Foretold
The lone figure on the horse made his way quickly through the forest, hoping to reach the shelter of the house hidden within. He had often made this trip and knew the way by heart. Stopping to check the precious bundle he carried, he satisfied himself that everything was secure, then rode on.
An hour later he stopped and called out for the woman he knew could feel him. She appeared from behind a tree and walked towards him with a gentle smile of her face, one reserved only for him. He slid gracefully off the horse and removed the bundle, handing it to her. She looked up at him with surprised eyes; she could feel its pre-Immortal presence tickling along her conscious.
"I found him this morning," he said simply.
She shifted the baby in her arms, unused to holding a child.
"What are you going to do with him?" she asked with curiosity. She had no inclination to raise this or any other child; being an Immortal had its advantages and never having a child was one of them.
He regarded her with sad, tired eyes. She had made it clear years ago that she would never raise a child even if the opportunity presented itself. He had hoped that holding the child would change her mind, but it had just reinforced her lack of interest in anything other than herself. No, that wasn�t entirely true, she did have some interest in him. Every hundred years or so.
"Is there somewhere I can take him?" he said, sighing heavily she handed the baby back to him.
"There�s a midwife near the village. She�s a decent woman and has taken care of foundlings in the past," she supplied. She was uncomfortable with the child around and wished he would take it way.
"Fine," he said briskly.
He mounted the horse with some grace, even though he held onto the child. She gave him terse directions to the midwife�s house and watched him ride away. She hoped he would come back, his visits were becoming more and more rare, and she wondered when the day would come that he would never return.
She busied herself to make the time past more quickly. Two hours later, he returned to the cottage, very tired from his day of traveling, his thoughts weighing heavily on his mind. They greeted each other with quick glances. She brought him a bowl full of stew and some bread. He ate heartily, realizing that he hadn�t eaten since morning. The meal seemed to revitalize him, his eyes taking on light as his mood lifted. He watched her move about the room, carefully keeping out of his way even though it was her home.
"Come here," he commanded.
She went to him quickly, knowing what the look in his eyes meant. She had needs and desires, and he was the only one who could satisfy her.
She stood between his knees, her eyes downcast, waiting for his next command.
"Undress."
She complied efficiently.
He stood and circled around her. In all the years he had know her, not one inch of her had changed. And he knew every inch, intimately.
Without any warning, he slammed her forward onto the table, knocking the breath from her. She fought back out of instinct and some fear. He couldn�t kill her, wouldn�t kill her, but he could make her wish she were dead. He kicked her legs apart and thrust his fingers into her. She screamed at the invasion, but her body betrayed her with its warmth and wetness. He let go of her to open his pants, and she tried to move away. Her impulse to run was strong. He was stronger and faster, and slammed her against the table again as a reminder. She let out a whimper and then screamed when he entered her in one quick thrust.
He felt her heat envelop him as he thrust savagely into her. He felt her wetness, not caring if it was blood as well, easing the way. Nothing was going to stop him from fucking her. She was moving against him, encouraging him, wanting more. She moved her hand to touch her self, but he grabbed both her hands and held them securely on her back. She moaned in protestation as she felt him come inside her.
He moved away from her and sat back down in the chair, his eyes meeting hers. She moved away from the table and returned with a rag and some water. They didn�t speak as she cleaned him, there was nothing to say. The tiredness he felt earlier had returned, and all he wanted to do was sleep.
"Fix the bed," he ordered tiredly. She gathered the items that he wanted and went to wait for him by the bed.
He stood slowly and walked to the bed. She was kneeling in a subservient manner. He silently picked up the rope and began to wind it around her wrists and ankles. Their relationship was rocky at best, and he knew he couldn�t trust her not to take his head as he slept. Once she was secured, he moved her onto the bed and stripped off his own clothes. He was asleep in minutes.
Several hours later, he awoke with a start, forgetting where he was. He looked at the sleeping woman next to him and felt a wave of nausea rise up within. He stumbled blindly out of the bed and into the fresh, clean air outside. Taking several deep breaths, he ignored the screaming woman inside. Her screams died down, but his nausea didn�t go away. <Why do I keep doing this to myself?> he thought sadly.
When the sun began to rise, he made his way back into the house. He dressed quickly as the woman watched. When he was done, he cut her ropes and left the room. She emerged dressed, and quickly moved to get some food for them.
"No," he said harshly. He wouldn�t be able to eat. "Sit down."
She sat across from him, holding her breath. They rarely talked, so she knew it was important.
"Guard and protect the child I brought here yesterday. His destiny depends on both of us."
"What do you mean?"
"A prophet came to me a month ago. He told me that I would find a child who would fulfill many prophesies in his lifetime."
"How do you know this is the child?"
"He said I would find the child in a forest and that he would live longer than most men. You know that child will be Immortal one day."
"Yes," she said sadly. "I will protect him with my life."
He looked at her with surprise evident on his face. "I believe you will."
"You�re leaving now."
It was a statement rather than a question.
"Yes."
She followed him outside and noticed the horse was ready and waiting. He mounted quickly and then looked to the woman again. He studied her for long minutes, knowing he would never come back here. He nudged the horse forward, but stopped after a few feet. He called over his shoulder.
"Cassandra?"
"Yes, Methos?"
"I�m sorry."
There was nothing else to say. It was not enough, and it was everything. It would have to do.
He rode with a purpose. He had to know what would become of the child. Upon his arrival at the midwife�s cottage, she came out to greet him.
"The child, where is he?" he asked forcefully.
"I found him a home, sir. Like you said to do."
"Where?"
"He lives with a chieftain in a nearby camp. His wife gave birth last night, but the child was stillborn. I told him about the boy and he asked me to retrieve him. I hope that�s alright."
"Yes," he said gently. "Do you know the name of the child?"
"Aye, they named him Duncan. Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."
He nodded, more to himself than the woman, and turned and rode away. He would never forget the name of this child. And he would protect him when the time came.
***
Seacouver � December 21, 1998 � Winter Solstice
Methos sighed harshly, breaking the early morning solitude of the loft. He felt Duncan roll over and then spoon up behind him.
"You okay?" his voice full of concern.
"Yeah," Methos answered quickly.
"Yeah?"
"No," Methos said, rolling over to face his lover. "I want to tell you a story."
The end.
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