New Fanfic: HIS BETTER HALF: An Elena Duran Story 5/8
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@ADELPHIA.NET)
Sun, 3 Jun 2001 05:08:44 -0400
HIS BETTER HALF: An Elena Duran Story 5/8
by Vi Moreau
vmoreau@adelphia.net
for thanks and disclaimers, see part 0
Elena unsuccessfully tried to tuck her handcuffed hands into the groove of
the car seat. Her coat, draped across her shoulders, had fallen off and lay
in a heap behind her back, too, creating yet another lump behind her.
"[!Carajo!]" she muttered.
Simon turned in his seat to look at her. "Uncomfortable, are you? Sorry,
can't be helped," he said.
At least he was bothered by it. Elena had been held before by men who
weren't fastidious about how they treated their prisoners. Especially their
female prisoners. "Spare me," she said, echoing him.
"Actually, I do feel bad about this. Kidnapping you was not my intention,"
he explained.
"What was your intention? Shooting Connor, dragging him outside and
executing him?" she demanded, with just the right tone of contempt in her
voice.
"Quite," he replied, unruffled. "It's no better than that bastard deserves.
Which reminds me--we need to ring him." Simon pulled a cellphone out of
his pocket and asked her, "What's the number?"
They were in the outskirts of Glenaladale, the town proper, and at his
question, she took her eyes off the road to consider her new dilemma. She
had no idea whatsoever what Connor's telephone number--correction,
Connor's and her telephone number--was.
She looked briefly at her captor, thinking quickly. Simon Andrew thought of
himself as a "gentleman," which meant there were certain things he would and
would not do. Now, if she behaved like a "lady," he would undoubtedly still
do his best to kill her in the end, but in the meantime he would treat her
with respect. But if she behaved like a "bitch," and he wrote her off and
left her to Jake--who was even now pressing too closely against her in the
car seat--her captivity might be very ... unpleasant. The secret involved
following Socrates' dictum of the golden mean.
So instead of going with her instinctive, "Fuck off," she decided to play
her assigned role of the plucky but well-mannered heroine. She took a deep
breath. "Surely you don't expect me to do your job for you, Simon!" she
complained, with just the right amount of outrage.
"I can get her to cooperate, Mr. Andrew," Jake offered, his voice strained.
Elena heard Jake's voice. <[!No, carajo!]>
But Simon shook his head. "Stop the car, Thomas." Thomas did, and Simon
considered for a minute, then pointed to the only pub in town, The Silver
Angel. "Jake, go in and use the telephone directory, will you? And be
discreet."
Jake mumbled but obeyed.
"As for you, my dear, you will be discreet too, won't you? I'm sure you
wouldn't want to endanger these innocent townsfolk."
Now that was a threat Elena took very seriously. For all his studied
high-class manners, she was pretty sure Simon Andrew was a cold and deadly
killer. "*I* don't involve mortals in our Game," she countered.
"Good for you," he replied.
``````````
"I'll take Alex and John to Glenaladale, to the Osato dojo," Connor said.
Alex knew she had to go, although she hated being driven from her house.
But at Connor's words, she said, "No!" at the same time Duncan said, "No,
I'll take them, Connor."
Connor shook his head. "They're my wife and son, Duncan," he argued.
"Connor, you have to stay here; Simon said he'd call!" Alex retorted.
"And if he figures out you don't give a damn about Elena," Duncan said,
bitterly, "he'll take her head in a minute."
"Christ!" Connor exclaimed, looking over at John, who was carefully
listening to everything they said. But it didn't matter, did it? They
couldn't keep this from John; Connor couldn't protect his own son.
<Dammit!>
Duncan moved closer to Connor. "Unless you don't trust me to protect your
wife and son, that is," he challenged.
Connor sighed. "Yes, of course I trust you, Duncan," he snapped. He hated
to leave his family's safety to *anyone*, hated to let Alex and John out of
his sight now, when they were in such danger. But he had no choice. And he
did absolutely trust Duncan.
The thought of just escaping with Alex and John, leaving Elena to die,
blazed once through his head like a falling star through the dark heavens.
No; it wasn't the right thing to do. Even if he did want her dead, which he
didn't; or even if he didn't care about her at all, which he did, a
little--he owed Elena for Alex's life, and Connor paid his debts. He also
wanted to help save Duncan's lover.
Besides, Andrew was *his* enemy. And Connor MacLeod did not let anyone die
for him. No one.
"Go ahead, Duncan. If I hear from Simon, I'll call you," Connor said.
Duncan nodded, apparently appeased for now, and obviously eager to go and
return. "I will see them safe to the Osatos, Connor," he promised.
And give his life, if necessary. "I know," Connor nodded.
John said, "Dad?" and Connor took a moment to bend down to his son--not
too far anymore. He put his hands on John's shoulders, keenly aware that he
might not see the boy again.
"Yes, John?"
"Do you think she's all right? I mean, do you think ...?"
Connor gave John's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "Simon won't hurt her,
John." <Not yet.> "We'll get her back," he promised.
John went outside with Duncan, but Alex lingered at the threshhold. Her
heart was in her throat, but she said simply, "I love you, Connor."
