Owen sat by the counter separating the living room and kitchen of his current apartment staring at his sword. He said nothing as he felt the buzz and Keith walked in a few moments later. He didn't even reply when the youth said hello. Keith looked the scene over noticing the whetstone beside him and the piece of fine grade paper he was using on the edge of his long sword. After several uncomfortable moments where his student stayed by the door Keith spoke up, "Are you going to teach me how to sharpen a blade or something?"

"Not yet, maybe I'll be able to," Owen said absentmindedly. His gaze drifted over to the piece of paper next to the whetstone and the address on it. He stared at his reflection in the blade. "Keith I want you to do me a favor."

"Sure Owen what is it."

"Leave me alone for a bit." He went on to explain, "If you don't hear from me by this time tomorrow go talk to Father Andrews. He has a name and number of someone I know. I trust this person with my life so I know you'll be taken care of."

Keith studied him, figuring out what he wasn't saying, "You going to fight somebody aren't you? And you don't think you're going to win."

Glancing at him briefly all he could only respond with, "Something like that."

"Then don't fight."

"I have no choice."

"Why?", he demanded. "Because of some stupid sense of honor? Because this is what we do or some stupid shit like that?"

"Because it's something I've been avoiding for way too long," Owen said. Letting the weight get to him again he said, "It's something that never should have started to begin with." Getting and walking over to his student he put a hand on his shoulder, "I promise you if I make it out alive I'll explain everything to you. But right now I need time to think, alone." Keith looked like he wanted to protest but accepted it without another word. Saying good bye, in what he hoped wasn't for the last time, he left Owen alone.

A few hours later Owen took his motorcycle out of the garage and headed for the address Victor gave him. It took him out of the city and into the suburbs and an old country house in the middle of nowhere. The sun setting over the horizon he felt the buzz before he came to a stop. Owen waited as Victor came out of the house, sabre in hand. Owen removed his jacket and took his long sword out of its holder after he got off. "I can't believe you actually showed up," Victor commented looking mildly astonished. "Did you come to your senses and decide to offer me your head in order to right the wrong you did against me?"

Standing there Owen felt he had to ask something before it was over, "What would you have done if you and Natalya were the last two?"

"Do not speak my daughter's name you murderer!", Victor exploded. "I will not hear her name sullied by your tongue."

Owen repeated, "What would you have done?"

"I made a vow to protect her no matter what," he seethed. "A vow broken because of you. Now take what's coming to you like a man you dog!"

Getting his sword up in a defensive position Owen prepared himself for what was to come, "I had no plans on surrendering my head."

"I should have known," Victor sneered, "just like the bastard you are." Owen didn't wait and went after Victor who replied in kind. It wasn't long before Owen found himself on the defensive. Switching to a style more suited to a katana he was able to catch Victor off guard, and get him some breathing room in the process. He tired to disarm Victor, maybe he'd try to talk to him, reason with him. But Victor was relentless in his attack. He couldn't help but remember back when they first met and they shared various fighting techniques. Back then he was deliberate, always studying his opponent, always looking for that opening he knew they would give him. Now it was like he didn't have a strategy, all he wanted was to take Owens' head. Owen remembered the words of an old teacher of his, saying this was the worst type of opponent, because you couldn't really study them and figure out a weak point in their offense or defense half the time.

The look in Victor eyes is what disturbed him the most, the look of sheer hate in them. He couldn't do this to him any more. It was a gamble but Owen couldn't let this go on like this. Their swords locked at the hilt and Owen grabbed his wrist and forced both of the swords over their heads. He looked him in the eyes and said, "I didn't kill her!" Victor tried to push him back, "Listen to me Natalya's alive!"

"Liar!", he exploded. He got his arms free from the lock. Before Owen could react he was punched in the face with the gold guard of the sabre.

In 1840 Victor response to Owen's question about that tactic was very different. "I would never do that," he said. "It may be a viable strategy but I my opinion it would violate the honor of my family's crest."

