IF YOU DISLIKE FICS LIKE THIS PLEASE DO NOT READ IT OR FLAME ME. I Do however enjoy feedback so feel free to leave a review. Thank you kindly, jazzy.
Mail-Order-Brides (Highlander style): Something Unexpected
Written by: Jazzy
Pairing: Methos/Duncan
Rating: MA / Mature
Summary: A rewrite of Duncan Macleod's first meeting with the Ancient man known as Methos. Story takes place between the present and the past, in the old west. A Farmer needs a wife and instead he gets something totally unexpected.
Warning: a total AU, angst, drama, Hurt-comfort, m/m romance, m/m coupling, non con, torture, and recovery.
- THE PRESENT -
"Even to this day I still cannot believe that he made me stick to letter of that contract. He would not let me out of that contract for anything. It almost seemed the more I tried to take out revenge on Adam the more perverse pleasure he took in sticking that bloody contract under my nose and making me keep to it."
Adam did what he always did when Macleod mentioned this fact. He smirked and took a sip of his beer.
- Flashback (1800s) -
In spite of himself Macleod found it was instantaneous the love he felt quicken his breast and squeeze his heart in a painful vice when he looked into the sad green eyes of the little boy and the innocent wide blue eyes of the infant girl. He hadn't expected the lightening fast reflexive kick in his diaphragm that was the reaction of love.
Adamson introduced his baby girl with a kiss to her forehead, red burnished curls soft and downy on her head, tickled his lips. He turned to Macleod eyes shining with parental pride. "This is my sweet Madeline, my baby girl."
When he reached for the baby girl his hands shook. The little boy gazed on him somberly. Adamson hugged his son then turned once more to Macleod watching him avidly getting acquainted with his baby.
"This is my son." he said it with a relished kind of pride that made Duncan's heart swell. Adamson was totally opposite of his own father. The Macleod had a hard love and it took much to make him proud but for Adamson just the mere existence of this little boy and that he was blood to his dead wife was price enough for pride. "Michael."
Duncan bent down to better make eye contact make himself less large and looming, troubled green eyes searched wide compassionate brown eyes.
"It is good to meet you, young Michael." said Macleod.
"You're going to be our new mother?" he asked, eyes showing pain.
"I can never take your mother's place" Insisted Macleod gently. "But I would like to be your friend." said Macleod, instinctively realizing that he couldn't force his affections on the child only offer them and hope they would be accepted and some day be returned in kind.
The boy nodded acceptance then gentlemanly like offered to show Macleod the house and the property in a tour. Doctor Adamson looked on his adoptive son with pride and tender love. He reached down and brushed his son's hair in a caress of support.
"Good man." said Methos, quietly. "I'll be out in the fields. Dinner will hopefully be ready no later than Eight. Thank you, Highlander."
Macleod glared over the top of the baby's head and behind Michael's back. Methos shivered at the animosity there. Knowing it was more about pride and the Scottish barbarian's sense of shame than anything else. Yet he suspected he would still have to be careful, the highlander was not going to make their marriage a peaceful one and for some reason Methos was looking forward to the clash of wills, something about Duncan Macleod re-energized him and enchanted him all at once. He was looking forward to their years spent together.
"I mean Dunca." he corrected hastily, smirking all the same. "Thank you, Dunca dear." He kissed both of his children then left them to Macleod to take care of; house, hearth, and children were now all in the highlander's domain.
Macleod glared, lips thinned, eyes narrowed. Methos's smirk widened to a grin of obnoxious proportions.
"Don't thank me just yet, Adamson." he muttered darkly. Young Michael looked up at him quizzically. On seeing the child's expression Macleod instantly softened his own expression then charmingly redirected the child's attentions to the tour Michael had offered him. The child didn't smile but he didn't look quizzical either. Michael took Duncan's hand and like any gentleman put it to rest in the crook of his elbow, then led the way through the house and through the three stories and several bedrooms and living areas, and kitchen and pantry then the barn and immediate land around the house and barn and chicken coop.
The farm was sprawling and huge, it went on for acres. Yet it did show some signs of neglect. This farm would be lucky to make the harvest this year. Macleod noted with an experienced eye.
"How does your father manage such a farm and his doctor practices?" he asked intrigued. The little boy shrugged.
"We have neighbors who help and workers that come from all over, but Da spent their wages on bringing you here, Ms. Macleod."
"Call me…" he had to think of something else besides Mac or Duncan for the kid to call him and especially something less formal then Ms. Macleod, not to say just how strange it was to hear his name so twistedly used. " Call me Mackey." though he hated that name it was better than that stupid feminized version of Duncan, Dunca! Good God, what were those morons thinking in naming him Dunca. Did he look German-Swedish whatever nationality it was, to them? Mackey was at least tolerable.
"Yes, Ma'am, Mackey, I mean." said the somber child.
"Now about this farm. Does it have many hands?"
"Not many."
"But enough, am I to make them meals as well?"
"No. Not unless you wish to. Da never asked Ma to be the cook for the masses, but Ma did every now and again when she felt strong enough. We have two men who do the cooking for the field workers." explained Michael.
"I see, so I just tend to the two of you and your Father. I can do that." He felt better about staying closer to the house and inside away from prying eyes. It would mean less chance of discovery and minimizing the danger for the kids and him and Adamson. People would think he was shy, even a recluse or anti-social but it didn't matter to him what people thought of Adamson or his new wife as long as they weren't discovered and treated like perverts.
Adamson's supper was not edible. His clothes when ironed ended up burnt in places like his meals. Baths were ice cold. Duncan's displeasure with Adamson was not hidden from Adamson when they were alone, but when the children were present Mac hid his animosity behind civil manners and courtly behavior, in other words contempt hidden in innuendos that were very cutting wrapped in velvet.
