Changing Tides
1998©RoryV. Pascual & Glitter Magazine
DISCLAIMER: The "Highlander" characters and portions of episode scripts from the series are owned by Panzer/Davis and Rysher Entertainment. The "Titanic" characters are the exclusive property of James Cameron, Paramount Pictures, Lightstorm Entertainment and Twentieth Century Fox. In writing this story, ABSOLUTELY NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WAS INTENDED.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: The abridged version of this three-part story, designed to be a sequel to "Titanic", appeared last December in "Glitter Magazine" here in the Philippines. This much longer, SLASH version is obviously rated NC-17. You know what to expect, namely sex of the m/m and m/m/m variety. This is definitely one of the most difficult stories I’ve ever written. I hope you like it.

To my Editor-In-Chief J.R. Mercado, thank you for all your support!! My gratitude to Eng for the wonderful cyberetchings!! You’re truly the best!!!

PART ONE:


The North Atlantic, April 15, 1912.

        It was said that a child draws his first breath not as he is brought into this world and roused to wakefulness with a cruel slap on the rump, but in the warm and nurturing sea contained within his mother’s womb. It was also said that a child loses his ability to breathe in water as he learns to love the air and all its scents.

        One such child was experiencing a birth of sorts, a birth unlike any other. With his first breath, he drew in the acid water of salt, scorching lungs that had long forgotten that it once held fluid within its fragile sacs. He awoke not within the womb of a loving mother, but in the ice-cold depths of a brutal sea that had claimed the lives of millions of people through the centuries. In this night alone, it had taken into its frigid embrace over a thousand more…his included. And now, in the throes of his rebirth, it was threatening to reclaim him once more.

        But he was a very special child – a fighter, a survivor. Though his body had forgotten its aquatic roots, the instinct to live remained strong.

        <LIVE! >That single word screamed inside his mind. Irony of ironies, it was not his own voice he heard but that of a woman’s – someone he had met, someone he had loved. If he had made her swear to him that she would live, could he not do the same for her?

        Despite the pounding pressure of the ocean depth to which he had sunk, he fought back, kicking his way upward to the surface. There was no light, only darkness. The pressure of the sea beat at his skull that his head droned in agony. He felt like he had been swimming for miles but with no relief in sight.

        Soon, however, he felt his strength waning. Though the will maybe strong, the frigid temperature of the water considerably weakened his body, numbing his muscles and chilling his bones. As the pace of his frenetic paddling began to slacken, he felt himself sinking once more to the graveyard that lay at the bottom of the North Atlantic.

        <I'm sorry!> he said to the vision of a beautiful young woman with fiery red hair. <Please forgive me!>

        Suddenly, a large hand grabbed him by his shirt’s collar and began pulling him up. Although he was still weak, he instinctively moved his feet to hasten his progress. No reason, he thought, to get them both killed.

        It seemed hours had passed although it took only a matter of minutes. As they broke the surface, a triumphant cry escaped their lips. Taking in gulps of the fresh sea air, he did not notice his rescuer climb into a collapsible boat floating beside them. Soon, he himself was pulled into the safe confines of the boat. There were three more men inside – a sailor, a fireman and a First Class gentleman clad in his evening dress clothes. He was horrified to see that they were all frozen to death.

        Speechless, he watched as his savior removed the dead gentleman’s coat and wrapped his shivering form in its cozy warmth. Daring to look at the man who had saved his life, he found himself staring at a pair of expressive dark eyes peering at him from a very handsome face. Though his rescuer was smiling at him assuringly, also mirrored in those orbs were anguish...and regret?

        "Thank you!" was all he could say. As an afterthought, he asked him, "Who are you?"

        The man picked up the oar and started to row. Still, his face held that kind, yet disappointed, smile as he replied, "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. What is your name, child?"

        He found that last amusing. At the ripe old age of seventeen, he hadn’t heard himself called "child" for so many years now. And he certainly was not about to be called that again.

        "My name’s Jack," he answered, before the sleep of exhaustion claimed him. "Jack Dawson."

        Duncan MacLeod stormed across the deck of the Californian, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to rise in his throat. None of the seamen he passed by could look him straight in the eye. All turned away from him in guilt.

        <He knew! Lord knew!> Duncan thought furiously, unable to voice out his anger and frustration. <That damned bastard knew we were in trouble and he chose to lie in his bed and wait for us to die! All those lives...needlessly lost!>

        The Scot had just made an arrangement with the ship’s captain, Stanley Lord. He would grant them safe and, most importantly, secret passage to New York City. In exchange, Lord asked for his silence regarding the sinking. Duncan only wanted to avoid the questions and the complications that would occur if he and Jack were identified as Titanic survivors, especially when they were known to have been among those who perished. After all, Immortals thrived on anonymity. Still, the deal he had struck with Lord sickened him to the core of his being.

        When he roused from the sleep of death, Duncan found himself surrounded by hundreds of floating bodies. Not a single lifeboat was in sight. Probably thinking there was no one else alive in this morass of frozen flesh, the other survivors had abandoned him. Luckily, he had found the collapsible boat. After he had rescued Jack Dawson, not knowing which way the others had gone, the Scot decided to head in the direction of the strange lights he had seen as he stood on the Titanic’s port bow before she hit the iceberg. Maneuvering through the treacherous ice field, the sight of the Californian confirmed his belief that there was another ship in the area. Worse, it didn’t come to their aid. Even when he called out to the crew on board, to his dismay, the seamen who stood on deck didn’t bother to hide their desire to ignore their presence in the ocean below. It took several hard, loud whacks on the hull with his oar before they were reluctantly let on board. The Highlander was thankful that Jack had slept through the whole thing. The poor lad was truly worn out.

        The Scot paused for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves. Shutting his eyes, Duncan’s mind was filled with the images of someone he had known on the Titanic. Someone who had cared for him and protected him at the risk of death. Someone he had loved. The last time they were together, they were clinging to a broken door paneling. Duncan must have frozen to death, same as with all the poor souls who fought for their lives, screaming and wailing, in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic. But when he awoke, he was all alone.

        His hand closed tightly around the jewel-encrusted Celtic cross hanging on a thin gold chain around his neck, letting the sharp edges cut into his palm. He hated the thing, knowing what it stood for. But he couldn’t take it off and throw it into the sea. Duncan knew he would be haunted by the events that took place on the dream ship that had become the "Ship of Nightmares." He will forever be a prisoner of his memories and of the Immortal who had placed the cross around his neck.

        Duncan buried his face in his hands, surprised to find that his cheeks were wet. Wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, he suddenly remembered the promise he made before the ocean claimed his beloved – to live, until fate brings them back together again. He wasn’t sure if he could fulfill his vow, when all he wanted was to die from a broken heart. But he knew he had no other choice. He was now responsible for another life, other than his own.

        Regaining his composure, Duncan made his way towards the bow where he had left his companion. He stopped just short of the distance where Jack could feel his presence and simply stood there, watching him. Jack was leaning over the railing, gazing out into the horizon. The sea breeze blew through his tousled golden locks. To Duncan’s surprise, he saw a small, dreamy smile curl up on the corners of the young man’s mouth.

        <How could he afford to smile like that, after everything that has happened tonight?> the Scot mused, attributing it to the resiliency of youth. But he knew, when he fished Jack Dawson out of the sea, thinking he was someone else, that there was something extraordinary about this new Immortal. He just couldn’t figure out yet what it was exactly.

        Earlier, Duncan revealed to Jack the true nature of their being, that they were both Immortals.

        "We cannot die, unless an enemy takes our head and our power, called the Quickening, at the stroke of a sword," he explained about their life and the Rules of the Game he was now a part of. "It is now the time of the Gathering. We fight one-on-one to the death, but never on Holy Ground. The Immortal who survives the final combat wins the Prize."