Now he was rocked by another punch to the face and he fell to the ground. "If she was alive she would have contacted me!", he spat. "She would have let me know!" Victor swung wild as Owen rolled out of the way.

"She tried to attack me on holy ground," he kicked him in the stomach to get him away and continued to try to get him to understand. Victor came back at him as he got to a knee and he barely blocked the attack. "I told her about the game. I told her about the rules." Victor attacks got even more vicious and forced Owen to start to start walking backwards while he defended himself. Not a good situation to be in, especially if you're too busy trying to protect your head. "She made me promise…"

"LIES!", Victor screamed and caught him off guard with a kick to the gut. Owen fell against a tree that he didn't see was behind him. Then he felt cold steel enter him and exit out his back. The blade of the sabre impaled itself into the tree and Owen was stuck there. At some point his hand opened up and dropped the long sword. Victor glared at him, "Even if what you say is true, you put the idea in her head. She went out and fought somebody and got herself killed because she didn't know what she was doing. So her death is still on your head!"

"She made me… made me promise…," Owen fought to stay conscious as he lost blood, because if he lost that fight he was never waking up again. Surprisingly Victor backed away and went back into the town house. Owen gripped the blade as best he could and tried to free himself.

Victor came back out carrying a bag, even from where he was Owen could tell something heavy was in it. Noticing his struggle Victor commented, "Try and free yourself if you want. I won't try and stop you. Even if you did it wouldn't stop your fate." Victor put the bag down on a log and opened it. "I never told you but I used to be an executioner in my younger days. Even after I became an immortal I would occasionally put on the black hood." He reached into the bag and pulled out an executioner ax. Owen started to struggle harder, "I've kept this more as a memento of those days. But today I will gladly bring her out of retirement do deal with you."

Slowly he felt the blade start to move as Victor approached. He reared back for a swing with a look of glee in his eyes. Owen removed the sabre from his gut and his knees gave away and dropped to the ground. The edge of the ax slammed into the tree where his neck was. As Victor pulled the ax out Owen took the moment he had to heal up a bit. The he rolled out of the way as the ax came at him again. Holding his gut he rolled out the way one more time and lashed out with the sabre. It cut the handle in half. Victor rage grew as watch the ax head fall to the ground and proceeded to attack Owen with the remains of the handle. Owen kept rolling out of the way. He felt the handle of his long sword with his free hand and grabbed it readily. Owen got to his feet, cut the handle again, then held the blade of each sword at Victors' neck, crossed at the hilt as he stood. He stared the older immortal in the eyes. Back when he first met him those gray eyes held laughter, hinted at a dry wit and over all kindness. Now they held nothing but rage, contempt and madness. And Owen knew he was the one responsible. "I'm sorry." He swung both blades and took Victors' head. Dropping to his knees he wanted to remember the man he met back all those long years ago. The man Victor was. Then the first bolt hit him.

Not far away, in the bell tower of church that was nearby Malcolm watched the entire thing through a pair of binoculars. Michel stood on the other side of the tower leaning against a wall not even looking in the fight direction with Harris a little bit away dangling his legs off the roof viewing things threw an old pirates telescope. Malcolm watched slack jaw as the Quickening consumed his nephew, "The half Irish bastard actually did it."

"What are you talking about old man?", Michel asked, silently cursing the fact Malcolm was able to find any holy ground this close. "You didn't think your nephew could do it?"

"A parent's rage is a powerful thing Michel," Malcolm said turning away.

"What parent rage?" Michel scoffed. "They weren't even related."

"Blood means very little in the over all scheme of things Michel," Malcolm put the binoculars away. "Victor raised his daughter and eventually grew to love her like any parent of blood would. And yet my nephew over there," he gestured toward the battle field, "is of my blood. But I could care less if he lives or dies." Looking thoughtful for a second he said, "And yet he over came a parent's rage. That would make him an interesting challenge, wouldn't you say so Michel?"

"I know what you're trying to do old man," Michel snapped. "And don't think I'm just going to fall for it." Malcolm said nothing but had that content look on his face that drove Michel crazy. "And what if your nephew lost? You would have dragged me out here for nothing." Darkly he added, "And I would have caught you off of holy ground eventually."

