Disclaimer:
The characters of Connor MacLeod and Duncan MacLeod belong to DPP. This fan fiction is for entertainment only; there is no profit involved.
by MacNairCDC
�Talk to me.�
�There�s nothing to say that hasn�t been said before.�
Duncan watched the immortal on the floor steadily, gaze unblinking. The illumination was dim and he knew better than to turn the lights up. Connor went �dark� after bad fights � and this one was bad. His mentor�s fingers were trembling very faintly and Duncan doubted Connor even realized it.
�Why are you here, Duncan.�
�You called me.�
�Sometimes I call.�
Duncan held up a hand and ticked off fingers one by one. �You only call on Birthdays, Christmas, April fool�s Day, or if you�re planning a trip abroad. This wasn�t any of those, which automatically makes me suspicious.�
Connor, lying on the floor, did not answer right away. He took a drag from a cigarette and blew the smoke into the dimness. It vanished and Connor stared after it as if seeing a ghostly echo lingering on.
�Being suspicious is my trademark, isn�t it?� Connor finally said. �You�re kind of late getting started in the paranoid department.�
�Talk to me.�
�I�m talking to you, dammit. Why the hell are you here?�
�Because you�ve been in a fight and a bad one. You�re not answering any phones, not even your direct line and you know it�s me calling that line. You�re house is dark and you�re smoking those stupid sticks.�
�Would you rather have me drunk and at the foot of the stairwell in a heap?� growled the immortal on the floor. �And I answered that fucking phone, remember?�
�To snarl �let me alone� at me.�
Connor turned his head, but his eyes skipped over the top of the other man, looking into the darkness beyond him. His fingers were curled into the neck of his shirt�as if the act would hold something together that was fraying. A second or two later, the tail of ash from the cigarette fell, cinder bright, and then died.
Duncan winced and his fingers tightened where he had them clasped together � Connor never even felt the burn of ash when it hit him.
�You knew I was alive,� Connor said. �I�m alive and that�s all that matters.�
�It only matters when you want to be alive, now talk to me.�
�What. Do. You. Want?� Connor retorted from the floor, and this time his eyes settled, enraged and burning, upon Duncan�s. �Did you come here to guilt me to death?�
Duncan shifted, took the light across his face so Connor could see the answering brightness in his own eyes. �You�ve shut the door and the fight�s knocked out of you. You�re sleeping on the couch. You won�t meet my eyes. You�re shell-shocked �disintegrating. TALK to me and let me help you.�
�You can�t help me!� Connor snarled, but his voice cracked on �help� and couldn�t find energy after that. �Why do you always find me in the places when I�m coming down? I�m holding on�I can�t let go, but I can�t keep it all together.� The curled fingers dug into his collar, skittered across his skin. Duncan suspected the other man didn�t feel any of it. His eyes were far away again, staring. Another spark of ash dropped unheeded.
�I want you to get up and look me in the eye and tell me who this was.�
�I can�t get up.� And that was all.
Duncan frowned, shifted in his seat and then froze when Connor tightened all over. �Just me,� he said. �Look at me, Connor. Focus.� Connor�s eyes flickered, faded, focused again and Duncan moved, quickly while his friend�s eyes were on him, and sat on the floor. �Who?� More gently, but without touching him. �Tell me who?�
�Hughes. Margaret Hughes.�
That explains everything, thought Duncan. Friends, then a lover, then back to friends again. Loving an immortal woman had serious drawbacks. �Why? She knew she couldn�t take you�why did she try?�
�She was tired. She wanted an end, but with someone she knew. We argued about it for a year.� Connor�s voice was disconnected and distant. �She met me for coffee and shot me. I woke up with steel in my face and my back on fire. I only had one hand responsive enough to hold the sword and she pushed until I had to kill her. She just � cracked.�
Duncan reached very slowly, took Connor�s irritable fingers and let them shiver in his grip. �You can feel her, sliding around in your soul a bit before she settles?�
�Yes.�
Duncan said nothing�no words could comfort this. The cigarette Connor held went dead. Connor held it all the same.
�I can�t watch the sky,� he said. �She loved the sunset from these windows�she loved the violet and orange off the smog. She smoked terrible cigarettes and drank gin, played my piano and stole my warm socks in the winter. She laughed at my old music and learned how to use a computer with me. I can�t remember who I am, or what day it�s become, but I can remember just the way she tastes.�
�It will get better,� softly said Duncan. �I�ve been where you are, Connor. Once she settles a bit, it will get better. It won�t come without tears, but you will feel better. You just need some time and some silence in the Game for a while.�
�The silence brings no relief.�
�Not in times like these. All you can do is hold on.�
�I�m tired of holding on.�
�I know.� Duncan reached and took the dead butt from Connor�s fingers. �You can let go. I�m here and I�ll stay�you can let go.� He leaned enough to look in his friend�s face, saw the bewildered hurt there. �You still have that bullet in your back?�
�Yes, but don�t dig for it now. I don�t want to hurt anymore.�
�It�ll just hurt working it�s way out if I don�t help��
�I don�t want you to hurt me. No more pain today.� The elder man searched with his free hand. �Where�s my smokes?�
�That�s not you, that�s her. Don�t let her smoke.� He caught the fumbling hand. �She�s got to let go of you, Connor. You won�t get yourself back until she does and until then, your world will darken around you. She can�t have you�tell her that.�
Connor blinked, blinked at him again. �You�re right, you know. I hate it when you�re right.� There was no malice in his voice. �There�s no one to trust, except maybe the two of us.�
Duncan smiled at him. �Let�s get you off the floor and at least into a chair.� He braced himself to bodily lift his friend off the floor, but Connor grimaced and drug himself up. He hung off Duncan like a broken wing before finding his balance.
�She should have warned me this was the last time we�d be friends�� he whispered in darkness.
�You would have smelled a trap, you old wolf. She had to bait it just right. She chose you because she trusts your soul, knew you�d be good to stay with. You�ve got will to burn and friends you trust.�
�Still hurts. Hurts like my bones are on fire. And my soul�s not a nice place with all the freaks I�ve had to kill. It�s dark in there, always dark.�
�Come to the light,� replied Duncan, leading. �I know the way � just follow me. Come to the light.�
~finis~
Aug 12, 2005 CDC Par-TAY
MacNairCDC