Duncan MacLeod, Joe Dawson, Methos, and the Highlander concept all belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. I'm only borrowing them for a while, and I'm making no money off this.
All other characters are of my own creation. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is unintended.
I strongly urge reader discretion due to the sensitive and controversial nature of one of the subplots. Parents of young readers should view this story first before allowing their children to do so.
A.S.R.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
for Jayde
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Desdemona's Children
Prologue: "It is the cause, my soul . . ."
- Othello, Act V, scene ii, line 1
Youngstown, Ohio, 1973
The clouds kept the stars from lighting the sky that August night, and an unseasonable cool had settled in. Weather predictions announced an impending series of thunderstorms coming in from the west. Not an ideal setting, to be sure, but suitable enough for the two men's somber mood. They each kept to themselves as they walked together down the street of the middle-class neighborhood. Their disparate attire suggested polar opposites, yet they were clearly well acquainted.
The shorter of the two had his fists stuffed in the outer pockets of his army camouflage jacket. His jaw was clenched in stubborn tightness, and he cast steel-gray, narrow-set eyes downward in sullen thought. He wore his dark blond hair in a military crew cut, a style he kept ever since he was freed from that prison in 'Nam.
His companion, on the other hand, dressed with the care of a dandified fop. He donned his best polyester suit, the one that matched the sky blue of his eyes, a navy-colored shirt with silver-toned buttons and a large collar, and his white overcoat. Before going out, he made sure that his pale blond hair fell in carefully arranged curls to his shoulders. He originally planned on an evening with whatever lady caught his eye at the local nightclub, but he realized the importance of being with his friend tonight. He knew the younger man would need his support.
"Are you sure you are making the right decision, David?"
This was asked in a light Dutch accent, and the man in the camouflage coat didn't hesitate to respond.
"I have to tell her."
"But she hasn't seen you in more than a year. Will she understand the change that has occurred within you?"
They stopped at a street corner, and the man in the camouflage coat adjusted the cuffs on his uniform pants, stuffing them into his black combat boots. "She's my wife, for better or for worse."
Johann Vandenberg gave his student a glance filled with dismay. It was typical of the judgmental young man to look at things in terms of black and white, right or wrong. Johann knew better. Life was too short, even for those such as he and his pupil, to not take things as they come. His own teacher taught him long ago to see not only the various shades of gray, but every color of the rainbow. He doubted the same would ever be said of David Burke.
He found Burke not long after the latter's discharge from the American armed forces. Not a good thing, to have one's first death in a prisoner-of-war camp, to say nothing of the mental anguish that afflicted not only Burke but many other Vietnam veterans. Johann had seen that too many times, young soldiers who could not get war out of their minds even after the fighting was supposed to be done. He had the feeling that David was an open, caring young man once, but that man had all but disappeared.
"That may not matter," Johann counseled, his hand on his friend's shoulder. "She might not be able to handle your Immortality. You could lose her, David."
"Melissa's not like that." Burke met his teacher's eyes with an almost fierce resolution. "She would never betray me, or our marriage vows."
Johann solemnly shook his head. "It takes more than faithfulness, David," he cautioned. "Your Melissa will have a lot to face, and she will need courage and strength to face it."
A rare, but cold, smile from Burke. "She has that, and more. She was living alone for almost a year, teaching English to Vietnamese villagers when we met. She even took care of the twins by herself for the first seven months of their lives. Now, I'll be able to take care of them with her."
"Twins?" Despite his rising worry, Johann tried to speak with a tone of light interest. "You did not tell me about your wife's children."
Burke's response was almost defensive. "You mean our children. Melissa gave birth six months after I was captured."
"Is that so?" Johann didn't like this turn of events at all.
"Yeah. She didn't even tell me she was pregnant before she left 'Nam. When she finally wrote me about them, she said that she didn't want me to worry."
Johann's heart filled with dread. He did not want young David to lose the last bit of normality that he clung to, yet if he remained silent, any sense of security that his student had would be a false one. He drew in a deep breath. "D-David . . ." he stammered, "your t-twins . . . I thought I had told you . . ."
Burke met his teacher's apprehensive gaze head on. "Tell me what?"
"Immortals . . . we . . . we cannot have children."
The impact of Johann's announcement was immediate; the last vestiges of David's hope vanished in an flash. "You can't mean that!" the younger man hissed in disbelief.
Panic seized Johann, then. Not only did David view the world in extremely concrete terms, his violent tendencies erupted whenever he was confronted by something which didn't fit that view. Such was the case when Johann told him he was Immortal; Johann received some broken ribs, a busted arm, and a punctured lung as a result. Johann dreaded the possibility of one day feeling the full impact of his student's ire. He knew that day had come.
"David, please . . ."
A swish of material, and Burke has his sword in hand. A deadly chill raced through Johann's veins. The blade was one of the heavier pieces of his collection, a single-handed broadsword that Johann felt would serve David well. He should have known that it would serve David well against him.
"You lie."
