Alex, my best beta-er in the entire world. . . I'm partially
dedicating this to you. Thank you for being so supportive and one
of the nicest human beings (am I assuming too much? JK) that I've
ever encountered.
Disclaimer: When they're mine, you WILL know as I will not stop
bragging about it.
Follows Coming Back To Life as the fourth in my lyric arc. See
the others for any other possible notes.
Until It Sleeps
Christy Xris Robbins
It had happened again.
The swish of his sword. The splattering of blood and subsequent
darkness rising to overwhelm his soul. It was the way of things. He
had felt it before and knew that it would be to no avail should he
try to fight this - the Dark Quickening.
Who had he killed? The man's name... he searched for it among the
crashing chaos of his thoughts. Screaming, he found it as the pain
found every part of his body and began to slowly eat him from the
inside out. Patrick. Patrick O'Carrel. He had not been a good
person. He had been the kind of person that abused his
immortality. He'd done so for almost six hundred years. Yet it
wasn't necessarily his Quickening that threw Duncan into his evil
seeming. It was Kronos. Caspian. The pain of Methos'
disappearance. Everything negative that had happened since
coming from that Spring was suddenly there and present and
Duncan was thrown into madness.
A madness that remained when he awoke.
Smiling, Duncan stood from the ground he had collapsed on. The
man's head sat a few feet away and Duncan smiled at it in gratitude
as he made his way across the warehouse to the door. He had not
been a hard fight, but he had done Duncan the greatest service
since he'd had the first Dark Quickening. He was in POWER
again. More so than the puny offerings Coltec had given him.
Whereas Coltec had contained - maybe - nine hundred years of evil
within him, Kronos and Caspian had handed him over six
thousand. He was in control. He was indestructible. He was all-
powerful.
He was going out Hunting. For all his power, there was still more
to be had.
The Oldest of them all.
Methos.
~
Joe looked up as the door to his bar swung open. The chilly
November breeze blew in and he felt a quick stab of pain in his leg
as it touched him. Then the door was closed and he was left staring
at a single snow-blown figure. One had hadn't seen in over half a
year.
"Adam," he said in greeting. He hobbled out from behind the bar
and crossed the room, giving his friend a quick hug. "It's good to
see you again."
"Likewise, my friend," Methos said. He stepped back and looked
into Joe's eyes. "How bad is it?" The four words brought Joe back
to reality and he remembered the reason his friend had returned.
"It happened about three weeks back," Joe said. "I didn't even
know about it until..." He trailed off and began to make his way
back around the counter. Adam followed.
"Until what, Joe?" he demanded. "What did he do?"
"He went after Cassandra." Methos froze in spot. "Took her head
last week. I wrote you right after." Methos stood a moment in
shock before taking a shaky step back, leaning against a nearby
wall. Cassandra was dead? The last hold he had on his elusive
past?
"What else?" Methos asked. Joe looked at him, confused. "There
has to be more. If MacLeod's dark side has taken over again there
has to be another element about Cassandra's death that you're not
telling me."
"There's nothing," Joe stated. Methos scowled. "He went to
Chicago and caught her unaware. Took her head in some alley.
The Watchers that cleaned it didn't find anything else." Methos
growled in frustration. What was he up to? MacLeod had to have
left *something.* The majority of Watchers were careless when it
came to crime scenes. They knew nothing about looking for the
subtle clues that Methos had a trained eye for.
Could he risk going to Chicago to look?
"Where is he now?" he asked. Joe frowned.
"I don't know. One of my men followed him as far as New York
and then lost him."
"Could he... no, he wouldn't go after Connor."
"It's evil Duncan we're playing with, Adam, who knows what he's
capable of." Methos frowned. "I'm going."
"Adam..." Joe began. The Immortal turned. "He's got Kronos and
Caspian in him. Remember that, all right?"
"Trust me, Joe," Methos said quietly, "I will never, *ever* forget."
~
MacLeod waited. He had been waiting for over a week. Watching
from his perch in the rancid Chicago hotel room across from where
he had killed Cassandra, he saw the Watcher's move her body and
the passing of people day in and day out. They were non-issues.
Trivial, really. He wanted Methos. He was willing to wait.