Not affected by the threat Malcolm got close and said, "Then I would say it was a good thing Harris followed me here. Wouldn't you agree Michel?"

Unaware that Scott heard them he glanced at them before returning his gaze through the telescope toward the younger McAllister, "Now that's not very interesting at all, is it?"

Owen waited for morning before calling Keith and the Father. Both of them were relieved to hear from him again. And both understood when he asked if it would be all right if he waited until later that day to see either one of them. He went to a park and sat on the bench trying to forget everything and just become one with everything. It wasn't going to happen when he felt the buzz and knew exactly who it was. Not looking up he asked, "You come for my head?"

"No," she said. He looked up, her hair was shorter now, and she always tried to stay dressed in the current fashion. But in a world were immortals usually lose themselves a bit at a time over the years Natalya always stayed the same. "If I was I'd have to offer my neck to somebody too. I'm as much to blame for this happening, if not more so."

~1840~

It took an hour but Owen finally caught up with Natalya and his horse. Well Natalya any way as she finally slipped free and the horse kept going. He stopped the one he was one and checked on her. She was unconscious, he arm looks like it was out of its socket and she was bloody from being dragged by the arm. But her head was still on her shoulders so she'd be fine. Despite of what she'd done he couldn't leave her out here, that up coming storm looked massive and who knew who would come across her out here. Scanning the area there was what looked like a missionary or a church not far from where they were. It was holy ground at least, no immortal would touch her there. Picking her up and draping her over the horse he rode off for it.

When he got close he felt the buzz coming from it and held up. God please let that be a decent one. Getting off the horse he made his way over, sword ready just in case. He saw a nun came out who looked both confused and excited, "Owen?"

"Susan?", he went over to her. "Sorry I mean Sister."

"It's alright but what are you doing all the way out here?" He wasn't sure how he was going to explain Natalya when she gave her a quizzical glance.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." While they talked Natalya came back and looked around. She was confused for a moment than she saw that bastard talking to a nun. They were probably discussing who was going to take her head. Well she wasn't going to die without a fight. She slowly got off the filthy animal they placed her on and found a branch that looked like it could do some damage. Screaming at the top of her lungs she charged them. Owen easily dodged her attack but he was too shock to do anything else. Why was she attacking them here of all place. Finally he found his voice, "Holy ground." She kept attacking, "Wait a second this is holy ground." His temper getting the best of him he grabbed the stick in mid swing and screamed "This is holy ground!"

"So what?!" she yelled.

"So…?", Owen was confused. Sister Susan had no idea what to think either. "What are the rules?", he asked suddenly.

"The what?", she shot back

"The rules," he repeated. "What are the rules of the Game?"

"What are you talking about?", she demanded. "What rules to what Game?"

"The game our lives are now under," Sister Susan said. "Fights are only one on one. There is no fighting on holy ground, any holy ground."

Playing a hunch Owen added, "In the end there can be only one."

"Only one? One what?", Natalya asked totally confused.

"There can be only one immortal," the Sister answered. Natalya blanched as she fell on her butt. Owen let loose a string of curses in various languages that he quickly apologized to the Sister for. Then he went into another round soon afterwards. What game was Victor playing here?

Natalya quickly clutched at the Sister as she snapped out of it, "You got to help me. Please I don't know what he was planning on doing with me? Please you got to help me!"

"It's all right child," Sister Susan said trying to comfort her. "You can stay her as long as you want. None of us will try to do anything on holy ground."

She looked relieved but still scared, then she looked at Owen. "Don't tell him where I am please," she pleaded." You have to promise me you won't tell him where I am."

Owen was divided on what to do. Susan watched him and gave him a slight nod when he looked at her. "I promise you he won't find out where you are from me." She was grateful to no end. The Sister helped her up and guided her into the church. Owen stayed outside and looked at the storm on the horizon.