Macleod was very talented in speaking poison with sweet tones and pointed faked expressions. Though there was the odd incident or two over time when the Highlander through some huge bout of stress or amazing displeasure would let his Highland temper loose on Adamson. Sometimes it meant frying pan to the back of the head, or books flying with accuracy at that same head, scalding soup or tea poured into his lap, furious whispers and hisses during arguments.
Methos patiently suffered through it all letting Duncan's ill will bleed out and letting his unhappiness with Methos' high handed behavior come to an end, yet it seemed that end was nowhere in site as Macleod found new things every day to hold against Methos' head. Methos own patience frayed at times and that was usually when he found an excuse to head into town. He kept his troubles to himself not wanting local gossips or spiteful women to get their hooks once more into him.
They of course attended church, Macleod insisted on it. He kept his mouth shut and his masculine nature hidden even more when they were in town or in church. Scarves around his throat or face, holding back thick mounds of luscious raven curls that though let loose at home and were spell-binding with the touch of the sun's rays, were usually bound sloppily behind colorful tacky scarves.
Methos and he had come up with a story that "Dunca" was from France and did not know much English, this also helped the curious glances at his many coverings and defensive postures. The townswomen were not happy that Adamson had sent away for a wife and were even less happy that his wife was a foreigner. Yet what endured the woman to her peers was her show of love for the two motherless children and her devotion to her husband.
The French were not looked on favorably and many had misconceptions that the French women were hussies and sluts. "Dunca" did not give off that impression. She was stern and fired off rappid French in a husky voice that was sharp and often had Adamson wincing. It was obvious that Adamson was not making "Dunca" happy, yet oddly enough Adamson was loyal to Dunca even doted on her as he had Alexa, possibly even more so than Alexa.
Women looked on Dunca enviously. Men looked on Adamson enviously. A French beauty firebrand, something for their fantasies, a woman to tame. Adamson defended his claim and insisted they were happily married and Dunca was shy and ill tempered when she was off the farm, but devout to the church and was willing to fight her shyness to go to church.
It was a year before things started to settle down for them. Methos was content, though there was still a bundling board between them in the bedroom at least when they were conscious. As tempers died down they started making nice with one another. Mac had grown more and more in love with the children and was like a mama duck with her ducklings. The highlander was a natural nurturer.
Methos felt a pesky feeling growing in his breast where it came to the tempestuous highlander. He knew himself well enough after five thousand years to know when a certain feeling growing in one's breast was love. Who wouldn't fall in love with Duncan? Many of the townspeople were enchanted by "Dunca". Men looked with envy and Methos couldn't help being proud of his "wife". Michael and Madeline loved Duncan greatly as well.
He watched his children with Duncan. He watched Michael rough house and play and hug the Highlander, growing more and more in love with his new mother daily. Macleod was careful not to be seen outside of his dress and feminine clothes and mannerisms. He played the role well even if on occasion he let his guard down and sometimes seemed more man than woman.
He gazed at Macleod hanging the wash up to dry, watched the Highlander's hair sway loosely in the wind down his back, hair so long and lustrous that Methos' fingers itched to get lost in those locks, comb his fingers through the dark curls and tangle and get lost in the silken mass. His mouth watered to taste the long neck and turned up corner of pouty lips. He felt his cock harden and he groaned out loud as he watched Macleod smile and take a lusty bite into a ripe juicy apple, sweet nectar ran invitingly down the corners of his plump lips and ran off his chin. Methos felt his cock twitch. He crossed his legs and squirmed telling himself to think of something un-sexy.
Think cows. He told himself. Cows turned to plump grade A Highland Man Beefcake. Think chickens he told himself and chickens turned to a well turned pretty ankle, ankle turned into shapely legs. Legs that he caught an eyeful of every night just before turning in for bed when Macleod's nightgown would lift as he climbed into bed and tried to arrange bedclothes and bed covers. Macleod was irresistible.
Sometimes if he was lucky he would wake early in the morning and Macleod in his sleep had managed to dislodge the bundle board and had wrapped himself warmly and bodily around Methos' lean thin form. Having that bulky, hard body tightly hugging his own made him feel impossible things, wonderful warm sexy things. He ached for Macleod but he willed himself to be patient, willed himself not to arouse Macleod's temper and give Duncan something more to hold against him. They had just found some peace with one another he didn't want to jeopardize that.
So he carefully climbed out of the bed, carefully arranged the covers and carefully stroked a sleeping highland brow. Then he would get ready for his long day of treating the ill and helping to plant his fields.
When it came to the harvest Macleod pitched in with strength and a fortitude that many of the workers admired. Madeline tied to his back, a bonnet keeping her protected from the sun. Michael at his side, small scythes cutting grass and wheat. Methos never felt so proud of any of his accomplishments as he had with his time with Macleod and these two children of theirs.
Michael was won over, his face showed an open love for both Mackey and the baby (once a thing he resented for with Maddie's birth had come the death of his Ma) but now he loved Madeline as much as his Da and new Ma did. He loved both parents new and old and his baby sister. He almost wished his parents would make a new baby but he didn't want to lose Mac as he had his real Ma the year and a half before.
Life was good.
They lived contentedly.
Methos didn't want to ruin the peace and the growing love in his life. He looked at his "wife" and his children and his heart swelled. This was what life was supposed to be about. This was what it should always be like. But with ages old wisdom he knew it couldn't last. But he hoped it would last long enough, a decade, one decade that's all he asked for. Every week in church he prayed to a God he wasn't sure he believed in, a God he had seen rise up into a fanatic cult that had swept the known world in the thousands of years in his life time, he prayed to this God and to all the others who had come before him, let this last a decade he begged. "Please let it last, a decade at the very least, please."
Macleod's hand in his during the church sermons. Macleod's smiling eyes and warmth. This was his friend. This was his love. And he didn't want to see it end any time soon.