He was not disappointed.
He was sitting on the balcony sipping a classy Chardonnay when
he finally spotted the Old Man. He wanted to pounce right away,
but instead watched as Methos walked into the alley and stood
from his seat. Glancing at the sky, he reflected on some sort of
perverse satisfaction that it was nearing twilight and smiled a feral
grin. Slowly making his way down the hall, he caught the elevator
to the lobby and walked out, crossing the street in front of several
moving cars. The part inside of him that had gotten control of
Kronos' Quickening screamed with every step, shouting ideas at
Duncan as to what should be done with Methos.
He ignored all of them.
Stepping into the mouth of the alley, he smiled in satisfaction as
Methos started, jumping as Duncan's shadow fell over him. The
other man paled a bit and he swallowed what Duncan decided was
fear.
"Duncan-" he began. Duncan waved a hand and cut him off.
"Silence." The weight of his words closed Methos' mouth. Methos
stared at him, afraid. The alley was a dead-end and night was
falling. "I've been waiting for you, Old Man."
"Mac, please, listen to me. This isn't you. We can go to the
Spring..." He silence himself slowly as Mac raised a finger to his
lips and hushed him.
"You're weak, Methos," he said in a quiet voice. "And this time
there's no Sean Burns inside me to win me over."
"You're wrong, MacLeod," Methos stated. "Sean *is* inside you.
He's still in there. As is Coltec. Darius. A score of people that
shouldn't have died that did and added to who you were in doing
so." Duncan frowned. "You know it's true, Mac. And NONE of
them would have wanted this." MacLeod drew closer to him. So
close that they were almost touching. Reaching out, MacLeod
stroked his cheek.
"I missed you, Methos," he whispered. Methos seemed confused as
to whether he should melt into the touch or run from it. "I want
you." The man's eyes widened. MacLeod smiled. "And I'm going
to take you." Faster than either could blink, MacLeod's sword was
in his hand and he slammed it into Methos' jaw. Dropping to the
ground, the older immortal grabbed at his mouth, gasping as blood
spilled over his lips. MacLeod stepped forward quickly and took
the hilt of his sword, slamming it into Methos' back. The strength
behind the blow dropped him. Methos slumped to the ground with
a hiss of air. Smiling, MacLeod picked him up.
Now it was time for some fun.
~
He awoke with a throbbing headache, which was not at all
surprising, considering the circumstances behind his erstwhile nap.
He was awake only moments before realizing that he was chained.
Opening his eyes, he looked at the situation. Cuffs and chains kept
his hands tied tightly to a queen-sized bed. It was so cliche that it
was frightening and the old immortal briefly wondered how he had
let this happened.
"Uncomfortable?" Methos looked up at the sound of the voice and
his eyes widened. Duncan - or Dark Duncan - stood nearby, a dark
frown on his face. He was dressed in the black, leather garb of any
good dominatrix and looked at Methos with dark eyes. "Tell me
you're not feeling too terrible."
"I..." Methos began. He paused. "Why are you doing this,
Duncan?"
"Because I want the power you have," Duncan stated. He looked
Methos over and the old man was suddenly very aware of the lust
behind his friend's eyes. "I want you."
"Look, Mac," he began. "This isn't the way to go about this."
MacLeod chuckled.
"Isn't it?" he demanded. "You left when I tried it the other way."
"I didn't mean to leave," Methos said. "It just happened. I am who I
am, Duncan. I had to run. I had no other choice."
"And I have no other choice now."
"Yes you do!" Methos protested. "You could come with me to the
Spring again, leave all this behind."
"No, I don't think I could," Duncan stated. "I went there once and
the better side of my conscience was in control for a while. But he
lost it again. I can't let anyone that weak be in control."
"That wasn't weakness, MacLeod!" Methos stated. "This," he
rattled the chains at his wrists, "is weakness. You're just taking
what you want without trying to work for it or earn it in any
respect. THAT is weakness."
"Then who is the weaker of the two of us, Methos?" he demanded.
"You took what you wanted without earning it for... what? Two,
three thousand years? You were just as weak as I am, Methos, and
you didn't need any Spring to cure you then."
