-1Chapter 13
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When MacLeod reached the waterfront, the buzz of not one but two Immortals washed over him. Kenshin, and Soujiro, he assumed. He parked the Thunderbird; heard shouting when he shut the engine off. Steel rang against steel.
"Son of a bitch!" MacLeod drew his sword and ran towards the fight, though he knew he couldn't interfere if Soujiro and Kenshin were fighting. After, though -- Soujiro would be his if Kenshin lost.
Down on the beach, among the rocks, men were fighting under the light of the nearly full moon. Not Soujiro -- the stronger Immortal was now behind him, as Mac ran towards the fight.
Kenshin was balanced lightly on the balls of his feet, fending off the attacks of several men swinging heavy lengths of logging chains. He had a solid piece of driftwood -- his sword glinted brightly under the moonlight, fifty feet away. Somehow, they'd managed to disarm him.
MacLeod ran closer, taking in the scene. He realized when he got closer that Kenshin was swinging the log with his left hand -- his right hand hung uselessly at his side. He was injured, perhaps badly.
Atsuko, to Mac's surprise, had Kenshin's back. She had no weapons, but her fists were balled up and by her stance this was not the first fight she'd been in. She didn't appear hurt at all, though mad was a good general description of the vibes rolling off her. She very obviously knew how to fight.
Three bad guys on Kenshin, one was on Atsuko, MacLeod noted. One on Atsuko was probably inadequate; they were underestimating her because she was female -- so these were not pros, likely, just random thugs.
The one fighting with Atsuko had a length of pipe -- he swung it in a whistling arc at Atsuko's head. Atsuko ducked under it, then drove her fist behind the arc of the man's swing. She had a wicked punch for a woman; the man's jaw went crunch and he went down and stayed down. She was efficient, hadn't even hesitated.
Three on three. This isn't even going to be a challenge.
Atsuko spun around, stepped up beside Kenshin, and saw MacLeod who was quietly approaching behind the three men with chains. Mac scooped up Kenshin's sword from the sand and tossed it quietly over the bad guys' heads. Kenshin dropped the driftwood, reached up, and caught the sword with his left hand in one smooth move.
All three thugs spun around to see where the sword had come from -- Kenshin didn't even hesitate, he sprang forward, and all MacLeod saw was a blur in the moonlight. The closest man to Kenshin went down with a grunt. The middle man turned back towards Kenshin at the noise, and MacLeod reversed his sword and hit him in the back of the head with the pommel. When MacLeod stepped back, it was to see the third thug swing at Atsuko with his short length of chain.
She caught it, stepped swiftly back, yanked the man towards her, and landed a booted foot square in his crotch while he was off balance. He doubled over, and she kicked him in the head. The sound was a thud. He went down without a sound, limp. She shook her fingers, wincing, and sucked on her knuckles.
"You okay?" MacLeod asked Kenshin. Atsuko looked fine.
Kenshin was breathing rapidly and his shirt was saturated with blood. He was going to need a new duster again because the shoulder was tattered. "They shot me."
"Thought you could dodge bullets," MacLeod teased.
"Only if I see them coming." Kenshin sounded disgusted. His voice was surprisingly strong -- and angry -- given the injury. MacLeod knew from personal experience that damage like that to major joints hurt. "He was up on the pier, got me from a distance."
"Here, let me see that." MacLeod gently reached for Kenshin's arm. By the pattern of dark stains of blood on green fabric, he thought the bullet had gone through Kenshin's shoulder joint. He was truthfully amazed that Kenshin was still standing -- and even in the moonlight, the man looked pale. Blood loss, pain, and shock would take their toll until that injury healed.
Kenshin stepped back, awkwardly sheathed his sword left-handed, and then reached down and tucked his useless right hand in his belt so it wasn't dangling free. Brusquely, he said, "It'll heal."
"You're losing a lot of blood, man," MacLeod objected.
"I'll worry about it after we find Heather." Kenshin's words were short, angry. He didn't sound anything like the meek, deferential little man that MacLeod had thought he'd known earlier. "Mac, they were up on the pier with her ten minutes ago."
MacLeod blinked in surprise, both at Kenshin's casual Mac, and at his tone of voice. He protested, "Soujiro's that way also. You're in no shape to fight!"
"Hey!" Atsuko shouted, the first to see movement at the end of the pier. The pier had lights on it; they spun to look just in time to see a dark shape tossed thrashing into the inky water. A heartbeat later, a thin distant scream floated on the wind to them.