Susan came back out of the back after awhile and found Owen stationed near the doorway. He watched as the storm raged. She had to admit it was most impressive. "She's sleeping now," she informed Owen who said nothing. "It took her a while to calm down so I don't think it will be a peaceful sleep."

"So now what?", Owen asked to nobody in particular, he was expecting the storm to answer with something other than lightning.

"I'll watch over her," Susan answered. "I'll teach her what she needs to know. I was a pretty impressive warrior before I took the vow if you will remember." He barely acknowledged what she said. After a few moments of silence she asked, "So what are you going to do?"

"I can't keep her father in the dark," he said, not looking at her. He knew he couldn't stand under the stare she was giving him. "No matter what he planned that's still his daughter. Besides people saw us fight so I know exactly what he's going to think once he finds that out."

"Owen you gave her your word that you wouldn't tell him," Susan scolded him. "On holy ground no less. Are you prepared to break that?"

"Do not try to pull that on me Sister," he shot back. "And my neck is the one on the line here. And after what she tried to do to me earlier I'm not sure she is worth that."

"She told me everything about what happened earlier," Susan informed him. Owen looked away embarrassed. "It's not my place to judge you for your indiscretions Owen. But remember this, that girl is two hundred years old and knows nothing of the game. Her Father made sure she was unaware this entire time. She talked about him a lot Owen. He taught her how to be a lady, how to interact in high society, even how to act in a foreign settings. But she knows nothing of the Game." She made him look at her, "Are you telling me you're comfortable with sending her back to that situation?"

Owen didn't know what to think. The Victor he knew these past couple of weeks loved his daughter to death. Deep down he knew he wouldn't do anything to hurt her. But different immortals played the Game in different ways. Natalya was proof of that. Reluctantly he said, "I won't tell him. But she has to at some point, I can't run from him forever."

"I'm sure she will," Susan agreed. "She just stunned right now. I'm not sure about this father of hers but they still have a connection. It's not our choice to break it." Owen silently agreed and waited for the storm to pass over before heading out, knowing he couldn't go back to town.

~now~

They were silent for a few moments, just staring out into the distance while sitting on the bench. Before long Owen spoke up, "All this time and you never told him. You kept promising me you would tell him. Every time I saw you, you told me you world so I could stop looking over my shoulder."

"I know," Natalya said, she couldn't look at him. "At first I was scared, I was scared of him Owen. My own father and for the first time in my life I was actually scared of him. I didn't know what he was going to do with me, or to me. After awhile I got a little selfish and began to enjoy my freedom from him. Seeing places he would say he would take me but never would. Exploring things on my own without him trying to filter things. For the first time I was actually enjoying life. Then I got afraid again. Afraid of what he would say. What he would do." She closed her eyes for a bit.

"I tried to tell him," Owen admitted, "during the fight."

"I know you did Owen. I knew you would if it came down to it. I'm surprised to kept quiet this long." She looked unsure for a moment, "There's a reason why I've been avoiding you these past few years. Because I finally did track him down and go see him. And he didn't recognize me," her voice cracked a little. "He told me how I reminded him of his lost daughter and started ranting about the bastard that took her from him. I tried to get him to see it was me. I told him thing about me growing up. I told him things that only we would know. I sang him one my songs." She started to tear up, "But he didn't recognize me. He was too far gone, I lost him to the madness that grew since then. I… I tried to put him out of his misery but I couldn't…". She put a hand over her mouth and tried to compose herself. "Despite of what you might have thought of him he did love me."

"I know he did," Owen told her. "I know it doesn't work this way but deep down I know he just wanted to protect you. I just wished he knew his daughter was playing the Game behind his back."

"I guess I was wrong," she said as a tear started to fall, "what he didn't know did kill him." She put a hand to her mouth again, but this time she couldn't stop it. She started crying, Owen knew this woman for a hundred and sixty eight years and he knew these tears were real. He put an arm around her and pulled her close while she cried into his shoulder "I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't want it to end like this. I didn't want to lose him like this." Owen kissed her lightly on the top of her head and just held her.