"No," Methos agreed. "I had a guide to show me through. She - her
tenderness and love even though I was a harsh master - pulled me
out of the darkness. Once she disappeared into the night, so did
whatever part of me desired what my brothers did. I left them soon
after."
"So be that guide for me." Duncan crossed the room, knelt next to
the bed. "Or I will MAKE you." He was suddenly on the bed, his
mouth on Methos' in a rough claim of control. Methos remained
passive, letting the other man's tongue search his mouth for
whatever it was looking for. Duncan backed away just as suddenly,
staring at Methos in revulsion and hate. "You won't even let me
have that, will you?" The quick backhand caught Methos square in
the jaw, and the man winced as the chains dug into his wrists as his
body drew back. "Why? Methos?" Duncan screamed. "Why can't
you help me out of this darkness?"
"You don't want to leave it," Methos stated. Duncan paused,
staring at him. "Kronos is deep inside you, and he likes being in
control. He likes thinking of me in a submissive position and wants
you to keep me that way. Caspian is in there too. He wants to hurt
me. There are others who just want your dark side to be in charge
forever just so you can do what they have done. Your own
Quickening and Personality is being overwhelmed by peer pressure
and it's hard for the real you to break free and come back to the
surface. So no matter what I do or try, it will be in vain. *You* -
the real you - can't find his way out, and so the darker side has got
all the
power."
"Why should I believe this?" Duncan demanded. "Maybe I'm in
control because the other me is just too weak to break out!"
"Or maybe not. But you don't want to find out, do you?" Methos
demanded.
"No," Duncan said, "I don't. I want to keep you here. I want to fuck
you. I want you to be my slave."
"Body and soul?" Methos demanded. "You can have one or the
other. Just like there is the dark you and the light you." Duncan
scowled. Turning, he disappeared from the bedroom, slamming the
door behind him.
Methos sighed.
The Waiting Game had begun.
~
He heard him come into the room. Heard the door open and close
behind him. MacLeod said nothing, only came to kneel beside the
bed. Methos continued his pretense of sleep, waiting until
Duncan's breathing steadied before even daring to move. When,
finally, he was sure that Mac had fallen asleep, he opened his eyes
and began to speak.
Now was his chance.
"You're walking through a long, dark hallway. You don't know
where you are going, all you know is that you've walked through
here before. Turning a corner, a familiar face jumps out at you. His
greasy black hair falls over his eyes, the oil of his skin soaking it -
attaching it to his face. Caspian. You have his Quickening. You've
seen the perversions he has committed over the years. You know
why 'Caspari' had to be kept in a cell in Romania. He is unfit to
live. Your katana jumps into your hand and you stab his way. He
dodges, striking at you with the palm of his hand. The slap is
personal, as if he is demeaning an old lover. It makes you feel dirty
and sick. This time your attack is more powerful and you feel it
stab into his gut. With a howl he drops to the ground and
disappears. You look up as a faint light at the end of this long
tunnel appears. Praying that you can find your way, you leave
Caspian's body behind and start towards it once more.
"You walk for only a little while before another, slimmer shadow
appears. This shadow you know intimately. Ingrid is before you,
the same pleading look in her eye. She stares at you a moment,
memorizing your face. 'I understand why you did what you did,
Duncan,' she assures you. 'I really do.' Turning, she allows you to
pass without a word. Behind your back, you
hear her quietly whisper a few words of luck and you continue.
The light before you has grown brighter and it is calling you home.
"The next encounter is more violent. You are suddenly thrown to
the ground as a shadowy figure rises from the darkness. A jagged
scar runs down his cheek and he sends a shiver to fear through
your back. Kronos - the would-be 'End of Time.' That title no
longer matters. All that matters is
that he is here and you must stop him.
"Drawing your sword, you slice at him, but he dodges the blow.
Again and again you come at him, but he is eternally out of your
reach. Finally growling in frustration, you swing wildly, praying to
connect with something - anything. He dodges every blow, finally
coming up with his fist. Catching your jaw in a viscous uppercut,
he throws you back. You barely manage to keep your footing as he
throws himself at you. The sudden movement makes you throw
your sword up in defense and you catch his head as he soars
toward you. Will a soft thud, head and body both land on the
ground and you are once again standing alone. The light, though.