As he ground out those two words, Burke gripped the sword tightly in both hands and swung wide. Johann had no time to regret taking Burke on as a pupil, he had no time to reconsider saying words he knew had to be said. He had no time for anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bolts of lightning ripped through the air, close enough to the house to cause Melissa to jump out of her skin. She jumped again as everything suddenly went dark. She lifted the curtain of the nursery window and peeked outside, just in time to catch the last of the vicious display. The lightning must have hit a power line, plunging the whole neighborhood into blackness. She wondered what the TV news would have to say about the storm.
She let her hand fall from the curtain and turned her brown-eyed gaze to her babies. Huddled together in their crib, they slept through the storm, thank goodness. David would see them for the first time tonight. He was under the impression that he had fathered them. She knew that she should have told David about finding Anthony and Anastasia shivering together outside the local Catholic church last January. But it was the thought of being their father that kept David sane during his six-month ordeal in the Army psych ward. When he finally received his discharge last month, he wrote her to say that he was looking forward to having a normal life with her and the babies. Melissa dreaded what the truth would do to him, but because of an emergency hysterectomy last year, children of their own were an impossibility.
A solitary tear slipped from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. "I'm so lucky to have found the two of you," she whispered to her babies. "I don't know what I would have done without you."
Tucking a lock of black hair behind her ear, she left the window and walked around the foot of the crib to an oak dresser. She pulled the top drawer open and fished inside it until she found the candle and matches she kept there in case of an emergency. She lit the candle and secured it in its holder, which she sat next to a wooden music box on top of the dresser. As the candle permeated the room with its soft glow, Melissa picked up the music box. It was a wedding gift from David. She loved the ornate scrollwork carved on the sides of the box as well as the portrait of the Madonna on the slightly-curved lid. She turned the knob on the back of the box and lifted the lid. Schubert's "Ave Maria" filled the air. Her favorite song. She hummed along as she carried the music box across the room and sat down in the cushioned rocking chair.
"Melissa!! Where are you, you slut?!"
David's voice sliced into her thoughts like a knife, and Melissa involuntarily leapt from the chair, letting the music box tumble to the floor. She heard the front door slam open and shut downstairs. David's rage was evident. What had him so incensed? The instant that question formed itself in her mind, Melissa feared she already knew the answer. Somehow, David had found out about the twins.
Unaware of Melissa's panic, David's voice resonated throughout the house. "Just wait 'til I get my hands on you, bitch!"
Whirling so that she faced the doorway, Melissa moved in front of the crib. Let David do what he wished to her. If he wanted to hurt her babies, though, he'd have another thing coming.
She began to instinctively wring her hands the moment he appeared in the doorway. The murderous look in his eyes sent chills throughout her entire body, and she forcibly steeled herself to face the full brunt of his wrath.
His next words came out in an icy, deadly tone. "You're going to pay for what you've done."
All other characters are of my own creation. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is unintended.
I strongly urge reader discretion due to the sensitive and controversial nature of one of the subplots. Parents of young readers should view this story first before allowing their children to do so.
A.S.R.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
for Jayde
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Desdemona's Children
Prologue: "It is the cause, my soul . . ."
- Othello, Act V, scene ii, line 1
Youngstown, Ohio, 1973
The clouds kept the stars from lighting the sky that August night, and an unseasonable cool had settled in. Weather predictions announced an impending series of thunderstorms coming in from the west. Not an ideal setting, to be sure, but suitable enough for the two men's somber mood. They each kept to themselves as they walked together down the street of the middle-class neighborhood. Their disparate attire suggested polar opposites, yet they were clearly well acquainted.
The shorter of the two had his fists stuffed in the outer pockets of his army camouflage jacket. His jaw was clenched in stubborn tightness, and he cast steel-gray, narrow-set eyes downward in sullen thought. He wore his dark blond hair in a military crew cut, a style he kept ever since he was freed from that prison in 'Nam.
His companion, on the other hand, dressed with the care of a dandified fop. He donned his best polyester suit, the one that matched the sky blue of his eyes, a navy-colored shirt with silver-toned buttons and a large collar, and his white overcoat. Before going out, he made sure that his pale blond hair fell in carefully arranged curls to his shoulders. He originally planned on an evening with whatever lady caught his eye at the local nightclub, but he realized the importance of being with his friend tonight. He knew the younger man would need his support.
"Are you sure you are making the right decision, David?"
This was asked in a light Dutch accent, and the man in the camouflage coat didn't hesitate to respond.
"I have to tell her."
"But she hasn't seen you in more than a year. Will she understand the change that has occurred within you?"
They stopped at a street corner, and the man in the camouflage coat adjusted the cuffs on his uniform pants, stuffing them into his black combat boots. "She's my wife, for better or for worse."
Johann Vandenberg gave his student a glance filled with dismay. It was typical of the judgmental young man to look at things in terms of black and white, right or wrong. Johann knew better. Life was too short, even for those such as he and his pupil, to not take things as they come. His own teacher taught him long ago to see not only the various shades of gray, but every color of the rainbow. He doubted the same would ever be said of David Burke.
He found Burke not long after the latter's discharge from the American armed forces. Not a good thing, to have one's first death in a prisoner-of-war camp, to say nothing of the mental anguish that afflicted not only Burke but many other Vietnam veterans. Johann had seen that too many times, young soldiers who could not get war out of their minds even after the fighting was supposed to be done. He had the feeling that David was an open, caring young man once, but that man had all but disappeared.
