Cameron
By: alikara
Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah. You all know the drill. I don't own a damn thing, blah blah. There. Happy? Good. Oh, and special thanks to my best friend, who previews every chapter before I post, and helps me keep everyone in character. Oh, and helping me with 'the fic is one big paragraph' problem.
SouthernChickie, domo arigato gozaimasu!!! ^_^
Chapter 2
Previously on Highlander: GO READ THE LAST CHAPTER!!!!!!
Duncan and Richie began scuffling for a view. In the back corner of the hollow base, as far away from the new hole as possible, and small figure was curled up, hiding it's face, and trembling violently.
"Turn off the light, Connor!" Duncan hissed. "Richie, help me." And he began breaking a larger hole in the side. The figure whimpered, and pressed itself against the wall of its prison.
"Mac, you're scaring it!" Richie scolded.
"It's not an 'it,' Richie. It's a, well, it's a, he or she. I just can't tell yet." Duncan said.
"Great. It's nice to know that it has a gender an' all Mac, but can you find out what?"
"Shut up, Richie." Connor snapped, and broke a large peice away. "There. That should do it." And he began to climb in, trying to ignore the smell. Duncan followed.
"Hey." Duncan called softly, to the figure. "It's all right. We won't hurt you." Slowly, the figure lowered it's arms.
"Have ye come to lift me out of Hell?" A weak voice whimpered.
"What?" Connr asked, blinking.
"Surely thou art the Arch Angels, Micheal and Gabriel, come to save my soul?" The figure replied, in a voice that Duncan decided to be male.
"Uhh, not exactly." Duncan said.
"But close enough." Connor finished, reaching a hand out to the boy, and laying it on his arm. The boy gasped, and went completely limp. Connor shook him, but got no response. "Fainted." He muttered, and began draggin him out. Duncan shuffled out before him, and drew his sword.
"Woah, Mac, you're not gonna." richie began. Connor wiggled out, draggin hs laod by the shoulders. He hefted him up in his arms, and Duncan raised the blade above the limp figure's head. "Mac, no!" Richie yelped, as the blade fell. It sliced through filthy mats of tangled hair, that was longer than the boy was tall.
"Look at his clothes." Connor said, amazed.
"Those are clothes?" Riche asked.
"What's left of his clothes. He's been in there a long time." Duncan said, and lit a match.
"Mac, what are you doing?"
"Destroying evidence," Duncan said, and tossed it into the base of the sculpture. With a flash, what was left of the boy's hair caught fire, and Richie wrinkled his nose at the smell.
"Aw, man. That's foul. Can we go now?"
************
Joe and Methos looked up from there chess game in Duncan's loft above the Dojo, when the elevator whirled to life.
"They're back." Methos said, feeling the powerful presence of more than one immortal. "And they have someone with them." He stood. The elevator stopped, and Richie lifted the gate. Connor came out first, with a body cradled in his arms.
"Guess what we found!" Richie announced, loudly.
"Let's take him to the bathroom. Get him cleaned up." Duncan said. "Richie, make some soup. Who knows when he last ate. Methos, give us a hand, huh?" Methos jumped up, and followed the two MacLeod's into the bathroom. Duncan turned on the shower, and adjusted the temperature, while Connor, with Methos' help, stripped away what was left of the mysterious immortal's clothes, then passed him to Duncan, as the immortal was still out cold.
"He looks like death itself." Methos said, eyes raking over the boy's ribs. "I've never seen anyone that pale."
"He had to have been in there for at least fifty years." Connor said, glancing up at Methos.
"With those clothes, and the way he spoke?" Duncan said. "I'd say over a hundred fifty."
"Sealed for over one hundred years?" Methos gasped, as Connor held the limp body up for Duncan to wash.
************
"He died." Richie said, breaking the silence.
"What?" Joe asked, looking up.
"He died. I just felt him come back."
"Oh. Do they know who he is?" Joe asked Richie, who was stirring soup.
"Nah. I heard him call them Micheal and Gabriel, as in the angels, then he passed out. He was in there a long time, Joe. His hair was as long as Mac is tall."
