I just watched the movie Highlander: the Gathering, and the song right before the credits (you know, the one that goes "Who wants to live forever?") inspired this. Anyway, I haven't watched Highlander in a long time before seeing that, so any characters might be somewhat OOC. It's my first angst fic, so be kind! And if this has been done before, don't flame me. If you do flame me, I will forward them to my rpg where they will be used to power up my character.
Disclaimer: Highlander doesn't belong to CJ.
Why are we here? If life itself is so short, what is the purpose? A flower lives only for a short time. Its beauty is not seen before it wilts and dies away. Wouldn't it be easier to make a difference if we could live forever?
2002
Duncan MacLeod sat down on a cold gray rock, and rested his head in his hands. A harsh wind ripped through the leaves over his head, blowing through his long coat. He pulled the collar up around his neck and hunched down against the bitter wind. The day was cold and dreary, reflecting perfectly the way Duncan felt inside. In all of his 410 years, the Highlander had never felt so weary. Sure, being Immortal had its advantages, but no one liked to talk about the downsides that far outweighed the perks.
He was growing tired, but not from his age. Imprisoned a body that would always be young; no, that would never make him weary. He was tired of the Game, constant headhunting; always being on the lookout for other Immortals. It had been the same way for centuries. There was a Prize for the one at the end, but was it worth all the trials and suffering one had to go through to reach it?
Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, and burrowed his head further into the coat. There was an easy way out. He could move to holy ground and never leave. No Immortal would be able to engage him, and he wouldn't have to shed any more blood. It had worked before. But only for so long. That was a downside to being Immortal. He would never die on the holy ground, instead, live forever in a self-proclaimed exile.
A single tear crawled down the Highlander's cheek. Why must it be like this? he thought. Why should I have to live my life for centuries, protecting the head that is causing me so much pain right now? Everyone he had met, everyone he had killed, all of them were still fresh in his mind, as if it were just yesterday. And the mortals that had died, their lives the length of a fly's compared to his. He remembered them all. And the pain never went away.
Why should he have to endure so much? A mortal has these pains too, but they die, and the pain no longer affects them. But he would have to go on. He, Duncan MacLeod, would have to persevere and strive to be the one at the end, no matter how much it hurt. Who wants to live forever, anyway?
