A New Twist

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the television series/films Highlander and I'm not making any money from this fic

Summary: About two and a half centuries ago, Connor MacLeod was seduced by a newly created Immortal who then disappeared as things were getting serious. Set just after Tessa's death in season two, an Immortal has come to take Duncan's head – who can't quite bring himself to care

Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers up to and including the episode The Darkness of season two of Highlander; some mentions of violence; spoilers for the first Highlander film; implied sex

Author's Note: I intended to make this one part, but it ended up being quite long, so I'm going to be writing it as two parts

About 1730

Connor set down his half-drunk tankard of ale as he looked up, sensing the presence of another Immortal. There were bawdy songs going on all around him and as he focused on the woman who'd just entered the tavern, he took in the dark hooded cloak she was wearing. It was enough to hide her identity, but there was nothing she could have done to hide what she was.

Connor drained the rest of the tankard and set it down once more as he stood up, pushing his way through the crowds of men. He seized the woman's arm as he passed her, pulling her back towards the door and then turning to face her. "This is no place for a lady."

"Who says I'm a lady?" Her voice was smooth and, despite being little more than a whisper, there was a slight accent that gave every word a lilt.

Connor slid his hand down her arm to lace his fingers through hers. He used that grip to raise her hand to the light, although he didn't need to see it to know what it was like. "Your skin is soft. No calluses. You've not worked a day in your life." He raised the pale hand to his face, inhaling deeply while keeping his eyes open. "Lavender, if I'm not very much mistaken."

"And I thought a man who clearly frequents taverns far more than he should wouldn't know how to recognise a lady."

"We change with the times." Connor opened the door and stepped outside into the cool night air, feeling it blow over his skin. He turned to the woman. "You should be more careful."

"Why? The only way I can die is if I have my head cut off."

"Which is far more likely than you seem to think." Connor abruptly let go of her hand, drawing his sword and turning in one swift motion, bringing the blade up against her throat. He took in her complete stillness – the way she hadn't even flinched back as he'd brought the blade up. "You're either very brave or very stupid... or you want to die."

"You won't kill me."

"You don't know me." Connor pulled his sword away from her throat, replacing it under his coat. "What do you want?"

"My teacher spoke quite highly of you. He told me that, if anything happened to him, I should seek you out and ask you to take over my training." The woman paused and then continued, "You're a very hard man to find, Connor MacLeod."

"There are times I don't want to be found." Connor considered it. He could walk away from her easily and leave her to the next Immortal who came by, even if he didn't take her head himself. It would be one less student whose death he would eventually have to mourn. Over the years he'd been alive, he'd seen countless Immortals he considered friends killed by the ones who let the darkness rule them – including his own teacher. But still... "Who taught you?" he asked out loud.

"Arthur."

A warrior from far back in England's history, Arthur's origins were clouded in mystery and so many tales surrounded him, it was nearly impossible to distinguish reality from fantasy. Connor had met him a few times and had a great deal of respect for the older Immortal. "Who took his head?"

"I wasn't there when he was killed," the woman replied. "I was buying food. By the time I got back, it was over and he was... gone." She took a deep breath. "I think I know who killed him, but without seeing the person, there's no way to be sure."

Duncan was better at taking on the new Immortals than he was, Connor reflected. He mostly only taught those he had a personal connection to, which was why he and Duncan had grown so close. Still, if Arthur had told his pupil to come and find him, Connor would be remiss if he turned her away. And there was always the possibility that she was lying and that she'd been the one who'd killed Arthur. The only way he would know for sure was by getting to know her. "I'll do it," he said out loud.

"You'll teach me?"

Connor turned to face her full on. "Come and find me tomorrow morning, at dawn. I'll be outside the town. Don't be late," he added, turning away.

The presence of the other Immortal faded as the woman walked away. Connor waited until all sense of her presence had faded and then walked back into the tavern.

The next morning, Connor stood on the hill outside the town while it was still dark. One good thing about being Immortal was that it didn't matter how much beer he drank. He didn't need to worry about getting a headache the next day, so he was now bright and alert – and more than halfway convinced that the woman wasn't going to come.