The light has gotten brighter. Bright enough to see the hall clearly.
It is covered with pictures. Of you. Of your friends and the life you
have lived. All of them were darkened at first, but now you see
them. You, Tessa and Richie smile out from a dozen frames. Joe
from yet more. Little Dear. Coltec. Ingrid. Amanda. Debra. Yet
more people who you have come to care about. Everyone who you
have ever loved is suddenly illuminated by that light that now
shines clearly. You feel at peace, as if you are suddenly home.
"Then you see him. He who is you. If you are the light, he is the
darkness and he has come here to destroy these images - these
people that you love. He stares at you with your own eyes and
smiles wickedly. 'Do you think you can beat me?' he demands.
'You, who are so weak?' Deep
inside, you wonder if he doesn't have a point. Can you beat him?
Are you strong enough? Sword - your father's sword - clasped in
hand, you rise to the challenge. If you have ever been ready for a
fight in your life, now is the time. You will destroy this monster
that wears your skin. Send him
back to whatever cesspool he has come from. He is not you. You
hold the sword of the Clan MacLeod. YOU will be triumphant.
"Your swings are the same. You both fight with the styles of old.
You know his moves. You have learned his style and deflect it
easily with your own. You two fight for what seems like hours.
Slicing, cutting, stabbing with all your heart for you know your
soul is on the line. Finally - with desperation behind his move - he
throws all his force behind a blow aimed your way. Sidestepping,
you narrowly avoid the strike and rise up, bringing your own
sword down in a sharp slice. Splitting molecules, your blade tears
into his flesh and within seconds his head is on the ground.
"There is no Quickening, but the light which you'd had but a
glimpse of before is now bright enough to overwhelm you. You
can see clearly. He is gone and once again you are in control."
~
Methos waited.
As the voice of the narrator, he had watched the Highlander fight
with himself for the better part of the night, but now the man was
at peace. He'd defeated his mental foe and Methos had no doubt
that Duncan would be back to his normal, broody self come
morning.
Did he want that? Could he accept the Highlander returning to the
man who had betrayed and abandoned Methos when another man -
a man who accepted and understood Methos' past action -
inhabited his body? Methos and Dark Duncan... they could have
everything. The world. Each other...
No.
Methos wanted Duncan for so much more than his body. He
*loved* Duncan. But the man who had taken residence in
Duncan's body was not the Highlander... just a twisted shadow. He
was not the man Methos loved and therefore Methos could never
bring himself to touch him.
Slowly, the world's oldest immortal twisted his wrists and
dislocated his thumbs. Pulling a hand out of the handcuffs around
his wrists, he reached down and pulled Duncan up off the floor and
onto the bed. Holding him like a parent would hold a scared child,
he whispered soft words to Duncan in a hundred lost languages, all
meaning the same thing: I love you. You're safe. He's gone. I'll be
here in the morning.
He would. Not to make sure that Dark Duncan was gone for good,
but to ensure that Duncan would be all right when he awoke. To
make sure that he didn't try anything stupid.
To make sure he didn't find his own rooftop.
~Finis/TBC
Artist: Metallica
Album: Load
Title: Until It Sleeps
Where do I take this pain of mine
I run but it stays right by my side
So tear me open, pour me out
These things inside they scream and shout
And the pain still hates me
So hold me until it sleeps
Just like a curse, just like a stray
You feed it once and now it stays
Now it stays
So tear me open, but beware
There's things inside without a care
And the dirt still stains me
So wash me until I'm clean
It grips you so hold me
It stains you so hold me
It hates you so hold me
It holds you so hold me
Until it sleeps...
So tell me why you've chosen me
Don't want your grip
Don't want your greed
Don't want it
I'll Tear me open, make you gone
No more can you hurt anyone
And the fear still shakes me
So hold me until it sleeps
I don't want it.....NO
It grips you so hold me
It stains you so hold me
It hates you so hold me
It holds you, holds you, holds you
Until it sleeps...
So tear me open, but beware
The pain's inside without a care
And the dirt still stains me
So wash me til I'm clean
I'll Tear me open, make you gone
No longer will you hurt anyone
And the hate still shakes me
So hold me until it sleeps
Until it sleeps
Until it sleeps
Until it sleeps
dedicating this to you. Thank you for being so supportive and one
of the nicest human beings (am I assuming too much? JK) that I've
ever encountered.