        Jack did listen all right. But to his chagrin, the youngling’s reply was an amused, "You’re kidding, right?"

        When Duncan slashed his own wrist with the sharp edge of the cross and let the new Immortal see it heal with his own eyes, Jack was more awed than frightened. He even accepted Duncan’s offer to become his teacher. What he could not explain, however, was the strange glimmer in Jack’s greenish blue eyes. That gleam remained in them when he left him to talk to Capt. Lord; it was still there when he returned.

        As the Highlander took a couple of steps forward, Jack sensed his presence, turning to look at him.

        "A penny for your thoughts," Duncan said, going to his side. "You seem so happy, considering the nightmare we both went through."

        Thinking that the young man was already contemplating how he was going to spend eternity, Jack’s answer was not what he expected to hear.

        "Duncan," Jack began, giving the Scot a most charming smile, "I AM happy! I never thought I’d survive. Do you know what this means? I’ll be able to see her again!"

        "Who?" queried Duncan, a curious frown creasing his brow.

        Jack then began to ramble on about someone he met on board the Titanic, a lovely young woman named Rose De Witt Bukater. The Scot was surprised because he knew her, having had several conversations with the lady in question. Rose was a free spirit, a very intelligent girl possessing a stubborn countenance that matched her blazing red hair. They had even shared the same dilemma – they were both trapped in an arrangement they detested and were very determined to get out of. The last time he talked to her on the Promenade Deck, Rose was very much enamored with another man in steerage, who had saved her life. Duncan had actually urged her to leave her disagreeable fiance, Cal Hockley, and follow the calling of her heart. He never knew she was talking about Jack.

        While Jack continued with his lengthy discourse on the woman he loves, the Highlander finally realized what he had seen in the new Immortal’s eyes. It was the burning light of pure love fuelled by such fierce hope to see his lover again. Though he had encouraged it in the beginning, things have changed, now that Jack has become Immortal. It was a shame that Duncan could not allow this little romance to be rekindled.


New York City, April 19, 1912

        The minute the Californian docked in New York, the two men hurriedly disembarked and climbed into the motorcar Duncan had arranged by Marconigram to meet them at the pier. They were then immediately driven over to an old building on Hudson Street. Just as they wheeled up to the curb, the buzz of Immortal presence washed over them. The front door opened and a man with sandy blond hair, clad in an Ivy League sweater, stepped out with luggage in tow. He was obviously the Immortal they felt because he surveyed the parked car before him warily.

        Peering over the Scot’s shoulder as Duncan got down from the motorcar, Jack saw the man’s eyes widen in surprise, a broad, relieved smile forming on his handsome face.

        "Duncan!" he greeted, taking a step forward. But the cold glare in the Highlander’s eyes made him stop dead in his tracks.

        Pulling Jack forward, Duncan formally introduced them. "Jack, this is Connor MacLeod. Connor, I’d like you to meet my new student, Jack Dawson. He was a passenger on board the Titanic...like us."

        Connor fidgeted uncomfortably, noting the apparent hostility in the Scot’s tone of voice. Turning to Jack, he smiled. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jack. You couldn’t have chosen a better teacher. Aside from being my younger kinsman, Duncan is the best student I ever had."

        "Yes," Duncan hissed sarcastically, "I did learn a lot from you, didn’t I, Connor."

        The elder MacLeod visibly turned pale at this remark. His surprise, however, was only momentary. Connor’s eyes narrowed as they focused upon the Celtic cross hanging visibly over his kinsman’s breast.

        Grabbing Duncan’s arm, Connor muttered a swift "Excuse us for a minute, Jack!" and pulled him a short distance away.

        Jack couldn’t help but look curiously at the two elder Immortals. Obviously very disturbed, Connor was speaking fast, gesturing emphatically to the cross around Duncan’s neck. Duncan, on the other hand, just stood stiffly, uttering clipped remarks. Although they tried to keep their conversation low, Jack still heard snatches of their exchange.

        "You shouldn’t be wearing that!" he heard Connor declare, pointing to the cross.

        "The deal has been made, Connor," Duncan answered firmly, clutching the cross tightly in his right hand. "You saw to that. I will honor it. A MacLeod always keeps his word."

        It became obvious to Jack that Connor had done something terrible to earn the ire of his younger kinsman and wanted to rectify his mistake. But Duncan could not forgive him, wounding him in the best possible way – by choosing to go along with the arrangement the elder MacLeod had made for the sake of honor. True enough, Connor soon dropped his arms to his sides in surrender.

        "Very well. If that is your decision," he said in defeat. "The place is yours, Duncan. I’m going back to Princeton."

        "Good!" was the Scot’s curt reply. "Maybe you could learn something new there."

        Before Connor could say another word, Duncan turned his back to him. Seeing that he wouldn’t get a civil word in to his kinsman, he went towards Jack, giving the new Immortal a reassuring smile. "I’m so sorry I have to leave you two like this. But please do make yourselves at home."

        "Sir..." Jack began hesitantly.

        "Call me ‘Connor’."

        Jack nodded his head. "All right...Connor. You must have been with the other survivors. Do you know what happened to them, especially the ones in First Class?"

        "I know most of them returned to their homes the minute we arrived, to avoid the press, you see. Are you looking for someone in particular?"

        "Yes!" said Jack eagerly. "I’m looking for a girl named Rose De Witt Bukater. You’d never forget her. She’s very pretty and she has beautiful red hair."

        Connor laughed. "Aye, it’s hard to forget a pretty face! Unfortunately, I haven’t seen her. But I was in the same lifeboat as her mother. I saw her later at the pier with a man, I think it was your Rose’s fiance, someone named Hockley. They were looking for her among the survivors. I don’t think they found her so..."

        Jack was crestfallen at this news. <Oh, Rose!> he thought forlorn. <You promised! You promised me you would survive!>

        Lost in his sorrowful thoughts, he barely heard Connor utter, "...Rose Dawson."

        Hearing that name, he looked up, stunned. "What did you say?"

        "I said, when I checked the list of survivors, there was no ‘Rose De Witt Bukater’," Connor repeated patiently. "However, there was a ‘Rose Dawson’."

        <Could it be her?> Jack wondered, feeling precious hope rise in his heart. <Surely it must be! She used my name!>

        Seeing the longing in the young man’s eyes, Connor suggested, "I could check on it for you again, if you like."

        At these words, Duncan whirled around and declared sharply, "Don’t put such nonsense in the boy’s head, Connor!"

        The elder MacLeod stared at his kinsman aghast. "But Duncan..."

        "Rose knows Jack is dead," the Scot said bluntly. "You know damned well that we cannot just reveal ourselves to mortals, like Lazarus risen from the grave. It would raise questions that could reveal our existence. You taught me that, Connor."

        Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "But I’m not dead!"

        "True, but you should be," answered Duncan. "You’re not dead because you’re Immortal." Noting the despair in Jack’s face, the Highlander’s dark brown eyes softened, almost pleading with him. "Jack, I’ll explain everything. But trust me when I tell you that this is for your own good and Rose’s as well."

        "How could this be for ‘my own good’?" the young Immortal argued. "I love her!"

        Duncan breathed in deeply. Instead of replying, he simply ignored him and made his way towards the door.

        Before Jack could say more, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

        "I’m sorry about all this, child," said Connor in sympathy. "I know he was rather harsh but Duncan’s right. Once you have your little talk, you’ll be able to understand."

        "He seems so distant, so cold," observed Jack, not attempting to hide his bitterness. "Duncan wasn’t like this when we were on board the Californian."