He pressed her to him, feeling her warmth, not wanting to let her go. He
kissed her lips lightly. "I love you too, Alex." Then he let her go.
``````````
"All these bloody rocks look alike," Jake groused, staring out at the rugged
Highland scenery. "No, there it is!"
"It's humble, but it's home, for the moment," Simon said to Elena.
As they turned the bend in a narrow rut which could not truly be called a
road, she looked out the car window at the dilapidated remains of a
farmstead. The walls of the house itself were relatively solid, at least
from the front, but there were large holes in the roof, most of the windows
were missing or broken, and the shed nearby had caved in completely. These
were not new buildings. It would also be cold inside, she thought,
shivering.
The car stopped. Jake pushed Elena out and slid over after her. If there
was a moment to make a break, head for those nearby rocks, this was it! she
thought, while she was still in the car doorway, the two gunmen were still
inside the car ... but Simon had gotten out first and was standing in front
of her, blocking any escape.
"Allow me," he said, putting his arm inside hers. "Jake, bring her coat,"
he said over his shoulder, as he walked her into what remained of the
farmhouse.
There was a sudden flurry of movement from the back room, a flash of fur,
and Jake rushed forward. "Bloody animals!" he growled, raising his rifle to
fire. But Simon intercepted him, drawing his sword quickly but jerkily and
striking the rifle barrel up.
"No shooting, you idiot! We don't want any local visitors, now do we?"
"If anybody came, guv, we could blast 'em!" Jake answered.
Simon gave Jake an angry, disgusted look. "No, Jake," he said.
Jake grumbled but said nothing more.
Elena looked around. There was even less of the roof than she'd thought
from the outside, and no furniture. The fireplace looked whole, but it
wasn't lit, but by now the dampness and cold had made their home inside her.
She wondered bleakly, helplessly, if she would die here, with her hands
chained behind her, in a frozen dilapidated shack in the Highlands of
Scotland.
"Over there," Simon said, pointing at a large vertical support beam near the
center of the large front room. "Tie her to that beam."
Jake put his rifle down against the wall and walked her over, old leaves and
needles crunching under their feet. Then he turned her around with her back
toward the beam and pushed her down to the floor, her face now level with
his crotch. He leered down at her.
<[!Bastardo!]> Jake was the weak link, and she might as well begin with
him. Elena looked up at him, contempt and cold rage in her eyes. He
didn't, or couldn't, hold her gaze for long and lowered his eyes.
<[!Cobarde!]>
Meanwhile Thomas had brought in some rope from the car. They were certainly
prepared for something. Maybe they'd planned to hang Connor before
beheading him?!
As if he could read her thoughts, Simon told her, "I toyed with the idea of
tying him to my car and driving around the hills for a few miles or so,
dragging him behind. Wear him down."
<Yes, that would certainly wear him down. It would kill him. Not too
quickly, either.>
Trying to get more comfortable, she gathered her long legs in front of her,
and Thomas tied her, snaking the rope around her chest, then cut a second
shorter length of rope and hobbled her ankles together, with a play of less
than a meter.
<So much for hoping Simon is stupid.> Elena tched. "Is this necessary?"
she asked him. "I'm going to run away with my wrists handcuffed behind me?"
Simon laughed. "How long would it take you to wriggle your hands under to
the front of your body? Five seconds? If I don't know my enemy, at least I
won't make the mistake of underestimating her, Mrs. MacLeod. Or may I call
you Alex?"
She shrugged, and he came to crouch in front of her. "I'll take that as a
'yes,' Alex. And I suggest your don't underestimate me," he added.
The floor was cold against her ass, and she repressed a shudder, smiling
back, not wanting him to see she was worried. "Well, I'm getting to know
you, Simon, and I won't underestimate you."
"Clever girl," he said, tucking her coat around her. "Now let's see if we
can get good connection from here," he mumbled, and pulled his cellular out
of his pocket again.
``````````
Connor had been expecting the phone to ring, but it startled him
nonetheless. He snatched it up on the second ring--he was, after all, the
distraught husband. And he was worried. "MacLeod," he said. Lousy
reception in these hills, he thought, glancing at the loaded pistol, the
hunting rifle, and the naked katana on the kitchen counter beside him.
"Today you die, MacLeod."
"I've heard this before, Simon; but this is the first time from you, isn't
it?" he asked pleasantly.
Simon's tone was far from pleasant. "It's very simple. Your life for
hers."
"Let me talk to her," Connor replied.
There was a pause, and Connor heard Elena's faraway, static-filled voice.
"Connor, [mi amor,]" she said.
She called him "my love," of course. He pressed the receiver closer to his
ear. "Are you all right, Alex?"
"Yes. Simon is a perfect gentleman," she answered.
Good, Connor thought, Simon hadn't and probably wouldn't mistreat her.
However, he wouldn't hesitate to kill her.
"But I'm cold and stiff, and I could really use your help here," she
continued.
So she was still restrained and would not probably be of much help from her
end. That was not good news, but it was good to know. He couldn't tell how
upset she was by her voice, but of course Elena was too experienced to give
anything away.