Their happiness lasted five years. Near the end of the fifth year Macleod had accepted him in every way had even grown to love Methos in return and now when they went to bed it was as lovers. Mac let him into his eager hot body night after night and Methos let him into his own as well. They grew into a truly equal relationship. Yet Methos never told Macleod who he really was or how old he was and Macleod accepted him anyway. Washed away every sin and every bit of pain and blood soaked memory away with every kiss and caress, with every minute the Highlander loved him. He never wanted to see that love dimmed. He never wanted Macleod to see the truth. That when he took Methos "Adamson" into his body he took Death into his bed, into the deep core warmth of him, and burned the cold chill of the grave from Methos' bones. Incinerated the depravities of the past, incinerated every sin he'd ever committed, every death, every atrocity, he'd ever committed in his long harsh life. He had never known this depth of emotion, this depth of love in his life.
Macleod' quickening sang to him and welcomed him, gentle waves, rivers running into rivers into the vast ocean of his own quickening and called to him "mine, my own, my beloved".
Some months later
Silas, his gentle giant brother, came into town to visit. Methos had been at first fearful of the reunion yet Silas seemed to dote on both children because Methos doted on them. Methos watched Maddie grow attached to Silas and vice versa, watched them tend to the lambs and the animals on the farm. Watched the two become doting uncle and beloved niece.
Duncan was at first uncertain of Silas but watching the giant with his children and with his "husband" he had grown to care for the gentle giant almost as much as Methos cared for his brother. Dunca was charming and could cook better than anyone either Older Immortal had ever known.
Methos made jokes. "You are lucky Brother, that you've come to visit as my darling's temper has finally settled. I died three times from poisoning!"
The giant roared with laughter. Reminded of memories three thousand years before of another woman Methos had taken to his bed. A witch with a temper and an active mind that reprimanded her lover her master at every opportunity.
Silas watched his brother and this new woman and though he was not bright and rarely knew what love was he could see it in Methos. He could see his Brother was happy and was in turn loved. He envied and was happy for his brother's joy. Of course he soon grew to covet Dunca's cooking as much as Methos did and as the seasons turned he was reluctant to leave his favorite brother or his brother's new family. A family he'd been lucky to be part of even if for a short while.
Dunca insisted he stay. Little Maddie pouted and begged her "Uncle Silas" to stay and help her with the rabbits, but the giant knew he had to go. Methos hugged him hard and fought tears. "Are you sure you must go Silas? Our fire is warm our home is open to you. Dunca has grown to care for you as if you were blood of her blood. I worry about you Silas out there alone."
Silas smiled and hugged Methos and Dunca bone crushing hugs that took their breath away. "You are my family and I will love and miss you all but I have many duties in Ukraine to attend to. The forest and the animals need me. I take care of them."
"I understand Silas." said Methos. Duncan put his arm around Methos' shoulders, giving comfort. Madeline hugged her Ma's leg and buried her sobbing face into her skirt. Duncan's free hand petted her downy curls. Michael was bravely standing tall and being strong like his Dad and new Ma. He was in his early teens almost a man. He would not cry.
"You will be back to visit us?" Michael inquired bravely, voice shaking a little.
"Of course I shall come back in a while." insisted Silas, his smile wide and loving. "I shall teach you to ride and be gentle with your horse."
"We all look forward to it." said Duncan for them all. "safe journey Silas."
"Thank you Dunca and thank you M-uh-Adam." he corrected himself quickly embarrassed by his near slip. Methos didn't want Dunca or the children to know his real name. "I will be safe and see you all again soon. I promise."
-A weeks later -
Not long after his departure another relative came calling this time a sandy haired Scotsman with twisted humor and old eyes.
"Connor!" cried Duncan, both delighted and yet horrified that his kinsman had at last found him in the new territories and in the guise of a woman.
Connor laughed himself sick. "I have come to free you, my dove." he said tears still pouring down his cheeks from his laughter.
Methos and Duncan glowered.
"Stop teasing me, Connor. I have no choice in the matter. I unwittingly signed a contract somewhere and now I have no wish to break it. I have children and Adamson needs me." Explained Duncan.
Connor looked with knowing eyes on his kinsman and on the older immortal. But his eyes lighted on the two children running out of the chicken pen laughing and teasing and throwing hay and dirt at one another. Duncan had a family. He had found his joy. But how long would it last? Connor hadn't ever wanted to see Duncan in pain.
"This life is a dream Duncan. Those children will grow and watch over the years as neither one of you ages. What will you tell them when you have not a gray hair on your head or lines on your face of age? Our lives are a danger to them. The game will not spare them Duncan."
Duncan had looked to Adamson, and Adamson had put his arms around his wife's waist sword in both their hands. One a 13th century blade and the other of Asian make, Katana and Broadsword. One of power, one of grace, each deadly in their own way, each ready to protect and defend the other and all they held dear.
"This life you have it will not last, Duncan. You will have to take up your name and your face again. You will have live in this world as an Immortal man again some day soon."
"I know that Connor!" growled Duncan. "But I'm happy for now. Can't you let me be happy for now?"
Connor watched the children freeze, watching their "mother" and "father" and the stranger on the speckled mare. He searched both Duncan's eyes and quickening and searched the ancient one beside his kinsman, searched hazel eyes that were both warm and cold, compassionate and afraid. This one loved Duncan. They loved one another. He let the tension die slowly. Let the adrenaline calm let the battle frenzy and fears leave his heart.
"Who am I to judge? Do I look like a beggar in sack cloth to you with a bible in my hand cousin?" he demanded suddenly. Eyes warm again and sparkling with wit that seemed to please Adamson. Duncan only scowled and glowered some more.
"Don't expect a warm welcome from me you cantankerous old bastard!" growled Duncan.