But then he felt it. The familiar sense that warned him of an approaching Immortal. He turned to face the town and saw her approaching. She was still wearing the hooded cloak, but he recognised the way she walked and as she came closer, the wind carried the familiar scent of lavender to him.

He was going to have to warn her about that. Or perhaps not. After all, taking away her scent wasn't going to give her any added protection against fellow Immortals – and since her hood made it impossible for him to see her face, it was her scent that told him who she was. Besides, he had to admit that the smell itself was lovely. It wasn't strong enough to engulf his senses, but was enough to tease and tantalise, making him intrigued to see more of the woman who brushed against his senses.

"I notice you don't seem any worse for having been drinking so much last night," the woman commented as she stopped in front of Connor.

"One of the many advantages of being Immortal," Connor conceded. He drew his sword. "I am Connor MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. If you want to learn from me, then draw your sword and state your name." He dropped into a fighting stance.

"I am Adelaide," the woman replied, her fingers grasping the hilt of her own sword and drawing it in one smooth motion. "I thank you for agreeing to take on the mantle of teaching me."

Connor wondered at the way the woman spoke, as if she was a lady. That wasn't something he found nearly as concerning as the fact that she was still wearing her cloak. "You'll move better if you take off your cloak."

"Is that an order?"

"More like an observation." Connor moved, slicing his sword at Adelaide, who took a step back, lifting her own sword to block his blade. The sound of metal against metal rang out, making Connor glad that he'd chosen outside the town to use as a training ground. After he'd died the first time, using swords hadn't been an unusual sight. Now, though, the sounds of sword fighting would draw far too much attention from the wrong kind of people.

"I like my cloak." As she spoke, Adelaide took a step back. "It means people don't know who I am. It might give me an advantage later on."

"You won't even show the man you asked to be your teacher? You expect me to train you, but you don't trust me enough to reveal what you look like?"

"Should I trust you?" Adelaide returned. "After all, in the end, there'll be only one of our kind left. Sooner or later, one – or both of us – is going to be dead. I'd rather take any advantages I can get." As she spoke, she struck out at him with her sword.

Connor batted her blade aside easily, stepped within the range of her swing and grasped her shoulder. He spun her round and struck her on the backside with the flat of his blade. "You're over-reaching with your strikes. Don't. You'll end up off-balance and become an easy target." He spun her back to face him. "Try again."

"You hit me," Adelaide said slowly.

"Direct consequences of a mistake. In a real battle, a mistake will get you killed. I could stab you each time you make a mistake, but waiting for you to revive again will add more time to our training session – not to mention making you bleed all over your clothes and on the ground. Besides, the flat of a blade doubles as a good deterrent."

"I suppose that makes sense..."

"Try again," Connor suggested.

By the time the training session was completed, Connor was breathing hard and he'd just delivered three solid whacks to Adelaide's backside, making her cry out at the final stroke. He stepped round so that she could see him, even if he couldn't see her face. "I think that's enough for today."

"I can go on longer..." Adelaide said quickly. "I can do better."

"When you start making more mistakes, it means it's time to stop." Connor placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, then slid his sword back into place at his belt under his coat. "Don't try to do too much at once. Making mistakes doesn't mean I'm going to stop training you. I have more patience than that." He chuckled softly and then changed the subject. "I would imagine you already have a place to sleep, but it'll be far easier for me to train you if you stay with me."

"Are you trying to disparage my reputation, Connor MacLeod?" The humour in Adelaide's voice made it quite clear she wasn't serious.

"Would you like me to?"

"I'll let you know." Adelaide put her own sword away. "Lead me to your home, then."

Connor woke up as he heard someone coming into his room, the familiar sense of an Immortal accompanying the sound. One hand reached for his sword, while the other reached to light the lamp next to his bed.

"Leave it," Adelaide whispered as she approached slowly, taking a seat on the edge of Connor's bed.

Connor let go of the hilt of his sword and sat up slowly. He could tell that Adelaide wasn't wearing her cloak, but it was so dark, he couldn't make out anything other than the faint outline of her form. Still, he couldn't see the familiar glint that would be caused by the blade of a sword. "You're supposed to be sleeping," he said quietly. "We have an early start tomorrow."