"I'll do everything I can for you, sweetheart," Connor reassured her,
putting emotion into his voice, while trying not to overplay his role,
knowing the Englishman was listening. But Connor knew what he wasn't
saying, what he wasn't going to do, what Simon had asked for. Connor would
not give his life for hers. Elena knew it, too.
"I love you, Conn--" she began, but was cut off.
Simon came back on the line. "As I said, it's simple. Surrender your head
to me and I'll let her live."
Connor ran his hand along the back of his very vulnerable neck. "Where do
we meet?"
Simon said, "If you listen very closely, I think you'll be able to hear her
Quickening come to me."
"Dammit, Andrew, I've agreed to meet you! What more do you want?" Connor
asked, gripping the receiver.
"Funny you should ask: I want you dead, MacLeod. I want you to suffer. I
think taking your wife's head--"
"Will get me to come after you, which I haven't done in the past. I will
find you, Simon, and I will behead you. I promise," Connor said, coldly and
evenly. He meant it, but he knew he'd never keep that promise. Duncan
would get to Simon Andrew first. For all his soft brown eyes and easy
manner, Duncan would hunt down his lover's killer with all the gentleness
and mercy of a tiger shark.
Andrew laughed nastily. "I'm all a-flutter. I'll call you back in two
hours."
"Just tell me where to meet you, Simon, and I'll be there."
"I do so enjoy hearing you jump when I speak, MacLeod. I'll be in touch."
Click.
Simon was playing mind games, Connor knew. He'd done it himself. Still, he
hung up with a knot of anger and worry in his stomach. He'd have to wait
for Duncan to return, and for Simon to call back. Connor hated to wait.
He called Duncan's cellphone. "Duncan, Simon called, and I spoke to Elena.
She's all right," Connor said right away. "He'll call back in two hours.
He says. We have to wait."
"Yes," Duncan answered, over the static. Duncan hated to wait too.
There was nothing more to say, so Connor hung up, then walked across the
yard to the exercise room.
Over an hour later, the knot in his stomach grew larger when he sensed an
approaching Immortal. Connor checked the gun and released the safety, then
went to the window. His katana was close at hand, and so was the rifle. He
wasn't taking any chances.
It was Duncan, coming from his rental car in a rush, impatient to find
Elena, to save her--or to avenge her.
Duncan came up the stairs quickly, katana in hand. He wasn't taking any
chances, either. <Good.>
Connor said, "I'm sure he's somewhere up in the hills, not too far. When we
do meet, while Simon and I talk, you ..." Connor nodded at the rifle "...
take care of the gunmen."
Duncan nodded, putting down his sword and picking up the rifle, examining
it, test aiming out the window. "I'll do that," he agreed.
"At least one of the gunmen will be lying in wait to shoot me," Connor
continued. "If Simon doesn't shoot me himself." The thought chilled him,
but he couldn't do anything about it--it was just one more factor he'd
have to consider.
Duncan shook his head. "I think he'd leave that dirty job to his gunmen --
why bring them otherwise?"
"True," Connor agreed.
"What he might do is leave one of the two gunmen with Elena. She is a
handful." Duncan grinned, then got serious again. He put the rifle down on
the table. "But Andrew's mine, Connor. No matter if she lives or dies,
Simon Andrew's head is mine."
For once Connor didn't argue. The English Immortal had been after him on
and off for over a century, but Connor was willing to relinquish this head
to Duncan. One way or another Simon Andrew would die today.
Neither man was much for sitting and fuming. But if they just drove around
looking, they might stumble into Simon's lair, alert him, and get Elena
beheaded. Plus, they had no real idea where she was.
Duncan looked around the room almost desperately, as though he were
searching for something, or perhaps remembering. "Let's spar," he
suggested.
Connor bowed.
``````````
The phone rang again, and Connor glanced at the clock, slightly breathless.
Simon was impatient. <Good.>
"MacLeod," Connor said evenly.
"There's an old abandoned farm about twenty kilometers west of you, in a
hollow, within walking distance of the lake. It used to have a shed and a
paddock, and the fireplace is still intact."
"I know the place," Connor said.
"One hour. Don't be late. Perhaps when you get here your wife will still
be alive." Click.
Connor hung up and said to Duncan, "They're at the old Gordon farmstead."
Duncan was drying his face on a towel. He nodded, then poured himself a
glass of water and handed another to Connor. They drank; then without a
word, they put on their coats. Duncan checked the pistol, placed it in one
pocket and picked up the rifle again.
They went outside to get in Connor's sports utility vehicle. On the back
seat were two pairs of binoculars, a canteen, several blankets--and two
shovels. Duncan put Elena's sheathed broadsword in the back seat, then
checked the rifle and placed it butt down against the floor, with the barrel
pointing up, holding it between his knees.
Connor started the engine.
They hadn't spoken much in the gym while they sparred and waited, a
companionable but tense silence. Now Duncan asked, as he pulled his hair
back off his face and fastened it into a ponytail, "Why is he after you?"
Connor put it into drive and let out the clutch. He looked at Duncan. "I
killed his wife," he said.