FAREWELLS
finale
By Pat
Luka was breathing heavily and he could feel his arms growing tired as he blocked and parried the blows from Kronick’s sword. His arms stung from the cuts that had been inflicted. He knew he was facing death. This wasn’t a work out. Unlike MacLeod, Kronick would not stop short of the lethal blow. He knew he had to gather what strength he had left and somehow find even more. He groaned in pain as Kronick’s weapon found its mark, leaving a bloody gash across the top of his leg. He took a step backwards and watched as the other immortal moved into position for a last strike. Then in Luka’s mind he heard once more the words of his teacher...
“Practice this maneuver well, Luka,
there’s no effective counter for it, and it may save your
life one day.” MacLeod had instructed.
Enveloping the blade, MacLeod had called it, and he had made Luka
practice the routine over and over, again and again.
Now it was clear why Duncan had been so insistent.
Stepping sideways, Luka raised his sword.
As Kronick thrust forward, Luka brought the katana to meet the
other sword, swinging under, around and over the top of the
blade, he pulled the weapon from Kronick’s hand, disarming
the other immortal. Then swinging the katana in a
flashing arc he struck. He felt the resistance as the
blade cut through muscle and bone. Luka stepped back,
almost in shock, as he watched Kronick’s headless, lifeless
body topple to the ground. He had won. He was
still alive, but what had he done? He was a
physician. He had taken an oath to save lives – not
take them. His mind told him it was kill, or be
killed, but his conscience and his heart were at war with his
mind. He turned towards MacLeod, maybe Duncan could
help him sort out these conflicting feelings, but the Highlander
had turned and was walking away.
Luka took several steps forward to follow
MacLeod, but then he stopped. The very air around him
was growing heavy. He could feel the hair rising on
his arms and the back of his neck. There was a
feeling of electricity in the air. It was
becoming hard to breathe. Then it hit him with all
the force of an electrical storm. Bolts of lightning
coursed through him. He could hear glass shattering
around him. He felt his arms raise and he heard
himself scream a long agonized scream as the force of The
Quickening shook his body. He had never experienced
anything like this before – it was agony, it was ecstasy,
pain and pleasure, overwhelming and consuming him. He
could only stand helplessly as wave after wave of sensation shook
his body. Then as suddenly as it had appeared,
it was gone. Luka fell forward on his knees, too weak
and exhausted to stand. He could only kneel there
trembling in the dirt.
He wasn’t sure how long he had remained
there, but then he realized he had to move. What if
someone had seen the forces of The Quickening and had called the
police. He knew he couldn’t be found there
kneeling by a sword and a headless corpse. Gathering
up the borrowed katana, he quickly made his way to his car.
He drove aimlessly for a while, eventually finding himself down
by the lake. This was one of Luka’s favorite
places when he wanted to be alone to think. He
enjoyed the peacefulness of the dark water. Sometimes
in his mind it would transform to the beautiful blue waters of
home. Now as he sat there looking out across
the lake, his mind was a jumble of confusing thoughts and
emotions. How could he justify what he had done?
How could he have done any different and still survive?
Could he do it again? And he knew it would happen
again. Duncan had told him it was the price they paid
for immortality.
The first streaks of the dawn were beginning
to appear in the eastern sky before Luka found the answers he had
sought. He knew in his heart that there would be no
reconciliation for him. The guilt he would always
carry with taking another life, was the price he would pay for
living forever. And he wanted to live. That
realization had been made crystal clear to him during the fight
with Kronick. He would do what was necessary to stay
alive. But he was still a physician and a healer.
He would devote himself to saving as many lives as he could, and
perhaps he could atone in that way for the lives he would be
forced to take. The future and endless
possibilities stretched out before him, and he would find a way.
He thought of MacLeod. The Highlander had taught him
well. Now he needed to talk to his friend again.
Luka sensed MacLeod’s presence as he
walked to the door of the apartment. He quietly
let himself in. MacLeod was sitting in a chair
by the table on which rested a long black case.
He was silent as he watched Luka replace the borrowed katana on
its hanger.
“Where have you been?” Duncan
asked softly.
“Down by the lake. I needed time
to think.” Luka replied. “Duncan, did I do
the right thing?” MacLeod’s face revealed no
emotion, and Luka needed to know his teacher’s thoughts and
feelings, perhaps he just needed his friend’s approval.
“Did you want to live?”
MacLeod watched as Luka nodded affirmatively. “Then
you did the right thing. If you fight, you must
always fight to win. Never forget – in the end,
there can be only one.”
