XVI

"Oh Connor..." Rachel stood up and said in a voice that he guessed it was somebody else. "You thought it was over. But now I've taken what you love the most." The voice was evil and the grin in Rachel's face reminded Connor of the man he had just killed. "Your sweet war orphan."

Rachel struck at Connor like a flash. Connor fell to a side with a deep wound in his shoulder, from which blood gushed out abundantly. Duncan moved forward to help his clansman, but Rachel sent him away with as much as a move of her arm.

"Rachel!" Connor called, already up but feeling the pain. "Do not let him control you!"

"Rachel died. " The words hurt the Highlander too much, even more when spoken by her. "She and I are one, a marriage consummated by the power of the quickening." Her eyes scowled at him. He felt a dread all over him as he saw pure evil in her eyes.

Rachel struck forward. Connor blocked with a speed that was not his, at least not until the latest quickening. For a second, she grinned defiantly. Connor pushed her away and ducked at her next blow. She kicked at his face but he held her foot and made her fall. He scrambled up and stood in position.

"Rachel! I know you're there! We don't have to do this!"

"Connor..." Rachel said nonchalantly. "She's mine. Mine to use and dispose. An eternal whore to rape again and again."

"NOOOO!" Connor attacked overcome by emotion. His thrust went too far and she hit him hard on the side. He was sent away and he rolled on the floor before hitting a wall, blood on his face and clothes.

"Kell. Jacob Kell." Duncan called from behind. "You and I still have to fight."

"Stay out, Duncan!" Connor commanded, standing up. "This is between him and me. It has always been."

"So you've decided to fight, Connor?" Rachel replied, not sounding like herself anymore, but as Kell.

Connor hesitated for a second but reacted when Rachel moved at the speed of sound against him. He parried her blow and pushed her away with his hand. He struck and sliced her stomach, but not without receiving a fierce attack in his arm. The Highlander retreated and Rachel struck forward. Connor's shoulder was pierced and her sword came out of his back, dripping blood. The Highlander shrieked as he fell on his knees.

"Connor!" Duncan called.

"I told you to stay out, dammit!"

"Bring it on, Duncan." Rachel defied. "I can wipe the floor with you."

Suddenly she stopped. Her head began to move. Connor saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Behind all the evil, she recognised a pinch of what had been his sweet adorable daughter.

"Rachel..."

"Take my head, Connor." She said simply, her body struggling with the other self inside of her.

"No..." Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Please, Connor." She begged with the same simplicity. "You know Kell mustn't survive."

"No!" Connor sobbed.

"For the balance to be restored, the power must return to the Gate." Rachel withdrew the sword from Connor's shoulder and tossed it away. "Oliver died to defeat him. You know this sacrifice must be made... before he controls me again."

Feeling an astounding pain in his shoulder and in his heart, Connor sobered and gripped the hilt of his claymore so strongly his hand bled. "I... love you, Rachel."

"So do I, Connor. I hope I don't have to see you for a long time." She said with a smile of easiness. She knew what she was up to and was determined to do it.

Connor closed his eyes, made a swift move and took her head. The neck of the beheaded woman began to shine. Connor grabbed the body and took it to the Gate, placing her neck right in it. The structure shone intermittently. He could feel an unfathomable flow of energy unleashed somewhere. His own body and Duncan's glimmered. The quickening would not come. The Gate would absorb it. A tremor began. The roof began to fall. A rock hit next to him.

"Connor!" Duncan called. "We have to leave." He had Jin Ke's and Cassandra's bodies on his shoulders.

The elder MacLeod grabbed Rachel's body, which was emitting a strange glow after having been stripped of all the power and knowledge the Dutch had had. He loaded it on his shoulders. They began to run off the cave, the exit of which somehow had become a single path that led outside, rather than the endless maze they had gone through when they entered. No sooner did they get out than the cave fell down, hiding the Gate of Power for eternity.

-----

Connor and Duncan were back in New York. They were by a grave that read:

RACHEL ELLINSTEIN

Beloved. Daughter and friend.

1933 - 1992.

Next to it, there was another grave that read:

OLIVER MACLEOD.

Beloved son of John and Camille. Selfless friend.

1929 - 1955.

The second sentence on the second line of each grave had been carved roughly, unlike the rest of it, which was indeed the neat work of a grave maker.

"I wish I had known him better..." Duncan blurted out.

"So do I. He was a fine man. They would have been so good together." Connor silently broke into tears.

"She did it to save us, Connor." Duncan consoled his clansman, whose tears fell like pearls from a broken necklace.

"I... I know." Connor said with emotion. "I only wish the powers we received by the Gate had remained with us after defeating Kell, rather than leaving us with Rachel's quickening."

"It was something done to restore the balance. Keeping it would have been unfair... though I wouldn't have minded."

"Neither would I." Connor uttered curtly.

The sky was blue. The weather was not cold. Duncan smiled at the view.

"Would you like a drink, Connor?" The elder Highlander stared at Duncan upon the younger one's question. "You've owned me one for the last ten years, but I pay."

Connor smiled darkly. "Some other time, Duncan."

The elder Highlander began to move away. Duncan regarded the warrior of the endless battles. Connor MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. Son of Caiolin, husband of Heather, father of Rachel. He had seen the three women die. The sacrifice of Rachel had been hard for him. Duncan knew that with her dead, most of Connor's life faded away. He knew that a darkened future was awaiting Connor and hoped he could find peace. But he had the feeling he would see his clansman, mentor and friend again. Not now, but in the distant future.

Connor's shape and presence were a memory. Goodbye had not been said, as always. Duncan put on a pair of dark glasses. He started his way out, gripped by the angst of knowing the owed meeting at the bar would never take place. He suddenly realised that the next time he met Connor, things might very well be different, with a different place and different circumstances. And there would be nothing to keep them away from what was meant to be. Friendship would mean nothing, their bonds would mean nothing. All that would mean a thing was the primal instinct of survival all immortals have, epitomised in the ultimate rule, the one all immortals are bound by: There Can Be Only One. And only then, perhaps, Connor and him would say goodbye to each other... for good.