Disclaimer: When they're mine, you WILL know as I will not stop
bragging about it.
Follows Coming Back To Life as the fourth in my lyric arc. See
the others for any other possible notes.
Until It Sleeps
Christy Xris Robbins
It had happened again.
The swish of his sword. The splattering of blood and subsequent
darkness rising to overwhelm his soul. It was the way of things. He
had felt it before and knew that it would be to no avail should he
try to fight this - the Dark Quickening.
Who had he killed? The man's name... he searched for it among the
crashing chaos of his thoughts. Screaming, he found it as the pain
found every part of his body and began to slowly eat him from the
inside out. Patrick. Patrick O'Carrel. He had not been a good
person. He had been the kind of person that abused his
immortality. He'd done so for almost six hundred years. Yet it
wasn't necessarily his Quickening that threw Duncan into his evil
seeming. It was Kronos. Caspian. The pain of Methos'
disappearance. Everything negative that had happened since
coming from that Spring was suddenly there and present and
Duncan was thrown into madness.
A madness that remained when he awoke.
Smiling, Duncan stood from the ground he had collapsed on. The
man's head sat a few feet away and Duncan smiled at it in gratitude
as he made his way across the warehouse to the door. He had not
been a hard fight, but he had done Duncan the greatest service
since he'd had the first Dark Quickening. He was in POWER
again. More so than the puny offerings Coltec had given him.
Whereas Coltec had contained - maybe - nine hundred years of evil
within him, Kronos and Caspian had handed him over six
thousand. He was in control. He was indestructible. He was all-
powerful.
He was going out Hunting. For all his power, there was still more
to be had.
The Oldest of them all.
Methos.
~
Joe looked up as the door to his bar swung open. The chilly
November breeze blew in and he felt a quick stab of pain in his leg
as it touched him. Then the door was closed and he was left staring
at a single snow-blown figure. One had hadn't seen in over half a
year.
"Adam," he said in greeting. He hobbled out from behind the bar
and crossed the room, giving his friend a quick hug. "It's good to
see you again."
"Likewise, my friend," Methos said. He stepped back and looked
into Joe's eyes. "How bad is it?" The four words brought Joe back
to reality and he remembered the reason his friend had returned.
"It happened about three weeks back," Joe said. "I didn't even
know about it until..." He trailed off and began to make his way
back around the counter. Adam followed.
"Until what, Joe?" he demanded. "What did he do?"
"He went after Cassandra." Methos froze in spot. "Took her head
last week. I wrote you right after." Methos stood a moment in
shock before taking a shaky step back, leaning against a nearby
wall. Cassandra was dead? The last hold he had on his elusive
past?
"What else?" Methos asked. Joe looked at him, confused. "There
has to be more. If MacLeod's dark side has taken over again there
has to be another element about Cassandra's death that you're not
telling me."
"There's nothing," Joe stated. Methos scowled. "He went to
Chicago and caught her unaware. Took her head in some alley.
The Watchers that cleaned it didn't find anything else." Methos
growled in frustration. What was he up to? MacLeod had to have
left *something.* The majority of Watchers were careless when it
came to crime scenes. They knew nothing about looking for the
subtle clues that Methos had a trained eye for.
Could he risk going to Chicago to look?
"Where is he now?" he asked. Joe frowned.
"I don't know. One of my men followed him as far as New York
and then lost him."
"Could he... no, he wouldn't go after Connor."
"It's evil Duncan we're playing with, Adam, who knows what he's
capable of." Methos frowned. "I'm going."
"Adam..." Joe began. The Immortal turned. "He's got Kronos and
Caspian in him. Remember that, all right?"
"Trust me, Joe," Methos said quietly, "I will never, *ever* forget."
~
MacLeod waited. He had been waiting for over a week. Watching
from his perch in the rancid Chicago hotel room across from where
he had killed Cassandra, he saw the Watcher's move her body and
the passing of people day in and day out. They were non-issues.
Trivial, really. He wanted Methos. He was willing to wait.
He was not disappointed.
