Chapter Fifteen: A Little Persuasion, Some Brooding, and a Lot of Soul-Searching
In a small cabin on a quiet, secluded island, miles away from where his fate was being linked to the rest of the worlds', Duncan MacLeod was attempting to figure out what was going on in his life. The isolation and peace did help but he was still very confused. He had finally digested the fact that the boy who, in any other universe, would be his son, was dead by the hand of one of his closest friends; a friend who, as much as he couldn't face him at the moment, he now knew that his life wouldn't be the same without him as part of it. He couldn't
help but blame him somewhat for Richie's death, though, still. He didn't understand what had happened. All he knew was that he couldn't save him, and that, somehow Methos was the one weilding the sword, even if he had no choice. He felt betrayed and confused. Not to mention the fact that that same friend now seemed to be feeling more than friendly towards him. He kept having to remember that it was Methos who'd said those things to him, Methos who'd kissed him. Methos who forever manipulated him, but who had saved his lifemore times than he liked to remember. Methos, who was a man, but also his friend. It was his eyes,
he decided. If everything else was disguised, Methos' eyes sometimes showed the way alright right into his 5000 year-old soul. They'd seemed so sad, and so old and weary, but then so hopeful. He also knew what Methos had lived long enough to, well, experiment.
What Duncan couldn't accept - still - was his own reaction to Methos. He'd responded to Methos' kiss, he'd enjoyed it, when he should have been grieving Richie, not enjoying himself! Not to mention the fact that Duncan MacLeod, as everyone knew, was resoundingly a lady's man!
He knew he was over-reacting. It was one kiss. But the part of Duncan that loved to brood just wouldn't let it go. Maybe he should give it all time and when he next saw Methos, well, he would just wait and see what happened.
Not really a satisfactory solution though.
So, Duncan thought, on to number two, or was it three?
This so-called demon? Duncan had been brought up with enough tales and legends of mysterious creatures to make him believe in demons. But, was what had happened really because of a demon, or was it just himself, his dark side coming to the fore, as it had when he took the dark quickening?
He had enjoyed the fight with Methos. It had felt as if the blood-lust and desire to kill his friend had come from inside him, but he couldn't ignore the fact that he'd definitely felt a kind of presence, convincing him of how powerful Methos' quickening would be. A great temptation and he just couldn't resist any longer.
One of Duncan's greatest fears that the dark side of the warrior inside him would take over, as it did with the dark quickening, permanently this time, with nothing to stop it, because it was part of him. And then he would kill all his friends.
Except, fate had already taken care of one of them, hadn't it, he thought bitterly. More than one, if he was honest. He knew it was part of life, and part of immortality. He always found it difficult, but never quite so hard to accept as now. Maybe it was because with Tessa and Richie he'd felt he had a family, the first real one since he was a boy. Maybe it was loosing them both in such a short period of time. Maybe it was just the Gathering that was getting to him.
What he'd told Amanda was true. He was tired. Tired of the game, of the losses, of being the great Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. It used to be the one thing that he was sure of, the one thing that defined him, that he believed in. But, what was the point if it didn't mean he still couldn't save those he cared about? It had just put people in danger. He hadn't been able to save Tessa, Sean, Darius, Richie...
Maybe Connor was right, he should change names, move around a bit more.
He was just living in the past, and that was no use to anyone. He just felt so confused, and somewhat betrayed. He sometimes felt that, despite living so long, his life had changed so much, at least over the last couple of years, that he found it difficult to keep a sense of who and what he really was. That was why he'd always kept the same name. He knew that some Immortals who adopted 'new identities' found that they couldn't separate between the fiction and their real selves. But when that name and identity didn't seem to mean anything much to him
anymore, what was the point?
There came the buzz just then, closely followed by a knock on the cabin door, interrupting the introspective-ness.
"If that's you Adam, please just go away", he groaned, not wanting any company, especially not Methos. He just had to give that one a little more time and space.
But the voice that replied was distinctly Scottish, not British.
"Duncan, it's me, let me in".
"Connor?! What are you doing here?" Duncan asked in surprise, opening the door.
