"At some house way off the highway," Fox stated.
"That's not very helpful. Can you be more specific?"
"There was a sign," Scott said, "at the corner where we turned off the highway. It said, 'Pacific Palisades'."
"Art," the dispatcher said as she walked over to the counter, "we've gotten a half-dozen calls from neighbors about gunfire at 1452 East Palisade Circle. I've already sent a couple units over there, but that could be it."
Parkins looked Scott over and noticed the handcuffs. "Was this man involved?"
"Uh..., no."
"Then why do you have him shackled?"
"I'm transporting him on a Federal matter." When Parkins just stood waiting for more, Fox continued. "I'm not at liberty to discuss it."
The detective looked down at the much shorter man, but decided not to press that issue, for the moment. "Tell me what you saw."
"A young man was shot as we stood on the porch of a house. He was Caucasian, about five-ten, with short, curly, dark blonde hair. He was in his late-teens or early twenties. His name was Richie something."
"That's strange," Richie said as he walked up to the counter beside Fox, "that sounds a lot like me." He shook the detective's hand. "I'm Richard Roberts. Maybe I can be of some help here?"
"Richie!" Scott exclaimed. He tried to reach out to his friend, but the handcuffs prevented it. Scott caught a subtle look of warning from Richie and said nothing else. He realized something must be up, but he was still puzzled. He knew he'd seen Richie shot in the chest.
"But...but...it can't be you," Fox stammered.
"It's all right, George." Richie put a hand on Fox's arm. "It's me, Richie. I'm from the home. You remember me, don't you?"
"You're dead!" Fox sputtered.
"No, George, I'm not," Richie said in a calm, slow voice.
"You have to be dead. I saw you take two bullets in the chest!"
Catching the detective's eye, Richie shook his head slightly.
"You collapsed in front of me!" Fox continued. "I saw you bleeding, I saw them carry your body into the house. You were dead, or dying!"
"No, George, I'm very much alive. I know you don't like it when I make you take your medicine and you wish I were dead, but it's for your own good."
"That's right, Georgie," Scott said, "Richie is our friend. He helps us."
Fox glared at Scott.
Richie opened his suit coat, and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal smooth, unblemished skin. "Now, George, does this look like I've been shot?"
"No...no...." Fox didn't understand how Richie could be standing in front of him.
As he closed his shirt, Richie looked at the detective. "I'm sorry if he has bothered you, sir. He's a resident in the group home where I work and he has delusions about being in law enforcement. Sometimes he's a federal agent, sometimes a police officer, and sometimes even a secret agent. We try to make sure he stays on the grounds, but sometimes he gets out anyway." Nodding towards Scott, Richie continued, "He convinces one of the other residents to pretend to be his prisoner and he goes off into a world of his own."
Scott shook his head up and down excitedly and looked directly at the detective. "I like to play with Georgie. He makes up really fun games."
"I'm not from a group home and this isn't a game!" Fox shouted as he held up his badge. "I'm George Fox with the Federal Security Agency!"
"Yes, George, I know." Richie clamped his hand around Fox's wrist and squeezed until Fox had to release the badge. "Miss Adams gave you this last Christmas, but you are not supposed to try to make the police think it's real." Richie put the badge in his pocket, then faced the officer. "Really, there was no murder." Patting Fox on the arm, Richie said, "Now, let's go quietly or I'll have to give you a tranquilizer."
"I won't! I won't go with you." Fox jerked against the hold Richie had on his arm. "I'm a Federal Agent and you can't treat me like this."
Richie just smiled and turned to leave.
"But what about the gunshots reported in that neighborhood?" the dispatcher interjected.
"There could be something happening out there I suppose," Richie conceded, "but it probably isn't gunshots. Often his delusions are instigated by an event in real life, like a car backfiring or a tire exploding." Glancing at Scott, Richie continued, "We'll be going now."
"No! I'm not going anywhere! Help me, Detective!"
As Richie and Scott started to leave, pulling Fox between them, Parkins said, "Wait. The report of a homicide is a serious accusation. Let me check with an officer in the field about the disturbance."