He was sitting on the balcony sipping a classy Chardonnay when
he finally spotted the Old Man. He wanted to pounce right away,
but instead watched as Methos walked into the alley and stood
from his seat. Glancing at the sky, he reflected on some sort of
perverse satisfaction that it was nearing twilight and smiled a feral
grin. Slowly making his way down the hall, he caught the elevator
to the lobby and walked out, crossing the street in front of several
moving cars. The part inside of him that had gotten control of
Kronos' Quickening screamed with every step, shouting ideas at
Duncan as to what should be done with Methos.
He ignored all of them.
Stepping into the mouth of the alley, he smiled in satisfaction as
Methos started, jumping as Duncan's shadow fell over him. The
other man paled a bit and he swallowed what Duncan decided was
fear.
"Duncan-" he began. Duncan waved a hand and cut him off.
"Silence." The weight of his words closed Methos' mouth. Methos
stared at him, afraid. The alley was a dead-end and night was
falling. "I've been waiting for you, Old Man."
"Mac, please, listen to me. This isn't you. We can go to the
Spring..." He silence himself slowly as Mac raised a finger to his
lips and hushed him.
"You're weak, Methos," he said in a quiet voice. "And this time
there's no Sean Burns inside me to win me over."
"You're wrong, MacLeod," Methos stated. "Sean *is* inside you.
He's still in there. As is Coltec. Darius. A score of people that
shouldn't have died that did and added to who you were in doing
so." Duncan frowned. "You know it's true, Mac. And NONE of
them would have wanted this." MacLeod drew closer to him. So
close that they were almost touching. Reaching out, MacLeod
stroked his cheek.
"I missed you, Methos," he whispered. Methos seemed confused as
to whether he should melt into the touch or run from it. "I want
you." The man's eyes widened. MacLeod smiled. "And I'm going
to take you." Faster than either could blink, MacLeod's sword was
in his hand and he slammed it into Methos' jaw. Dropping to the
ground, the older immortal grabbed at his mouth, gasping as blood
spilled over his lips. MacLeod stepped forward quickly and took
the hilt of his sword, slamming it into Methos' back. The strength
behind the blow dropped him. Methos slumped to the ground with
a hiss of air. Smiling, MacLeod picked him up.
Now it was time for some fun.
~
He awoke with a throbbing headache, which was not at all
surprising, considering the circumstances behind his erstwhile nap.
He was awake only moments before realizing that he was chained.
Opening his eyes, he looked at the situation. Cuffs and chains kept
his hands tied tightly to a queen-sized bed. It was so cliche that it
was frightening and the old immortal briefly wondered how he had
let this happened.
"Uncomfortable?" Methos looked up at the sound of the voice and
his eyes widened. Duncan - or Dark Duncan - stood nearby, a dark
frown on his face. He was dressed in the black, leather garb of any
good dominatrix and looked at Methos with dark eyes. "Tell me
you're not feeling too terrible."
"I..." Methos began. He paused. "Why are you doing this,
Duncan?"
"Because I want the power you have," Duncan stated. He looked
Methos over and the old man was suddenly very aware of the lust
behind his friend's eyes. "I want you."
"Look, Mac," he began. "This isn't the way to go about this."
MacLeod chuckled.
"Isn't it?" he demanded. "You left when I tried it the other way."
"I didn't mean to leave," Methos said. "It just happened. I am who I
am, Duncan. I had to run. I had no other choice."
"And I have no other choice now."
"Yes you do!" Methos protested. "You could come with me to the
Spring again, leave all this behind."
"No, I don't think I could," Duncan stated. "I went there once and
the better side of my conscience was in control for a while. But he
lost it again. I can't let anyone that weak be in control."
"That wasn't weakness, MacLeod!" Methos stated. "This," he
rattled the chains at his wrists, "is weakness. You're just taking
what you want without trying to work for it or earn it in any
respect. THAT is weakness."
"Then who is the weaker of the two of us, Methos?" he demanded.
"You took what you wanted without earning it for... what? Two,
three thousand years? You were just as weak as I am, Methos, and
you didn't need any Spring to cure you then."
