Disclaimer: Connor MacLeod and all 'Highlander' characters are copyright Davis/Panzer Productions, and Balthazar Blake and all 'Sorcerer's Apprentice' characters are copyright Disney. This fanfic is based off a lengthy Role-Play, heavily edited for added narrative. No profit made, but a hell of a lot of fun. Being an RP, this is effectively co-written by my girlfriend, who played Balthazar.

My thanks to all the readers who stuck through the last few chapters. Now we're free of the movies for all characters (with just enough adaptation to have Connor live), and into the open territory that comes when all the canon has ended. Also, apologies to HL fans for the 'Endgame in a nutshell' exposition.

Sword and Sorcery

21. Picking up the pieces

New York, Autumn 2010

The voice on the other end of the phone was wonderfully familiar, and he could hear a smile in it. "Duncan MacLeod." He added in a whisper, possibly with a hand over the mouthpiece, "Amanda! Get off…"

"Duncan? It's Blake. Balthazar Blake."

He sobered quickly. "Blake? Where are you? What happened?"

There was a woman's voice, very quiet in the background, "Old friend?"

"I'm in New York. Uh…" Balthazar gave an embarrassed cough. "There was a magical accident. I was stuck in an urn for a decade."

That gave Duncan pause. "You… what…? It's… he's an old friend of Connor's…" The last was a murmur.

"I'll be on deck if you need me." The woman's voice faded as she spoke.

"The second Emperor of the Han Dynasty had this wife-" He started, but this time he was interrupted by someone at his own end.

"Dude, It's not going to make any sense no matter how you explain it." His new apprentice, also the Prime Merlinian, was sitting close by with his feet on the table.

"I'll take your word for it." There was the hint of a smile again, and he was sure Duncan had heard Dave. "But you're okay?"

"I… I'm good." Balthazar was still surprised to be able to honestly say that. "It's over. Morgana's been destroyed."

"That's…" He got the impression Duncan was ransacking his own memory. "You're still alive, so that must be good."

Balthazar laughed softly. "It's one less opportunity for the world to be destroyed. Listen, I tracked down some of my things. They're in the storage for Nash Antiques. I wasn't sure if you did it, or if Connor…?"

There was a long pause, during which his heart thumped with anxiety. "I didn't do it. I didn't even know." Duncan's voice was quiet, and apologetic. "It's all in my name, but I… haven't looked. I was just holding onto it…"

He was quiet, thinking this over. "…You haven't heard from him, then."

"He's missing, but it's again, not still. Have… you got time?"

"Absolutely. David, go check on Veronica? I'm not sure she's got the hang of the stove yet…"

"Ooh. Right." Dave probably knew it was just an excuse to send him away, but he left the room obligingly.

"The last time I saw him was about five years ago…" Duncan started slowly, explaining about a group of people known as the Watchers, who supposedly kept track of immortals, observing and recording, and never interfering. Except when they broke their own rules and did. There had been a place called Sanctuary, he said, where some Watchers had kept a handful of immortals drugged into stasis, so there would always be some alive and unable to fight each other. That was where Connor had disappeared to, just after the deaths of his family. Even Duncan didn't seem sure if he'd gone voluntarily or not.

Then he haltingly explained about a massacre there, with Connor the only survivor. He explained about a man named Jacob Kell. He had been a kinsman to Connor, far back in his childhood, and in some kind of dispute Connor had killed him. It didn't sound as though, at the time, Connor realized he was merely giving another immortal his first death. After learning the rules of what he was, Jacob Kell had set out to find Connor, and to make him pay. He'd been responsible for the deaths of Rachel, Jack, John and Alex. It was probable he'd had a hand in the death of Brenda. He had killed everyone in the Sanctuary but Connor, and threatened to come after Duncan next.

Duncan's tone grew quiet, and a little broken, as he told Balthazar how in a desperate, suicidal move Connor had tried to force Duncan to take his head, hoping it would give him the power to defeat Kell. Only a last-second punch had saved them both from worse tragedy.

"I… shouldn't have left him up there, unconscious, but I… by the next morning Kell was dead. I don't even know how he managed it. Then he just vanished again. He's even dodging his own Watcher, Joe says, but he turns up in other reports, taking heads." Duncan fell silent, needing a moment to recover from the telling of the story.

Balthazar breathed out a curse. "He was always so… He must be in a lot of pain." He was silent a moment, considering. "I'll try to find him."

"Blake, be careful. I love Connor more than life itself, but I also know him. He got thrown into the wilderness young, and part of him has been an animal ever since. Right now, he's a wounded bear."

"I… I'll watch myself. Is there anything I should tell him for you?"

Duncan's response was swift, but heartfelt. "I love him. He'll always by me true brother. Let me know right away if you do find him? I've been looking… I even went to Heather's grave on her birthday after the winter when Kell was killed, but he wasn't there…"

Balthazar was touched, and it took him a moment before he was able to speak. "I'll let him know, if he'll listen. In the meantime, you can reach me at this number if you need anything. It's my student's place, I'm still getting things in order."

