime. The two Immortals had driven and wandered
around the Highlands for the entire day. In some ways they had never
been happier. They were home. They were together. They had overcome
evil... all the evil Immortals were gone. But a nagging questions
remained: if that was so, why did they have to continue with this?
There was no answer to that one, they only knew they did.
   Finally, Connor stopped the car. He turned to face his clansman.
"So... are you ready?"
   Duncan nodded. "Yeah. Where are we?"
   "I used to live near here with Heather. It was the happiest time
of my life."
   Duncan understood that very well. "My time with Tessa was the
happiest time of my life. We had everything... almost everything,"
he amended, thinking of the child he knew Tessa had wanted, but could
never have, and would never have hurt him to have. "Connor... what
do you think the Prize is?"
   "Power beyond imagination."
   "Yeah, but... what does that mean, exactly?"
   Connor opened the door and got out of the car, discarding his
coat. "I don't know."
   Duncan followed suit. "Promise me... you'll tell Joe. He deserves
to know."
   "No. You will have to tell him."
   "Connor... promise me."
   "All right. But you promise not to sell my personal antique
collection, then."
   "Fine."
   They stood there, in the Highlands, staring at each other for a
long time. Finally, Connor stepped forward and hugged his clansman.
"I have enjoyed knowing you, Duncan."
   Duncan was at a loss for words. He swallowed hard, nodding, as he
let go. "Me too."
   Connor stepped back and took out his katana. "There can be only
one."
   Duncan did the same. "There can be only one."

The fight did not last too long. At first both Immortals had been
worried that they would not fight their best, but that idea was
thrown right out after the first few seconds. Something - the same
thing that had drawn them together - made sure they did. They were
driven to fight, driven to want to win.
   Connor MacLeod used every trick with a sword he'd ever learnt.
Everything Ramirez had shown him. Everything he'd learned from all
his subsequent teachers. Everything he could.
   Duncan MacLeod was doing the same. He could almost feel his
teachers whispering to him what moves to use: Hideo Koto, Mei Ling,
Kiem Sun, the Connor MacLeod of long ago...
   The swords flashed in the moonlight as the two men fought. Not for
any of the reasons people normally did. Not for love, or money, or
pride, or patriotism. Not even for the age-old reason: good versus
evil. They didn't even fight for the Prize. They fought because they
had no alternative. Because in the end, there could be only one.
   And when, finally, one sword finished it, there was only one.
   Duncan MacLeod's sword flashed down a second too early for his
clansman to parry it, and it was over. Duncan fell to the ground,
unable to believe what had happened. He had won. He was the only one
left. He waited for the Quickening as he lay there in the grass,
tears streaming down his face. "Connor."
   And then the Quickening enveloped him, and he was flung into the
air. In the space of a few minutes he relived all the experiences of
all the Immortals who had ever been, millennia of memories cascading
through his mind, letting him know *everything*. All the power, all
the strength, all the sundry things that had made up each Immortal
life, became his. And all because of that one sword stroke that had
given him victory.

The girl named Susan MacLeod was pleased to see Duncan back. "Ah, so
you did some back, after all."
   "Who could say no to haggis?" smiled the highlander.
   "Where's your clansman?"
   "He... couldn't make it."
   "Hm. Pity. So, how long are you going to be here, anyway?"
   "I don't know," replied Duncan. "Maybe a *very* long time."

                               THE END

                Copyright Marina Bailey, April 1995.
                        All rights reserved.

- Marina.

\\ "I don't care about their different thoughts; ||>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>  //
//     different thoughts are good for me."      || R I C H I E >>  \\
\\    - Tanita Tikaram; Twist in my Sobriety     ||>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>  //
//======tmar@cds.Alt.ZA=======Marina Bailey======||                 \\
\\=============Chief Flag Waver and Defender of Richie==============//

... Richie wins! Amazement!
--- Blue Wave/RA v2.12 [NR]
=========================================================================