"No," Methos agreed. "I had a guide to show me through. She - her
tenderness and love even though I was a harsh master - pulled me
out of the darkness. Once she disappeared into the night, so did
whatever part of me desired what my brothers did. I left them soon
after."
"So be that guide for me." Duncan crossed the room, knelt next to
the bed. "Or I will MAKE you." He was suddenly on the bed, his
mouth on Methos' in a rough claim of control. Methos remained
passive, letting the other man's tongue search his mouth for
whatever it was looking for. Duncan backed away just as suddenly,
staring at Methos in revulsion and hate. "You won't even let me
have that, will you?" The quick backhand caught Methos square in
the jaw, and the man winced as the chains dug into his wrists as his
body drew back. "Why? Methos?" Duncan screamed. "Why can't
you help me out of this darkness?"
"You don't want to leave it," Methos stated. Duncan paused,
staring at him. "Kronos is deep inside you, and he likes being in
control. He likes thinking of me in a submissive position and wants
you to keep me that way. Caspian is in there too. He wants to hurt
me. There are others who just want your dark side to be in charge
forever just so you can do what they have done. Your own
Quickening and Personality is being overwhelmed by peer pressure
and it's hard for the real you to break free and come back to the
surface. So no matter what I do or try, it will be in vain. *You* -
the real you - can't find his way out, and so the darker side has got
all the
power."
"Why should I believe this?" Duncan demanded. "Maybe I'm in
control because the other me is just too weak to break out!"
"Or maybe not. But you don't want to find out, do you?" Methos
demanded.
"No," Duncan said, "I don't. I want to keep you here. I want to fuck
you. I want you to be my slave."
"Body and soul?" Methos demanded. "You can have one or the
other. Just like there is the dark you and the light you." Duncan
scowled. Turning, he disappeared from the bedroom, slamming the
door behind him.
Methos sighed.
The Waiting Game had begun.
~
He heard him come into the room. Heard the door open and close
behind him. MacLeod said nothing, only came to kneel beside the
bed. Methos continued his pretense of sleep, waiting until
Duncan's breathing steadied before even daring to move. When,
finally, he was sure that Mac had fallen asleep, he opened his eyes
and began to speak.
Now was his chance.
"You're walking through a long, dark hallway. You don't know
where you are going, all you know is that you've walked through
here before. Turning a corner, a familiar face jumps out at you. His
greasy black hair falls over his eyes, the oil of his skin soaking it -
attaching it to his face. Caspian. You have his Quickening. You've
seen the perversions he has committed over the years. You know
why 'Caspari' had to be kept in a cell in Romania. He is unfit to
live. Your katana jumps into your hand and you stab his way. He
dodges, striking at you with the palm of his hand. The slap is
personal, as if he is demeaning an old lover. It makes you feel dirty
and sick. This time your attack is more powerful and you feel it
stab into his gut. With a howl he drops to the ground and
disappears. You look up as a faint light at the end of this long
tunnel appears. Praying that you can find your way, you leave
Caspian's body behind and start towards it once more.
"You walk for only a little while before another, slimmer shadow
appears. This shadow you know intimately. Ingrid is before you,
the same pleading look in her eye. She stares at you a moment,
memorizing your face. 'I understand why you did what you did,
Duncan,' she assures you. 'I really do.' Turning, she allows you to
pass without a word. Behind your back, you
hear her quietly whisper a few words of luck and you continue.
The light before you has grown brighter and it is calling you home.
"The next encounter is more violent. You are suddenly thrown to
the ground as a shadowy figure rises from the darkness. A jagged
scar runs down his cheek and he sends a shiver to fear through
your back. Kronos - the would-be 'End of Time.' That title no
longer matters. All that matters is
that he is here and you must stop him.
"Drawing your sword, you slice at him, but he dodges the blow.
Again and again you come at him, but he is eternally out of your
reach. Finally growling in frustration, you swing wildly, praying to
connect with something - anything. He dodges every blow, finally
coming up with his fist. Catching your jaw in a viscous uppercut,
he throws you back. You barely manage to keep your footing as he
throws himself at you. The sudden movement makes you throw
your sword up in defense and you catch his head as he soars
toward you. Will a soft thud, head and body both land on the
ground and you are once again standing alone. The light, though.
The light has gotten brighter. Bright enough to see the hall clearly.
