Mortal Stakes
Introduction:
This story is a crossover of MacGyver and Highlander. It takes place about 2 years after the end of the MacGyver series, and prior to the end of season 4 (1996 - 1997) of Highlander. I'm using poetic license to set these to be the same time period :-) This story also follows a previous story, "Suspicion of Guilt", which is a MacGyver/Forever Knight crossover that I wrote in 1995. There are a couple of references, but it isn't necessary to read the prior story.
For those of you familiar with Highlander, I wrote this before I saw the episode "Double Eagle", so I didn't swipe the sword-in-the-cane idea (*they* stole it from *me* :-)All characters of "MacGyver" and "Highlander" are used without permission.
Note: This story is currently undergoing a heavy rewrite and will be posted when it is complete and beta read. Here's the opening scene to give you a hint...
LaGuardia airport was teeming with people, as was usual for a Friday evening. MacGyver looked up at the sign with the gate numbers on it and then turned toward the long hallway to his left. Hefting his backpack on his shoulder, he hurried down the hall, hoping he'd make it to gate thirty-seven before his plane left. His plane from London had been delayed and he had only three minutes to catch his connecting flight to Seattle. It figured that his gate would be the one at the far end of the corridor. He glanced at his watch and began to run down the hall.
Duncan MacLeod waited wearily at the airport security station. When it was finally his turn, he put his baggage on the conveyor and pulled out his special paperwork. His sword was packaged in a long wooden box, and normally wouldn't be allowed on the plane as carry-on luggage, but since he still dealt in antiques, he carried special permits to allow him to carry on antique weapons in specially locked cases. The suspicious looks the security personnel always gave him made him smile. He wondered how the other immortals managed. His previous experiences with airport baggage handling made him loathe to check his katana as luggage. It gave him comfort to know that it would be within easy reach, should he need it.
He arrived at the gate in time for the first boarding call. After tucking his sword and carry-on bag into the overhead compartment, he settled into his oversized aisle seat in the first class compartment. His seat was in the first row, his preferred seating, since it allowed him to extend his legs completely. The first class seats were also wider, so he didn't have to hunch his shoulders for the entire trip. Air travel had certainly progressed, he thought, remembering the early days of small, rickety planes and cattle-car passenger seating.
After arriving in Seattle, he was planning a long vacation someplace quiet, maybe a camping trip. He had had a few tough battles lately. Some old enemies had come gunning for him and run him ragged, and he'd had another encounter with some renegade Watchers. He was feeling weary and out of sorts and was looking forward to some quiet time alone. It was too cold for most people at this time of year, so the woods would be relatively unpopulated -- just what he needed.
To be continued...
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