SUMMARY: Amanda and Duncan try to deal with recent tragedies.
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: MAJOR for Dead on Arrival (HL: The Raven) and Highlander: Endgame (the theater version). Seriously, if you don't want to be spoiled, DON'T read this.
DISCLAIMER: David/Panzer, Rysher, Miramax, other people who aren't me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've decided that the events of the movie and the final few episodes of Raven were happening at roughly the same time. I don't think it actually contradicts canon, but if it does well darn it...it's not like the movie didn't blast canon all to hell :)
GIVEN AND RECEIVED
by: Rebecca Carefoot
Amanda entered the barge silently. MacLeod wasn't there, she'd known as soon as she'd stepped on deck when she felt the distinct absence of the pressing buzz of a nearby immortal. The door was unlocked, as usual, something she hadn't been able to break the Highlander of despite her frequent warnings about thieves less scrupulous than herself. She moved through the empty space inside the barge, the clutter of antiques and books having been removed. She felt a pang as the emptiness hit her like a blow. Even after the time she'd spent here last year, she still wasn't used to it. It no longer screamed Mac's name. His essence was there, but so muted she could barely feel it, and it hurt to know this emptiness reflected him. After Richie, it seemed the grief had overpowered him, forced him to become a shadow of himself.
She moved to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He was closer here, she could smell him in the sheets. She closed her eyes, then removed her sword from under the long black coat she wore. She placed it beside the bed and lay back against the pillows, letting tears trickle down her cheeks, the salt drops marking the pillowcase with wetness. She drew a shuddering breath, and slowed her breathing. After a moment, she slept.
* * * * * * * *
Her eyes snapped open as the telltale buzz ached in her head. She put one hand on the sword concealed beside the bed, then drew back when the door opened to reveal MacLeod. He looked around the barge with tired eyes, his stance relaxing when he saw her sprawled on the bed. His mouth quirked up into the barest of smiles, and she answered with a small wave.
"I wondered when you'd get around to visiting," he said. "Joe told me you were in town."
"I saw him last week. He said I should come by."
"And you did what someone told you to?" Duncan asked. "You must be losing your touch."
"Joe's a meddler," she said dismissively, waving away the harshness of her words with her hand.
"I know, that's what he's paid to be," Duncan answered.
"But when he's right, he's right," she finished. "It hasn't been an easy few weeks for me," she continued after casting her eyes downward at her hands. "And he said you would be able to relate." She looked up and met his eyes, seeing a pain as deep as her own reflected in the wide brown depths. "He didn't tell me why." She waited, watched, as MacLeod closed his eyes briefly, his face haggard and drawn. His posture suddenly slumped, and he shook his head.
He walked to the refrigerator and opened it, pulling out a bottle of wine. Then he grabbed two glasses and approached the bed. He handed her a glass and sat down gingerly next to her.
"That bad?" she asked, her voice soft. He poured both glasses, and took a sip of his own. Then he studied the dark red liquid. His jaw clenched, and he swallowed hard.
"Connor's dead," he said finally. Amanda felt a pang of sorrow, though she'd never known Connor well. She knew her own grief when Rebecca had died, and mourned for Duncan's sake as well as Connor's. To lose a teacher was one of the hardest parts of immortality. It was like losing a parent, a friend; one never quite believed they could be lost. They were the ones who were truly invincible and immortal. To lose them was a slap in the face, a hard shock of reality. But to lose Connor, both teacher and brother...the pain would go even deeper for Duncan. She touched the side of his face with her fingertips then reached beneath his chin and turned his face up, meeting his eyes, seeing the tears that gathered in them.
"I am so sorry," she mouthed, her voice the hint of a whisper. His mouth crumpled.
"I did it," he whispered. "I killed him." She felt her own eyes fill with tears for the second time that day and did not bother to wipe them away as they trailed down her cheeks. She put her wine glass on the floor and moved closer to him on the bed. She pressed her forehead to his, her hand placed over his heart. He closed his eyes, and clutched her hand tighter to his chest. "He said it was the only way," he whispered. "To defeat Kell. Neither of us could do it alone."
"Jacob Kell?" Amanda said. "Duncan, he was right. It had to be."
"I know he was right," Duncan said. "But it doesn't make it any less hard. It wasn't my decision, it was his, but the guilt of it is mine and I feel it. I feel it all the time."
"I know," she whispered. She took his glass from him and put it on the floor next to her own, then put her arms around him, rocking slightly. "I know."
"He was my brother," he said, his voice cracking. "I loved him. It should have been me that died."