Richie glanced at Scott letting him know with the tilt of his head that if things went badly, they needed to make a run for it. "Really, Detective, that isn't necessary. Look at me. The description he gave you of the victim is me and I'm very much alive."
The detective smiled. "You are right about that. He couldn't have described you better." Parkins paused. "Okay, you can go, but try to keep him out of trouble, will you?"
"Sure thing, Detective." With Richie and Scott both dragging, they got Fox outside.
"What's going on here?" Fox demanded. "You can't treat me like this." He jerked against the two young men.
While Richie was inside, Duncan and Paul switched to Fox's car. The engine was running and it was pointed out of the parking lot when Richie, Scott and Fox got there. Richie opened the back door and slid in, pulling Fox after him. Scott pushed on Fox's other side, and soon all were wedged in the back seat. Duncan drove away from the police station without speeding to not draw undue attention.
"I'm a Federal Agent and you can't do this."
"You already said that." Richie grinned. "But we're doing it anyway."
Paul turned around in his seat and reached towards Fox.
"No! Don't touch me!"
"Scott?" Paul pulled his hand back as he gave his son a meaningful look.
Understanding his father wanted him to calm Fox, Scott took a deep breath and placed his free hand on Fox's shoulder. He shut his eyes and concentrated.
"Nooooo!" Fox groaned. He jerked sideways but in the close confines of the car could not escape from Scott's touch.
In a few minutes, Richie felt the man beside him relax. He stopped trying to pull away, and sat quietly just like Wolf had done earlier in the evening. "Boy, you guys could put the makers of Valium out of business with that trick."
"And you," Scott said, twisting around Fox so he could see his friend, "I know I saw you get shot."
Richie grinned sheepishly but said nothing.
"Remember the night in the alley?" Paul asked.
"Sure, but what does that..." Scott stared at MacLeod's back. The man driving the car had died in Scott's arms. He again remembered feeling the life drain from the man's body. Scott's eyes got wide and he pointed at Richie then MacLeod. "You're...like...him."
Richie nodded.
"We'll talk about it later," Paul said.
"Yes," Duncan agreed as he accelerated the car onto the freeway heading back towards the city. "So, what's the plan, now?"
"We need to get away as quickly as possible." Paul glanced at the man in the center of the back seat. It seemed Scott had done a good job, perhaps too good, at calming Fox. He sat staring straight ahead. "We can't go back to our apartment. He is probably having it watched."
"What about your stuff?" Richie asked.
Scott sighed. "We lose it, again. We always have to leave things behind."
"Well, can we send it to you?" Richie questioned.
"Maybe," Scott said, dejectedly, knowing the chances of that were slim. It was too dangerous to continue to have contact with anyone after escaping from Fox.
Several minutes later they passed another highway sign. "There's a town about twenty miles ahead," Duncan said. "You might be able to catch a bus or maybe rent a car there."
"That sounds good," Paul said.
Less than a half hour later, Duncan pulled off the freeway and drove through the small town. After a couple of trips through, he stopped in the parking lot of a closed grocery store. "I didn't see any car rental signs, but the bus depot is right across the street."
"Good," Paul said, "we can take the next one out."
"What about him?" Richie pointed at Fox.
Duncan started the car moving again, and parked it behind the store in one of the loading bays. It was recessed into the ground so, from the surface, especially in the dark, the car was almost invisible. "We can leave him here. I don't think anyone will find him until morning."
In a few minutes, Paul had his son released from the handcuff that attached him to the FSA agent, and had Fox secured in the back seat with one hand shackled to each door. He dropped the keys to the car and the cuffs under the steering wheel.
Scott got into the front car seat on his knees. "Well, Fox, I think our collaboration worked very well." Scott reached over the seat and squirmed his hand into Fox's pocket. "But you won't be needing this any longer." He held the sphere in front of Fox for a moment as if contemplating doing something, then got out of the car.
"You can't leave me like this!" Fox shouted. He didn't understand why he'd been sitting quietly for so long, but now he realized the alien was about to escape and he had to do something.
