Characters: DM, JD
Rated: PG. I swear, this has to be the most kid friendly story I've ever written. I don't think I cussed once.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, nor do I make any money doing this.
Summary: After 'To Be' and 'Not To Be', Duncan visits the bar to talk to Joe.
Since this has been written for the Watcher lyric wheel, it's un-beta'd.
The lyrics are courtesy of Jennifer Campbell and are used here without permission.
I had a bit of trouble with the story. The lyrics didn't want
to mesh into either the dialogue or the rest of the story, so I've taken
a lot of liberty with the text of the lyrics. I tried to keep the
meaning, if not the exact wording.
Moving On
Verin Haley
Duncan stepped into the dimly lit bar, surveying the interior as if he expected never to see it again. Amanda claimed the bar had "atmosphere". Duncan thought the sparse, color-draining room suited his mood perfectly, and in spite of the seemingly depressing surroundings, it *felt* comfortably like home. Joe sat on the stage, much as Duncan had expected to find him, surrounded by the empty room, his fingers stilled on the guitar's strings by the unexpected presence.
"Mac," he commented, surprised. "What can I do for you?"
"I need to talk to you, if you have a minute," Duncan answered, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. The smooth *snick* of the door meeting the frame echoed through the still space. The bar felt lonely, but familiar none-the-less.
"Sure, what about?" Joe asked, setting the guitar down beside his stool and giving the Highlander his full attention.
"I'm leaving," Duncan answered frankly, taking a seat near the stage.
"It's nice of you to let me know, Mac, but I would have figured it out when you bought your plane ticket." Joe's grin was wry, but not malicious, as he reminded Duncan of his job as a Watcher.
Duncan shook his head slightly. "I'm tired, Joe," he said softly, rubbing one hand across his face. His shoulders were slumped, and Joe realized suddenly how *beaten* his friend seemed. "I'm sick of the Game, and I'm sick of putting my friends -- the people I love -- at risk. I don't want to die --" he smiled bitterly, "not anymore, at least -- but I can't live this way. I'm going to vanish, Joe."
Joe stared, speechless. This was not the indomitable warrior he had Watched so long, this was not his friend. He was -- broken. The realization shook him.
"That's what you meant on the barge, isn't it? You were saying good-bye. To Methos and Amanda, even to me."
Duncan nodded slightly. "Methos told me once he didn't know who he was anymore. I feel that way now, Dawson. I have changed so much in the past few years, so many people are dead because of me. I don't know how much more I can take before . . ." Duncan trailed off. "I'm a stranger in my own mind," he whispered, so quiet Joe wasn't sure he heard the words.
"You're Duncan MacLeod," Joe insisted firmly.
"Am I? And who is that?"
Joe had no answer.
"I'm not going to fake your death for you," Joe insisted instead, trying to make it a joke -- to make it not real.
Duncan grinned faintly. "You don't have to. Just tell the truth -- you don't know where I am and you don't believe I'm dead." Anyone who knew Joe would consider it naive hope on his part -- a stubborn refusal to believe his friend was gone. Pathetic, and not very realistic of him . . . never mind that it was the truth. "A psychological profile on me will do the rest," he continued logically. "A high profile Immortal like I am simply does not disappear, not unless he's been killed." Joe nodded unconsciously, a web of surreality cushioning him in protective apathy. This was not happening -- MacLeod was not leaving. In a moment, he would wake and laugh with his friend about all of this. Duncan kept speaking, oblivious to Joe's slightly dazed stare. "They won't find a body, of course, but they will find reports of lightning. I've arranged everything."
"What about your friends?" Joe managed to ask. "Amanda, Methos, they won't believe you're dead."
"My friends will spread the reports of my death themselves," Duncan corrected with a slight laugh. "All they know is I've been 'Duncan MacLeod' for four hundred years -- easy to find, always using the same name, *myself* so completely that I can't be anything else."
"Haven't you been?" Joe demanded.
"No," Duncan denied softly. "I haven't, but everyone who knows otherwise is dead and no one else will believe I could be after reading my chronicles. I am a simple man to them -- no matter how much evidence of duplicity there is."
"What evidence, Mac?" Joe shouted, sorrow and anger roughening his voice.
"You use your name, introduce yourself as 'Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod'
even to mortals! You defend the moral high ground, deny treachery,
and work to live the good life! Where is the duplicity in that?"
His breath sounded harsh and loud to him, but Duncan could have been asleep
for all the anxiety he showed. He had obviously prepared his arguments
well ahead of time. Joe was his Watcher, he was supposed to understand
Duncan MacLeod. Yet for all the times he'd run the name 'Duncan MacLeod'
through a computer, for all the facts and records he'd checked and assembled,
did he truly know anything about the man who sat across from him?
"I am Immortal, Joe," Duncan answered. "I lie to live.
My honesty is simply another form of deception, all the more convincing
because it seems genuine."
Joe sat there, shaken. "Why are you telling me this?" he demanded, anguished. I don't want to know this cold, Immortal side of you, he screamed silently. Where is the man I though I knew? Duncan spoke, not hearing the silent, raging plea.
"Because you have been my friend -- I have had few truer. I won't see you again, my friend. You are mortal, and I can't afford to come close to you in the time it will take to vanish. Not to you, and not to anyone. It will be centuries, and you deserve not to think I'm dead. But I ask you now, friend to friend, let me rest. I want peace again, Joe. I want to be just another guy."
"All right," Joe agreed, disoriented. The world spun too fast; time whirled around him, passing him by. "All right, vanish. Just . . . write sometimes, okay? Let me know you're happy."
Duncan nodded, the ghost smile back. He stood and held his hand out to Joe. It seemed incongruous to shake the man's hand after all they'd been through together, and Joe pulled him into a tight hug.
"I won't forget you," he insisted.
"Nor I you," Duncan replied, voice tight with emotion. Joe could
feel the tension in the man's body, surpressed pain and grief. He
wanted to cry out, Why do you leave? But the words stilled in his
throat and died unsaid. He stayed silent as the man who had been
brother to his soul walked through the door and out of his life.
He bowed his head and picked up his guitar again. The blues flew
from the strings, echoing the aching loss of the musician that brought
the music to life. He played to honor the friendship that had cost
so much, paid in betrayal, and pain, and blood. He played until his
callouses cracked and bled, until his hands cramped and his entire body
ached, hoping that the pain would still the agony in his soul, and knowing
it never would.
Epilogue (Nothing 'Bout Me)
by Sting
from the album "Ten Summoner's Tales"
Lay my head on the surgeon's table
Take my fingerprints if you are able
Pick my brain, pick my pockets
Steal my eyeballs and come back for the sockets
Run every kind of test from A to Z
And you'll still know nothing 'bout me
Run my name through your computer*
Mention me in passing to your college tutor
Check my record, check my facts*
Check if I paid my income tax
Pore over everything in my C.V.
But you'll still know nothing 'bout me
You don't need to read no books on my history
I'm a simple man*, it's no big mystery
In the cold weather, a hand needs a glove
At times like this, a lonely man like me needs love
Search my house with a fine tooth comb
Turn over everything 'cause I won't be at home
Set up your microscope and tell me what you see
You'll still know nothing 'bout me*
*Lines used