Trapped Souls

alikara

Disclaimer: No own. Piss off.

Chapter 4

There was a sudden choking and coughing from the kitchen area. Joe, Cameron, Methos, Duncan and Connor looked to see a purple faced Richie choking on his soda, his shirt covered with it. Duncan winced sympathetically when it came out of Richie's nose.

"Ouch," he muttered.

"Did he say MacLeod?" Richie wheezed. Cameron blinked.

"Aye…." He said, not knowing why his name made Richie spew. He then noticed that everyone was staring at him as if his nose had suddenly disappeared. "What?

"Cameron MacLeod?" Joe said. Cameron nodded. "Of the Clan MacLeod?"

"No, Joe, of the Clan MacSmith!" Richie shouted from across the room.

"Shut up, Richie!" Joe snapped over his shoulder.

"Connor, if we ignore him long enough, will he go away?" Methos asked.

"Unfortuanately no." Duncan said. "He's still here and I've been ignoring him for how many years?"

"Damn." Methos grumbled. Cameron looked on, confused.

"I heard that!" Richie shouted.

"Richie, I'm sure there's something downstairs you could be doing right now." Duncan said, agitated.

"But—"

"Now."

"But—"

"Go!"

"But—"

"You say 'but' one more time and I'm gonna kick yours!"

"Aww, man." Richie whined, and stepped into the elevator. "After four hundred years you should probably consider taking that stick out of your ass MacLeod!" Duncan whirled to glare at Richie as he closed the elevator gate, protectively in front of him, averting his eyes from MacLeod, who snarled when Richie began to loudly whistle the theme song to the Andy Griffith Show.

"How do you put up with him?" Connor asked.

"He's easily bribed." Duncan said. They turned their attention back to Cameron, who was extremely confused by this point. "on the other hand, I'd rather keep you where I can keep an eye on you, Richie!" Richie blinked, the shrugged, coming back into the room.

"Cameron, you're safe now." Methos said. "Tell us what happened to you. Where are you from? Why were you entombed?" Duncan, Joe, Connor, and Richie made themselves comfortable on the King sizze bed around Cameron.

"My family migrated to the New World when I was four." He said. "A plague spread through the passengers on the ship. I was one of seven survivors. I was taken in by one of the other survivors, an old woman. We traveled to Salem. We lived in the woods near the town, but we kept to ourselves. She died when I was almost fifteen. So I lived by myself. When the trials came up, it took a surprisingly long time for me to be accused. During my trial, one of the witch hunters kept watching me. I was convicted, and hung. I remember feeling my neck break." Richie flinched.

"When I woke up, I was on the ground. They were about to bury me. They panicked. The witch hunter who had been watching me, said that I was a chosen of Satan. And that I could not be killed. He said that I must be entombed for all time. They sealed me in a large stone block. I don't know how long I was in there." Duncan, Connor and Methos frowned.

"You were sealed in there in 1692. The year is now 2005." Joe said. The boy's eyes widened. "What year were you born?"

"1675."

"My God." Connor growled. "You're 335 years old…" the boy stared at Connor.

"How, how is that possible?" Cameron gasped. Duncan sighed, looking at Joe.

"Cameron, you're immortal."

"I'm, I'm what?" Cameron gasped.

"You're immortal." Joe said. "You can't die. You're not the only one. Duncan, Connor, Methos and Richie are immortal as well. That's how they found you. Immortals can sense eachother."

"You know that feeling you get when ever one of us comes near you?" Richie said. Cameron nodded. "We get theat feeling whenever there is another immortal nearby. It's a warning."

"Warning?" Cameron asked. Methos sighed.

"It's the time of the Gethering."

"the what?"

"Now is the time when immortals challenge eachother to mortal combat. A fight to the death."

"To the death?"

"The winner takes his enemy's head, and with it, his knowledge and power, in the form of the Quickening. That is the only way you can be killed. Decapitation." Methos said. Cameron looked ill.

"You'll have to learn how to use a sword."

"A sword?" Cameron squeaked.

"Yes. We can teach you how to fight, little brother." Connor said.

"Brother?" Cameron asked.

"We are all MacLeods." Duncan said, smiling. "We're clansmen. We're kin. We're family. Even if we are a hundred years apart."

"A sword?" Cameron squeaked again, making Connor chuckle. Duncan reached under he bed, and drew his Katana, shoving it into Cameron's hands. Cameron stared. "What if, what if I dont' want too?"

"You must. It's do or die, Cameron." Duncan said.

"But enough of that." Riche interrupted. "You hungry? I mean, its been over three hundred years since you've eaten."

"Yes. Yes, thank you."

"Make him some soup, Richie." Methos said. "His stomach will be weak for a while."

"Right." Richie said.

"I'm 335?"

"Yes." Joe said.

"How old are you?" Cameron asked, looking at Connor.

"Five hundred."

"Four hundred." Duncan said.

"Five thousand." Methos said. "I'm the oldest living immortal left."

"And Richie?"

"Thirty." Joe answered.

"Twenty nine!" Richie shouted. Cameron looked incredibly depressed, suddenly.

"What's the use? I can't use a sword! I don't know anything about this time! I can't survive!"

"You can." Connor said. "We'll help. We'll teach you to fight. Richie will help you get in touch with this age. We'll help. But first, let's get you something to eat." Methos put an arm around Cameron, and helped him to his feet.

"Thank you."

Chapter 4 done! Woo hoo! I am SO sorry it's taking me so long to update this... a few months is one thing, but YEARS! I am ashamed of myself, and I am sad to report that I cannot say when I will update this again. Don't hate me. () oh, and SouthernChickie... you have my permission to nag me in regards to this fic.