"Uh, oh," Richie grinned at Scott, "I think your magic touch just wore off."
Fox looked at Duncan and Richie as he pulled against his bonds. "You don't know what you're doing. Those two can't be allowed to go free. They are a threat to all of us."
"Really, now, Fox," Duncan asked, "and why is that?"
"They're...they're..." Fox couldn't bring himself to explain the true nature of the alien.
"They're what," Duncan spat, "freaks, inhuman monsters, a threat to mankind, creatures that don't deserve to live?"
"Yes....Yes, you do understand. Now, let me free so I can take them in."
"I don't think so." Richie leaned into the car until his face was very close to Fox's. "It's you who needs to understand something. We aliens stick together, and some of us are very hard to kill." He got out, dropped Fox's badge in the seat, and slammed the car door. "Let's get out of here."
As the four walked around the store and over to the bus depot, Paul said, "I'm not so sure it was a good idea to provoke Fox like that. He knows where you live."
"Maybe you're right," Richie agreed, "but he just made me so mad."
"If he believes you're a threat, he'll come after you," Paul said.
"Let him come," Duncan said. "I survived the witch hunts of the seventeenth century and managed to keep my head during the French revolution. I don't think one government agent will be a problem."
Paul bought two tickets for the bus to Reno. It wasn't his favorite choice of destinations, but it was the first one scheduled to leave, in just over an hour. Richie and Scott went into the cafe to get something to eat, leaving the two older men alone. They sat in an isolated corner of the depot where they could talk privately.
"How do you and Scott deal with being on the run all the time?" Duncan asked.
"We just do. We have to if we're going to stay free."
"There have been countless times in my life that I've had to leave a place because it became obvious I wasn't aging, or because someone saw me die. But between those times, I usually have several years to make a life for myself."
"And to make friends?"
"Yes."
"Even though you know those friends will die?"
Duncan studied the man sitting across from him. He'd known Paul for less than a week, but felt almost as close to him as some of the Immortals he'd known for centuries. "Yes, even though I know they will die." He sat without speaking for several minutes. The only sound that interrupted the late-night silence in the depot was the tick of the large clock on the wall. "Sometimes the pain is overwhelming, yet everyone I know expects me to be a rock and never let anything get me down."
"But you're not a rock, are you?"
"No. I'm just a man. I'm not perfect, yet everyone expects me to be. I'm 'The Highlander', a hero to some and a target to others."
"I imagine that's a hard reputation to live up to."
"It is. I had a friend once who warned me to never be the best. If you're the best at something there is always someone out there wanting to take it away from you." Duncan stared at the ceiling tiles. When he spoke again, almost in a whisper, it was more to himself than to Paul. "For Immortals, that means kill or be killed."
Remembering the many visions of violence and death he'd seen through his contact with MacLeod, Paul shuddered. He would never truly understand this man's life. The concept of taking a life in order to survive was too foreign to Paul's being. A cold chill went up his spine at the terrible images.
As Duncan worked through his emotions, he continued to ramble without even realizing he was speaking aloud. "In the last few months I've done very poorly in all my battles."
"You were trying to die?" From the physical contact Paul had had with MacLeod, he knew this was true, but also knew it was important for Duncan to face his own feelings.
"I guess I have been." The realization of this fact startled Duncan.
After a short time, Paul prodded, "Why do you think that is?"
"I...I don't think I really wanted to die...to commit suicide, I just wanted the pain and loss to stop."
"And now...?"
"Now I know letting someone take my head isn't the answer." Duncan looked through the window of the cafeteria and watched Richie and Scott talking animatedly.
"Richie thinks the world of you. Where would he be if you hadn't been there for him?"
Duncan didn't answer, but remembered what Richie had said to him. 'If it weren't for you, Mac, I'd be dead.'
"There are critical moments in everybody's life," Paul continued, "and we are all shaped by our interactions with those we meet."