"That may not matter," Johann counseled, his hand on his friend's shoulder. "She might not be able to handle your Immortality. You could lose her, David."
"Melissa's not like that." Burke met his teacher's eyes with an almost fierce resolution. "She would never betray me, or our marriage vows."
Johann solemnly shook his head. "It takes more than faithfulness, David," he cautioned. "Your Melissa will have a lot to face, and she will need courage and strength to face it."
A rare, but cold, smile from Burke. "She has that, and more. She was living alone for almost a year, teaching English to Vietnamese villagers when we met. She even took care of the twins by herself for the first seven months of their lives. Now, I'll be able to take care of them with her."
"Twins?" Despite his rising worry, Johann tried to speak with a tone of light interest. "You did not tell me about your wife's children."
Burke's response was almost defensive. "You mean our children. Melissa gave birth six months after I was captured."
"Is that so?" Johann didn't like this turn of events at all.
"Yeah. She didn't even tell me she was pregnant before she left 'Nam. When she finally wrote me about them, she said that she didn't want me to worry."
Johann's heart filled with dread. He did not want young David to lose the last bit of normality that he clung to, yet if he remained silent, any sense of security that his student had would be a false one. He drew in a deep breath. "D-David . . ." he stammered, "your t-twins . . . I thought I had told you . . ."
Burke met his teacher's apprehensive gaze head on. "Tell me what?"
"Immortals . . . we . . . we cannot have children."
The impact of Johann's announcement was immediate; the last vestiges of David's hope vanished in an flash. "You can't mean that!" the younger man hissed in disbelief.
Panic seized Johann, then. Not only did David view the world in extremely concrete terms, his violent tendencies erupted whenever he was confronted by something which didn't fit that view. Such was the case when Johann told him he was Immortal; Johann received some broken ribs, a busted arm, and a punctured lung as a result. Johann dreaded the possibility of one day feeling the full impact of his student's ire. He knew that day had come.
"David, please . . ."
A swish of material, and Burke has his sword in hand. A deadly chill raced through Johann's veins. The blade was one of the heavier pieces of his collection, a single-handed broadsword that Johann felt would serve David well. He should have known that it would serve David well against him.
"You lie."
As he ground out those two words, Burke gripped the sword tightly in both hands and swung wide. Johann had no time to regret taking Burke on as a pupil, he had no time to reconsider saying words he knew had to be said. He had no time for anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bolts of lightning ripped through the air, close enough to the house to cause Melissa to jump out of her skin. She jumped again as everything suddenly went dark. She lifted the curtain of the nursery window and peeked outside, just in time to catch the last of the vicious display. The lightning must have hit a power line, plunging the whole neighborhood into blackness. She wondered what the TV news would have to say about the storm.
She let her hand fall from the curtain and turned her brown-eyed gaze to her babies. Huddled together in their crib, they slept through the storm, thank goodness. David would see them for the first time tonight. He was under the impression that he had fathered them. She knew that she should have told David about finding Anthony and Anastasia shivering together outside the local Catholic church last January. But it was the thought of being their father that kept David sane during his six-month ordeal in the Army psych ward. When he finally received his discharge last month, he wrote her to say that he was looking forward to having a normal life with her and the babies. Melissa dreaded what the truth would do to him, but because of an emergency hysterectomy last year, children of their own were an impossibility.
A solitary tear slipped from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. "I'm so lucky to have found the two of you," she whispered to her babies. "I don't know what I would have done without you."
Tucking a lock of black hair behind her ear, she left the window and walked around the foot of the crib to an oak dresser. She pulled the top drawer open and fished inside it until she found the candle and matches she kept there in case of an emergency. She lit the candle and secured it in its holder, which she sat next to a wooden music box on top of the dresser. As the candle permeated the room with its soft glow, Melissa picked up the music box. It was a wedding gift from David. She loved the ornate scrollwork carved on the sides of the box as well as the portrait of the Madonna on the slightly-curved lid. She turned the knob on the back of the box and lifted the lid. Schubert's "Ave Maria" filled the air. Her favorite song. She hummed along as she carried the music box across the room and sat down in the cushioned rocking chair.
"Melissa!! Where are you, you slut?!"
David's voice sliced into her thoughts like a knife, and Melissa involuntarily leapt from the chair, letting the music box tumble to the floor. She heard the front door slam open and shut downstairs. David's rage was evident. What had him so incensed? The instant that question formed itself in her mind, Melissa feared she already knew the answer. Somehow, David had found out about the twins.
Unaware of Melissa's panic, David's voice resonated throughout the house. "Just wait 'til I get my hands on you, bitch!"
Whirling so that she faced the doorway, Melissa moved in front of the crib. Let David do what he wished to her. If he wanted to hurt her babies, though, he'd have another thing coming.
She began to instinctively wring her hands the moment he appeared in the doorway. The murderous look in his eyes sent chills throughout her entire body, and she forcibly steeled herself to face the full brunt of his wrath.
His next words came out in an icy, deadly tone. "You're going to pay for what you've done."