"No food? No shelter? Whatever happened to the famous highland hospitality, my fair cousin?" asked Connor, grin turning more cheeky with the more Duncan was unsettled.
Adamson threw back his head and laughed. "Watch out Connor Macleod of the Clan Macleod. Dunca has learned some mean tricks with her cooking."
Connor raised an eyebrow and watched Duncan, "Dunca", blush.
"Yew bastard, will ye noht let it go? I was upset and unhappy, yew were forcing my hand." grumbled Duncan, half whine half plea for understanding.
"Dancing unholy glee in your eyes each time I died in agony. No, Highlander junior, I don't believe I can ever just let it go. Though I have to admit that you've made up very well for it lately. I eat like a king Connor, and Dunca takes care of my every whim and treats me like a king as well."
Duncan snorted and thumped him in the back of his head. Methos grinned.
"See, my turtledove can't keep her hands off me." he said cheekily. Connor laughed.
"So I see."
Duncan frowned. "Go ahead and make fun, both of yew, but it's the floor yew'll be sleeping in tonight, I promise ye, if ye keep goin on in that vein for much longer."
The children took their mother's side of course and both Methos and Connor were treated to haughty nose in the air glares of reproach from all three youths.
"Sorry Dunca." they said in unison. Each one then tried to flatter and entice Duncan into forgiving them. Duncan held his grudge well past dinner before relenting and relaxing against Adamson on the love seat in the gathering room. The children on the carpet on the floor near the cozy fire. The evening was taken up with games and laughter and sharing memories with each other. A true family reunion and meeting of the new members.
- THE PRESENT -
"It was a wonderful time." said Methos, quietly, feeling Macleod's arms around his shoulders and Mac's cheek resting against his neck.
"The happiest any one of us has ever been." insisted Duncan quietly. Eyes glowing with the memories. "I don't want to think of the next part of it Adam. I just want to remember this part for now. Can't we just remember this part?"
Adam ducked his head. His heart ached. Duncan sounded small, vulnerable, a child again asking a parent to make the bad things stay away. He couldn't deny Duncan anything. He never could once his heart had taken to Duncan in its fullest measure of commitment.
Richie and Joe watched the vulnerability. Watched the pain flash across both faces. Watched tears begin in Duncan's eyes and tears fiercely held back in Adam's.
"For now, we can." agreed Adam. Hands shaking he stroked Mac's hair. "For now, let's only remember them as they were meant to be remembered. Happy and alive and deeply loved."
Richie watched his teacher and felt helpless to help him, as helpless as he'd felt when Tessa had been killed on his watch. How did he try to make up for that? How did he try to help Duncan move on? Yet seeing Duncan with Adam; Richie wondered if Duncan had already moved on and it was himself was having the troubles moving on with his life. Should he ask them how to do that? Yet he could see something between them wasn't settled with, something from their past wasn't moved on from yet.
Something that was to this day still hurting them.
Chapter Four
"Another get well basket, get well card, thank you card, get well chocolates…" muttered Methos ill concealed mix of humor and jealousy at play in his tone of voice, even as bedevilment danced in his hypnotic hazel eyes.
Duncan snorted. "Yes, and to think I have several more weeks of this nonsense to survive through."
"I wonder… if I had been injured would I have received half so many gifts of affections?" asked Methos sounding hurt.
"Of course you would have." Insisted Joe from behind his laptop. "The watchers in research would have sent you plenty of get well gifts and I know I would have extended your bar tab." He was typing up his impression and his notes of the two Immortals interactions with one another and on their history together.
Methos pouted. "Why couldn't I have gotten injured? Extended bar tab Mac, extended bar tab."
Mac frowned. "Don't encourage him Joseph; he has a drinking problem."
"Dean Miranda is coming up the path with a couple more students Mac." Alerted Richie.
"Damn, visiting hours, send them away Rich. Tell them I'm too tired. Doctors' orders or something." Insisted Mac, diving back onto the couch and striking a pose of pathetic illness.
He was tired of playing sick and invalid. He wanted to be left alone. When had Dean Miranda turned into a mother hen? In all the years Duncan had known her she had never seemed this concerned before with the well being of her teachers. Not to say she wasn't a caring human being it was just she never did house calls before and now here she was practically camping on their doorstep.
Methos seemed to read Mac's mind. "Now Duncan stow the scowl. She's been through a terrible shock, as have the students. You were shot, you were super hero Macleod to the rescue. You brought this on yourself now man up to it and take it like the highland barbarian I know you are."
"Gee, thanks." Growled Mac. He scowled at Adamson's grin and at the well known twinkle in the older Immortal's eyes.
Dean Miranda entered the humble, well kept house, obviously a man's home though it was a lot cleaner than most men's, not that she had been to a lot of men's homes just the few that she had been to, well, there just wasn't a word polite enough for those places, pig pens.
There a few pictures on the mantle, some of them very old, antiques from the look of them. Pictures of older generations of Duncan Macleods, and the women in those Duncans lives, perhaps grandmothers or aunts? Also a present day picture of Tessa, Duncan and Richie.
There was also a picture of an older generation Duncan and of a man that looked distinctly like Adam Pierson only with glasses on his regal nose, it looked to be maybe that Macleod's grandfather and Pierson's grandfather had known one another. That could explain their familiarity with one another, thought Miranda, but something in the photo told her she was looking at the same two men today as they were back then. The pain was still the same and the other thing, that look of love in their eyes was the same as well.
Adam grabbed the photo off the mantle and gave it a frown. "where did this come from, I wonder?"
Duncan scowled from his position on the couch. "I found it while I was tidying up my old keepsake chest."
"Oh, yes, I remember this picture now. We were at some state fair somewhere and had an old fashioned photo taken. We were much younger then." Lied Adam, hoping Miranda swallowed the lie with little questions asked.
