Highlander
Away from the Sun
By Nathanielle Sean Crawford
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything in this story. The title for this story is "Away from The Sun", a song by 3 Doors Down which I think depicts Duncan's life pretty nicely. The way he keeps fighting to live that noble life in spite of the hardships of losing loved ones and getting hurt by the people he trusts.
Any song lyrics I use are purely to evoke emotion in a scene, and I promise I will credit the original artists as the song crops up.
Note: This takes place long after Endgame, but depending on when "The Source" comes out, I won't be using any influence from the new movie in this story. Largely this is a post-Endgame story and that's about it.
Prologue
New York August, 8 2005
"For God's sake Amanda, you look fine."
"Well it's not like I'm dressing for just any formal occasion." Amanda responded, turning to the side and looking into the mirror. The glittering silver dress hung nicely from her firm and delicate physique. It came down to her waste and split into a V-shape, revealing her legs. "This is a Broadway performance, one of the most sophisticated theaters in the country. And a night like this you want to look your best."
Duncan sighed and checked his watch. The performance wasn't until eight o'clock that night, but he had been hoping to get dinner before the event. New York was well known for its fine dining experiences, he was looking forward to experiencing them again before too long. But the way things were going he would be lucky to get a pretzel and a can of soda with minutes to spare before the opening curtains.
Such was the fate of a man who was desperate enough for company that he invited Amanda Mantrose along. He and his credit card were her hostages as they spent some much needed quality time together. Methos was having a liquid road trip at Joe's bar in Seacouver and Joe himself was spending time with family and friends while traveling through Europe. That left his old friend Charlie, whom he hadn't had contact with in years, and Maurice, the old chef who still haunted the rivers of Paris.
Damn, Duncan thought, unable to suppress a smirk. I need to get some new friends.
"What?" Amanda said, indignantly. "Is there something wrong with the dress? Does it make my ass look too big?"
"Not at all," Duncan said, leaning back on red satin divan. Somewhere towards the register he could hear the clerks giggling. "I was thinking of something else. Are you ready yet?"
Amanda took a look in the mirror again. The dress did match her hair, for at least another month or so, until the hair dye wore off. Still, being the sort to blend into a crowd, she paid. Something in black really suited her better though.
"Not quite," she said, turning to one of the clerks.
Duncan threw up his hands.
"Are you hungry?" He asked, trying to make the best of the situation.
"Not right now precious."
"Well, I need to get something to eat." Duncan handed Amanda one of his platinum cards. "When you're finished here meet me at the hotel. We'll take a cab to the theater."
"Oh, Duncan," Amanda feigned a gasp. "What a gentleman you are. I don't suppose you'd mind if I stopped at Harvey's Jewelry on the way would you?"
"How about when hell freezes over?" Duncan retorted.
Amanda snatched up the card and tucked it into the pocket of her trench coat, which hung draped over the mirror. Duncan signed a piece of paper, so the clerks would know he condoned Amanda using the card.
"For the dress only," he emphasized, and then he left.
It wasn't as hot as it was earlier that day. Summers in Manhattan were particularly muggy, with the added pollution from vehicles and buildings. But September silently approached and autumn soon thereafter, the nights were getting cooler. Not for the first time, Duncan found himself missing the starlit skies over his clan's home in Scotland. Here amid the bright neon lights it was near to impossible to see any stars.
At first Duncan questioned the wisdom of leaving her card with Amanda. But he shrugged it off. After all, if the worse thing she could do to him is injure his credit rating he was grateful. And it wasn't like he couldn't pay it off if she maxed it out. Ever since the death of his mentor and fellow clansman he had come into possession of a few extra items, and the apartment. There was also a generous portion of money left to Duncan after all of Conner's beneficiaries had been adequately taken care of.
Duncan went to a small diner for a burger and fries. It wasn't the exquisite banquet from a five star restaurant but it was a filling meal, and it satisfied his appetite for food and familiarity. The melted cheese and the juicy beef sandwiched between hot bread, the fresh veggies, the fries that weren't too greasy or salty, and an ice cold Guinness brought back fond memories of spending a lazy afternoon with Richie, Joe, or any of the friends he had known in the last century.
Amanda wanted familiarity too, he could tell. Currently she had more friends who were still living. At least one old flame had entered the Game not too long ago. Duncan never got around to asking much about him, but given that Amanda knew so much about his personal life he thought she could stand to tell him a thing or too.
Duncan saw that there was at least an hour to go till curtain time. He paid the check, tipping generously, and hoped Amanda was waiting at the hotel room getting dressed into her new ensemble.
As he made his way for the Plaza he caught a faint buzz. He stopped at a street light and looked around, like a tourist trying to take in as much as possible before the day was out. Not seeing Amanda or anyone else that made the buzz die down, Duncan followed it to a bridge in Central Park.
The buzz died when he came upon two Immortals he didn't recognize. The first was a boy with short blond hair, wearing beige khakis, a tight white sweater and a gray overcoat. The second man seemed slightly older, dark skinned and bald, wearing a head band, torn black shirt and blue jeans.
A flash of light from a streetlamp glinted off of Blondie's short white blade. In the fading daylight it as difficult to tell but Duncan guessed it was a Celtic sword. Headband was using what Duncan guessed was an infantry sword. He'd seen soldiers in India using them, and it raised some interesting questions about this Immortal's background. The Indian blade was longer, and Headband had the advantage of size to counter act Blondie's apparent speed.