"Which Mac?"
"Hah. Take your pick." Richie said, taking the soup off of the stove, and putting some into bowls. "You want some?"
"Sure. Thanks." Joe said, tapping away on his laptop. "What's taking so long. It's been over an hour." He grumbled.
"He was a mess, Joe!" Richie said thickly, through mouth full of French Bread.
"Mm." Joe said, then looked up, when the bathroom door opened. Duncan appeared first, backing out of the bathroom slowly. He had a pair of pale hands in his own, as he led the pale immortal out of the bathroom, on unsteady legs. Joe stood, to get a better look at the mysterious immortal. Connor followed closely, his hands on the boy's shoulders, keeping him steady. Methos followed, frowning thoughtfully. He passed the three immortals, and picked up a blnket from the sofa. Duncan slowly sat the boy down on the sofa, and Methos flung the blanket around him. Then, everyone sat back to look at him.
His hair fell down to his mid back in waves, now that it was washed and brushed out. It was black in color. It made his pale complection even more pale looking. His skin was chalk white, making him look as if he had been carved from marble. His dull eyes stared blankly, they were a cloudy blue in color, like a new born infant. The only movement was his occasional blink, and the steady rise and fall of his chest, under one of Duncan's black shirts.
Duncan sighed, and knelt in from of the boy.
"I am Duncan MacLeod." He said, softly. "And you're safe now." The boy made no sign of acknowledgment. "This is Connor MacLeod, Richie Ryan, and Joe Dawson. And this is Methos. You're among friends. We won't harm you." Still no reaction. Duncan frowned. "What's your name?" Nothing. Duncan raised his hand, and passed it in front of the boy's eyes, trying to find any sign of awarement, but there was nothing. He sighed, and looked back at the others.
"He may have no mind left, Duncan." Connor said. "It may be doing him a favor to take his head."
"Hand me my sword." Duncan said. Connor blinked, but did. Duncan raised it I front fo the boy's face, and angled it, reflecting the light off of the blade, and onto the boy's face. Watching the light on his cheek, he angled the blade, until the light flahed in the boy's eyes. The pupils dialated, nd his body jerked. He gasped, and shut his eyes, turning his head slightly. Duncan sighed, glad to have gotten a reaction to somehintg.
************
"Mac? You home?" Joe Dawson called, as Methos lifted the elevator gate. The loft was dark.
"Right here." A voice said, and Duncan wandered around the corner from the kitchen area, slurping a soda.
"Why is it so dark?" Joe complained, looking around the dim room. All the curtains were drawn, and only a few canldes were lit here and there.
"The light upsets him." Duncan said, pointing across the room. The pale immortal was sitting in the corner of the sofa, curled up tightly in a blanket, staring off into space.
"Mac, it's been four days. Has he shown any signs of life at all?"
"When I turn on a light, or open a window he does." Duncan said, and flicked on a lamp. The boy's eyes widened briefly in alarm, and he promptly buried his head into his arms. Duncan turned off the lamp. "See? He won't monve for fifteen minutes or so. Richie figured that out the other day. A dozen times or so." Methos frowned, thoughtfully.
"Mac." Joe said. "Connor's right." He sighed. "He was in there too long. He's lost his mind."
"No." Duncan said, coldly.
"Mac,"
"No."
"He was in there too long."
"What about Nefertiri?" Duncan said. Joe blinked. "She was wrapped up like a mummy, and sealed in a coffin since Cleopatra's time. And she was perfectly sane."
"She lived in the past, Mac."
"She was also sealed for thousands of years."
"She was different Mac."
"How?"
"She was, well, look Mac. It's a lost cause. Connor was right. Do the kid a favor and take his head."
"No."
"Look, Mac, the reason Nefertiri didn't lose it is because she was immortal, and she knew it. We have no records of this kid, whatsoever. I've looked. He probably didn't know he was immortal. You said he said something about being in hell. He thought he was Mac. He lost it. Face it." Duncan scowled.