"Akane!" Kenshin's scream was a wail of disbelief. He burst into a run; MacLeod and Atsuko followed, but they were all too far away. That water was cold, and the currents swift.
Heather screamed again, faintly. And then someone dove off the pier into the water. Man-shaped, head-first, a neat arc barely visible against the lights of the pier and the moonlight.
"Mac! Help my niece!" There was no way that Kenshin could fish her out in the shape he was in, and he was smart enough to know it. Even Immortals had limits. Kenshin ran towards the pier. "We'll deal with Bowie."
In the distance, he could see splashing. He kicked his shoes off, dropped his sword on the beach, and ran across the sharp rocks, into the water, and swam for the figure. Twenty feet away, he realized Heather wasn't alone in the water -- she was clinging to a man who was somewhat frantically treading water. Heather was sobbing in terror.
"Soujiro." MacLeod said, through lips rapidly turning numb from the cold. Soujiro jumped in and saved her. Why?
"Her hands and feet are tied." Soujiro sounded exhausted already. "Do you have a knife?"
"No! Give her here!" His pocketknife was in his coat, which was on the beach. Soujiro was obviously struggling. MacLeod grabbed Heather in an headlock -- she didn't really resist -- and started kicking for shore. The water sapped his strength; he inhaled a mouthful of salt water that tasted of barnacles and burned his lungs.
Somehow, he made it into the shallows, pulled Heather -- now shivering violently -- up on the beach. He turned around, didn't see Soujiro for a moment, then spotted a dark head bobbing towards shore. Slowly. Without even really thinking about it, he splashed back into that icy water and helped Soujiro to shore. It wasn't until he deposited Soujiro on the beach that he realized the man was also bleeding.
"T-thank you." Soujiro's voice was very faint, like he was at the end of his strength.
"You get shot?" MacLeod asked, crouching over Heather. The girl was shivering violent, lips blue, eyes enormous. She had no body fat -- he'd seen famine survivors who weren't as thin as she was.
"H-hit something when I dived in." Soujiro sat in the sand, shivering and bleeding profusely from a cut on his leg. "That water's disgusting."
"Yeah, we don't do much swimming here." MacLeod said, dryly. "You'll survive. And again, thank you. She'd have gone under before I could have gotten to her."
"Y-you saved me," Heather found her voice. "B-b-b-both of you."
"I've got blankets in my car." MacLeod staggered to his feet, hesitated, and said, "Soujiro, will you stay with her for a moment?"
He was worried about the as-yet unseen Bowie, or other bad guys.
"Yeah." Soujiro's smile was white in the moonlight. "I'll stay here."
MacLeod ran for his car, several hundred feet away. Halfway there he heard gunshots on the pier, looked back, could see nothing.
Gun's not going to stop Kenshin for long but Atsuko's vulnerable -- ah, hell!
He couldn't see anything. If I don't get Heather warm, she's going to die. Kenshin can take of himself, and take care of Atsuko too.
He hurried back to the two, where he found Soujiro with his arms wrapped around Heather's shoulders, apparently trying to comfort her. It was hard to tell in the dark, but he thought Soujiro looked marginally shockier than Heather. Blood loss versus lack of insulation against the cold water. Soujiro's condition was not likely to last long, however. He draped both blankets around Heather, scooped her up -- she weighed nothing -- and carried her to the car. MacLeod tried to ignore the fact that his own teeth were chattering.
When he turned around, Soujiro was stumbling -- limping badly -- towards the car too. MacLeod thought about being territorial and telling him to shove off, but the guy had actually been the hero this night, and it would probably be best if someone stayed with Heather. He sighed, helped Soujiro to the car -- this got him another one of those smiles, one that MacLeod thought iooked a bit startled -- then lifted the top up, stuck the key in the ignition, and turned the heater on full blast.
Then he grabbed his katana and ran for the pier.
Kenshin was down in a pool of blood, moving only a slightly. There was a large, gaping hole in the back of his duster and his sword was nowhere in sight. MacLeod ignored him; he was out of the fight for now but it was by definition not a fatal injury.
Atsuko was circling with a man twice her size -- some of that bulk was muscle, but he looked a little overweight, as well. No gun, but he had heavy, forearm length blades in each hand. Apparently, Bowie didn't get his handle from the singer.
"Hey." MacLeod said, causing Bowie to glance in his direction -- Atsuko wisely didn't take her eyes off Bowie; she'd likely recognized Mac's voice.
"How about you pick on someone with a bigger knife?" MacLeod stepped between Atsuko and Bowie. Bowie's eyes widened, and he backed away at the sight of Mac's sword. Then he bolted -- right into Kenshin, who'd somehow found his way back on to his feet.