"Can't I come visit my kinsman if I want to?"
"How did you know I was here?"
"Ah, I have my sources".
"Sources that begin in J and end in watching, I suppose. Joe has a Watcher on me?"
"Of course he does. He's worried about you. He thinks a lot of you. They all do".
" 'They'?"
"Yeah, your friends. You know, the ones you're running away from because you're scared of what's happening?"
'Scared'? He wasn't scared. Was he?!
"Uh-huh. So, what is going on? Why are all these so-called friends worried about me? Why send you and not come themselves?"
"Maybe for the simple reason that, last time they checked, you weren't talking to any of them!"
"I just needed some time and space".
"That's rubbish! You just wanted to escape. 5000 year-old Immortals, demons, Richie's death. It must be hard, I know, but you can't just shut yourself away from everyone. They need you."
"No, they don't. They just end up getting hurt."
"You know that's not true, Duncan. Mortals die, Immortals loose the game. It happens. It's tough, but it's not your fault."
"I just can't do it anymore Connor. It's too difficult."
"Duncan, they count on you".
"Exactly. Why me? Why am I so special?"
"I don't know, but you are. Methos can tell you more than I can".
" 'Methos'? Why him?"
"There's more going on than you know, Duncan. You need to accept who and what you are. It's part of you."
"I can't! You were right. I should just change my name, move away..."
"Maybe I was. After all, who cares what someone calls you, but don't forget what you are. I've seen people loose faith in themselves and that isn't you! You can't afford to!"
"Why!"
"Just come back with me, please. See that you've got friends. Talk to Amanda, to Joe. Talk to Methos."
"Is it this demon thing?"
"Yes".
"How do I know I won't just end up trying to kill my friends again?!"
"Because you have to trust yourself, and trust them!"
"It's not enough!"
"It's important, you have to come back with me!"
"No, let them get someone else to charge to the rescue for a change!"
"Fine, don't say I didn't try. Maybe you have lost something, Duncan, because the man I know wouldn't let his clan down, whomever it was comprised of, and wouldn't be scared of a challenge, however desperate. I'll let your friends know that whilst they're trying to figure out how to save the world, you're sitting here feeling sorry for yourself! You not the only ones with problems Duncan and you can't just shut everyone off. Not me, and not your friends here in Seacouver!"
With that, Connor marched out the door, slamming it behind him.
He made his way back to his boat, swearing to himself. He should have tried harder but right now he felt like hitting Duncan. He was still a bit shook up after the previous days' events and knew he'd taken it all out on Duncan. The situation was pretty hopeless, but they had to try, and if Duncan wouldn't even come back to the city to listen to them...
Resigned to whatever fate had in store for them, Connor left the Island and Duncan, weary and angry. He didn't notice a short, dark-haired man with an unusual tattoo on his wrist follow him back to the mainland.
'Damn!' Duncan thought. He hadn't meant to alienate Connor as well. What was happening to him lately? Ever since Richie... God, there he went again! Why couldn't they just all leave him alone, anyway?! Why did he always have to be the strong one, the leader, the chief?! 'Because that's who you are' a little voice inside him replied. But it was true, wasn't it? Every time he tried to protect his 'clan' someone got hurt. Tessa died, Joe got shot and had to go on trial, Methos nearly got killed and lost some of his amynosity, Richie died -
Hell, if it hadn't been for him Richie wouldn't have died so young in the first place. What a thing to do to a 19 year-old kid!
He just felt so lost. Unfortunately he'd just sent the last person who could help him find himself again away. 'Damn!'
Connor meanwhile was annoyed that he hadn't tried harder with his stubborn clansman. What kind of a mentor was he if he gave up at the first sign of difficulty? He resolved to try again in a couple of days when they had both calmed down. Maybe he'd also have more to report from Methos, Joe, and Amanda by then as well. He let the boat just drift along and felt the gentle waters calm him. He'd always liked sailing. Smiling to himself, Connor felt the stress of the last couple of days leave him a little and he settled back, almost half-asleep. So much so that he completely missed the dark shadow behind him until it hit him on the back of the head with the butt of a gun...