        "I’m afraid this is all my fault," the elder MacLeod revealed. "I have done him a terrible wrong. Hopefully, things will change for both of you when I’m gone." He looked at Jack thoughtfully. "Jack, I know that you’re new to this Immortality business and all but could you please take care of Duncan for me? He may refuse your aid, especially since you’re so young and he feels that he should be the one protecting you. But be patient with him. It’s just that stubborn Scottish streak." Lowering his gaze, he admitted, "I won’t lie to you that Duncan’s in grave danger because of what I did."

        "What kind of danger?" asked Jack worriedly, his caring nature winning over the resentment he felt towards the younger MacLeod. "Is it another Immortal?"

        "Yes," was Connor’s reply. "The most dangerous Immortal walking the face of the earth."

        Straightening up, the young man said solemnly, "I’ll take care of Duncan, Connor. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll guard him with my life."

        Connor couldn’t help but smile. "No, Jack. I wouldn’t ask that of you. You won’t stand a chance against this Immortal I’m telling you about." He then pulled a pen and a small piece of paper out of his pocket and quickly jotted something down. "This is the number of my dorm in Princeton. If there’s trouble, call me and I’ll come right away.

        Jack took the note, sadness written all over his face. "I wish you could stay, Connor."

        "So do I. But things won’t be so bad, Jack," Connor assured him. "You’ll see."

        Six months later, Jack Dawson found himself remembering the conversation he had with Connor MacLeod. The Immortal was right about a lot of things.

        Jack couldn’t have asked for a better teacher than Duncan. The younger MacLeod was skilled in every fight form, including Oriental martial arts, boxing and a few fight styles he hasn’t even heard of, as well as with the sword. He grilled Jack patiently but relentlessly, making certain that he learned from his mistakes and adapted to every punch, every sword thrust thrown at him.

        To his credit, Jack proved to be a fast learner. It pleased Duncan so much to have such a talented student that, only three months into his training, he had gifted Jack with his own rapier. Next to his teacher’s utilitarian Japanese katana, Jack thought his blade, with its sharp edge and its intricate hilt, was the most beautiful present he had ever received in his entire life.

        However, Connor was wrong about a few things as well. That promised talk never did take place. The times they had quiet conversations, the Highlander would ask his student about his old life in Wisconsin and Paris. If he was insistent enough, Jack managed to convince the Scot to share a few of his own experiences, including the painful circumstances of how he became Immortal – how he was banished by his father from his clan for supposedly being a "forest demon." Jack mused his teacher could have told him a lot more about his life. After all, Duncan was 320 years old! But to his dismay, Duncan deliberately avoided two subjects – the Titanic and Rose De Witt Bukater. In fact, he proved to be quite as tight-lipped as a clam when these topics were brought up.

        One time, the young Immortal had been rummaging through Connor’s old newspapers and came across the list of survivors. When he told Duncan about seeing the name ‘Rose Dawson’, the Highlander stared at him coldly and said it was time for sword practice.

        Jack often contemplated going out to make a few inquiries in the city himself. But when he asked permission from his teacher, Duncan would always tag along, on the pretense that he wasn’t too experienced as an Immortal just yet to be wandering in New York City alone. He tried sneaking out of the Hudson Street loft once. However, he found himself bumping into a well-dressed Scot in the alley out back.

        Sometimes, Jack despaired he would ever see Rose again since he was virtually a prisoner of the Highlander. Little did he know that the mischievous Fates were conspiring to use an unwitting Duncan MacLeod as the means to see his beloved again.

        "Fancy seeing you out here, Jack," Duncan greeted the escapee who was trying to make himself disappear between the two stacks of beer barrels standing outside the small tavern.

        The Scot had earlier seen Jack sneak out of the loft for the umpteenth time. He had to admit, every time the youngling decided to head off into the heart of New York City, it was becoming increasingly difficult to find him. Worse, Duncan was well aware that someone was also looking for him and this could spell trouble for both of them. At this latest attempt, the Highlander was now determined to put a stop to this.

        "Come out of there, young man!" he ordered sternly.

        Jack grudgingly emerged, shuffling his feet. He glared sharply at his mentor, a pout on his lips.

        "I think that talk we’re supposed to have is long overdue," Duncan commented.

        "What is there to talk about?" asked Jack in sarcasm. "You know you can’t keep me locked up forever. I will find her."

        Duncan shook his head, trying hard to be patient. "There is still so much you don’t know and understand."

        "Understand what? That you’re keeping me away from the woman I love?"

        The Highlander gave him a weary smile. Putting a comforting arm around his shoulder, he said, "Let’s have a drink here first and then we could go back to the loft and we’ll talk. I’ve heard they have a wonderful singer here."

        Shrugging Duncan’s arm off, Jack stormed into the tavern. The Scot swiftly went after him. Before he could wonder where his student had gone, Duncan bumped into Jack, who stood in stunned silence before the door. Looking in the direction the young Immortal was staring at, his mouth dropped open in surprise.

        Standing on the stage, singing and dancing to a sprite ragtime tune, was Rose De Witt Bukater!

        Rose changed very little since they last saw her. She still favored those dark crimson gowns that complimented her blazing red hair. Her beauty was breathtaking, captivating the audience with a charming smile.

        Both Immortals were speechless. There was a proud grin on Jack’s face. Duncan, on the other hand, didn’t know how he would react. He wanted to feel happy for his student, but he knew he couldn’t let them be together again. In their surprise, they didn’t realize the song had ended. As Rose curtseyed on stage, they automatically joined the applause of the crowd.

        "How abou’ singin’ tha’ song from the Titanic, Rosie?" a drunk called out from the front table. "You know – ‘Nearer My God To Thee’."

        "I’ll sing you a better one," was Rose’s reply, smiling sweetly at him.

        The lights in the tavern grew dim and a spotlight focused on her still form. The pianist apparently knew the song Rose was referring to since he played the opening notes. After a brief pause, Rose began to sing "Autumn."

        Duncan felt a chill run up his spine. Contrary to popular belief, the song the musicians played during the death throes of the Titanic was not "Nearer My God To Thee" but the tune Rose was singing now. As he listened to her, the memories he tried so hard to forget came flooding back. Duncan felt like his heart would break, remembering the loved one he lost in the sinking. Glancing at his companion, it was apparent that the song had the same effect on Jack as well. His student looked like he was on the verge of bursting into tears. The audience was just as mesmerized, except for the drunk in the first row. The man began jeering Rose, raising catcalls at her.

        "Are you stupid, girl?" he shouted. "Tha’s not the Titanic song!"

        Rose stopped abruptly. She turned angry, tear-filled eyes towards the drunk. Slowly, the young woman strode up to him.

        "How would you know what song was played while everyone on board the Titanic was fighting for their lives?" she hissed furiously. "You weren’t there!"

        At these words, Rose pursed her lips together and spat right into the man’s face!

        Seeing this, Jack lightly punched Duncan’s arm and crowed proudly, "I taught her that! Atta girl, Rose!"

        Suddenly, all hell broke loose. The drunk attempted to grab the lovely singer but a couple of men jumped him and began pummeling him with their fists. Soon, an all-out bar brawl ensued as blows and bottles were thrown back and forth.

        Duncan looked worriedly at the woman on stage. To his relief, Rose was being escorted out back by a stagehand.

        "Rose!" he suddenly heard Jack shout beside him.

        It seemed like everything moved in slow motion before the Scot’s eyes. Before Jack could call out once more, he clapped a heavy hand over his mouth and proceeded to hustle him out of the tavern. But that cry was enough. He saw Rose’s head turn at the sound of her name, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief.

        Just as Duncan hurled a struggling and furious Jack Dawson out the door, he could have sworn Rose mouthed the name, "Jack?"