Dean Miranda studied the two men and felt her instincts scream, "hello! Mystery! He just lied to us." But she decided to let it go for now, after all it was ridiculous to think that the photo wasn't what Adam said it was.
"It looks very real though." She murmured.
"Yes, quite." Said Adam, smiling brightly. "Mac knew a very talented camera lady who took this." The best lies were always partial truths.
"She does amazing work; do you think she might consider doing pictures for the senior formal for us?"
Adam shook his head sadly, "No, I'm afraid she died not long after this picture was taken." He replied sadly.
"Yes." Agreed Macleod mournfully. "Cancer."
"Oh, Mac, I'm so sorry." Said Miranda, very sympathetic. She had lost her own mother to cancer only a couple years previously.
"Yes, well it was more than fifteen years ago. I miss her, but life carries on. And I'm starting to feel a little tired. I think the drugs the doctor gave me are finally kicking in." Macleod lied rather smoothly for a goody to shoes.
"Oh! Alright, children give Macleod your gifts and then lets be on our way. We don't wish to cause him any more pain today." Insisted Miranda, taking charge once more. The children nervously gave him their cards and get well wishes then marched in line out the door.
With his house finally empty Macleod looked at the time on the wall and then outside to see if the sun would last long enough for a routine exercise or a Kata or two, he scowled at the darkening sky, no time for practice just enough time to get ready for bed.
"We should really discuss what happened today." Said Joe.
"Yes, we should but I'm rather exhausted and I think I'm going to head to bed. Adam you are welcomed to the guest room if you like? Richie do you minding taking the couch?"
"Nah, Mac, I'll be fine. I've got a room I'm renting while I'm in town."
"Are you sure Rich? You should consider saving your money. I have plenty of room for you here and Adam to."
"Nah, Mac, really, I'm okay."
"Rich" Mac protested as Adam's hand fell on Mac's arm cutting off his words.
Adam interrupted. "Mac, let the boy go. He's an adult. He can care for himself. You raised him well and he has some smarts. He's got survival on the brain Mac. Trust me. Young Ryan will be fine without your mother-hen routine."
Mac was not happy he sighed and reluctantly let Richie go without a further word then he turned towards his bedroom and left them in peace.
"Thanks Adam. Mac means well but boy can he be restricting."
"You mean suffocating, Ryan." Grinned the older Immortal. "You know why he does it though, don't you?"
"Because he cares about me, and I think it might also have something to do with your guys' history, your guys' son, right?"
Adam's smile dimmed and became very sad, "Yes. You're a lot brighter than I thought you were. Very astute."
Richie frowned. "Gee thanks." He said sarcastic like his mentor and foster father.
Adam smiled. "You're welcome."
As Duncan slept Methos made some tea for the two who were still awake and for himself.
He looked at Joe and at Macleod's student, Richie.
"Its been a long day." He sighed.
"Its weird that you know Mac's system of cupboards." Said Richie.
Methos chuckled. "Not really. When you think about it I was married to the man, still am, I suppose, for about thirty years, then off and on for well until the present I suppose, so possibly as long as Gina and Robert a little less than them of course, a little less than two hundred years, give or take a few decades here and there, and well Mac's style in the kitchen hasn't changed at all in all the time I've known him, lived with him and lived apart from him."
"Its just so weird this whole thing. I mean. Mac loved Tessa. He loves women! I mean I have never seen him with another man, not ever." Insisted Richie.
Joe nodded. "His chronicles say the same thing. But there is a note we did lose him in the 1800s for a bit before finding him again just before the start of world war one. That was when he'd become an ambulance driver and was found in the company of Doctor Burns. A notable Immortal psychiatrist."
"Yes, Sean was a friend of Darius and of mine. Duncan needed help. A lot of it, after what Koren did to us, to him, to our daughter." He closed his eyes in pain. Memories for Immortals were always hard.
"I've told you most of the humor side of our meeting but there were some real issues between us. Mac was content for the most part but he wasn't as happy as he could have been. Women though treated better in the country as competent were still women and property of their husbands. Mac chafed under the yoke of my "dominance" quote unquote. Mac was and still is a free spirit. He doesn't like being held down unless by choice, by honor, duty, for integrity's sake. For the most part Mac was my hostage in a golden cage."
He took a moment to regroup his thoughts and putting some attention to the quietly boiling tea pot.
"We loved one another, I think, no, I know we did. We loved one another greatly, or at least I loved him greatly. I know we have grown a lot since then. I know he still loves me today, possibly in the romantic sense, possibly not but I know that I still love him today as much as I loved him back then, possibly more so. But our timing has never been very good. And our love keeps growing and changing over the many decades since our first meeting. So much has happened between us. So many things tht have gone wrong. When things were good they were very good but when thingswent bad they went very very bad for us."
He paused to pour the boiling water out of the kettle and into the little tea pot and allowed tea and water to steep for a moment before he continued to speak.
"This is the part I must ask you never to reveal to anyone. When you hear Mac refer to a dark time, or darkness within himself, this is to what he refers, this is what it is all about. This is why he is what he is today. And partly why he tries so hard to keep you safe, Ryan."
His eyes focused backward on the past. "He doesn't speak of it. He won't speak of it, at least not outright. You have to look for the clues and by then often times it's too late to save him from the memories."
He cast his own memories farther still.
The 1800s
The farm.
Boys grow up and they want to be independent. Dunca was being unreasonable. Michael was determined to be his own man. He wanted to explore the territory, climb the rocks behind their property, search for valuable minerals, ore, gold, silver, whatever. He liked the farm but he was more fascinated with rocks and getting rich. He wanted to impress some girls and start making a living for himself and make a good prospect for the girl he would someday meet and marry.
Dunca did not want him anywhere near the rocks.
"They are dangerous, you could fall. You know nothing of rock climbing. You could die." Chop, went the chicken's head up by its little legs it was hung to drain. Michael winced.