"I'm mostly here in Paris, but... Let me give you Joe's cell? He won't thank me for it, but this is important, and he knows how to find me almost anywhere."

"Joe is… your Watcher? All right…" He was a little perplexed, but didn't bother to question it.

"My Watcher, and a good friend. His people don't like it at all, believe me. Got paper and pen?"

"…Yes, go ahead." He took down the number, but his thoughts were elsewhere. "Thanks Duncan. I'll keep you informed. Tell 'Amanda' I apologize for interrupting." He couldn't help smiling at this last.

Duncan laughed softly. "She's older than I am. She can handle the wait. Keep in touch? It's a relief to hear from you again."

After a friendly goodbye, Balthazar hung up and wandered into the kitchen to help with cooking.

It took a while to get resettled, and the sheer paperwork involved in reclaiming his funds was time-consuming. He bought a house in Queens for himself and Veronica, in a place called Forest Hills, and restocked their wardrobes. Getting Veronica acquainted with the modern world was an involved process, no matter how willingly she tried to learn, and before Balthazar was ready for it, Christmas was upon them. He was grateful for Veronica's help in keeping the holiday a low-key affair, and at last, after it all, he was free to do a few rituals.

He allowed Dave to help, and they spent several sessions in a ritual circle with detailed maps, magically scouring the world. Their attempts were frustrated, almost as if Connor was gone, or able to resist being found by sheer force of will. At last, unexpectedly, there was a tiny crackle like miniature lightning across a map of the U.S. It was brief, but it left a tiny hole burned in the paper, just outside Chicago.

Balthazar packed a bag quickly and teleported, leaving Veronica in charge of Dave's education, and him in charge of hers. He wasn't entirely surprised to land in an alley next to a headless corpse half shoved under a dumpster. Connor had been there, and recently. The electric tang of a recent Quickening still hung in the air. The energy made for a warm trail and he followed it on foot, a few blocks, until he reached a point where it grew thinner. Through the lingering ritual he could feel the thread of power, stretching out. Connor had gotten in a car, and was still on the move.

It was late in the evening already, but he found a cab, and followed through the night by vehicle, teleportation, and at last on foot again. Connor didn't stop moving until near dawn, and in the end Balthazar was left walking up to a church somewhere in Iowa. At the edge of the parking lot, near the small associated cemetery, a rusting junker of a car sat parked alone. Cautious, and seeing no driver, the sorcerer scouted ahead and sent a dove to peer in the window. Through its eyes he made out a huddled form across the back seat, almost completely covered by a blanket. He guessed Connor probably needed the sleep, and he was worn out himself from the night-long chase. He retreated to the church steps and settled there, waiting for the immortal to wake on his own.

It was a couple of hours before the battered vehicle creaked softly, and one of the back doors opened. Connor rolled up to sit sideways, feet on the running board, and his back to the church. His hair looked a little longer than Balthazar remembered it, sticking out every which way. He rubbed his face, and ran his hands through the unmanageable hair, all the gestures of a man still trying to wake up.

The dove landed on the edge of the door and peered down at him, fluffing its wings. Connor looked up at it slowly. Vision through the bird's eyes was limited, but he could make out Connor's voice, cracked and very hoarse, as if he wasn't used to speaking much anymore. He sounded dazed. "Do you come with the church? I'm not a man of peace. You don't want to hang around me."

It cooed softly, then took flight off over the car, going to land in Balthazar's outstretched hand. He watched carefully for Connor's reaction, unsure how delicate the situation might be.

Connor's head tilted and swiveled to watch it fly, and he half-rose to his feet, pulling himself up with a hand on the door. The instant he caught a figure in his peripheral vision, all the defenses snapped up. His shoulders tightened, and by the time he actually turned to see who it was, his expression was very guarded. At a distance he looked haggard and unkempt, and against every rule of what he was, older. Connor regarded Balthazar with a hollow gaze for a long moment, then simply said, "No." and resumed his seat.

The sorcerer walked toward him slowly, letting the dove go free. "…Can you elaborate on that?"

"Go away." He rubbed his face with both hands, speaking barely above a whisper. "No more hallucinations. I'm tired."

"I'm not a hallucination, Connor." He kept his voice low and gentle, worried. "It's me, it's Balthazar."

"You're gone." His voice dropped even softer, hard to hear with his face still buried in his hands. "Everyone's gone but Duncan, and he…" Connor shivered, even though he was wearing a long wool coat. The thing looked threadbare, patched. "You're not real." He seemed to be trying to banish Balthazar by sheer force of will.