        Though the ride back to the loft was uneventful, nonetheless, it was filled with tension. To control his agitated student, Duncan had earlier clipped him hard in the jaw. Jack resented this immensely. He scowled at his teacher beside him as he rubbed his aching jaw.

        The minute they arrived, Jack leaped out of the motorcar, slamming the door behind him before Duncan could get out. The Scot quickly went after him.

        Inside the building, the Highlander called out hesitantly to the Immortal walking ahead of him. "Jack, wait! Please!"

        Hearing his name, Jack spun on his heels and rounded on the Scot. Waving a finger, he muttered, "Don’t you dare get in my way again, MacLeod, or else!"

        "Or else what?" asked Duncan. "Jack, I’m sorry but you must let me explain!"

        "Why should I listen to you?"

        "What other choice do you have?"

        Jack thought for a long moment, knowing that he really had no choice. Besides, he owed the man. If it weren’t for Duncan, he’d probably still be fighting for his life in the North Atlantic. During these past months, the issue of Rose aside, the Highlander had been like a father to him.

        With a sigh, Jack plopped down in the nearest armchair. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, "Well, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

        Duncan settled down in the chair opposite Jack’s. Leaning forward, the Scot told him about a woman he had known back in 1882, Sarah Carter. A woman he had loved so deeply, he was ready to reveal to her the truth about him. But Sarah had a secret as well. She was actually married and, when he found out, in a jealous rage, Duncan beat up her husband, Henry. Though Sarah returned to her husband, Duncan was still convinced that she loved him and would elope with him if he asked her to. However, when he went to her home, Henry shot the Highlander to death. And when he revived...

        "Sarah was terrified of me, Jack," Duncan revealed to his student, the pain of the memory gnawing at his heart. "In her eyes, I saw the horror and the revulsion she suddenly felt for me, like I was a monster. Sarah drove me away, the same way my father banished me from my clan."

        Breathing in deeply, he continued, "I tried to convince myself that this is for the best. What could I offer her, or any mortal woman for that matter? It’s our curse as Immortals that we cannot have children. And how would she feel if she sees her lover still young while she begins to feel the ravages of aging?" Duncan looked firmly at Jack. "These are the reasons why I want you to leave Rose alone. You can’t give her children and she will die while you live forever. You’ll only be causing her and yourself heartbreak and pain. You have to let her go, Jack. Let her live her own life. You cannot be a part of her world."

        For a moment, there was silence between the two men. Although Duncan wished the outcome of their conversation had been different, the strong resolve in Jack’s green eyes already convinced him that he had failed.

        "I’ve told you this before and I’ll tell you again," said Jack, standing up straight and tall. "I love Rose and she loves me. She is not like your Sarah. Sarah played you for a fool, Duncan. She only used you to get back at her husband who was neglecting her. She never loved you. I’m surprised that, after living 320 years, you still haven’t learned anything. Worse, you’ve completely forgotten how it feels to be human, to know that love could transcend barriers."

        "Jack," Duncan exclaimed in despair, "you haven’t listened to a word I said."

        "Oh, but I did listen. Forgive me, Duncan, but nothing you say or do could convince me to stay away from Rose."

        Saying this, Jack left the Scot alone and headed straight for his room. Wearily, Duncan leaned back into his seat, his mind troubled. He sat there, brooding, all through the night.

        When sunlight peeked through the windows of Connor’s loft, it was only then that the Highlander stood up. Going towards the telephone, he dialed a number and waited for a few seconds.

        Hearing someone answer on the other end, Duncan spoke, "This is MacLeod. I want you to do something for me."

        The next few weeks were hectic ones for the Highlander. Duncan had his agent trace the whereabouts of Rose De Witt Bukater. The man easily found her. Rather than return home to her mother and an unwanted marriage, Rose decided to live in a dingy apartment with an Italian family, who also survived the Titanic sinking.

        With Duncan acting as her mysterious benefactor, he had Rose and the Italians moved to a better loft in the outskirts of the city. He also asked her to leave the tavern and enrolled her in Juilliard so she could develop her singing and other artistic talents she possessed. The young lady was so thrilled that she sent him a note, thanking him for his generosity.

        The same could not be said for Jack Dawson, however. Duncan’s student was furious when he found out that Rose no longer worked in the tavern. Jack knew full well that the Scot was behind his lover’s mysterious disappearance and he demanded that Duncan tell him where she was. But the Highlander would not divulge this information.

        As a result, their relationship became strained. They argued more frequently. Even fencing practice became hazardous to Duncan’s health. One time, Jack reacted violently to an unorthodox parry, cutting his teacher’s right arm. To the Scot’s dismay, unlike before, the young man didn’t apologize to him.

        Connor was just as upset with him. His kinsman began calling more and more from Princeton, trying so hard to convince Duncan to reveal Rose’s whereabouts to Jack.

        "Let her be the one to decide!" Connor had shouted at him. "Don’t play God with their feelings!"

        Duncan, however, remained adamant with his decision. He was patient. He knew that, sooner or later, these hostilities would cease.

        True enough, as two months passed, Jack eventually grew weary of the tension between them. Though he still harbored a grudge towards the Highlander, the young Immortal began talking civilly to his teacher once more. Duncan could live with it.

        Soon, it was Christmas eve. Since his original companion, Connor, called up earlier to say that he’ll be spending winter in Edinburgh, at Jack’s insistence, Duncan agreed to join him in George M. Cohan’s Christmas vaudeville at the Bijou Theatre, the proceeds of which will go to the Titanic survivors living in the city.

        "I know how you feel about this, Duncan," Jack told the reluctant Scot. "But couldn’t you do this for me...in the spirit of Christmas? Rose might be there. If she is, I promise I won’t talk to her. I just want to see her again."

        The Highlander saw no harm in it, believing that Rose would be in Juilliard performing in the school’s Christmas pageant.

        So it really shocked Duncan when, during the concert itself, who should walk out on stage and give a wonderful rendition of "Silent Night"? None other than Rose herself! The young woman was looking resplendent in a white gown and a red and white hooded cloak. A fox fur muff covered her hands.

        "I told you she’d be here," Jack whispered smugly to his teacher.

        Duncan had no choice but to sit back and watch the performance. He couldn’t very well yank Jack out of his seat and drag him out of the theater.

        When Rose finished her song, everyone in the audience clapped and cheered. She then motioned to them for silence.

        "This next song is for two very special people," Rose announced. "The first is someone who has helped me tremendously in getting a brand new start in life. I don’t know his name but, without him, I wouldn’t be performing before you today."

        The audience applauded once more. Jack stole a quick glance at the Scot beside him, knowing that it was he Rose was referring to. In a way, the young Immortal felt relieved and a bit guilty. He should never have doubted his teacher. He should have known Duncan would never let any harm befall her.

        As the clapping died down, she continued. "The second is a man who saved my life, not once but twice, on the Titanic." Rose paused for a moment. Her voice quivered as she spoke. "His name is Jack Dawson...and I miss him so much. Wherever you are, I love you, Jack."

        Then, Rose nodded to the conductor. The man raised his baton in a sweeping arc and the orchestra began to play. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she launched into "Come Josephine, In My Flying Machine."

        Rose didn’t know that the two men she dedicated the song to were sitting in the back row. Both Duncan and Jack were silent, mesmerized by her haunting voice and by the tune their loved ones had sung to them on board the Titanic. Without his realizing it, a single tear trickled down Duncan’s cheek. The expression on Jack’s face was unreadable.

        When Rose’s performance was over, the audience gave her a standing ovation.

        Seeing her heading backstage, Jack got to his feet. Gazing down at his mentor, he said "I’m sorry, Duncan!" and swiftly left the stunned Highlander behind.

