Title: Silence Speaks Series: general crossover universe Author: akire Email: akire@mailcity.com Status: C/U Category: Crossover: Highlander/The Sentinel Spoilers: umm, got a basic grasp of the Highlander universe? Fine. Oh yeah, we’re a Clan Denial fanfic. The Sentinel, post S1 ep ‘Vow of Silence’ Disclaimers: D/P and Pet Fly really DO own them. If you don’t recognize it, its probably mine. If it’s silly or crazy, definitely is mine. But if anyone sends the lawyers after me, I’m sending out the boys with swords ;) Oh yeah, and imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. If you recognize a specific fanfic creation, it belongs to its author (when this series is finished, I may tally them up). Rating: PG, prob. Hey, I’m not offended by much, if it should be rated higher, tell me! Content Warning: purists beware. Language may offend some readers. Writing is getting worse, people! Summary: After their abortive trip to the monastery, Blair remembers pleasant times and tries again to find the words. Dedication: To Tamy, for helping me prop up the bar Notes: Just a snippet that I had to write after learning that Blair was a familiar face on Holy Ground ;) On with the show! ~~##~~ "I think I need a holiday to recover from my holiday," Jim griped as he sank into the couch and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Oh, come on man, at least it wasn’t boring. You were even enjoying yourself there for a while." "Yeah, before the body count started rising, you mean." Jim’s arms flopped back down to his sides. "Hey, if academia doesn’t work out, maybe you can become a monk...Brother Sandburg has a nice ring to it, I think." Blair retaliated by pelting Jim with a cushion. "Pass! I like my wine, women and song too much." Jim grinned at his flat mate. "Of course." Stretching his arms high over his head, he yawned widely. "I think I’m going to get some sleep." "Night, man." "Goodnight, Blair." Blair sat on the couch, nursing his tea and listening as Jim thumped around his upper floor bedroom, getting ready for sleep. A click, and the top half of the loft went dark. He waited for another half an hour, sipping his cooling drink and meditating on the troubles that had followed him to his favourite local refuge. He could remember when he had first discovered that little refuge, so many years ago. Before he called Seacouver home. Before he called anywhere home, actually. When he and Naomi were just two free spirits with no barriers between them and the open road before them. Naomi had gone to some women’s only meeting, and he had a whole weekend alone to look forward to. Alone, Immortal, and in a strange town. He had followed his nose for hours and found himself walking up the dusty path, head tilted back to take in the bright, clean bell tower. Holy ground. He could find it anywhere, it was a gift. Smiling to himself, he ambled towards the building, enjoying the sense of peace that seemed to permeate the very air of the place. Which shattered between one footstep and the next as the familiar buzz of another Immortal penetrated his consciousness. He continued on the path without breaking stride. Holy ground would give him the luxury of time to assess this possible opponent. The crunching of gravel from behind his left announced the approach of another person. Slowing to a stop, Blaer admired the line of the tower. From the corner of his eye, he saw a robe-clad monk step up besides him. "Greetings, Brother." The softly spoken salutation carried no hint of threat that Blaer could detect. "Greetings. I hope you don’t mind, I just felt the need for a bit of quiet." Turning fully, he assessed the other Immortal for a long moment before mentally labeling him ‘no threat,’ as he had been taught. In fact, he looked vaguely familiar The monk nodded slightly. "I understand fully. I am Brother Marcus." A slight pause as the monk looked around to ensure they were still alone. "I have no interest in the Game, and all I request is that you respect the peace of this sanctuary." Blaer returned the slight bow. "My name is Blaer. And I’ve come to enjoy the peace, not destroy it." Brother Marcus smiled. "Then be welcome, and pax." He followed Blaer’s gaze to the tower. "Would you like the grand tour?" Blaer smiled broadly. The two Immortal’s walked for nearly two hours, first seeing the highlights of the monastery, then merely talking, blowing the breeze as only Immortal’s can. Comparing friendships, places been and events witnesses. A ringing bell interrupted their increasingly companionable banter. "The call to meal," Brother Marcus identified. "Would you care to join us? All are welcome at the Lord’s Table." Blaer shrugged. "As long as your brother’s don’t mind a non-Catholic breaking their bread." Marcus laughed and began to steer his guest towards the refectory. "I hope not. I only moved onto Catholic Holy Ground about twenty years ago. Before that I was Greek Orthodox." He grinned broadly. "I actually started out training as a pontifex." That kickstarted a conversation in Latin about the merits of various cities in