"I'm sure you'll make me pay for the mistakes I make." Adelaide leaned in closer to him, her familiar scent teasing him. She placed one hand on his shoulder, her soft touch all but burning into his skin. "Do you want me to leave?"

Connor reached out and found his fingers brushing against soft hair. He let his hand travel down, discovering that her hair fell in silken waves down to her waist. He slowly stroked across, palm resting on her stomach while his thumb absently caressed her skin through her nightgown. "I'm not a gentleman."

"And I'm not a lady. Not anymore." Adelaide leaned in close, her hair brushing over his bare skin, as she gently kissed him on the lips.

Connor's hand slid round to Adelaide's back, pushing her closer to him as he sat up even further and deepened the kiss. His other hand took hold of her chin, cupping the side of her face. He kissed her harder, feeling her yield under him – and then he pulled her down onto the bed with him, rolling over so that he was on top, hand travelling down over her nightgown.

Connor was used to fighting on very little sleep, but he quickly realised that Adelaide wasn't, particularly after she made several mistakes in a row. In the end, he put up his sword, stepping back just as Adelaide stumbled from over-reaching. He caught her arm when she would have fallen and brought her closer to him. "Enough for today."

Adelaide let out her breath in a sigh of frustration. "I feel like I haven't learned anything."

"You're tired. I would say that seducing your instructor wasn't the best of ideas."

"You didn't resist." It sounded like she was smiling.

"I'm not in the habit of turning away a woman who seeks my attention." Connor slid his hand down her arm, removing her sword from her unresisting hand. He opened the folds of her cloak and tucked the sword back through her belt. "The next time, however, we'll be sleeping as well."

"Oh? Does that mean there will be a next time?"

By way of answer, Connor let his hand slide up her arm, over her shoulder and to her hood. Adelaide tensed as his fingers grasped the edge of the hood, but didn't pull away. As he pushed it back, though, he closed his eyes. He didn't need to see her face. He knew her body well enough by touch after the previous night.

Connor kissed her and felt her lean into his arms.

Three weeks later

When Connor woke up, the first thing he noticed was the absence of warmth next to him. He opened his eyes and frowned slightly when he realised that there was no sign of Adelaide. Normally, by the time morning came, she was back in her cloak, but still lying next to him.

There'd been enough time for them to develop a specific way of doing things. Connor didn't immediately worry, though. The training had been getting better and he was certain that, by now, Adelaide would be able to hold her own in a real fight against an Immortal.

Maybe she'd gone out early to train some more.

Deciding not to worry, Connor took his time getting dressed before he left the house.

Present day

The pain from Tessa's death was still raw inside Duncan as he stood by the window, staring out onto the street. It didn't matter how many centuries he lived. He could get to a thousand years old, but he suspected it would never get any easier to lose someone. He was relieved that Richie had come back to life, of course, but he couldn't stop thinking about Tessa.

He'd been so close to proving her wrong. He'd loved Tessa; wanted to marry her. Perhaps asking her had been triggered by meeting the fortune teller and making him remember being told that he would love many women but marry none, but his question had been prompted by his feelings for Tessa as much as those memories.

Duncan was sure that Richie probably thought he was keeping everything inside and acting like he didn't care. He did, but all he could think was that he couldn't let himself break down. If he thought about Tessa too much, he'd start grieving. And grieving would be the first step in letting Tessa go – and he wasn't sure he wanted to start doing that yet.

There was the sudden, abrupt sense of an Immortal outside. Duncan hesitated, but grabbed his sword. No matter the situation, he wasn't going to run from a fight. Perhaps it was a stupid idea to meet whoever was coming face-on, but he knew it wasn't Richie or Connor. He'd rather meet a potential threat with his sword in hand – especially now.

Duncan walked over to the door and opened it to reveal a slender woman with dark auburn hair standing outside. She was wielding a slender sword, delicately curved that looked like one hard strike would snap it in two. Duncan knew better than to underestimate an Immortal or the sword she wielded, though, and focused his eyes on the woman in front of him. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. Are you here to challenge me?"