        "Jack, wait!" cried Duncan, running after him.

        Backstage, Rose’s dressing room was surrounded by several male admirers, all eager to greet her and commend her on her performance. Jack smiled broadly when he saw Rose herself standing outside the door, shyly accepting flowers and cards, clearly flustered by the attention.

        "Rose!" Jack called out her name but she didn’t hear him. In his excitement, he began making his way towards the woman he loved.

        Duncan arrived just in time to see Jack nearly halfway through the crowd. Gritting his teeth, the Highlander pushed through the throng, trying desperately to reach him.

        Just as he grabbed the collar of Jack’s coat, they were jolted by the familiar vibration signaling the presence of another Immortal. The two men were startled. Forgetting Rose, they whirled around, searching for the Immortal they felt.

        It was Jack who saw him first. He stood at the other end of the hallway. The Immortal was a towering hulk of a man. There was such fierceness in his features, in the way his blood-shot eyes surveyed his surroundings like a predator. Seeing them at last, a leer formed on his hideous face. But he wasn’t looking at Jack. All his attention was focused on the Highlander.

        "No!" Jack heard Duncan whisper beside him. Turning, he saw that his teacher had become deathly pale. Clearly reflected in his dark brown eyes was sheer terror.

        As he looked at the Immortal once more, the man greeted out loud, "MacLeod!"

        "Jack, let’s go!" Duncan muttered as he pulled his student’s arm urgently.

        "But what about Rose?"

        "Forget her! We’ll be putting her in greater danger if we stay here!" The Scot was already close to panicking. "Jack, please! We must go now!"

        Before Jack could argue, Duncan all but dragged him out of the crowd.

        "Duncan, let me go!" the young Immortal exclaimed furiously, struggling to free himself. His hand reached out to the woman he loved. "Rose! Rose!"

        Rose heard her name called. However, she only caught a glimpse of two men disappearing in the corner. She could have sworn it was Jack’s voice she heard.

        Duncan knew he had gone too far this time, seeing his angry student bang the front door open. Following Jack, he didn’t know what to say to appease him. Things happened so fast in the music hall, all he could do was to take his student and flee.

        In his turmoil, the Scot didn’t notice Jack hurl his coat in the corner, spin on his heels and raise his sword. Duncan snapped out of his reverie when he felt the prick of the blade’s point on his throat.

        "I told you what would happen if you got in my way again," Jack muttered, circling his teacher menacingly.

        "You’re going to kill me now, is that it?" the Highlander asked the enraged young man before him. Pulling out his own blade, he let it drop to the floor. "If that’s what you want, then do it, Jack. I won’t fight you."

        "Pick up the sword, MacLeod," Jack ordered him under gritted teeth.

        "I won’t fight you!" Duncan repeated once more. Baring his throat, he urged his student, "Go on! Take my head! You’ll even be doing me a favor if you kill me now!"

        Tears began streaming down Jack’s face. "How could you do this to me, Duncan?"

        "I had no choice! You saw him, that Immortal! I couldn’t risk both your lives!"

        But Jack wouldn’t listen to him. "I think you’re jealous," he accused the older Immortal. "You don’t want to see me and Rose happy because Sarah Carter dumped you! You want me to be as miserable as you are!"

        Duncan raised his hands pleadingly. "It doesn’t have anything to do with Sarah Carter!"

        "You’re right!" the youngling laughed mockingly. "Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it’s just me! I know you were disappointed when it was me you rescued. I saw it in your eyes! Do you regret saving my life? Is that it?"

        "Jack, how could you say that? I love you like a son!"

        "Liar!" Jack shouted in a fury. "Damn you, MacLeod! You should have killed me back then, before we even got on board the Californian! If you had taken my head, I wouldn’t be suffering right now!"

        The Scot stared at him, aghast. "You’re suffering?" he asked bitterly, feeling the anguish rise in his heart. "You selfish child! Do you think you’re the only one who’s in pain? You should be happy Rose is still alive! The two things I hold dear to my heart were lost when the Titanic sank!" Clenching the Celtic cross tightly in his hand, he waved his clenched fist before Jack’s eyes. "This cross is a witness to everything that’s happened to me! Don’t presume to tell me how much in pain you are! You have no idea what true suffering is like!"

        Weeping in agony, Jack raised his sword, about to strike down his teacher.

        "Go on, Jack! Kill me!" the Highlander prodded him. "End my suffering, and yours, right now!"

        Before the young man could make his move, the buzz of Immortal presence struck them.

        "There will be no deaths tonight," a rough voice spoke in the darkness. Then, the Immortal stepped into the light. Jack recognized him immediately as the man from the theater.

        Grinning, the Immortal repeated, "Yes, no deaths tonight, especially the Highlander’s!"

        Jack looked at the man warily, not lowering his sword. "Who are you?"

        The man burst into laughter. "I see you’re new and Duncan or his pathetic kinsman, Connor MacLeod, didn’t even bother to tell you about me." With a sweeping bow, he introduced himself, "I am the Kurgan. Your teacher and I are...old friends, so to speak. We got to know each other quite well on board the Titanic. And who might you be?"

        "He’s not your concern," Duncan said coldly, at last finding his voice.

        "He will be my concern," the Kurgan insinuated, "if he doesn’t lower his sword."

        "We’ve made a deal!" the Scot reminded him strongly. "You cannot hurt any Immortal. You are honor bound to fulfill your oath to me..." Duncan paused, biting his lower lip. Almost a whisper, he added, "...as I have done to you."

        Jack was so confused by this exchange, glancing at one man and then at the other. Not knowing what to do, he lowered his sword.

        The Kurgan slowly went towards the Highlander, walking behind him. Jack’s eyes narrowed, seeing the Immortal tinker with the Celtic cross around his teacher’s neck.

        "I see you have," he murmured, very pleased. "It’s so nice to see you’re still wearing my gift. Maybe now we could continue where we left off, before we were so rudely interrupted."

        "Duncan..."Jack said hesitantly, noting how tightly, almost possessively, the Kurgan gripped his teacher’s arms.

        "Rose is at Juilliard, Jack," Duncan stated bluntly, avoiding the questioning stare in his student’s eyes. "Now that you know where she is, I want you to leave and never come back."

        "But...but..."

        "Are you stupid, boy?" the Highlander asked him scornfully. "I told you what you wanted to know. Go away, Jack! You’re not welcome here anymore!"

        "But Duncan, I..."

        Duncan turned his back on his beloved student so Jack wouldn’t see the tear that fell from his right eye.

        "We’re through, Jack!" His voice quivered with the strain of holding back his sobs.

        Jack’s shoulders sagged down. He was stunned by the sudden turn of events. He couldn’t believe his teacher was driving him away. Trembling all over, he picked up his coat and tucked his sword within its folds.

        "I’m sorry, Duncan," was the only thing he could think of saying. Gazing at the Scot, he said hopefully, "Maybe we’ll see each other again someday."

        "I don’t think so," Duncan replied softly. "You were right about one thing, though."

        Jack looked at his teacher curiously. "What’s that?"

        The Scot knew Jack was just waiting for him to tell him not to go. But Duncan was afraid of the consequences if he did stay. The words would hurt his student, but he had to say them, to get the young man out of his life.

        "That night I rescued you, I thought you were someone else," Duncan admitted. "Another Immortal who I cared about, who I loved with all my heart." Taking a deep breath, he delivered the coup de grace. "I wish it hadn’t been you whose life I saved."

        The cruel words had the desired effect on his student. He heard Jack’s sobs as he all but ran out of the loft.

