II – Old Friends.

New York City

Two days later.

Duncan and Methos strolled through an avenue. The Highlander had bathed, tied his hair, and modelled his beard, which thinly surrounded his lips and ended below his chin. He felt uncomfortable wearing tight jeans and a shirt after so long a time. Methos had noticed it but silenced.

The streets were so empty, Duncan thought. The city used to be so full of people walking hecticly to and fro, especially in working days and in the certainty of the World Trade Center... He halted, noticing that something was not where he remembered...

"The Towers? Where are they?" He queried.

Methos grinned. "In 2001, a terrorist group hijacked two planes and made them crash against the Towers. They were demolished... and plans to rebuild them started but... they were only plans."

Duncan shuddered at the thought of the dying that should have been unleashed that day. He had not talked much with Methos, and when he did, the sole topic had been the health of Joe. How much else had happened? They kept on walking and Methos noticed how his friend looked shattered by the revelation. He dithered whether to tell him the rest of what else had happened.

"What... happened afterwards? Were the terrorists caught?" Duncan stammered.

"The White House sent attacks against Afghanistan and Iraq, claiming there were nuclear weapons... none of which were found. Thousands were slaughtered needlessly." Methos spoke detachedly, not a hint of emotion in his voice.

The lights went red and they stopped at the corner. There were no moving cars. They followed the old habit merely by instinct, or maybe for reluctance to face the truth reality brought with it.

"How did it happen?"

"What, MacLeod?"

"How did he get to rule the world?" He stared at Methos and noticed something that disturbed him: hesitation. "Methos..."

The lights went green and they started walking again.

"With you gone, Ahriman had green light to do what he wanted. But he needed a means to achieve control of the world. So he offered one of us whatever he desired. The other gave in..." He paused. "It is not easy to explain. Presidents, Chancellors and Ministers start perishing in disgusting circumstances... some time later, ordinary people follow. Famine and scarcity are unleashed. The world resources are cut off for a few years. In between, he found another immortal whom he considered better for his purposes and let the other go. This immortal speaks on behalf of Him, offering the planet back in exchange of the world's domination."

"No one opposed?!?" Duncan nearly yelled.

"Some immortals went after his dwelling and died a horrible death. This immortal has grown stronger with the heads he took, thus making him stronger as well..."

"What about you??"

"We've arrived." Methos suddenly opened a door and they walked inside a hospital. It was empty and filthy. There were stretchers and wheelchairs here and there, but not a single human soul awaited or was awaited. Methos led him to the stairs, which they climbed up a floor.

Methos led him left through an alley in which the only living things besides them were a starving dog and its grunting owner. Duncan paid no heed to them and carried on walking carelessly. Abruptly, Methos turned left and opened a door, and motioned the Highlander in.

Duncan found a light blue room, to the right of which, besides a window and a room that was surely the bathroom, a bald and fat man lay in a bed, barely breathing. The man had had his eyes fixed on the ceiling till he heard the door opened. He had glanced, expecting to find the doctor but instead... Duncan MacLeod was there, or his shadow at least.

"Mac!" he gasped painfully.

Duncan eyed sadly his old friend. Joe had gained an awful lot of weight, and the chemotherapy had made all his hair fall. He found himself shocked as he held the hand of his old friend.

"Hello Joe..." his voice cracked.

"You look like shit..." Joe's eyes looked beyond. "What is this son of a bitch doing here?!"

Duncan glanced back, noticing the curse was directed at Methos. He saw the old immortal step out of the room.

"Joe, you need to rest." Duncan tried to soothe him, wondering what he had missed.

"Rest?" Joe chuckled and stirred in pain. "I'm in bed all day!" He sobered. "Where have you been, Mac?"

"Holy ground... I wanted to..."

"Richie's death still chases you, doesn't it? It wasn't your fault. It's that god damn mother fucker red devil."

"I know Joe..." Duncan calmed his friend. The other's eyes fixed upon his.

"Then why did you blame yourself?! 20 years without a word... and you are the Champion!!" Joe sighed. "Were, at least."

Duncan felt the reproach but silenced. Arguing with a moribund man would not be wise or fair. Joe coughed and his body shook in pain as he lay back in his pillow motionlessly.

"Joe... Joe..." he cried.

Then Duncan knew it was over. Even before cancer defeated the old Watcher, and the sensor emitted a final and lasting beep. Duncan felt his chest gripped by angst and sadness and his heart beating madly, wanting to break free. He buried his face against Joe's hand, weeping silently.

A doctor appeared and checked the device plugged to Joe's wrist. Duncan felt Methos patting him. He eyed at him, and saw a tear rolling down the stiff expression of the oldest immortal he had ever known. Duncan stood up to let the doctor do her job.

"Sir, excuse me... you knew Joe?"

The voice... Duncan turned. A woman in her mid fifties with a few wrinkles on her face and long grey hair tied in a ponytail stared at Duncan in rapt amazement. He had known her... even loved her, in a different time and place.

"Anne?"

"Duncan..." Doctor Anne Linsey threw herself into his arms, sobbing like a child. The Highlander embraced her for a little while before she broke. "It's been..."

"A long time." He uttered.

She stroked his face and stepped back to gaze at the dead body of a mutual old friend. "Poor Joe. Cancer consumed him over the last ten years. He could have fought it but... he just..." her voice cracked into a whisper "didn't want to."

She turned... Duncan was gone...

-----

The Highlander brushed off his tears as he paced through the deserted alley of the hospital. Joe first... then Anne. Too many mixed emotions locked away inside him had broken free, and he couldn't endure them anymore.

He saw the man with the dog and noticed something he hadn't before. An awful scar ran through the animal's left socket, where an eye should have been. It was emaciated, and its owner was a well-fed obese man, who was enjoying a hot dog as his pet tried to scramble towards it.

"Shut up!" the man kicked the animal really hard and it twisted in pain on the floor. The whines were shattering.

"HEY!" Duncan snapped, clenching the man by the flabby throat against the wall. The other stared in shock as this stranger snatched the hot dog from him and threw it at the dog, which ate it wilfully.

Duncan let the man go and offered his hand to the dog, who licked it. He smiled at the pet, scowled at the owner, and kept on walking away.

Methos had contemplated the entire scene from behind. He couldn't suppress a smile. Duncan MacLeod was still himself. He had let despair and grief overpower him. But the brave man he once met was still there, dormant and waiting for the wake up call. Good, he thought. There was still hope...