In a small cabin on a quiet, secluded island, miles away from where his fate was being linked to the rest of the worlds', Duncan MacLeod was attempting to figure out what was going on in his life. The isolation and peace did help but he was still very confused. He had finally digested the fact that the boy who, in any other universe, would be his son, was dead by the hand of one of his closest friends; a friend who, as much as he couldn't face him at the moment, he now knew that his life wouldn't be the same without him as part of it. He couldn't
help but blame him somewhat for Richie's death, though, still. He didn't understand what had happened. All he knew was that he couldn't save him, and that, somehow Methos was the one weilding the sword, even if he had no choice. He felt betrayed and confused. Not to mention the fact that that same friend now seemed to be feeling more than friendly towards him. He kept having to remember that it was Methos who'd said those things to him, Methos who'd kissed him. Methos who forever manipulated him, but who had saved his lifemore times than he liked to remember. Methos, who was a man, but also his friend. It was his eyes,
he decided. If everything else was disguised, Methos' eyes sometimes showed the way alright right into his 5000 year-old soul. They'd seemed so sad, and so old and weary, but then so hopeful. He also knew what Methos had lived long enough to, well, experiment.
What Duncan couldn't accept - still - was his own reaction to Methos. He'd responded to Methos' kiss, he'd enjoyed it, when he should have been grieving Richie, not enjoying himself! Not to mention the fact that Duncan MacLeod, as everyone knew, was resoundingly a lady's man!
He knew he was over-reacting. It was one kiss. But the part of Duncan that loved to brood just wouldn't let it go. Maybe he should give it all time and when he next saw Methos, well, he would just wait and see what happened.
Not really a satisfactory solution though.
So, Duncan thought, on to number two, or was it three?
This so-called demon? Duncan had been brought up with enough tales and legends of mysterious creatures to make him believe in demons. But, was what had happened really because of a demon, or was it just himself, his dark side coming to the fore, as it had when he took the dark quickening?
He had enjoyed the fight with Methos. It had felt as if the blood-lust and desire to kill his friend had come from inside him, but he couldn't ignore the fact that he'd definitely felt a kind of presence, convincing him of how powerful Methos' quickening would be. A great temptation and he just couldn't resist any longer.
One of Duncan's greatest fears that the dark side of the warrior inside him would take over, as it did with the dark quickening, permanently this time, with nothing to stop it, because it was part of him. And then he would kill all his friends.
Except, fate had already taken care of one of them, hadn't it, he thought bitterly. More than one, if he was honest. He knew it was part of life, and part of immortality. He always found it difficult, but never quite so hard to accept as now. Maybe it was because with Tessa and Richie he'd felt he had a family, the first real one since he was a boy. Maybe it was loosing them both in such a short period of time. Maybe it was just the Gathering that was getting to him.
What he'd told Amanda was true. He was tired. Tired of the game, of the losses, of being the great Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. It used to be the one thing that he was sure of, the one thing that defined him, that he believed in. But, what was the point if it didn't mean he still couldn't save those he cared about? It had just put people in danger. He hadn't been able to save Tessa, Sean, Darius, Richie...
Maybe Connor was right, he should change names, move around a bit more.
He was just living in the past, and that was no use to anyone. He just felt so confused, and somewhat betrayed. He sometimes felt that, despite living so long, his life had changed so much, at least over the last couple of years, that he found it difficult to keep a sense of who and what he really was. That was why he'd always kept the same name. He knew that some Immortals who adopted 'new identities' found that they couldn't separate between the fiction and their real selves. But when that name and identity didn't seem to mean anything much to him
anymore, what was the point?
There came the buzz just then, closely followed by a knock on the cabin door, interrupting the introspective-ness.
"If that's you Adam, please just go away", he groaned, not wanting any company, especially not Methos. He just had to give that one a little more time and space.
But the voice that replied was distinctly Scottish, not British.
"Duncan, it's me, let me in".
"Connor?! What are you doing here?" Duncan asked in surprise, opening the door.
"Can't I come visit my kinsman if I want to?"