Bowie had a hundred and fifty pounds on Kenshin, and two working arms and he had two very large knives. MacLeod wasn't the slightest bit surprised that it was Bowie who went down with a crunch, and Kenshin who stayed standing.
"Kenshin, damnit," Atsuko said, then switched to Japanese and started haranguing him loudly.
"Bastard kicked my sword off the pier." Kenshin said, after Atsuko ran out of air and had to take a breath. This didn't seem to be a direct response to Atsuko, rather, it was more a general complaint to anyone willing to listen. He limped to the edge and appeared to be considering jumping in after it.
"We'll hire a diver and get it back in the morning," MacLeod said. Having had a taste of that cold water once already, he wasn't inclined to go swimming a second time any time before next summer. And Kenshin was in absolutely no shape for a sword-fishing expedition -- as he watched, the smaller man swayed in place. With some concern, he said, "Kenshin, are you okay?"
"I'll survive ..."
"Which means he's going to pass out on us," Atsuko said, sounding irritated.
Mac lunged forward and caught Kenshin just as his eyes rolled back in his head and he started to collapse. "About time he ran out of adrenaline," MacLeod said, with some amusement. Kenshin would survive and would be as good as new in a few hours. He started to sling Kenshin's arm over his shoulders, then realized the height difference made this fairly impractical and simply scooped Kenshin up. MacLeod raised his estimate of Kenshin's weight upwards -- he was significantly heavier than he looked. His head lolled against MacLeod's shoulder.
"Let's go. We can patch him up at my place. Are you okay?" MacLeod said, heading back to his car.
"I'm fine." Atsuko inspected her right hand, hissed in pain. "I broke a finger when I caught that chain. It's nothing, it'll heal. Kenshin took that second bullet for me."
"He'll survive. You can die." MacLeod pointed out, in response to her apparent aggravation at Kenshin. If this were Tessa, I'd never in a million years let her go into a fight with me. I'm not sure if this means that Kenshin simply views her as an equal, if he's got a harder heart than he lets on, or if he's given up on stopping her from tagging along after him.
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Soujiro was still in the back seat of the Thunderbird when Mac arrived with Kenshin still unconscious in his arms, and Atsuko trailing behind. Souji had wrapped both blankets around himself and Heather, and was no longer shivering. MacLeod was willing to bet he was completely healed; he'd have a rather rapid rate of recovery given his sheer power.
Heather looked up, damp hair plastered to her face, then saw Kenshin and exclaimed, "Uncle Kenshin!"
Under his breath to Atsuko, MacLeod asked, "How much does she know?"
"Enough." Atsuko opened the passenger side door for MacLeod. "Calm down, Heather, he'll be fine."
From Kenshin came a groggy, "'Mmm bleeding on your car, Mac-san. I'm sorry."
"Not the first time," MacLeod responded.
"Hold on a sec." Atsuko stopped Mac from shutting the car door. She rifled through Kenshin's pockets, eliciting a pained whimper from Kenshin. Now he was feeling that shoulder. "Sorry, Red -- ah."
She held up his keys. "Mac, we probably can't get Kenshin and Heather up to our apartment without a lot of attention. Can you take them to your place? I'll swing by the apartment and pick up some dry clothes."
"Yeah." MacLeod turned his attention back to Soujiro.
Soujiro saw his look and started to untangle himself from the blankets. He was not a friend -- he'd threatened Tessa and Richie, had killed hundreds of Immortals. Including friends, I'm betting, Macleod thought, grimly. MacLeod's look was forbidding. Now that the crisis was over, he was remembering what Joe had said -- three or four heads a year for over a century.
"I'll take you back to your place, Soujiro. Do you have a hotel room?" Atsuko offered. MacLeod gave her a sharp look, wondering if he should intervene there.
Soujiro blinked at her, obviously surprised by the offer, then said, "I've got a car. I'll drive back myself."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'm fine." He stood up, then looked back at Heather. Heather's eyes were enormous. He bent over, tucked the blankets tight around her, and said, in Japanese, "Remember what I said, little one."
From Heather came a nearly inaudible, "Aa."
"Good girl." Soujiro grinned at her. The grin didn't fade when he met MacLeod's glowering eyes. He said, cheerfully, "See you later, Duncan."
That was a threat if I ever heard one, MacLeod thought, with a mixture of concern and irritation. I just don't understand this guy. He's trouble, though. I'm sure of it.