"No."
*************
Duncan finished his omelet, and put the dishes in the sink. He washed them. Then, he turned, and looked at the boy, still in the corner of the sofa. It had been over a week since he had rescued the boy, and there was no change. He sighed, and moved over to a window, opening the curtains. The moon shone in. Duncan turned and sat down next to the strange immortal.
"You know, they want me to kill you." He said, finally. "If I tried, would even try to defend yourself?" He looked at the other person, who made no sign of hearing him. "Maybe I should. Maybe you have lost your mind. What's you name? Where did you come from? Why won't you talk to me?" the boy still gave no answer. "You have to snap out of it. For your own sake." Duncan said, and stood, going to shower.
He let the hot water caress the tense muscles in his back. All this worrying over an unresponisive immortal was starting to affect him. The boy didn't eat, didn't drink, didn't move. He had died, and come back to life three times all ready since the first night. Duncan was starting to agree with Joe and Connor. Maybe he should take the boy's head.
No. He wouldn't give up. Not yet. He shut off the water, and stepped out of the shower, drying himself off. He wouldn't give up. He pulled on his black sweatpants, and went out into the main room. He froze. The sofa was empty, aside from the blanket. He looked up. The boy was standing in front of the window, staring up at the stars. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was open slightly, as if in surprise. Slowly, Duncan approached him.
"Those are stars." He said, quietly. "Do you remember them?" He watched the boy's face, closely. Slowly, he blinked, and a tear fell, running down his face. His eyes remained closed, and his head fell to his chest for a moment, before his whole body sagged. Duncan caught him before he slumped to the floor, and carried him over to the bed. He pulled down the blankets, and made the boy comfortable, then tucked him in. He watched his charge for a few minutes, before settling down on the sofa.
"Well, I guess that was progress." Duncan mumbled to himself, before drifting off.
***************
Yay! Chapter 2 done! I'll try to update soon, but with my erratic schedule and six people using one computer, it might take a while. I'll try to update once a week, but, no guarantees. Arigato!
By: alikara
Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah. You all know the drill. I don't own a damn thing, blah blah. There. Happy? Good. Oh, and special thanks to my best friend, who previews every chapter before I post, and helps me keep everyone in character. Oh, and helping me with 'the fic is one big paragraph' problem.
SouthernChickie, domo arigato gozaimasu!!! ^_^
Chapter 2
Previously on Highlander: GO READ THE LAST CHAPTER!!!!!!
Duncan and Richie began scuffling for a view. In the back corner of the hollow base, as far away from the new hole as possible, and small figure was curled up, hiding it's face, and trembling violently.
"Turn off the light, Connor!" Duncan hissed. "Richie, help me." And he began breaking a larger hole in the side. The figure whimpered, and pressed itself against the wall of its prison.
"Mac, you're scaring it!" Richie scolded.
"It's not an 'it,' Richie. It's a, well, it's a, he or she. I just can't tell yet." Duncan said.
"Great. It's nice to know that it has a gender an' all Mac, but can you find out what?"
"Shut up, Richie." Connor snapped, and broke a large peice away. "There. That should do it." And he began to climb in, trying to ignore the smell. Duncan followed.
"Hey." Duncan called softly, to the figure. "It's all right. We won't hurt you." Slowly, the figure lowered it's arms.
"Have ye come to lift me out of Hell?" A weak voice whimpered.
"What?" Connr asked, blinking.
"Surely thou art the Arch Angels, Micheal and Gabriel, come to save my soul?" The figure replied, in a voice that Duncan decided to be male.
"Uhh, not exactly." Duncan said.
"But close enough." Connor finished, reaching a hand out to the boy, and laying it on his arm. The boy gasped, and went completely limp. Connor shook him, but got no response. "Fainted." He muttered, and began draggin him out. Duncan shuffled out before him, and drew his sword.
"Woah, Mac, you're not gonna." richie began. Connor wiggled out, draggin hs laod by the shoulders. He hefted him up in his arms, and Duncan raised the blade above the limp figure's head. "Mac, no!" Richie yelped, as the blade fell. It sliced through filthy mats of tangled hair, that was longer than the boy was tall.