"How did you know I was here?"
"Ah, I have my sources".
"Sources that begin in J and end in watching, I suppose. Joe has a Watcher on me?"
"Of course he does. He's worried about you. He thinks a lot of you. They all do".
" 'They'?"
"Yeah, your friends. You know, the ones you're running away from because you're scared of what's happening?"
'Scared'? He wasn't scared. Was he?!
"Uh-huh. So, what is going on? Why are all these so-called friends worried about me? Why send you and not come themselves?"
"Maybe for the simple reason that, last time they checked, you weren't talking to any of them!"
"I just needed some time and space".
"That's rubbish! You just wanted to escape. 5000 year-old Immortals, demons, Richie's death. It must be hard, I know, but you can't just shut yourself away from everyone. They need you."
"No, they don't. They just end up getting hurt."
"You know that's not true, Duncan. Mortals die, Immortals loose the game. It happens. It's tough, but it's not your fault."
"I just can't do it anymore Connor. It's too difficult."
"Duncan, they count on you".
"Exactly. Why me? Why am I so special?"
"I don't know, but you are. Methos can tell you more than I can".
" 'Methos'? Why him?"
"There's more going on than you know, Duncan. You need to accept who and what you are. It's part of you."
"I can't! You were right. I should just change my name, move away..."
"Maybe I was. After all, who cares what someone calls you, but don't forget what you are. I've seen people loose faith in themselves and that isn't you! You can't afford to!"
"Why!"
"Just come back with me, please. See that you've got friends. Talk to Amanda, to Joe. Talk to Methos."
"Is it this demon thing?"
"Yes".
"How do I know I won't just end up trying to kill my friends again?!"
"Because you have to trust yourself, and trust them!"
"It's not enough!"
"It's important, you have to come back with me!"
"No, let them get someone else to charge to the rescue for a change!"
"Fine, don't say I didn't try. Maybe you have lost something, Duncan, because the man I know wouldn't let his clan down, whomever it was comprised of, and wouldn't be scared of a challenge, however desperate. I'll let your friends know that whilst they're trying to figure out how to save the world, you're sitting here feeling sorry for yourself! You not the only ones with problems Duncan and you can't just shut everyone off. Not me, and not your friends here in Seacouver!"
With that, Connor marched out the door, slamming it behind him.
He made his way back to his boat, swearing to himself. He should have tried harder but right now he felt like hitting Duncan. He was still a bit shook up after the previous days' events and knew he'd taken it all out on Duncan. The situation was pretty hopeless, but they had to try, and if Duncan wouldn't even come back to the city to listen to them...
Resigned to whatever fate had in store for them, Connor left the Island and Duncan, weary and angry. He didn't notice a short, dark-haired man with an unusual tattoo on his wrist follow him back to the mainland.
'Damn!' Duncan thought. He hadn't meant to alienate Connor as well. What was happening to him lately? Ever since Richie... God, there he went again! Why couldn't they just all leave him alone, anyway?! Why did he always have to be the strong one, the leader, the chief?! 'Because that's who you are' a little voice inside him replied. But it was true, wasn't it? Every time he tried to protect his 'clan' someone got hurt. Tessa died, Joe got shot and had to go on trial, Methos nearly got killed and lost some of his amynosity, Richie died -
Hell, if it hadn't been for him Richie wouldn't have died so young in the first place. What a thing to do to a 19 year-old kid!
He just felt so lost. Unfortunately he'd just sent the last person who could help him find himself again away. 'Damn!'
Connor meanwhile was annoyed that he hadn't tried harder with his stubborn clansman. What kind of a mentor was he if he gave up at the first sign of difficulty? He resolved to try again in a couple of days when they had both calmed down. Maybe he'd also have more to report from Methos, Joe, and Amanda by then as well. He let the boat just drift along and felt the gentle waters calm him. He'd always liked sailing. Smiling to himself, Connor felt the stress of the last couple of days leave him a little and he settled back, almost half-asleep. So much so that he completely missed the dark shadow behind him until it hit him on the back of the head with the butt of a gun...