the Empire as the pair moved to join the other monks. ~##~ Blaer held the candle aloft as he cast its flickering light into the bare corners of his cell. What had possessed him to accept Brother Marcus’ invitation to stay the night? True, his dear Naomi wasn’t expecting to see him until they met at the markets tomorrow, but... He shrugged to himself and returned the candle to the plain wooden desk. Why not? This was Holy Ground, and the cell door could be latched from the inside. His instincts were telling him that Marcus was no real threat. He was probably safer here than anywhere. He moved to the narrow window which overlooked the garden two floors below, and the belltower in the distance, glowing faintly by the moonlight, its fresh whitewash gleaming in the silvery glow. He breathed deeply. Holy ground. If he concentrated, in this silence, he felt like he might hear the distinctive tone that was at the back of any Immortal’s brain as soon as they crossed the threshold. Muscles he didn’t even know were tense began to relax. He grinned to himself, and his face was reflected back to him in the distorted glass. Naomi was always telling him to unwind. He should have known that the only place he could truly rest was Holy Ground. He smiled as he thought of his travelling companion. Naomi was so cool about his Immortality, but it was unrealistic for him to expect her to truly understand the rigours of his lifestyle. How it was to live every day expecting a Challenge... A knock at his door pulled him out of his reverie. "Who is it?" "Brother Marcus." Smiling to himself, Blaer crossed the floor in two paces and pulled the heavy latch bar off the door. "Yes, Brother?" "I was just turning in for the night. I wanted to see if you had everything you require." "I’m fine, thankyou." Marcus smiled and bowed again. "Very well. I hope our call to prayer after midnight won’t disturb your sleep too much." Blaer smiled broadly. "I think my problem will be waking up." That much was true. In such a place of sanctuary, he could afford to sleep deeply, to not let any little noise waken him. The thought of rest translated into a yawn which split his face. "Oh, sorry," he blushed as he put a hand belatedly over his mouth. "It’s not the company, it was just a long day." Marcus seemed amused. "I’ll leave you to your bed then. Goodnight, Brother Blaer." "Goodnight, Brother Marcus." As he anticipated, Blair slept the sleep of the dead – or the truly safe. By the time groggy eyes opened, the sun was high over the horizon. Groaning slightly to himself, he rose, and scratching idly, found the small wash-basin and pitcher for his morning ablutions. Washed, dressed, and reasonably awake, Blaer lifted the latch to his cell door and stumbled out into the corridor. He needed to find Brother Marcus, thank him for allowing him to stay, then it was time he got going. It was a long walk back to the markets, and Naomi always got worried if he was late for a set rendezvous after that nasty challenge in the Haight last year. "Brother Blair!" Turning, he spotted the tonsured head of the monk he sat next to last night at the meal table. "Brother Michael, good morning. Have you seen Brother Marcus?" The younger Brother smiled and nodded. "A fine morning it is, too. Brother Marcus instructed me to tell you that he could be found in the gardens this morning." He noted the small carisak Blaer had slung over his shoulder, the coat with its discretely wrapped sword in one hand. "Will you be leaving us today?" Blaer smiled sadly as he reached the crest of the stairs. "I’m afraid so. I have to meet my sister in town today, and she frets if I’m late." Michael fell into step besides the Immortal and the pair descended together. "She sounds like a fine lady then." "Oh, she is!" Blaer agreed with a knowing smile. "My best friend." It felt good not to have to lie outrageously about his personal life. Coming down into the small landing on the ground floor, Michael turned and offered his hand to Blaer. "Well, I enjoyed your company." The shaken hand lifted in automatic blessing. "May you go with God." Stepping out into the bright morning sunshine, Blaer followed the path around the main buildings to the large gardens behind the monastery. The Immortal buzz rose and subsided in his brain as he walked past vines and stalks to the small herb gardens tucked in the corner. Inhaling deeply, he sang quietly to himself. Are you going to Scarborough Fair Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme... He trailed off as Brother Marcus appeared. "Good morning, Brother Marcus." "Good morning. Please don’t stop on my account." Blaer blushed, not accustomed to singing in public. He felt his voice was barely good enough for singing a drinking ballad or two, nothing more. "Actually, I need to get going. Naomi – a friend – is expecting me at the markets in town at noon, and if I don’t leave soon, I’ll be late." "And she will expect the worst, no doubt?" Marcus added with a knowing tilt of the head as he inspected the leaves of a rhubarb plant. "Thanks for letting me crash