Blondie parried several times as Headband pushed him back, towards the bridge and into the brick wall. Headband swung and Blondie quickly ducked, stepping out of Headband's range long enough to acknowledge Duncan's presence and get back into the fight.
Duncan felt another buzz and soon found Amanda standing beside him, dress in toe and intrigued by the battle.
"Anyone you know?" She asked, keeping her voice low.
"No," Duncan shook his head. "I know we can't interfere but I don't think we should let them fight this out here. Someone might see."
"Yeah, or one of them will have a body to explain," Amanda pointed out. "Conner had to deal with a couple of those didn't he?"
Duncan withheld a wince at the mention of his fellow clansmen. Amanda was being conversational, not tactless.
"Oh well," she said, with a shrug. "There's nothing we can do. They're obviously seasoned enough to know better. Let them figure it out."
"And if they're brought in by the police?"
Amanda sighed. She took a second glance at the blond one and noticed how young he looked. That and he was blond didn't help matters. Duncan had an unnerving habit of never letting go of the past, and she had no doubt that this boy was-in his mind-a dead ringer for Richie.
"We're gonna miss the opening of Chicago," she said, trying to snap Duncan out of it. "The queue's gonna take forever, and you know how much I haate waiting in line."
Amanda gently led him away by the arm.
"If it makes you feel any better we can stop by later tonight and find out who won. It's the Game Duncan. In case you haven't noticed, we're not the only people playing it."
Duncan knew she was right. He didn't come to New York to get involved in fights that weren't his own. Whoever was the victor would have the responsibility of dealing with the loser, and if Conner and a host of others could live here these two could certainly manage.
"Friends of yours?" Gavin asked, tauntingly.
"Never met them," Devon said truthfully.
He parried Gavin's blow and tried to use the extra momentum to force him back. Gavin ended up forcing him back a second time, causing him to fall back into the wall. Devon spun around and stepped back into tunnel as sparks flew from where Gavin's sword impacted. Gavin made a vertical swipe, forcing Devon to jump back as he parried the blow.
"We could do this all night," Gavin said. "Or you can let me take your head and save time."
"Thing I'll go with that first plan," Devon responded. "Or better yet, I'll use this one."
Devon parried another blow with the sword in his right hand and began to shrug his coat off as he moved. He parried again with the left and he shrugged the rest of the coat, which he held in front of him like a bullfighter's cape. Gavin raised his sword and prepared to swipe from left to right. Instead of stepping back Devon parried the blow and threw the coat over Gavin's head, blinding him temporarily.
"What the hell?"
In the confusion Devon took a few good swipes at his arms and midsection. Gavin threw off the coat and thrust. Devon stepped aside and with a swift blow, cut Gavin's right hand off completely. Then in the same movement he drove the blade into Gavin's chest, through the ribcage and into the heart. Gavin dropped to the ground, clutching his arm and breathing rabidly as the blood rushed from his wounds.
Devon took a few steps back and surveyed the damage.
"I could let you go," he said. "If you promise you won't come after me again."
Gavin looked at Devon. His heart was racing and he was coughing up blood as he struggled for breath.
"Fu-" but he never go to finish the sentence as death laid a temporary claim on him.
"Well," Devon said, preparing for the blow. "I tried."
It was swift and clean. Head separated from body and Devon looked out of the tunnel, towards the darkening sky. Most likely no one saw the battle. And even if the cops came there'd be no evidence to find.
Devon took a deep breath as the mist rose. A fierce wind picked up as bolts of lightening struck him several times. As the waves of energy overtook his body the lampposts from the bridge above blew out, sending sparks and glass flying. Devon raised his sword and held the position for a few minutes as the Quickening reached its highpoint.
Then…something unusual happened. Suddenly, the Quickening was no longer focused on Devon, but on the entire tunnel. Waves of electricity filled the tunnel with an otherworldly energy that he had never seen before. At the end of the tunnel time seemed to distort with a kind of ripple effect. It looked like waves caused by a person swishing his hand back and forth in the water. And just as quickly as it began, the effect stopped along with the Quickening.
Devon let out a sigh of relief. Still charged with energy from the Quickening he walked towards the end of the tunnel. Nothing seemed all that different. The park still continued for a few miles and the lights and sounds of cars and buildings could still be heard. As Devon got closer to the other side he could feel the buzz once more.
Those other two maybe? He wondered, keeping his sword ready.
At the other end of the tunnel it was just as he'd figured. A grackle pecked at some bread on the ground, a few squirrels were still rushing about-nothing unusual at all. And the sounds of New York City life still filled his ears. The phenomenon was nothing important.
Devon heaved another sigh of relief and laughed at his own paranoia. He knew he had to get out of here before someone saw the body and the police arrived. But the buzz was strong again and he couldn't ignore it. Devon turned to see the next thing in a series of strange things that were yet to come.
His own body was lying out in the open, bleeding from the neck with his head not too far from it. And standing over his body was the black, muscular man Devon had beheaded earlier. They stood their ground and raised their swords in defense.
"What the hell is going on here?" The two immortals asked, in confusion.