        Feeling the Kurgan’s eager hands on his shoulders, Duncan at last gave in to his tears. <I love you, Jack Dawson! Be safe. Maybe someday you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.>

        Jack had envisioned the moment when he would be reunited with Rose. But now, as he stood outside Juilliard on Christmas morn, his thoughts kept going back to the loft on Hudson Street and the man he had left behind.

        <I wish it hadn’t been you whose life I saved! > he remembered Duncan’s last words to him. It had hurt to hear the Highlander say it out loud; it hurt like hell.

        However, after a restless night in a hotel bed, plus the long wait outside the school, Jack came to the sudden realization that Duncan never did say those hateful words right in his face. All throughout the final conversation they had, not once did the Scot turn to face his student. And what was it he heard when he ran from the loft? Jack was certain that he had heard Duncan weeping.

        Then, the young Immortal remembered the look in his teacher’s eyes when he beheld the Kurgan. It was fear. He recalled how Duncan had stiffened when the man touched him.

        <How could I be so selfish and stupid?> Jack berated himself, the promise he made to Connor coming back to him. <Duncan was protecting me! I should never have abandoned him! I must go back!>

        As Jack ran back to Hudson Street, he missed seeing the woman he loved leave the dorm, heading back home to her apartment.

        Arriving at Hudson Street, Jack hesitated for a moment, wondering if the Kurgan was still there. Realizing that he couldn’t care less, he entered the building and made his way up to the loft. He was halfway up the stairs when he felt the presence of an Immortal. Then, his heart jumped when he heard a loud crash. Taking the steps by twos, Jack reached the loft. He stopped at once.

        Standing before him was the Highlander. Duncan was wearing a long bathrobe, his hair wet. It was apparent to Jack that the Scot had just finished his bath. But what shocked him the most was the sight of the bruise on his teacher’s right cheek and the cut in the corner of his mouth. There was a dark discoloration around his neck, just above the cross pendant. Noting Jack’s perusal, Duncan pulled the lapel of the robe close over his throat. At his bare feet lay the shattered remains of his coffee cup. The Highlander must have dropped it when he felt his presence.

        Shaking visibly, the Scot dropped down to his knees and began picking up the broken pieces one by one.

        "What are you doing here, Jack?" Duncan asked, his voice hoarse.

        "It’s Christmas," Jack replied. "I thought I’d spend it with you and maybe we could patch things up between us."

        "I told you I don’t want you here. Go back to Rose!" The Scot then shook his head, cursing under his breath. "I forgot to give you the address to her apartment, didn’t I? Hold on! I’ll write it down so I’ll be rid of you once and for all."

        Jack was about to utter a retort but stopped when he saw Duncan stand up, wobbling. He limped towards the escritoire to get a pen and a piece of paper. His foot got caught on the leg of a stool. Before he could fall, Jack rushed to his side and grabbed his arm. Duncan flinched instinctively at his touch.

        "God!" the young Immortal exclaimed, seeing the bruises up close. "What did he do to you?"

        "Nothing!" The Highlander yanked his arm out of Jack’s grasp. Leaning over the desk, he scribbled the address down on the pad. Tearing the sheet off, he handed it to Jack. "Here! Take it and go!"

        Jack looked at the paper his teacher held out to him but he refused to take it. Instead, he said smugly, "You know, I just remembered that it was Connor who invited me to stay here. ‘Make yourself at home’, he said. You can’t order me to leave, MacLeod."

        "Connor’s my kinsman. His home is my home too!" Even to his own ears, Duncan thought his argument to be quite childish.

        "But I’m still his guest, not yours," Jack insisted. "Only he could tell me to go." He gave a knowing glance at his mentor. "Besides, if he knew about this, I think Connor would agree with me that I should stay."

        Seeing it was useless to argue with him anymore, Duncan said angrily, "Fine! Stay, if that’s what you want! But I don’t want you interfering in my business with the Kurgan! If you do, with or without Connor’s permission, I’ll throw you out! Do I make myself clear?"

        Though it was against his better judgment, Jack’s answer was a simple but grudging "Yes."

        Six months passed. Jack found it even more difficult to just sit back and ignore what was happening. Almost every night, the Kurgan came calling and, every time, the Highlander would open the door and take him directly up to his room. Jack tried to block out the strange sounds he heard inside that room by throwing a pillow over his head, but still it reached his hearing. When he woke up the next day, the Kurgan would be gone and Duncan would be sporting a new set of bruises. The young Immortal found it disconcerting that his teacher’s injuries didn’t heal as fast as they used to. Whatever the Kurgan was doing to him, it was inflicted too often or too severely that his healing system could not cope. Nevertheless, Duncan bore it with stoic fortitude.

        At one instance, unable to bear hearing his teacher suffer, Jack tapped on Duncan’s door, asking if he was all right. The following morning, a furious Scot confronted him at the breakfast table.

        Sweeping Jack’s well made breakfast off the table, Duncan had threatened him, "Do that again and I swear I’ll take your head myself!" The young man wanted to burst into tears, seeing the fine meal he had made scattered all over the floor.

        When the tension became too unbearable, Jack would go out to Juilliard just to watch Rose. He often saw her in the garden with her friends, singing and laughing happily. Jack longed to talk to her and tell her about the problems he’s been having with his teacher but, to his chagrin, he just couldn’t find the courage to do it. Foremost in his mind was how he was going to explain to her how he survived the sinking when everyone knew only the Carpathia carried survivors. In the end, Jack would just sigh and head back to the loft to wallow in his loneliness and observe the never ending abuse his teacher was suffering.

        One night, the sounds became louder, more violent. There were sounds of breaking glass and the heavy thuds of falling furniture. At one point, Jack imagined one of the sounds was a body falling onto the floor.

        Jack thought his heart would break when he heard Duncan cry out, "No more! Please no more!" He wanted so much to barge inside that room and put a stop to the Kurgan’s cruelty. But he had to admit it to himself that he was also afraid of the evil Immortal.

        The Kurgan left later than usual the next day. Regardless of what his teacher might do to him, Jack got his courage up and slowly went inside the Highlander’s room.

        The whole place was in shambles. Furniture was strewn everywhere. The lamp on the night table lay in many pieces on the floor. And the bed...Jack couldn’t even look at the rumpled sheets, afraid of what he might see.

        Then, he heard heart-wrenching sobs. Turning, he saw his mentor sitting on the windowsill. His shirt was unbuttoned, his dark trousers loosened at the waist. Both legs were tucked close to his body, his arms wrapped around them. His face was pressed on his raised knees.

        "I know I promised," the Scot spoke to himself. In his anguish, he was completely oblivious to Jack’s presence inside the room. "But I can’t live like this, Matthew! I can’t take it anymore!"

        "Duncan?" Jack asked softly, sitting before the Highlander. At the sound of his voice, his teacher curled up into a tight ball, refusing to look at him.

        "Leave me alone!" Duncan rasped painfully.

        "Don’t ask me to do that," Jack pleaded with him. "Even if you yell at me, even if you threaten to cut off my head, I won’t leave you." Unable to control his emotions, he exclaimed, "Why is he hurting you? Why don’t you fight back? I can’t standing seeing you suffer like this!"

        Gently, he took his teacher’s trembling hands in his grasp. "Duncan, don’t shut me out! Please! I know we’ve had our differences in the past but you must believe me when I tell you I want to help!"

        "No one can help me," Duncan answered bitterly.

        "Why is this happening? I want to understand!"

        Between sobs, the Highlander told Jack the whole story – how, in order to save his head, and the added bonus of freeing all Immortals from the man’s oppression for a mortal’s lifetime, Connor agreed to the Kurgan’s proposition to give his blood kin to the evil Immortal.