It was heartbreaking to see him so badly broken, and Balthazar stopped just out of reach, half crouching. "I didn't die, Connor." He winced inwardly at what was, in a sense, a lie. He hadn't been dead when Connor thought he was, and that was the important part. "There was a magical accident. Horvath got released from the Grimhold and we fought. We ended up trapped in that damned Chinese urn for the past ten years."

It was a moment before Connor reacted, but when he looked up his expression was still wary, unwilling to trust his eyes. Up closer the change was alarming. What pure time could not do, grief had. There were lines etched into his face that had never been there before, and Balthazar thought he saw a hint of grey. He had clearly lost weight, and didn't sleep much. "That's… why… mgnh…" He frowned, searching Balthazar's face almost fearfully.

"C'mon, you wouldn't hallucinate a story that crazy." His gaze was gentle and earnest, but he feared he was grasping at straws.

He gave a weak cough of laughter. "Crazy is as crazy does…" Connor shook his head and stood, stepping away. "And now I'm talking to myself in the middle of an empty parking lot!"

"All right, you asked for it." Connor had always been such a tactile person, Balthazar hoped if he gave him something he could feel, it would be convincing. He zapped him in the shoulder with a very small bolt of electricity.

Startled, Connor faltered mid-step with a gasp and grabbed at his own shoulder. He turned back to look at Balthazar with very wide eyes, but there was dawning belief in them, now. There was also shock.

"Easy…" He stood, a little unsure of what kind of reaction he would get now. It might not have been the best method. "I'm… sorry I disappeared. I really am."

Connor swayed very slightly in place. "You… were gone. They were trying to sell your things…"

"I was trapped. The property reverted back to the city. You… thank you for saving some of it."

"I bought everything that was left…" Connor hadn't moved, still staring as if afraid Balthazar would vanish if he blinked.

"Did you come looking for me, or was it just coincidence?" He tried a faint, sad smile.

Connor's eyes shifted, just a little, as if he were trying to look away and couldn't. His voice was soft, and there was a flicker of hurt in his expression. "Of course I came looking for you."

"I wasn't sure… why you vanished. If you needed time alone, or if it was something else. I'm sorry." He offered an arm clasp, tentative.

His gaze dropped finally, just as it began to swim with pain and guilt, and then an arm shot out and caught Balthazar by the back of the neck. Connor was gaunt and weary, but the strength of his grip was still powerful. Moving gently, he stepped forward and leaned his forehead against Balthazar's, an intimate gesture he'd only ever seen Connor do with Duncan and Rachel.

Balthazar placed his hands lightly on Connor's shoulders and let him lean, eyes a little teary. "I'm glad to see you, Connor." He said softly, feeling it needed to be heard.

The gesture melted slowly into a hug, and Connor shook a little in his arms, but was careful not to lean on him. Although not as prone to rib-cracking grips as Connor once was, Balthazar hugged back tightly. By contrast, Connor's hug was gentle, either tired or restrained, or a little of both, but he held it for a very long moment.

When he did draw back, Connor all but stumbled the short distance to the car and sat again heavily. His voice was a quiet croak. "I need coffee…"

"Do you want me to go get you something?" Balthazar watched closely, concerned.

Connor looked up at him, drained and a little wary, but not as closed-off as Balthazar expected. "What's wrong with just driving to a diner?"

"That works, too, if you're up for it." He smiled warmly, trying to be reassuring.

Both hands ran through Connor's hair, making it stick out all the worse, then he held them out to glance at them a moment. They were trembling slightly, and he dropped his arms to his knees. "I'm all right for driving. But you… have to tell me how you are…" He glanced up again.

Balthazar looked away. "A lot's happened. Horvath is still out there, but Morgana's gone for good. It's over."

Connor sucked in his breath very slowly, gaze drifting to the rings on Balthazar's left hand. "…And?" It was almost a whisper.

He rubbed his eyes, smiling. "She's back in Queens, waiting for me. It… won't be easy. She has nightmares, doesn't know how anything modern works… but she's free." His eyes were teary, a mix of joy, relief, and concern for Connor in his face.

The immortal darted a glance like lightning at his expression, gone before Balthazar could quite read what was there. He let his breath out slowly, with a very small smile. "I'm glad for you both." There was no doubting that he meant it, but there was a lot left unsaid, and the way he was avoiding the sorcerer's gaze made it clear he was trying to hide the grief over his own losses.

Balthazar knew there had to be a lot of jealousy there, but he wasn't sure how to approach it. "She'd… like to meet you some time. But I understand if it's too hard to take."

Connor shrugged without looking up again. "You did."

"Let's have breakfast," He suggested gently, "And we'll talk. I need coffee, too."

"…Breakfast." He nodded, staring into space a moment, then shoved himself into motion. After a glance around he pulled the katana out from under the blanket still across the back seat, and slid it on the floor beside the driver's seat door. "Get in and keep your eyes open, I don't know where I'm going."

"Yessir." Balthazar slid into the passenger's seat, still feeling uncertainty over the tender but awkward reunion.