Date:         Sun, 12 Nov 1995 12:40:15 -0700
Reply-To:     WOLFEM@CGS.EDU
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         Michelle Wolfe <WOLFEM@CGS.EDU>
Subject:      my so-called immortality 3b/13?

From:   WOLFEM       12-NOV-1995 12:36:27.36
To:     WOLFEM
CC:     WOLFEM
Subj:   my so-called immortality 3b/13?

My so-called immortality
Part III-continued: Shadows in the rain...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
     Jittery and restless, he roamed the side-streets, going
nowhere in particular, striding just a few paces short of a
run.  Alien thoughts and feelings flashing on the surface of
his consciousness, his muscles charged with an irritating
energy, feeling at moments as if he were about to crawl
right out of his skin.  Walking and walking, as his body and
soul wrestled with the essence of another.  Strength, mind
and will all transmuted into a powerful, foreign, and
repulsive stream of energy.  And it fought viciously-- even
after it had been assimilated-- to remain intact, to keep
from being dissolved and incorporated into the new self
which had absorbed it.
     The light drizzle graduated to a steady deluge.  The
downpour plastered his wet and sandy hair to his scalp; a
persistent stream of rain began to run almost continually
off his steep forehead and down his nose like a gutterspout.
     He didn't notice.
     He'd gone blocks and blocks when he found himself
facing an imposing marble wall at the end of a cul- de-sac.
He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, the wet
stone hard, cool and soothing against his tense flesh. Not
having the best morning, are you Connor?  he asked himself
wryly.

(...The fire crackles in the stone hearth.  In the bedroom
Heather sleeps, her firm curves artfully avoiding the worst
lumps in the mattress.  Leaving them for him, of course...
...The old man still sits at the table, staring into the
hearth, smoking pensively.  Ramirez never seemed to sleep,
as if he'd done all the dreaming he needed, centuries
ago...
...He bends over the fire for a moment, stirring the embers.
Then he sits across from the old man, waiting...
..."Days pass into weeks, the centuries merge into
millennia,"  Ramirez begins, his voice low and resonant.  A
raised eyebrow and an ironic smile suddenly grabs Connor's
attention.  "Not that you'd know anything about that, would
you, clansman?" the old man shakes his head, the fire-light
casting flashes of gold on his white hair.  "No-- None of
it's real for you yet.  It never is--  not for the first
few decades. At first there seems to be no difference
between you and the mortals.  You both fall in love, grieve
for your dead, and try to stay alive.  But with time--"
..."--with time the differences will become clear.  Mortals
act without ever living with their actions-- a blink and
their time is over.  Their memories are short and faint and
if a deed still rankles and resists forgetting then they
spit it out to a priest, and the guilt passes through them
like dirty water, never to be felt again...
..."But we aren't so lucky.  No, you'll carry your deeds
with you all your life, MacLeod.  Every detail of the
moment as sharp and clear as day.  The memories branded in
your brain...
..."...and the guilt carved into your heart..."
...The calm smile on the old man's face, the even tone of
his voice, confused Connor.  What were all these
impassioned  speeches, these pretty words, supposed to
mean to him?
..."...Yes, carrying your mistakes for centuries.  The weight
on your shoulders, the sharp edges of regret like thorns
digging into your flesh.  They'll cling to you, and you'll
feel them with every step you take.  For hundreds of years
you'll carry them--" the old man stops and draws deeply on
his pipe, exhaling the smoke in fetid curls that seemed
aimed for Connor's offended face...
..."Unless, my young friend, you have the good fortune to
learn from them...")
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
     He committed a map of Paris to his memory every two or
three years.  He knew where he was, even he had paid little
attention to getting there.  Shelter was not far away.
A warm, dry apartment. Expensively furnished, an exquisite
view.  A kettle on the burner and scotch waiting to be poured.
Dry clothes: clean, pressed and hanging in the closet.
     Heat, light and comfort just a few blocks away.
     He stayed right where he was, standing in the rain,
bare-headed and drenched, staring into the empty street
through a dark gray curtain of falling water, stretching from
the pavement to the sky.  Trying not to think of anything.
Feeling the strange nuances of someone else's power and
knowledge merging with his own, slipping into cracks and
spaces of his body and mind, displacing buried memories,
shoving forgotten feelings of his own out into the open.
    Or feelings he just wished he could forget..

("...they'll cling to you, and you'll feel them,
 every step you take...every detail of the moment as
 sharp and clear as day...")

     He'd never known the little girl's name.  'The Doll',
Kempe had called her.  He had done the right thing, he still
believed.  There was no life he or anyone else could have
offered her.  Trapped in a child's body, at best living as
someone's burden, buried in the bitter memories of her
violation, of her irreparable mutilation.
     She had been one of his many lessons in learning that you
could do the right thing-- and still regret it.
     That little girl's face, so small and desperate and
vulnerable.  So much...so much like another face 300 years
later, pleading for protection...A face still waiting
anxiously for him, somewhere in Manhattan, the lines of
late middle-age only a thin veil over the face of the little girl
she had been when he'd first seen her.  Rachel.  And what
sort of life have you had, thanks to my heroic act of
rescue?  Tied to a man who can no longer be your father and
who will not be your lover...who should have sent you away
years ago, pushed you out into world, where you might have
fallen in love, married, had children...but instead he holds
onto you at arm's length, binding you by his secrets, by his
cold intimacy...he couldn't bring you closer, but he couldn't
let you go, paralyzed by his own...
     ...loneliness.

("...For hundreds of years you'll carry them...
 Unless, my young friend, you have the good fortune to
 learn from them...")

     And here he was in Paris, trying to remedy another
mistake, another aborted act of love, another rescue gone
wrong.  About to do the right thing-- and probably regret it.
     He closed his eyes and began walking away, afraid of
of other memories that might be waiting in the rain...
              ___________________________
Yeah, I know I stole the kid bit from Anne Rice,
Dostoyevsky, _Forever Knight_, *and* the
notorious "Kenny" episode.  Forgive me.  Or chew me out
at <WOLFEM@cgs.edu>.  (And please let me know if the
Ramirez stuff was way too cheesy -- I was really of two
minds about it...)
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