        It was a tale that made Jack’s skin crawl. If Rose thought the Titanic was a prison, to Duncan, it was sheer hell. He always thought himself to be world-wise, to have seen everything, both good and bad. But it seems he truly didn’t know what some men were capable of. Even he couldn’t imagine how Connor managed to trap his own kinsman in this disgusting arrangement. Duncan, though he knew the elder MacLeod had deceived him, still chose to abide by the conditions of the deal Connor made for honor’s sake. The only person who cared for the Scot was another Immortal, an artist named Matthew Pierce. Matthew, however, was lost during the sinking and the Highlander had no idea whether he survived or not. Just the thought that Matthew could still be out there in the middle of the ocean caused goose bumps to rise on Jack’s skin.

        "I can’t take anymore of this!" Duncan wept brokenly. "I just want to die!"

        Jack put his arms around his teacher, holding him like spun glass. "Duncan, you made a promise to Matthew that you’ll survive, until you two are reunited. I asked Rose to swear to me that she too will live and, from what I’ve seen, she’s doing a brilliant job of it. If she can do it, I don’t see why you can’t, no matter what the Kurgan does to you."

        "But I’m so alone," the Highlander whispered softly.

        "No, you’re not. I’m here. I won’t go. I promised Connor I’ll take care of you and I will."

        Jack held on to his teacher, rocking him gently, whispering soothing words in his ear. Feeling the Scot sagging in his arms, he roused Duncan long enough to help him up and lead him towards the bed. Tearing the stained sheets off the bed, Jack laid him down on the clean mattress. At once, the Highlander drifted off to sleep, truly exhausted.

        The young Immortal sat on the bed, running his fingers over his mentor’s brow. Asleep, the ravages of the Kurgan’s abuse have disappeared from the Scot’s face. There was only peace and calm on his handsome features.

        As Jack watched over his slumbering teacher, Rose’s beautiful visage filled his mind.

        <Forgive me, Rose,> he thought with a tinge of sadness. <We’ll have to postpone our reunion for another day. Duncan needs me.>

        Surprisingly, in his imagination, a reassuring smile seemed to form on Rose’s full lips.

        The sun was just beginning to set when the Highlander woke up. Sitting at the dining table, Jack smiled at the sight of his teacher dressed neatly in a white silk shirt and black trousers. All signs of his ordeal have vanished from his face.

        "How are you feeling?" he asked, giving the Scot a shot of whiskey.

        "Better," Duncan replied simply. Downing his whiskey, he said, "There’s a Fourth of July concert tonight at Juilliard. Why don’t you attend? Rose is going to be there."

        Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why do I get the impression you’re trying to get rid of me?"

        Duncan shook his head, a weary smile on his handsome face. "Now why would I do something like that? Don’t you want to see Rose again?"

        "Of course I do but..."

        "If you’re worried about the Kurgan, he won’t be coming over tonight. He told me he was meeting someone at the docks this evening."

        "No, it’s not just that," Jack countered. "What I mean to say is...about Rose...are you serious about me seeing her again?"

        "Honestly?"

        "Uh huh."

        Duncan sighed. "You know what my feelings are about this. Seeing Rose and actually talking to her are two very different things. Of course, if I allow you to go out alone tonight, there’s nothing I could do to stop you from doing the latter now, can I?" The Highlander grinned. "You’re just as stubborn as a Scotsman!"

        Jack couldn’t help but laugh at that remark. "Then, why don’t you go out with me?" he suggested. "That way, you’ll be sure I won’t talk to Rose." A grimace formed on Jack’s face. "I also think you need a breath of fresh air. You’ve been cooped up too long inside this place. You haven’t been out since Christmas Eve."

        "No," said Duncan, shaking his head. "I have to learn to trust you. Besides, I won’t make good company for you. I have to admit I’m really tired, Jack. I just want a little peace and quiet for a change."

        Jack became even more worried and suspicious. "You’re not going to do anything stupid now, are you?"

        At these words, Duncan declared, "God! You’re starting to sound like Matthew!" Waving his hand in dismissal, the Highlander urged him, "Go on, Jack! I swear I’ll be fine!"

        There was a knowing smirk on Jack’s face as he gazed out of the window of the motorcar.

        <I should have known he was letting me go too easily>, he mused wryly.

        It turned out that not only did Rose not perform in the Juilliard show, she was in her apartment, recovering from a nasty cough.

        Jack was already contemplating some pretty nasty pranks he was going to do to his teacher when, as the motorcar neared the Hudson Street property, the buzz hit him like a ton of bricks.

        <Oh my God! Duncan!> he thought worriedly.

        Reaching the building, Jack saw a heavily built man with black hair pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette. As he got down from the car, Jack realized that he was the Immortal he had felt.

        "Who are you and what are you doing here?" Jack demanded as he strode towards the Immortal. "Where’s MacLeod?"

        "My name’s Drake," the man introduced himself. "My good friend, the Kurgan, invited me over. He’s up there right now with the Highlander, setting things up so I could meet him."

        Jack didn’t miss the obscene suggestion in Drake’s words. Pulling out his rapier, he said, "I’m Jack Dawson, MacLeod’s student. Frankly, I’ve had quite enough of the Kurgan’s hurting my teacher and I’m not about to see any of his friends do the same."

        "Oh, is that right?" Drake remarked sarcastically, unsheathing his own broadsword. "What are you going to do about it, boy? Fight me? Better run while you can. You won’t stand a chance against me."

        Although he was nervous, Jack remembered his teacher’s words – to keep himself centered, not to allow his emotions to cloud his mind. If he should falter or make a mistake, it will not just mean his death. Lord knows what the two Immortals will do to Duncan. Plus, he couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing Rose one last time.

        "I’m not afraid of you," said Jack firmly, leading the man inside the back alley. "Let’s dance!"

        Time seemed to pass in a blur for Jack. Thrusts and parries were exchanged, even a few well-placed punches and kicks. But Duncan had taught his student well. Noting the surprised look on Drake’s face, Jack knew the Immortal didn’t count on him to be quite proficient with the sword. In the end, there was only one outcome. Locking his blade with Drake’s broadsword, Jack wrenched the man’s sword out of his hand. Before Drake knew what was happening, Jack swung his sword in a sweeping arc and lopped off the Immortal’s head.

        Breathing heavily, Jack watched as a glowing mist flowed out of the dead Immortal and surrounded him in an eerie white aura. Suddenly, the Quickening hit him. Though Duncan told him what to expect, experiencing it was a different matter. As raw power was unleashed in the form of lightning bolts all around him, Jack felt Drake’s essence pour into him. – the man’s memories, his experiences, his knowledge. Just as destruction was wrought on his surroundings, the onslaught of Drake’s soul upon his psyche was relentless that he dropped to his knees, screaming in agony. Then, just as abruptly, the energy transfer ceased and there was only silence. But Jack could feel himself brimming with the power of Drake’s Quickening. Though still very weak, the young Immortal entered the building and made his way up the stairs, heading for the loft.

        Nearing his teacher’s room, Jack felt the Kurgan’s presence at once. But Duncan’s aura was very weak, almost indistinct.

        From within, he heard the Scot plead, "Don’t do this to me! I beg you!"

        But the evil Immortal declared, "Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you disobeyed me? Do you want me to kill your student, MacLeod? You shall do what I say!"

        Jack felt the anger rise within him, realizing that the Kurgan had been using threats on his life to take advantage of his teacher. Gripping his sword tightly in his right hand, he kicked the door open, his eyes widening in horror at the sight he beheld.

        Duncan lay on the bed, his wrists secured to the corner posts above his head. His shirt was torn open, his trousers discarded on the floor. His face was streaked with his tears. Above him, the Kurgan had positioned himself between the Highlander’s legs, his fingers digging deep into the younger man’s hips. His loathsome mouth roamed eagerly over the bare expanse of the Scot’s muscular chest, licking and sucking the tiny nipples. The Kurgan was grunting like a pig as his cock pistoned in and out of Duncan’s body. Jack could hear his teacher whimpering as he shook his head in agony.