"You're right." Duncan turned back to face Paul. "I once told Richie almost the same thing. Seeing what you and Scott have to give up makes me realize how lucky I am. My friendships end, usually by death, but the same thing happens to everyone. It's a part of life."
"And because you have such a long life, you see more of it than most men. But you also have more of a chance to make long-lasting friendships and to have a positive impact on people's lives."
The image of Robert and Gina's three-hundredth wedding anniversary party flashed in Duncan's mind. It was through Mac's direct intervention that their marriage had survived and they were on track to another century of life together. "In four centuries there have been more good times than bad. It just took a kick in the head to make me stop wallowing in self-pity and see that."
Paul frowned and wondered who had kicked Duncan, then realized it was only an expression.
"Or maybe, it was a visit from an alien." Duncan laughed a deep, hearty laugh and Paul joined in. "You're a good man, Paul Forrester, and I'm glad we got to know each other."
"I think you're feeling a lot better," Paul observed.
"Yes, I am." Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Did you do this to me?"
"No, you did it all yourself. I just pushed you in the right direction."
"MacLeod is really that old?" Scott asked incredulously.
"He sure is," Richie laughed, "and sometimes he acts all of it." Richie had explained most of what it meant to be Immortal to Scott, leaving out the part about taking heads. "Mac's my best friend and the closest thing to a father I'll ever have. When I thought he was dead..."
"I know, you were pretty upset."
Richie looked through the glass of the cafeteria at Duncan and Paul. "He's still not...not himself. He doesn't seem to want to live anymore."
Turning to also look at the older men, Scott said, "I'll bet after tonight, he's better."
"How do you know that?"
Scott placed a hand on Richie's arm and their eyes met. Scott smiled.
A warm, encouraging feeling filled Richie and he realized it was coming from Scott. "Your dad will really do that?"
As he removed his hand, Scott shrugged. "I don't know exactly what he'll do, but I'm certain he won't leave MacLeod as long as he's hurting."
Several seconds of silence passed before Scott spoke again. "Why did you jump in front of Fox back at the house?"
"I couldn't let a mortal get hurt, even one I didn't like." A feeling of regret overcame the young Immortal. "If only I had known what I was sooner, maybe I could have saved Tessa."
"Tessa? Who was she?"
While they finished eating their pizza, Richie told Scott the story of his first death and how Mac's mortal lover had died in the same attack.
As they watched the bus for Reno pull out of the station, Richie asked, "So what now, Mac? Do we go after the Hunters?"
"Not here. They'll come for us again and we can deal with them on our home ground. Next time, we'll be ready."
Richie nodded at the wisdom in this.
The older man grinned. "Right now, we're going to take a bus back to the city, get some rest, and then I'm going to kick your butt."
"You think so, huh? Remember our last match? I bested you three times in a row."
"You won't do it again." Duncan put his arm around Richie's neck and gave him a playful hug.
Richie pulled away. "We'll just see about that. Go buy the tickets. I'll wait for you over here." Richie smiled from ear to ear as Mac walked away. Scott had been right. This was the MacLeod he knew.
While he stood at the counter waiting for the agent to complete the transaction, Duncan thought, I'm going to give Connor a call, as soon as it's a decent hour in Scotland. We're all richer because of the friends we have and I don't want to let a misunderstanding end my oldest friendship. Remembering his last battle, Duncan realized the truth in Connor's words. Part of the price we have to pay for our Immortality is constantly defending our lives at the expense of others. April carries a lot of hatred because of her lost loves. She'll come for me again, but next time, I'll be ready.
"Is he going to be all right, Dad?" Scott turned towards his father and saw his face only in brief flashes as the bus passed the highway lights.
"Yes, he'll be okay. Deep down, he's strong. He's lived a long time and..."
"That's for sure." Scott glanced around to be sure no one could hear their conversation. "Richie told me he knows a woman who is over eleven hundred years old. Now, that is an old lady."
"Scott, that's not a very nice thing to say."
"Well, it's true."
Paul rolled his eyes and stared at his son momentarily. "As I was saying, the pain just mounted up for Duncan until it was too much for him. He didn't even realize he was trying to end his life."
