Warnings: Pre-slash, DM/M. Rated PG for nothing objectionable.
Summary: Shortly after the events of _Highlander: Endgame_, Duncan finds himself on Methos' doorstep. Did anyone besides me watch that and think, "Hey! It's not over yet!"? Very, very short.
Author's Note: Has not been beta-ed. Read at your own risk.
"Is this the Real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide
With no escape to reality."
--"Bohemian Rhapsody", Queen.
By the time he arrived at his destination, the rain was coming down in sheets. It was a dismal atmosphere, and it fit his adrenaline-crashed, rather numb mood to a T. Looking up at the great building in front of him, he chuckled at the message his subconscious was sending. He had started walking just to escape, and of course found himself here. His laughter held a bitter edge, though, even to his own ears, so he let the rain wash it away with everything else. "I've come all this way," he reasoned. "Might as well stop and say 'hi'." Raising one heavy hand, he knocked on the door.
It opened silently to reveal a rather surprised man. "MacLeod!" he chirped in that ironic tone of his. "Another social call so soon? It's been, what, two days? I'm honored."
Duncan stared at him blankly, feeling positively dead.
"Don't just stand there and drip. 'Mi casa es su casa', remember?" Ushering the haunted man inside, he pulled the coat from Mac's unresponsive shoulders and hung it up distastefully. "You know, Mac, they have this unbelievable new contraption now. They call in the umbrella."
Duncan wanted to smile; he really did. His laughter caught in his throat, though, and a little voice in his head whispered, "Tell him--he'll understand."
"Methos--" he began, and broke off, undecided.
The old man cleared his throat. "How about a beer?" Not waiting for Duncan's answer, he started heading for the kitchen.
The Highlander trailed behind, feeling lost. Silently, he sat down at the kitchen table, cupping the mug of coffee Methos pushed at him with trembling hands.
Grabbing himself a beer, Methos sat across from Duncan, opened his book, and began to read, giving Duncan the space he obviously needed.
"I killed Connor and Kell," he finally declared numbly.
Methos looked up and put aside his book, an expression of only mild surprise on his face. "Busy day?"
"Connor challenged me at the hotel... said only one of us could beat Kell... he made me..." Duncan paused, re-living the moment.
Methos took a moment to absorb the situation by drinking some more of his beer. "I'm sorry," he finally said quietly, looking his friend in the eye. "I know what he meant to you."
Mac swallowed, uncertain. "He wanted me to. He was tired of living and losing. He wanted to die."
Methos nodded. "He did. Sometimes it's just too difficult to live with the memories, away from your loved ones. Sometimes it's just too hard to live for yourself."
"He was a good man." Duncan finally tasted his coffee, pleased to find that his friend had added a healthy dollop of Irish Cream to the brew.
Methos paused, allowing Duncan to collect his thoughts. "I killed him," the Highlander finally whispered. "I... I killed Connor." Putting his head down, it all became too much and he began to cry.
The old man heard his own words echo painfully in his head as he stood to comfort MacLeod: "I killed Silas... I *liked* Silas!" The Horsemen had been no where as good a person as Connor MacLeod, but the similarities of their predictament remained in his mind as he hugged his friend.
When Duncan had at last cried himself out, he didn't let go the death grip he had on Methos' shirt. "Does it get better?"
It was clear to both of them that MacLeod was talking about the guilt accompanying the death of his kinsman. "With time," Methos said after a little pause. "But you never truely forget."
"Good." And they stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms.
I've had this baby in my notebook for a while, and uncovered it while looking for some notes I scribbled. Yeah, as if anyone actually remembers the movie anymore.