Watcher's Lament
Why do I let him do this to me? Why do I keep letting him hurt me, time after time? I wish someone would explain it to me but I suppose I know why. Because he is Duncan MacLeod, the Highlander and I am his Watcher. And I love him.
For more than half my life I was a perfect Watcher. I stood back and observed, never interfering, never getting involved. And then, after watching him for a decade, it all changed. The rules I lived my life by suddenly become nothing more than empty phrases, meaningless in the face of his friendship, of his pain.
When we first met I thought that I could still keep him at a distance, that everything could go back to the way it had been before. Boy, was I mistaken. As soon as I talked to him, saw the passion in him close up at last, even if it was only the anger he directed at me, I was lost. It was like being a teenager again. Recapturing a youth I lost a long, long time ago in the jungles of south-east Asia. I wanted his approval, his smile, his friendship. For a long while I even kidded myself that that was enough. But it wasn't.
They say that the bond between partners is the strongest but the men who say that aren't Watchers. For those of us in the field, there is no-one else but our immortal. There can't be. We go where they go at the drop of a hat, abandon our lives and families for theirs. We know them more intimately than anyone else on earth. Is it any wonder, then, that I found myself in love with him?
And for some strange and wonderful reason, he was drawn to me. Why? Because I know what he is, who he is, better than anyone? Anyone mortal, that is. Perhaps better than any immortal, too. With them there is always the Game, the Prize to be fought over. With me he is safe. He can be himself, with no need for pretence or wariness. I have no axe to grind, save that of my own happiness.
And I am happy. Most of the time. He lets me into his life, into his bed and sometimes I even think he lets me into his heart. But then something always happens to make him remember that he is an immortal and that I am his Watcher and that what is between us is forbidden by both our peoples. And he shuts me out again, determined to keep me at arms length, to make himself invulnerable to the hurt that we can do each other. Doesn't he know that I would give my life for him, that his happiness is more important to me than my own? If I thought staying away would make him happy, I'd do it. But it won't. We've tried that before and all it did was make us both miserable.
I know Jacob was his friend, had been for centuries, but the men, the mortals, he killed were my friends, too. I couldn't stand by and let him take any more lives. I know Mac believes I threw Jacob to the wolves but I honestly never thought the Watchers would kill him – it's against our creed – Mac knows that. They betrayed me just as much as he thinks I betrayed him. Perhaps more so. I've given my whole life to them – and I only get one lifetime to play with.
It doesn't help that Methos stood with me either. Mac respects him – it's hard not to respect an immortal who has survived for five thousand years – but he often forgets that Methos has spent the last ten years as a Watcher, hiding in plain sight, pretending to be a mortal called Adam Pierson, a researcher specialising in the hunt for Methos. Mac forgot that Adam's loyalties were torn, that most of his friends these days are mortal Watchers, and he felt betrayed by both of us. He expected Methos to side with him because he is immortal. It hurt him when that didn't happen and I think he blames that on me, too. It doesn't matter that Adam was my friend long before he was ever Mac's.
But whatever any of us did, no matter how right or wrong, we have to put it behind us because I can't stand this pain any more. So damn you, Mac. Don't do this to me, to us, again. I won't let you this time. Don't you understand yet? I love you more than any Watcher and if this symbol on my wrist is all that's keeping us apart, then I'll get rid of it.
Burning it off will be easier than burning you out of my heart.
So how about it, Mac? Are you willing to give it another go? I know I'm not your first love and, God willing, I won't be your last. But that's okay. All I've got is now.