It is covered with pictures. Of you. Of your friends and the life you
have lived. All of them were darkened at first, but now you see
them. You, Tessa and Richie smile out from a dozen frames. Joe
from yet more. Little Dear. Coltec. Ingrid. Amanda. Debra. Yet
more people who you have come to care about. Everyone who you
have ever loved is suddenly illuminated by that light that now
shines clearly. You feel at peace, as if you are suddenly home.
"Then you see him. He who is you. If you are the light, he is the
darkness and he has come here to destroy these images - these
people that you love. He stares at you with your own eyes and
smiles wickedly. 'Do you think you can beat me?' he demands.
'You, who are so weak?' Deep
inside, you wonder if he doesn't have a point. Can you beat him?
Are you strong enough? Sword - your father's sword - clasped in
hand, you rise to the challenge. If you have ever been ready for a
fight in your life, now is the time. You will destroy this monster
that wears your skin. Send him
back to whatever cesspool he has come from. He is not you. You
hold the sword of the Clan MacLeod. YOU will be triumphant.
"Your swings are the same. You both fight with the styles of old.
You know his moves. You have learned his style and deflect it
easily with your own. You two fight for what seems like hours.
Slicing, cutting, stabbing with all your heart for you know your
soul is on the line. Finally - with desperation behind his move - he
throws all his force behind a blow aimed your way. Sidestepping,
you narrowly avoid the strike and rise up, bringing your own
sword down in a sharp slice. Splitting molecules, your blade tears
into his flesh and within seconds his head is on the ground.
"There is no Quickening, but the light which you'd had but a
glimpse of before is now bright enough to overwhelm you. You
can see clearly. He is gone and once again you are in control."
~
Methos waited.
As the voice of the narrator, he had watched the Highlander fight
with himself for the better part of the night, but now the man was
at peace. He'd defeated his mental foe and Methos had no doubt
that Duncan would be back to his normal, broody self come
morning.
Did he want that? Could he accept the Highlander returning to the
man who had betrayed and abandoned Methos when another man -
a man who accepted and understood Methos' past action -
inhabited his body? Methos and Dark Duncan... they could have
everything. The world. Each other...
No.
Methos wanted Duncan for so much more than his body. He
*loved* Duncan. But the man who had taken residence in
Duncan's body was not the Highlander... just a twisted shadow. He
was not the man Methos loved and therefore Methos could never
bring himself to touch him.
Slowly, the world's oldest immortal twisted his wrists and
dislocated his thumbs. Pulling a hand out of the handcuffs around
his wrists, he reached down and pulled Duncan up off the floor and
onto the bed. Holding him like a parent would hold a scared child,
he whispered soft words to Duncan in a hundred lost languages, all
meaning the same thing: I love you. You're safe. He's gone. I'll be
here in the morning.
He would. Not to make sure that Dark Duncan was gone for good,
but to ensure that Duncan would be all right when he awoke. To
make sure that he didn't try anything stupid.
To make sure he didn't find his own rooftop.
~Finis/TBC
Artist: Metallica
Album: Load
Title: Until It Sleeps
Where do I take this pain of mine
I run but it stays right by my side
So tear me open, pour me out
These things inside they scream and shout
And the pain still hates me
So hold me until it sleeps
Just like a curse, just like a stray
You feed it once and now it stays
Now it stays
So tear me open, but beware
There's things inside without a care
And the dirt still stains me
So wash me until I'm clean
It grips you so hold me
It stains you so hold me
It hates you so hold me
It holds you so hold me
Until it sleeps...
So tell me why you've chosen me
Don't want your grip
Don't want your greed
Don't want it
I'll Tear me open, make you gone
No more can you hurt anyone
And the fear still shakes me
So hold me until it sleeps
I don't want it.....NO
It grips you so hold me
It stains you so hold me
It hates you so hold me
It holds you, holds you, holds you
Until it sleeps...
So tear me open, but beware
The pain's inside without a care
And the dirt still stains me
So wash me til I'm clean
I'll Tear me open, make you gone
No longer will you hurt anyone
And the hate still shakes me
So hold me until it sleeps
Until it sleeps
Until it sleeps
Until it sleeps