here and everything." "It was my pleasure. I enjoy not having to choose my life over another’s. I find it most peaceful here." Blaer nodded with a wishful sigh. "Peace. It would almost be worth being stuck in one place to feel peace." "Wanderlust can be a powerful thing, especially when we are young." Blaer grinned again as he scuffed his worn sneakers in the ground. As was the courtesy amongst Immortals, the subject of relative ages never came up, but he had gauged Marcus to be of the Roman era, maybe a bit earlier. The name Marcus certainly suggested something of that period. "It certainly can be," he replied non-committedly. "But perhaps you’d care to save your legs for another day. A few of the other Brother’s are taking some of our produce to market. I am certain you could..." he paused slightly as he found the right combination in the modern vernacular. "Hitch a lift, man." Blaer laughed out loud. "If it’s not too much trouble..." His concerns were waved away with a careless gesture. "It was they who suggested to me to make the offer. But come, I know they will wish to leave shortly." In silence they moved through the garden to the access road that lead from the gates to the barn that served as a garage for the monastery’s vehicles. As he predicted, the monks were industriously loading the last of the pallets and crates aboard an ancient-looking flatbed truck. Blaer turned to shake Marcus’ hand. "Thankyou," he repeated sincerely. Slowly, with ritualistic care, Marcus embraced him and offered the fraternal kiss of peace, which Blaer returned with due solemnity. It had been nearly ten centuries since he had last been offered such a token of brotherhood – not since the fall of the Order. Smiling with the bittersweet memories the sincere gesture had recalled, he looked his new friend in the eye. "Pax, Brother Marcus." "I hope you find yours," he replied with a twinkle in his eye. "But in the meantime, feel free to come visit and sample ours. All I ask is that you respect the sanctity of our holy ground, to bring no violence with you, and you will always be welcome here." Blaer nodded, his hands still on the other man’s shoulders. "I am so down with that." Marcus laughed and began shooing him towards the bus. ~~##~~ The noises of a truck backfiring in the street below pulled Blaer back to the present with start. Cursing silently as he slopped the cold dregs of his tea over his fingers, he wiped his hands on his jeans as he got up and headed towards the kitchen. First thing tomorrow, when Jim wasn’t around, he would write a letter to Marcus and apologise. It may have been nearly forty years since that conversation, but he had still broken his word. Even though, he admitted to himself, it was as much the fault of that hitman as his own, he had still been involved in bringing violence to the monastery. He just hoped Marcus wasn’t the kind of Immortal who nursed a grudge. ‘Oh well,’ an inner voice that sounded suspiciously like his huji said. ‘If worst comes to worst, you could probably take him in a fight. The guy probably doesn’t even know where his sword is anymore.’ Snorting to himself as a mental image of Marcus searching for his weapon and apologising for keeping his opponent waiting formed in his mind, Blaer rinsed out his mug and set it on the rack to dry. The smiled died as the mental voice continued on to chastise him. ‘And when was the last time you got in some practice. Need I remind you that your skills are the only thing between living and dying?’ ‘It’s hard,’ he mentally replied, turning the monologue into a dialogue. ‘I never did learn how to practice sword fighting around a Sentinel who thinks I’m a dyed in the wool pacifist.’ ‘But you did learn how to improvise! You claim to have a brain, use it!’ ‘Maybe I should just tell him everything?’ ‘Where do you want to start? With the fact that you’re nearly as old as his religion, the fact that there are a couple of hundred guys out there who’d like nothing more to see your head come away from your shoulders, or the fact that you want exactly the same for them?’ ‘Well, have you got any better ideas?’ The hand which landed on his shoulder nearly scared him into orbit. "Jee-zuz! Don’t sneak up on me like that, Jim!" "Sorry, Chief." Jim yawned, obviously barely awake. "What are you doing still up?" Blair tossed a glance at the clock on the microwave. Nearly 3am. "Sorry, man. I got to thinking and kinda lost track of the time." Jim favoured his best friend with a warm, sleepy grin. "Obviously, Einstein." The hand on his shoulder migrated north to ruffle his hair. "But why don’t you go to bed." Blaer paused, the words on the tip of his tongue despite the lateness of the hour, despite their long and weird weekend. "Everything okay Sandburg?" Jim’s voice shattered the fragile moment like sugar-glass. "Yeah man, just fine. Go back to bed." Blair paused at the threshold of his own room as he listened to Jim’s measured steps thump back up to his own room. It wasn’t the right time for that conversation. Later. It will be easier in the morning. Surely. ~~##~~