Did Mama have to butcher the chicken like that and in front of him?
Methos snickered. His son wasn't much of a hunter too gentle of heart to kill even an animal bread for the slaughter.
Dunca pointed the butcher's knife at their son driving the point home. "You can't even hunt. You're father and I have tried and tried to teach you survival skills and you balk at it. No. I wont see you fall to your death. Stop being irrational."
"You stop being irrational." Cried Micheal.
Back talk? Dunca's eyes widened first with shock then blazed. Pure Cheek! Disrespect.
"What did you just say to me?" he demanded, shocked, starting to get angry. Their son was back talking. If he let the boy get away with it now Michale would think it acceptable and keep doing so for the rest of their lives. Such disrespect was not to be tollerated. "I didn't raise you to say such things to me."
Present
"I don't know who was more shocked, Duncan or myself. In all the years previously when I had raised Michael on my own he never once back talked. Not once. I think it was Duncan rubbing off on the boy. But don't let Duncan know I said that. Duncan doesn't know it of himself but he's very vocal and very stubborn, he can be pretty disrespectful at times. And he tends to rub his bad influences on people like molasses on popcorn."
Ryan choked on his tea. MacLeod and bad influences did not compute. Joe snorted. If anyone had bad influences it wa Adam.
Back to Flashback
Methos was just as stunned as Mac by the boy's sudden backbone. Who knew the kid had it in him? Methos choked on his morning tea and tried to bury his nose as far as possible into his morning, months old, newspaper.
"Did you just hear what your son just said to me?" demanded Dunca, butcher knife dangerously waving about in a show of ill temper. "Adamson, are you listening to this?"
Pierce Adamson slunk even lower into his chair and tried even harder to hide behind his newspaper. Affairs of the household were Duncan's domain and Methos really didn't want to get involved. He didn't want to take sides.
Fresh in his memory were the first turbulent couple of years with Macleod, they were just now in the last year or so finding a lot of peace and harmony and he liked his sex life. Yet, his son was giving him the look. His heart hurt, torn, who to side with?
"Oh, my god! Is that the time?" he gasped, faked, as he scrambled out of the kitchen pocket watch in hand. "I forgot I was to help Mrs Watson with the birthing this morning."
"You helped her yesterday. Come back here." Screamed Macleod. "You coward!"
Adamson ran out to the fields and far away from the domestic scene of young pup bucking dominant pup's hold.
Voices rose high and far out into the fields. Mother and son had a huge roe. Michael fled. He ran away from home.
Screaming. "stop treating me like a child."
"Stop acting like one." Was Dunca's last resounding retort.
Then realizing what Michael was doing. Dunca began to run after her son. Dunca fell tripped over the hymn of her dress and broke her ankle because women's shoes with their high heel were not meant to be run in.
Cursing a blue streak Macleod screamed after their son. "Come back, Michale, come back, ya fool!"
Adamson helped Dunca to stand up and got a shove in the ribs for it. "Yew bastard! That boy is going to get himself killed and you did nothing to stop him, nothing!" Dunca roared.
Adamson was locked out of the bedroom and ended up sleeping in the kitchen fitfully by the low fire. It couldn't be guilt. Adamson didn't do guilt. He hadn't felt guilt since the well, 13th century, possibly.
The present
"How old are you?" asked Joe, choking on his tea. It was hard to believe the man sitting across from him could possibly be that old. He barely looked in his mid twenties. but than again this was an immortal. They carreid their ages very well, after all they never aged after their first death.
Richie "Yeah, ditto."
"Remember Ryan, its not the young ones that have to worry in a relationship like mine and Mac's it's the old ones, but I suppose depending on how power hungry your friend or lover is, I guess age really has nothing to do with it."
"That doesn't answer the question." Protested, Joe.
Adam smirked enigmatically then continued with the personal history lesson.
Back to the flashback
Adamson slept poorly as did Dunca. Young Madeline was fretful and irritable which was not in her nature. She was concerned for her brother and for her parents. When Michael did not come home that night there was a search for him the next morning. Duncan was beside himself with worry. He fretted terribly.
In his shawl and nightgown Dunca made breakfast, a tasteless porridge and hearty sausage that was also tasteless. Dunca would not stay home to wait in silence and patience for the men to search. She went hunting with her daughter on her back like an Indian maid with a papoose, or like the scotswoman he was.
He tracked and hunted Michael but the tracks disappeared. Adamson also tried to track his son and nothing could be found. Adamson concluded that someone had taken Michael. Someone had waited patiently and stalked Michael like the human prey that he was.
Adamson's blood chilled.
Neighbors suggested Indians. The knife Adamson found sticking out of the bark of one of the trees near where Michael may have disappeared suggested an old acquaintance. A brother from the myths of times gone by. The metal was old and the hilt's design older still. Adam's heart seized in his chest.
He hid the knife from Duncan. He knew what creature had hunted their son and now held him hostage to ransom the return of a terrible thing and a price too high to pay for a mortal child.
The Present
"I hid the knife. I hid all evidence from Macleod. It was killing me. So I searched harder. Macleod dogged my every step. He searched on his own. I think he knew I was hiding something from him. I slept more often on the floor or outside in the cold during those days than any other time in our marriage. It gets really difficult to speak of now. Joe can we go to the bar? I need a stiff drink if I'm going to tell you the rest."
"Sure thing buddy."
"The rest is perfect for a Halloween story. Very ghoulish. Nightmare inducing, even a hundred years later." Said Adam, pain in his eyes, his voice bleak, though he made his words seem almost a joke; if it was meant to be a jest it was meant to be a mirthless morbid one.
The three of them quietly vacated the Macleod cottage, taking Joe's car to the bar where they sat down in a booth and swilled down a pitcher of beer and for Adam a triple shot of scotch.