"Look at his clothes." Connor said, amazed.
"Those are clothes?" Riche asked.
"What's left of his clothes. He's been in there a long time." Duncan said, and lit a match.
"Mac, what are you doing?"
"Destroying evidence," Duncan said, and tossed it into the base of the sculpture. With a flash, what was left of the boy's hair caught fire, and Richie wrinkled his nose at the smell.
"Aw, man. That's foul. Can we go now?"
************
Joe and Methos looked up from there chess game in Duncan's loft above the Dojo, when the elevator whirled to life.
"They're back." Methos said, feeling the powerful presence of more than one immortal. "And they have someone with them." He stood. The elevator stopped, and Richie lifted the gate. Connor came out first, with a body cradled in his arms.
"Guess what we found!" Richie announced, loudly.
"Let's take him to the bathroom. Get him cleaned up." Duncan said. "Richie, make some soup. Who knows when he last ate. Methos, give us a hand, huh?" Methos jumped up, and followed the two MacLeod's into the bathroom. Duncan turned on the shower, and adjusted the temperature, while Connor, with Methos' help, stripped away what was left of the mysterious immortal's clothes, then passed him to Duncan, as the immortal was still out cold.
"He looks like death itself." Methos said, eyes raking over the boy's ribs. "I've never seen anyone that pale."
"He had to have been in there for at least fifty years." Connor said, glancing up at Methos.
"With those clothes, and the way he spoke?" Duncan said. "I'd say over a hundred fifty."
"Sealed for over one hundred years?" Methos gasped, as Connor held the limp body up for Duncan to wash.
************
"He died." Richie said, breaking the silence.
"What?" Joe asked, looking up.
"He died. I just felt him come back."
"Oh. Do they know who he is?" Joe asked Richie, who was stirring soup.
"Nah. I heard him call them Micheal and Gabriel, as in the angels, then he passed out. He was in there a long time, Joe. His hair was as long as Mac is tall."
"Which Mac?"
"Hah. Take your pick." Richie said, taking the soup off of the stove, and putting some into bowls. "You want some?"
"Sure. Thanks." Joe said, tapping away on his laptop. "What's taking so long. It's been over an hour." He grumbled.
"He was a mess, Joe!" Richie said thickly, through mouth full of French Bread.
"Mm." Joe said, then looked up, when the bathroom door opened. Duncan appeared first, backing out of the bathroom slowly. He had a pair of pale hands in his own, as he led the pale immortal out of the bathroom, on unsteady legs. Joe stood, to get a better look at the mysterious immortal. Connor followed closely, his hands on the boy's shoulders, keeping him steady. Methos followed, frowning thoughtfully. He passed the three immortals, and picked up a blnket from the sofa. Duncan slowly sat the boy down on the sofa, and Methos flung the blanket around him. Then, everyone sat back to look at him.
His hair fell down to his mid back in waves, now that it was washed and brushed out. It was black in color. It made his pale complection even more pale looking. His skin was chalk white, making him look as if he had been carved from marble. His dull eyes stared blankly, they were a cloudy blue in color, like a new born infant. The only movement was his occasional blink, and the steady rise and fall of his chest, under one of Duncan's black shirts.
Duncan sighed, and knelt in from of the boy.
"I am Duncan MacLeod." He said, softly. "And you're safe now." The boy made no sign of acknowledgment. "This is Connor MacLeod, Richie Ryan, and Joe Dawson. And this is Methos. You're among friends. We won't harm you." Still no reaction. Duncan frowned. "What's your name?" Nothing. Duncan raised his hand, and passed it in front of the boy's eyes, trying to find any sign of awarement, but there was nothing. He sighed, and looked back at the others.
"He may have no mind left, Duncan." Connor said. "It may be doing him a favor to take his head."
