Chapter 10: An Unexpected Visitor
They got back to the loft and the moment they entered the building they both sensed the presence of another Immortal.
"Expecting anyone?" Kenny asked his eyes wide.
Duncan's eyes were narrowed. "No," he stated, his voice hard. "Are you?" He looked down at the boy, raising an eyebrow at him.
Kenny shook his head, fiercely. "Are you kidding?" he asked. "Who'd I'd be expecting?"
Duncan just shook his head. "Stay here," he growled. "I mean it."
Kenny snorted. "Where'd I go?" he asked, sneeringly.
Duncan turned back around, a stern look on his face. "Kenneth," he growled, "if you move from that spot I promise that you will not sit for a week when I'm done with you!"
Kenny just held up his hands. "Hey," he said, "don't sweat it, MacLeod. You're the one who wants to go risking his head. Not me."
Duncan smirked. "Don't be worrying about my head," he told him, "be worrying about your butt."
Kenny huffed. "Go on already," he told him, snorting.
Duncan nodded, his katana appearing from under his coat, "I'll be right back." He headed upstairs.
Kenny waited, listening intently. If I had any sense I'd be out the door by now, he thought, so why am I still here?
Why? Oh, well, maybe because MacLeod would roast his ass once he caught up with him. Was that a good enough reason to risk his head?
Hell, yeah!
The lift sounded and MacLeod raised the gate. "C'mon," he said, gesturing with his head, "and bring the bags."
"Who is up there?" he asked, curious. "Amanda?"
MacLeod shook his head. "Nope, thank goodness," he said, smirking, "because then it'd be my butt and your head on the line. No, this is an even older friend than her. His name's Methos."
Kenny dropped the bags. "The oldest Immortal!" he exclaimed. "No, st!"
Duncan growled, "Kenneth!"
Kenny frowned. "What?" he asked, innocently.
"You know what," Duncan growled. "Unless you want your mouth scoured with soap, you'll watch the mouth." To emphasize his point, he gave him a swat on the butt when he bent down to pick up the bags.
"Hey!" Kenny yelped, dropping the bags he had just picked up again. "Ow!" He rubbed his stinging posterior.
"That was your only warning," Duncan told him, bending down to help pick up the bags.
Once all the bags were retrieved, they headed up to the loft. Getting out, they found a tall man with a somewhat large nose waiting for them.
"Well, well," he said, in a clipped British accent, "so this is the infamous Child Immortal that lures unsuspecting gullible fools in with his innocent looking face and then takes their heads while their backs were turned. From the Watchers descriptions, I expected a cherub without wings."
Kenny narrowed. "Watch it, gramps," he told him. "I'm eight hundred years old."
"So?" Methos asked, snorting. "Even at that age you'd be an infant compared to me, boy—and that's if you were an adult. For Immortals, kid, age is irrelevant. Its maturity and experience, as well as actions, that make you what you are and all the above for you have only proved that you are still—in everyway—a little boy. MacLeod has always had a soft spot for kids, which you should be grateful for. I'd have just cut off your head and been done with it."
Kenny's eyes widened at that blunt statement and took a step back, right into Duncan.
The Highlander's arm came around him. "He doesn't mean it, Kenny," he said, scowling at the older Immortal. "Methos has this little problem that flares up every now and again—it's called being an ass."
Methos laughed. "What can I say, MacLeod?" he said. "You got stuck at the mature age of thirty-five, while I was only twenty."
"Uh huh," Duncan said, scowling. "When I was twenty, my father still didn't hesitate to take his strap to me if I got out of hand."
Methos smirked. "Are you threatening me?" he asked, good naturedly. "After everything I've done for you."
Duncan snorted. "Like I give a damn, Methos," he told him. "You mind your manners or I won't hesitate to treat you like my da treated me."
Methos grabbed his heart. "I'm wounded," he stated, heading into the kitchen. "Got any beer." He opened the refrigerator.
"As a matter of fact," Duncan said, rolling his eyes, "no, I don't. You can have water."
Methos wrinkled his nose at that. "Water is entirely unhealthy," he said, sitting on a stool.
Duncan snorted again. "Most doctors would disagree with you," he told him, handing the bags to Kenny. "Go put these over there, while I make sure our guest doesn't get waist away."
Kenny rolled his eyes. "Sure," he said, and then whispered, "He is always like this?"
Duncan smirked. "Pretty much," he told him. "He only shows his real age on certain occasions, the rest of the time he's worse than a teenager."
Kenny nodded and did as he was told, for once.
Duncan walked over and leaned on the counter. "Just what are doing here, Methos?" he asked the oldest living Immortal.
Methos shrugged. "Can't I visit an old friend?" he asked, smirking.
Duncan snorted. "No, you can't," he said, "and would you stop it. I already have one immature Immortal to deal with. I don't need two."
Methos sighed. "We've all been worried about you, Mac," he told him, honestly. "I mean, a year now and not a word from you. I know what you said, about it being for the best, but that doesn't stop your friends from worrying. Even Amanda was worried, even though she has her hands full with this mortal cop of hers."
Duncan nodded. "I didn't mean to worry anyone," he admitted, "and I really don't know why I came back here."
Methos smirked. "You know what they say," he said, "home is where your heart is and your heart has always been here—even if those you loved are buried in France."
A pained look came across Duncan's face, memories of happier times flitting through his mind.
"Sorry, ole boy," Methos said, wincing.
Duncan just sighed. "No," he said, "it's been two years, and Richie would not have wanted me to wallow in grief for eternity. Besides, I need all my strength to keep Kenny in line."
"Hey," the aforementioned immature Immortal spoke up.
Duncan shrugged. "It's true," he told him, "and you know it."
Kenny snorted. "Just because I don't play by your rules, MacLeod," he said, smirking.
"Oh, you most definitely better play by my rules, young man," Duncan told him, smirking, "unless you'd like a sore rear—and that goes for you, too." He said, turning around to catch Methos in mid-mimic.
The oldest Immortal had the most comical expression on his face that all three burst out laughing so hard that Duncan actually had to go to the bathroom because he was about pee his pants.
When he realized what he was doing, Kenny stopped and just stared. What was he doing? Here he was actually smiling and laughing with MacLeod! What was happening to him?
"You okay, kid?" Methos asked, grinning.
Kenny shrugged. "I'm not sure," he said, honestly.
"You should give him a chance, you know," the older Immortal stated. "MacLeod, I mean. He may be the world's oldest Boy Scout, but still he has a lot of good points too. I'd trust him with my life, and have in more than one occasion." He shrugged, then headed towards the bathroom as they heard toilet flush.
Apparently, he'd already been drinking a few beers already.
Duncan came out and he went in. "Why don't we start getting that room ready for you?" he suggested, giving the boy's shoulder a squeeze.
Kenny just nodded. "All right," he said, feeling something unusual shift inside him.
Maybe it was time to trust someone.
And that someone was Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.
TBC…