"ooh, burns good." He hissed appreciatively. "good strong scotch."
Richie was uncertain if he wanted to learn any more of the strange history of Macleod and Pierson/Adamson, especially as it was about to take a turn for the tragic.
"If you want an explanation for why Macleod hovers over you Ryan, you will definitely want to stick around and take a listen. You'll be learning a lot from this next part. Stuff you are never to tell Duncan that you know. A lot of it I pieced together over the years, educated guesses, instinct, experience. And Gods know Duncan's a terrible actor. Keeping secrets make him ill. He hates dishonesty. An Immortal's life though is all about the secrets and dishonesty."
The Past, the 1800s
Michael continued to be missing for over a week. Adamson and Macleod continued to be on the outs, the family was under a lot of stress and little Maddie grew more unsettled.
Koren came in the night and left gifts to taunt them with. Dots of rust on bits of torn cloth. Duncan's rage grew as did his fear. His child he had argued with. His child he was supposed to help mold into a man. The child he had managed to chase off into a terrible fate worse than death. He had caused this. He was to blame for their son's situation. He was at fault. He had chased Michael off. He had forced Michael to drastic measures to prove something to him and now this was their deserts.
Someone was playing a game with them, a sick, sick, game.
Duncan knew Adamson was trying to hide the presents, trying to hide the truth from him. If he hadn't argued with Michael; if he'd taken Michael hiking or climbing or had treated Michael differently instead of like a fragile child then possibly things might have turned out very differently. Duncan felt it was all his fault.
"I've failed as a mother." He mourned. "If we find him, I'll make it up to him. I won't let him out of my sight. I'll spend more time with him, spoil him, give him anything as long as he doesn't do this to me ever again. Just let him be alive." Macleod prayed. "Please God, sweet Jesus in heaven, let me find my son, alive."
He had to wonder if this wasn't something his own mother had felt the times he'd gone off on some stupid youthful foolery, or gone on some raid.
LATER The 1800s
Koren used Michael as bait to tempt little Maddie and with little struggle and no cries of fear the little girl was snatched right out of her bed.
It was a game.
Her hair was cut and left behind on the pillow, a new unbearable taunt. Macleod was desperate. Adamson tried to comfort him. But nothing helped, nothing.
Both kids were gone and now in the grasp of an animal.
Koren couldn't be called human or Immortal he was pure evil.
A true monster.
A monster ancient and cunning and he wanted the one thing that Adamson, true name, Methos, was not going to give him, no matter the cost. Even if the children suffered. Which he knew they would. Their lives were not worth thousands of lives in return, no one's life was.
He would not give back the power Koren craved.
He would not help Koren to betray humanity.
Adamson was resolute. He watched his wife suffer night after night. He watched Duncan Macleod hunt day after day, and search endlessly, tirelessly, his endeavors futile. Adamson grieved. He knew they would not find the children alive.
He knew what the monster would do to them. No matter the flimsy bond of brotherhood that should have kept the children safe from Koren's evil hungers. Adamson knew Koren was a monster and insane. Koren didn't know true brotherhood was not one formed of terror and tyranny but bonds formed in love and loyalty.
Adamson had betrayed Koren centuries ago and now Koren was back to make him pay and to try and force him to join his brotherhood all over again.
He would not do it. No matter that it killed his children or condemned Macleod to an Immortal life time of pain. He could not do what Koren wanted of him.
Not if Humanity and Immortals alike wanted to live in peace for the next several centuries.
Duncan was the next victim. He stumbled across his missing children. Overjoyed that they were alive he never once suspected that a trap lay in store for him. Nor imagined the price of pain and humiliation he would have to pay to see them free.
The Present
"We managed to save Michael but not Madeline and I think in some way we lost Macleod as well. I know I did, when we rescued Michael and Macleod. . . ." Adam stopped, he took a long hard pull on his beer. He'd exchanged the scotch for beer so he could stay just sober enough to live through the nightmares o fhis memories so that he could tell his friends what they needed to know.
His mind was lost in a memory too painful to describe and too raw to put on display. Duncan's clothes torn, blood, his daughter's and his own, mixed on his skin, drenched in it. Kronos had raped Duncan brutally and violently and murdered the child while Duncan lay helpless only to watch her small life dwindle on a cave floor.
Duncan had somehow crawled to Maddie's side and curled around the dying child held her to his breast and was rocking her in his arms for hours after her life had ended. He was raped on top of her dead body.
Michael had told him that. one night weeks before his own death, drunk out of his mind and able to tell his father just a little bit of the terror he still woke up from in the nights. He didn't share this with Dawson and Richie. It was too painful.
"Duncan was catatonic for a year. Michael was withdrawn and aware of the pain he had caused his family. He felt guilt and he tried to make up for the loss of Madeline. He was attentive and he took care of Duncan while I hunted Koren and attended to the town and my farm. It was a dark time, a very dark time for the three of us."
"I knew what had happened to Mac or rather I had a pretty good idea of what Koren had done to him. You see, I wasn't always a good guy. I wasn't always Mr Neutral party, Mr Switzerland Immortal. I was a real bastard a long time ago and I was a partner of sorts with Koren. I was never as evil- no I wont lie, not even to myself. I was just as evil as he was- is, but I woke up. I grew up. I changed and Koren hasn't and he never will, because he is all that is true evil in this world." hissed Adam, adamantly.
Dawson and Ryan were stunned. Dawson couldn't picture Adam in the same category as he could Koren. Adam was gentle, caustic but kind. Adam was always someone you could rely on, okay, except when he was running away from his problems but he was a good guy and a guy you could count on to stand at your back and guard it. There was no way that Adam could ever have been evil.