"Hand me my sword." Duncan said. Connor blinked, but did. Duncan raised it I front fo the boy's face, and angled it, reflecting the light off of the blade, and onto the boy's face. Watching the light on his cheek, he angled the blade, until the light flahed in the boy's eyes. The pupils dialated, nd his body jerked. He gasped, and shut his eyes, turning his head slightly. Duncan sighed, glad to have gotten a reaction to somehintg.
************
"Mac? You home?" Joe Dawson called, as Methos lifted the elevator gate. The loft was dark.
"Right here." A voice said, and Duncan wandered around the corner from the kitchen area, slurping a soda.
"Why is it so dark?" Joe complained, looking around the dim room. All the curtains were drawn, and only a few canldes were lit here and there.
"The light upsets him." Duncan said, pointing across the room. The pale immortal was sitting in the corner of the sofa, curled up tightly in a blanket, staring off into space.
"Mac, it's been four days. Has he shown any signs of life at all?"
"When I turn on a light, or open a window he does." Duncan said, and flicked on a lamp. The boy's eyes widened briefly in alarm, and he promptly buried his head into his arms. Duncan turned off the lamp. "See? He won't monve for fifteen minutes or so. Richie figured that out the other day. A dozen times or so." Methos frowned, thoughtfully.
"Mac." Joe said. "Connor's right." He sighed. "He was in there too long. He's lost his mind."
"No." Duncan said, coldly.
"Mac,"
"No."
"He was in there too long."
"What about Nefertiri?" Duncan said. Joe blinked. "She was wrapped up like a mummy, and sealed in a coffin since Cleopatra's time. And she was perfectly sane."
"She lived in the past, Mac."
"She was also sealed for thousands of years."
"She was different Mac."
"How?"
"She was, well, look Mac. It's a lost cause. Connor was right. Do the kid a favor and take his head."
"No."
"Look, Mac, the reason Nefertiri didn't lose it is because she was immortal, and she knew it. We have no records of this kid, whatsoever. I've looked. He probably didn't know he was immortal. You said he said something about being in hell. He thought he was Mac. He lost it. Face it." Duncan scowled.
"No."
*************
Duncan finished his omelet, and put the dishes in the sink. He washed them. Then, he turned, and looked at the boy, still in the corner of the sofa. It had been over a week since he had rescued the boy, and there was no change. He sighed, and moved over to a window, opening the curtains. The moon shone in. Duncan turned and sat down next to the strange immortal.
"You know, they want me to kill you." He said, finally. "If I tried, would even try to defend yourself?" He looked at the other person, who made no sign of hearing him. "Maybe I should. Maybe you have lost your mind. What's you name? Where did you come from? Why won't you talk to me?" the boy still gave no answer. "You have to snap out of it. For your own sake." Duncan said, and stood, going to shower.
He let the hot water caress the tense muscles in his back. All this worrying over an unresponisive immortal was starting to affect him. The boy didn't eat, didn't drink, didn't move. He had died, and come back to life three times all ready since the first night. Duncan was starting to agree with Joe and Connor. Maybe he should take the boy's head.
No. He wouldn't give up. Not yet. He shut off the water, and stepped out of the shower, drying himself off. He wouldn't give up. He pulled on his black sweatpants, and went out into the main room. He froze. The sofa was empty, aside from the blanket. He looked up. The boy was standing in front of the window, staring up at the stars. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was open slightly, as if in surprise. Slowly, Duncan approached him.
"Those are stars." He said, quietly. "Do you remember them?" He watched the boy's face, closely. Slowly, he blinked, and a tear fell, running down his face. His eyes remained closed, and his head fell to his chest for a moment, before his whole body sagged. Duncan caught him before he slumped to the floor, and carried him over to the bed. He pulled down the blankets, and made the boy comfortable, then tucked him in. He watched his charge for a few minutes, before settling down on the sofa.
"Well, I guess that was progress." Duncan mumbled to himself, before drifting off.
***************
Yay! Chapter 2 done! I'll try to update soon, but with my erratic schedule and six people using one computer, it might take a while. I'll try to update once a week, but, no guarantees. Arigato!