        "You bastard!" Jack roared in fury. "This stops right now."

        Running towards the bed, he swiftly cut the ties on Duncan’s wrists and rammed his sword’s hilt into the Kurgan’s face. As he fell back, the evil Immortal’s sudden withdrawal from his battered flesh caused the Highlander to cry out in pain.

        "I’m sorry," Jack apologized profusely as he helped his teacher up. "Come on, Duncan!"

        "Jack, go!" Duncan exclaimed, trying to push him away. "He’ll kill you!"

        "I’m not leaving without you!" Jack said firmly.

        The two men tried to make it to the stairs. The Kurgan, however, grabbed Duncan’s arm, wrenching him out of Jack’s grasp. Caught off-balance, the young Immortal toppled over the banister.

        "Jack!" the Scot cried.

        "I’ll deal with you later," the Kurgan hissed in Duncan’s face, shoving him down to the floor.

        Downstairs, Jack slowly sat up, dazed. But the flash of pain in his sprained ankle brought him back to his senses. It was just in time because the Kurgan stood above him, his huge claymore descending. Jack instinctively met it with his own blade. With a sweep of his good foot, he tripped the Kurgan. As the two men got to their feet, they began a furious exchange of thrusts and blows. But it was soon apparent that his opponent outmatched Jack, injured as he was. Duncan saw this as he made his way down the stairs, katana in hand. With growing alarm, he saw the Kurgan slice his sword through his student’s belly.

        "Stop!" he shouted, seeing the evil Immortal raise his blade. "You swore to me you wouldn’t harm any Immortals."

        The Kurgan sneered at the wounded young man before him. "I’m afraid there are some exceptions."

        Before he could deliver the killing blow, Duncan blocked it with his katana.

        "That’s not sporting of you, MacLeod," the Kurgan chided him. "One challenge at a time, remember?"

        "For an oathbreaker like you," the Highlander began, "there are no rules."

        At these words, the two Immortals clashed. Jack watched breathlessly as he waited for his wound to heal. Duncan moved with deadly grace, easily turning back the Kurgan’s assault. For awhile, Jack thought his teacher would actually win. But the Kurgan was a wily adversary.

        As the evil Immortal feinted a low thrust, an unsuspecting Scot parried it. With a flick of his wrist, he trapped Duncan’s blade that the sharp tip pointed to the floor. Grabbing the Highlander’s wrist, the Kurgan buried the katana’s point into the wooden floor and punched him right in the face. With the Scot unarmed and dazed, he seized the gold chain around Duncan’s neck and dragged him, choking, towards Jack. When the Kurgan released him, the Highlander wrapped his arms protectively around his student.

        "Kill me if you must," Duncan demanded. "But spare his life!"

        "I don’t want your head, MacLeod. You know that." Pointing to Jack, the elder Immortal declared, "But I want his." Then, a wicked grin formed on his face. "I’m willing to make a deal with you though. I will spare this youngling’s life, if you come with me to Russia. There, we won’t have any distractions. You will do anything I want without complaint."

        Jack was appalled. "Duncan, don’t do it! Let him take my head! I don’t want him to hurt you!"

        Seeing the confusion in the Scot’s face, the Kurgan asked once more, "Well, Duncan, what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

        The Highlander lowered his gaze, his hair covering his face. But Jack felt a tear fall on his cheek.

        "Forgive me, Jack," Duncan whispered in his ear.

        "No!" Jack exclaimed, shaking his head, as his teacher got to his feet.

        Before the Scot could go towards the Kurgan, a voice declared, "You’re not going anywhere with him, Duncan."

        They all turned to see Connor MacLeod standing at the doorway, sword in hand.

        Exasperated, the Kurgan blurted out, "You’re all crawling out of the woodwork!"

        "It’s over!" Connor twirled his katana menacingly in his hand and raised the sharp point towards him. "The deal is off! I should never have agreed to your conditions. This fight will always be between you and me. Shall you test my blade now?"

        The evil Immortal looked at the three men. "Perhaps another time, MacLeod. When we meet, be prepared to win, Connor, or else, these two will suffer, especially your young kinsman."

        "Duncan has suffered enough at your hands. Mark my words! When we face each other again, you shall pay!"

        Laughing, the Kurgan saluted the elder Highlander. "Very well! Till then, MacLeod!" he saluted them and ambled out the front door.

        When the man was gone, Connor sheathed his sword and went towards the two younger Immortals. "Are you two all right?"

        "You came just in time, Connor," said Jack, wincing in pain. "If you arrived any later, heaven knows what he could have done to us."

        Duncan smiled at his kinsman for the first time in over a year. "Thanks, Connor."

        "You shouldn’t be thanking me. It’s because of me that all this trouble happened." Connor looked at him meaningfully. "Would you have gone to Russia with the Kurgan, Duncan?"

        There was no hesitation in the young Highlander’s reply. "Yes." He grinned at Jack. "I couldn’t let him harm my favorite student...and my best friend!"

        Hearing this, Jack beamed happily. Duncan embraced his student tightly.

        "Thank you, Jack!" he said softly. "I’m so proud of you!"

        "You’re welcome, Duncan," Jack answered him, breathing a sigh of relief.

        A week later, Jack was helping the driver load the luggage in the motorcar.

        "Well, Jack," Connor declared, going towards him, "I guess we’ll be seeing you! Take care of yourself, young man. I want to see you with your head still attached to your neck."

        "Don’t you think I should be the one saying that?" he shook the elder MacLeod’s hand. "You two be careful. It’s a war you’re going to."

        "We’ll be fine and I promise I’ll take better care of Duncan this time." Remembering his kinsman who was still inside the building, Connor called out, "Duncan, come on! Our ship might leave without us!"

        At these words, the younger MacLeod strode out the door. Pausing before Jack, a warm smile formed on his face.

        "I wish you’d come with us," he said hopefully.

        "You know I can’t leave," was Jack’s reply.

        "I know." Duncan then handed a key to his student. "I’ve arranged for you to have your own flat in New Jersey. Knowing the Kurgan, I’m sure he’ll be hunting for you here in the city when he finds out we’ve gone. It’s not too far from Rose’s place. You could keep an eye on her."

        "But not talk to her, right?" Jack winked knowingly.

        "After what happened to us, the way you helped me, I couldn’t very well stop you now, can I? Besides, I’ll be staying in France for awhile. But everything I told you before was the truth. I advise that you think twice before deciding you’re going to meet with Rose. You can’t be too sure of the consequences." He looked at his student in concern. "I don’t want to see your feelings hurt."

        "I promise I’ll think it over." Jack hugged his teacher tightly, not wanting to let him go. "Take care, Duncan. I want you to come back and see me when the war’s over."

        "I swear I’ll return," Duncan embraced Jack just as hard, tears welling up in his eyes. Pulling away, he patted his student’s arms. "Be safe, Jack."

        "You too!" With tears in his own eyes, Jack watched as the two MacLeods got inside the motorcar. As it pulled away from the curb, Jack bid farewell to his friends.

        Inside the car, Duncan couldn’t help but look back at the young Immortal he was leaving behind. There was a brave smile on Jack’s face as he waved goodbye.

        "Don’t worry, Duncan!" Connor assured him. "He’ll be fine!"

        "I hope so, Connor," said Duncan in uncertainty. "I really hope so!"

        From inside his coat pocket, the Highlander pulled out a small note and read it.

        Little did Duncan know that it would take twelve years before he saw his student and Rose again.