"I had a weird progressions of epiphanies that shook me to my core, you could, I suppose almost say I evolved. I wanted to change. I needed to change. I was bored." He laughed chillingly. "I was unhappy. I suddenly had a conscience where for many years I did not have one. I should say my conscience had been buried for so long under so much rage and pain and despair that I was empty of love, empty of life."
"I was death."
"I wanted to reap death and make people suffer as I have suffered. I will not use that for my only excuse, I was not sane by any sane man's determining. I had lived a long life, long before I had met Koren or the others of our little band of brothers. I was very old. I was burnt out. I had watched my latest life be torn apart and the way I had died was far worse than any deaths previously that I had suffered. My thirst for revenge and for blood was astonishing and for a long time it had felt unending."
"What conscience, what gentle soul I had previously possessed was burnt out and dead inside of me. Koren was charismatic and he catered to my needs. He loved me best and most fiercely. I was his tool for our rise to power. We were feared. We were powerful. And for the first time in a long time no one hurt me. No one could stand up against us. We ruled the lands, terrorized it, raped it, and burnt whole villages to the ground. I was feared. I was powerful. No one was going to ever hurt me again!"
Richie looked sickened. Joe was pale but intrigued. Adamson looked like someone afire with holy glee. His eyes blazed with an unholy light. His quickening shimmered to the surface of his skin in an interesting display unlike anything either mortal or Immortal had ever seen before. Then it dimmed and was dormant again.
"But, over time I began to change. My conscience awakened and I knew I had to make reparation." His glow dimmed, his face was less cold, less ugly, it showed a face full of gravity and pain. "But how? How do I repair a millennium of damage on mortals? I realized I couldn't. All who I have wronged or hurt or who had hurt me were long in the grave and dust and ashes upon the earth. I left Koren and our band of brothers. I made a choice of conscience and I left."
"I've kept running ever since and because I didn't end it then, back then, because I had been afraid, my family in the present suffered for it. Koren killed my baby girl. Koren had violated my wife, I mean my lover. He had taken my loved ones and damaged them or killed them. If I hadn't have been such a coward those many years ago." his eyes blazed in pain and impotent rage and endless old pain and remorse. "I could have ended it all long before it had ever happened. We could have had a happy life together. Our children could have lived to give us grandchildren. We could have had a happy life! I was so stupid! That was why I tried so hard to find Koren so I could kill him and make sure he couldn't destroy any more lives."
"I learned my lesson too late. I learned it very well when I saw what that monster had done to my lover and my daughter. I burned for revenge again. I hunted as I had all those centuries ago. I hunted and I hunted, I narrowed my view to finding Koren and making him pay. I couldn't face the damage that had been done. Michael took care of Dunca in my absence."
"I let my farm go to ruin. I let my patients die. All I cared about was hunting that animal down and making him pay. Make him pay for what he had done to my wife, my beautiful Duncan. My Duncan, who didn't seem to see me or see the world in which he still lived in." Tears burned in Adam's eyes, his voice choked on grief and rage. "Duncan was broken, so broken. He didn't react to Immortals. He didn't react to my touch at all. He didn't see me. He didn't see Michael or the farm or the sympathetic townspeople who came by to help us in our time of grief." He snorted, took another burning gulp of another cup of scotch he needed the strong stuff now instead of the weak beer. He was silent for a little bit lost in his painful memories.
"Did Michael find out about "Dunca"?" asked Joe.
Adam lowered his head. "I think so. I don't think he quite understood it. And Gods know what they preached about every Sunday forbid such a thing. I think however he loved Dunca. He had been raised by and loved by this woman who was not a woman, and no matter what form his body, Duncan had been his Ma and still was. And Duncan needed him because his Pa was out there hunting the monster that had killed Madeline and had damaged Dunca and had tormented him."
The scotch bottle empty Adam reached for the beer bottles and gulped the contents down with a luster and determination Joe had rarely seen from his customers. "It was a long fruitless search. Michael talked some sense into me or rather begged me to come back to my senses that Dunca was getting worse without me there to rely on to lean on. I didn't at first understand what he meant until I saw Duncan trying to behead himself."
Richie turned pale. "Well obviously he didn't succeed but I mean how did Michael handle learning that you were both Immortal?"
"Fairly well, actually, Michael was a pretty intelligent and pretty accepting kid. I loved him very much. I could do little but be there for Duncan. It was a long way back from the suicide attempts and the attempts at hurting himself. It was a year and a half before he spoke and then it seemed as if he were having a conversation out of nowhere. He looked at me and saw me, really saw me again and knew who I was. He went to Maddie's room and he cried, he wept and he wailed. That sound will forever haunt me, Duncan's pain."
"His cries didn't stop. He made himself ill, the grieving process was hard on him. He was in bed a lot, barely functional. Sometimes though he'd get a little whimsical or fey and start …. I don't know quite how to say it. . . . It chills my blood even today to remember it."
"He'd be cradling a baby that wasn't there. At night he'd wake me up and tell me to go check on the baern, or he'd go check on her, find that she wasn't there and search frantically all through the house before remembering, Maddie was dead. He'd break into desperate weeping. I'd have to sedate him. I knew what kind of monster Koren was. I knew what he had done to Duncan had broken him."
"I just wanted to help him. So I drugged him. I shouldn't have, but I just wanted his pain to ease a little. Too much sedation, too many times doping him I should have known he'd eventually create a . . . need for it. But I wanted to ease his suffering."
"He became a drug addict?" asked Joe stunned.
Richie spit out his beer. "No way, man, no way! Not Mac, he hates drugs. He wont even take an aspirin for a headache."
"I know. Like I said I should have known better. It took Mac a long time to forgive me for drugging him half out of his already addled mind. But at this time in history we were just learning what these drugs could do to a body, and like I said, my intentions were good ones. You know the saying about pathways to hell being paved with good intent – well that's what happened here."
TBC
PART THREE COMING SOON