"I am Amy Meadows," the woman replied. "And, yes, I am here to challenge you." She took a step forward, slashing down with her sword.

Duncan stepped back, swinging his sword up to block the strike. Although their swords clashed together hard, Amy's sword remained intact. Duncan took a step backwards and Amy advanced on him. He ducked round to the side, but although his new position opened up her side to a strike, he hesitated a split second too long and she spun round, slashing out at him with her sword.

Duncan circled round behind her, raising his sword. As he did so, he felt the buzz of another Immortal not too far behind him. He turned round and Amy slipped between his body and the wall, darting away and out of view as Connor turned the corner. Duncan glanced back to see that she'd disappeared entirely and then turned back to face his kinsman. "What are you doing here?"

Connor stopped, a brief look of surprise passing across his face, though it quickly faded into the expressionless mask he often wore. "I heard about Tessa."

"Are you here to offer condolences, or to say you told me so?"

Connor narrowed his eyes a little, but simply gestured towards the open door of Duncan's apartment. "Shall we go inside? You still have your sword out. You don't want to draw any unwanted attention to yourself." When Duncan didn't move, he gestured again, a little more forcefully this time. "We're not having this conversation out on the street."

Duncan gave some serious thought to refusing, but something in Connor's face warned him off. He slowly walked into the apartment, putting his sword away as he entered with Connor close behind him. "Did you see the other Immortal?"

"I sensed another Immortal, but they'd gone by the time I got to you," Connor replied, closing the door behind him. "Is that why you had your sword out?"

"She challenged me," Duncan explained. "Amy Meadows. I don't suppose you've heard of her?"

Connor shook his head. "You could try asking your Watcher friend," he suggested.

"But why did she run off when you approached?" Duncan mused, thinking out loud. "She'd know you wouldn't attempt to interfere in the fight. Maybe it's something personal to do with you." Although that theory didn't work, either. He'd stated his name – unless she intended to get to Connor by taking his head. It wouldn't be the first time someone attempted to get to an Immortal by killing someone he or she cared about. In fact, that had been why Tessa had ended up dead...

Pain stabbed through Duncan and he struggled to push the thoughts of Tessa away. When he turned to look at Connor, he could tell that he hadn't fooled the other man at all – but he was determined not to show any weakness in front of Connor. "Why are you here?"

"I can't visit you, Duncan? Like I said... I heard about Tessa. I thought you might need someone to talk to."

"Well, I don't." Duncan knew he was being rude, but right now, he couldn't bring himself to care. It was far easier to get angry than to let himself properly grieve. "You might as well go back to your shop."

Connor's eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to Duncan. "Watch your mouth, lad. Or have you forgotten how I dealt with you when I first came to you?"

Duncan remembered all too well what Connor had done during their first few weeks together, when he'd been stubborn and refused to listen to him. He'd felt the flat of Connor's blade against his bare backside innumerable times. But it was different now. He was older; not to mention a lot bigger than Connor. If it came down to it, Connor wouldn't be able to get near him.

Connor eyed Duncan, clearly waiting for a response. When Duncan didn't say anything, he spoke. "I'll go and see what there is in the kitchen. You should eat something."

"I don't need you to take care of me," Duncan muttered.

If Connor heard Duncan, he gave no sign of it as he disappeared into the kitchen. Duncan watched the kitchen door for a few moments, feeling sort of lost and wondering if he was ever going to get to the point where he would feel able to take control of his life again. With a long sigh, he stepped over to the nearest chair and sat down, only lifting his head when he heard Connor's footsteps approaching once more – though he had no idea of how much time had passed.

"Here. Eat this. You need to keep your strength up." Connor thrust a plate of pasta under Duncan's nose.

Duncan idly thought about refusing to eat, or even taking the plate from Connor and throwing it to the ground like a bad-tempered child, but he decided against it. For one, he could imagine exactly how Connor would react – and he didn't want to anger the other man any more than he already had. With a sigh, he reached for the plate and spoon Connor offered him and began eating.

Connor sat down in a chair opposite Duncan and studied him as he ate. Duncan swallowed and frowned at Connor. "You know, I'm not going to throw it away if you take your eyes off me for one moment."