"I had a health class once where they told us about depression and suicide. The teacher said most people who think about suicide don't really want to die, they are just facing some emotional problem for which they see no other way out. They told us if we ever felt like giving up we should find someone to talk with about our feelings."
"It must really be difficult for people like Duncan and Richie to find someone to talk to about things that bother them."
"I'll say," Scott agreed. "They can't tell anyone what they are any more than we can."
"That's right. I'm glad we were there when they needed somebody."
"So what did you do?"
"I helped Duncan realize he still has a reason to live." Paul paused briefly. "I finally figured out he was upset because his friends and loved ones die while he goes on."
"For somebody who lives forever, that has to be a big problem." Scott sat quietly for a moment remembering the good times he'd had since he met Richie. "Sort of like what we have to do all the time."
"Yes," Paul agreed. In a few minutes, he closed his eyes to try to sleep. It had been a long night and he was tired. His thoughts soon turned to his new friend.
Paul felt a special kinship with Duncan MacLeod. Paul and his son often had to leave with no warning and no time to prepare for the loss of a friendship. Even though Immortals might have friendships that lasted for centuries, they could be taken away in an instant of unspeakable savagery. It did seem there were many things about Immortals and aliens that weren't all that different.
About a half hour passed before Scott spoke again. "Hey, Dad, I just thought of something."
Roused from his almost sleep, Paul asked, "What?"
"We're going to Reno."
"Yes, I know. You woke me to tell me that?"
Scott laughed. "No, Dad. I was just thinking. Now that I'm over eighteen I'll be able to go into the casinos."
"So?"
"So! Just think of all the things I can do with my powers. It's going to be fun."
"What? You can't..." In the dim light seeping into the bus from the highway lights, Paul could see his son's mischievous look. "You're just pulling my leg, aren't you?"
Scott didn't answer. He just raised his eyebrows a couple of times and grinned.
Wolf: So, you know about us?
Tessa: Yes, I know about you, but I don't understand you. What in God's name do you think you're doing?
Wolf: My friends would call it saving the human race, but I do it for other reasons. I get off on it.
Tessa: Why Duncan?
Wolf: Because he's a freak.
Tessa: He's a good, decent man.
Wolf: He's not a man. He's not human. He's an It.
Is there any wonder why I saw a parallel? Starman has his Fox. Highlander has his Wolf.
Another 'inspirational' scene, also from "The Darkness", that helped in the planning of this story, is one where a fortune teller reads MacLeod's palm. Even though she claims to have no real paranormal gift, she sees visions of his past. I assumed Paul would be able to do no less.
In the story I refer to a 'magic pocket' for the sword. There is no explanation in the series for how Immortals hide three feet of steel under their clothing. Nor is it explained how they can walk, run, drive a car, and then just when they need it, have their sword appear in their hand. The fan explanation is to say it's magic and thus the magic pocket to hold the sword was born.
The Houdini reference in the story requires explanation. I have MacLeod opening handcuffs without any prior preparation which is quite unreasonable. However, my scene came directly from the fourth season Highlander episode, "The Immortal Cimoli" written by Sophia Descroisette and Scott Peters. In the episode an Immortal handcuffs MacLeod's hands behind his back, and then pulls a sword on him. In less than five seconds, MacLeod is out of the cuffs, has his sword drawn, holds up his hand with the dangling cuff, and states that he learned the trick from Houdini. I could have him do no less in my story, even though I know it's probably not the way Houdini would have done it.
The city name used for MacLeod's place of residence is a contraction of Vancouver, where the series is filmed for half its episodes, and Seattle. Since all the license plates seen in the show are from Washington, the implication is they are in the states, and thus Seattle. The name Seacouver was originally coined by fans of the show. In a fifth season episode of Highlander, a newspaper is seen with the name Seacouver. There is also Highlander merchandise available that uses the city name of Seacouver. That the producers of HIGHLANDER picked up the fan reference and used it, is highly gratifying to me.
END OF TEXT
Please E-mail the author with comments or questions. She would love to hear from you.
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