Luka heard the words and he knew the
implication behind them. He prayed to God it would
never come to that. He could not fathom the concept
of having to fight MacLeod some day, and he prayed with all his
heart he would be spared that. From the look that
Duncan was giving him, he could sense that MacLeod was having the
same thoughts and feelings. He watched as
Duncan turned to the case by his side, flipping open the lid.
Nestled inside on a bed of black velvet was
an ivory-handled katana similar to the one that MacLeod always
carried. Duncan stood silently looking at the
weapon in the case, lost in thought, before he gently picked the
sword up. Laying it across the palms of his hands he
turned to Luka, offering the weapon to him.
“Its time you had a sword of your own
now,” He said quietly. “This was Connor’s
sword. It’s a good blade and it always served
him well. Now its yours.”
Luka took a step back. “But
Duncan, I can’t take this. I know how much this
sword means to you. It wouldn’t be right.”
He protested.
“I want you to have it. Connor
would want you to have it.” The words were
softly spoken. “Take it, keep it with you
always. Make it a part of yourself.” He
once more offered the katana to Luka. After
hesitating, Luka accepted the sword. When he
took hold of the hilt he could feel the sense of power that was
in the weapon. He felt his hand tingle slightly.
It was obvious to Luka that Connor MacLeod had been a powerful
immortal and it seemed as if he had left some of that spirit in
the sword that he had carried all those years. Luka
hoped he would prove worthy of the weapon.
“Thank you, Duncan. This is
truly a magnificent gift. And I will do my best to
see that no shame or dishonor ever falls upon this blade or the
memory of the man who carried it before me.” Luka
looked into MacLeod’s eyes as he spoke.
“I know, my friend.” MacLeod
said simply.
It was at this point that Luka noticed the
bags sitting on the floor. They had been packed as if
someone was going on a trip. “Are you leaving,
Duncan?” He questioned.
“Yes. Its time that we
part, Luka. You’ve taken your first Quickening,
our teacher-student relationship is over. You must go
out on your own now.”
“But where will you go?” Luka
protested. “I still have lots to learn, and questions
that need answers.”
“The questions you have now, Luka, only
you can answer for yourself.” MacLeod replied. “I
can’t help you anymore. I’m going to Paris
for a while, and then from there, who knows. You can
stay here as long as you need, I don’t know when I’ll
be back.” The unspoken words, or if I’ll
be back, hung in the air between the two men. Both
knew the uncertainty of the future that lay before them.
“Well Duncan, I hope we can still be
friends.” Luka stated as he walked towards MacLeod.
“We’ll always be friends, Luka,
that hasn’t changed.” MacLeod replied as the two
friends embraced. Then turning, he picked up
his bags and walked towards the door. “Watch your
head, Luka!” Duncan advised. “You
too, MacLeod!” Luka watched his friend open the door
to leave. MacLeod paused for a moment.
Turning, he looked across the room to where Luka stood.
“Luka.”
“Duncan.”
Then the door closed and the Highlander was
gone. Luka stood quietly for a moment.
He whispered a silent prayer for MacLeod, and prayed that they
would meet again. Looking around the room he
knew he couldn’t stay here. Already the place
seemed too empty without Duncan’s presence. He
was ready to go home. He wanted his own familiar
things around him again. He had also made another
decision and he walked without hesitation to the phone and dialed
a familiar number.
“Kerry Weaver, please.” He
told Randi when she answered. “Yes, this is Dr. Kovac.
Yes, I’m back now. Could I please speak to Dr.
Weaver?" He waited only a few minutes before
Kerry came on the line.
“Luka! Its good to hear from you.
I hope everything is okay now.”
“Yes, Kerry, everything has been
resolved, and I’m back in Chicago again.” Luka
replied. “Yes, I can start again tomorrow night.
I’ll see you then, Kerry.” He hung up the
phone. That was that. He had made up his mind.
He would go back to being a doctor at County for as long as he
could. He knew he would eventually have to move on.
MacLeod had told him he could only stay in one place for so long
before people began to notice that he never aged. He
would face that time when it came, but for now he looked forward
to getting back to doing what he did best – being a doctor!
And he realized he had missed his colleagues at County. He
looked forward to seeing them all again.
It didn’t take him long to pack up his
belongings in the guest room, and he carried the bags to the
door, setting them down there. He shrugged into
the long coat that from now on would be a permanent part of his
wardrobe. Walking to the table he picked up Connor’s,
no, now his sword, and placed it under the coat. He
was surprised at how quickly it settled by his side, as if that's
where it always belonged. He felt a sense of comfort
at its presence. Oh yes, MacLeod had trained him well.
Then with a sense of determination he picked
up his bags and opened the door. Whatever lay ahead
of him, he was ready to face it. He closed the door
on one chapter of his life and strode out into the sunlight of
the new day. Now he would begin to write a new
story.
The End?
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