"And why should I believe that?" Connor asked quietly. "You've barely listened to me since I got here. All I can see is that you're torturing yourself over not being able to save her – and you're not even allowing yourself to grieve. I know how hard it is to lose someone, believe me. But if you're going to let your grief overwhelm you like this, I will do something about it."

Duncan swallowed, feeling his mouth suddenly dry. He didn't like the way Connor was looking at him but, all too soon, he'd finished the food. When Connor silently took the plate and spoon from him and took them to the kitchen, Duncan considered leaving and postponing whatever his kinsman had in mind. But there was no use in trying to flee. Connor would only come after him – and then whatever he planned would be much worse, since he would have only succeeded in ticking Connor off even more.

When Connor returned to the room, he didn't sit down and just stood in front of Duncan, towering over him in a way he couldn't when they were both standing. "You need to let go of your grief."

"I'm not a child, Connor. I can handle this myself."

"The same way you're doing now?" Connor shook his head. "I wonder... if I hadn't come when I did, would you have even put up a proper fight against this Immortal who was after your head? Or would you have allowed her to kill you?"

Duncan opened his mouth to deny the accusation; to insist that he could handle the grief on his own. But looking into Connor's eyes, the words died in his throat. He'd always found it difficult to lie to Connor – and it looked like he hadn't got any better at it over the centuries.

"That's what I thought." Connor reached for Duncan's wrist, wrapping his fingers around it and pulling up to drag Duncan to his feet.

Duncan knew that he should have pulled away, but he found himself submitting to his teacher as he had done so many years ago. When Connor used his grip on Duncan's wrist to pull him over to the couch, Duncan knew instinctively what his kinsman intended to do, but he stayed silent as Connor seated himself and then set to work unfastening his jeans.

"Don't..." Duncan started.

Ignoring his protest, Connor pulled Duncan's jeans down to his ankles, following those with his boxers. He then pulled Duncan round to his side, using his grip on the other's wrist to pull down across his lap, settling him there.

The first hard slap to his naked buttocks made Duncan jump. His breath hissed out as the second swat landed hard, but Connor didn't give him a chance to catch his breath as his hand descended again and again, each smack igniting a fire that made Duncan's legs jerk.

Duncan had no idea how long he lay across Connor's lap with Connor's hand descending again and again on his bare backside. His whole world shrank to the heat being delivered to his backside. His eyes began to blur, but he struggled to hold back the tears. He didn't want to let go.

"Duncan. I know it hurts," Connor said calmly from above him. "You will have no peace unless you allow yourself to properly grieve." As he spoke, his hand hit harder and faster, paying particular attention to Duncan's sit spots and the tops of his thighs.

More tears slipped out of Duncan's eyes and he began to wriggle and squirm across Connor's lap, frantic not to be forced to give in to the pain. He couldn't let himself grieve, because he was frightened he wouldn't be able to stop; that every time he closed his eyes, all he would see was Tessa's face.

There was a pause and then Duncan stiffened a little as he heard the familiar sound of leather being pulled free. He couldn't help the cry that escaped his lips as Connor's belt landed hard right across the centre of his buttocks.

The awful leather cracked down hard several times, each strike making Duncan cry out. It wasn't until the tenth strike that the dam finally burst, making the tears fall hard and fast as he sobbed, allowing himself to finally grieve for Tessa's death.

Apparently, that had been what Connor was waiting for, because he stopped the awful spanking and just let Duncan lie across his lap as he sobbed hard, rubbing his back gently. Once again, time seemed to stop for Duncan and he had no idea how long he cried out his grief for – but when his tears finally began to die away, he realised slowly that his backside no longer ached. Clearly, enough time had passed to allow him to heal fully.

Connor helped Duncan stand and placed a hand on Duncan's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Feel better?"

"More like glad for our fast healing." Duncan replaced his boxers and jeans, the tightness in his chest having faded with the tears. He looked up at Connor once he was done. "Thank you."

Connor simply nodded. Then, he sighed. "So what are you going to do about this Immortal that's after your head?"