"No," Amanda said, and he lowered his head to rest against her shoulder. "It was Connor's decision. The fact that you still breathe proves how right he was. He knew himself Duncan, his limits. Better he die than be forced to live when the world was empty for him. Better he make the sacrifice as he wished to, and save the world from Kell."
"Better he live to find hope again," Duncan replied. "Better my strength give him the will to go on."
"You've never known your own worth, Duncan," Amanda said, tilting his face to meet her eyes. "You've never understood why so many of us love you, why so many of us believe you will be the last." Duncan shook his head.
"I never wanted that," he said.
"Want has little to do with it," she said. "The game is not about what we want. But I tell you in all honesty, I would give my life to make you the last. Because it should be you. It MUST be." Duncan shook his head again.
"How can the prize possibly be worth your death, or Connor's?"
"There can be only one, Duncan," she said, the familiar words offering no comfort. "The most we can do is enjoy the time we do have." She traced the side of his face with her fingertips, then slipped her hand behind his head, tangling her fingers in his dark hair.
"I know," he whispered. "I know you're right. But the pain..."
"It doesn't go away," she finished. He nodded. "But it will fade." He nodded again, a man over four hundred years old, a man who hurt just like any other man, needed her more than any other man. She sighed softly and pressed her lips gently to his. He responded to her kiss, his arms moving around her back to pull her closer. Then he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers once more.
"You said you were having a hard time," he began.
"It doesn't matter," she whispered. "You don't need to hear it." He smiled slowly.
"I want to hear it," he said. "We share our problems, both of us. We help each other, both of us. This isn't a one way street."
"What isn't?" she muttered.
He hesitated, then said. "Love isn't." Amanda smiled and kissed him again, this time more passionate than gentle.
"You know I love it when you say that word," she said.
"I know," he agreed.
"And you know I feel the same."
"I know that too." He hugged her briefly, squeezing her and letting her go before he returned to the issue. "So tell me..." Amanda nodded slowly.
"It's not," she said. "Well, it's nothing like what you've been through." She hesitated. "It's just that I've made a mistake. A really big one, and I think I've lost a friend in the process."
"A mistake? Something new for you then?" MacLeod teased. He met her eyes and sobered. "What happened?"
"There was this man, Nick Wolfe," she said. "He reminded me of you. Must've come from the same boy scout troop." He smiled at the jibe. "He's like us, but he hadn't had his first death yet. I didn't tell him. I didn't think it was my place." Duncan nodded. "Anyway, my past came back to haunt me and it fed him some slow acting poison." She looked up, her eyes bright. "I shot him." Duncan closed his eyes and bowed his head.
"And he wasn't grateful for the honor," he said heavily.
"He wouldn't even talk to me," she said. "Wouldn't let me explain. He was so angry. I didn't think..."
"You did what you felt was right," Duncan said, his eyes on the floor.
"But was it? Should I have told him? What right did I have?" She shook her head. "I couldn't just let him die." Duncan nodded slowly, but he wasn't meeting her gaze. "I know what you're thinking," she said softly. "You're thinking about all the dumb things I've done in the past. And how, even after all that, you never realized I was THIS dumb." She pulled away, clenching her fists. "You'd never do something like this, something so wrong..." She trailed off, looking away. Duncan took a deep breath and looked up. He met her eyes solidly and exhaled.
"I do understand," he said. "Because I've made my own mistakes."
"You're human, Duncan," Amanda said. "I'm not talking about you being perfect, but not all mistakes are the -"
"No," Duncan interrupted. "I never told you I was married once." Amanda shook her head. "She was like Nick, one of us but unaware." He swallowed hard and briefly closed his eyes. "I killed her on our wedding night."
"Duncan..." Amanda breathed.
"At least you were saving Nick's life," Duncan continued relentlessly. "What I did was..." He stopped. "She never forgave me."
"You loved her," Amanda said, making it a question.
"Yes," Duncan answered. "I couldn't stand to think of her dying."
"So you made the choice for her."
"Like you did with Nick," Duncan finished. He smiled. "So you see, I don't think you're that dumb. Even if you are currently blonde." Amanda chuckled, the laugh breaking her melancholy just as having someone truly understand made the burden of guilt and grief less heavy. She ran her hand through her platinum haircut. Duncan watched her, then ran his own hand through the short locks. She draped one of her legs over his, and leaned her head against his shoulder.
"It never gets any easier does it?" she asked rhetorically.
"You tell me, you're the old lady," he answered.
"I guess," she said smiling, "sometimes it's okay if life is hard."
"Sometimes," he answered, kissing the top of her head. She slipped her arm around his waist, then released him when he tugged her into his lap. "Difficulty is what makes life interesting."
"Speak for yourself," Amanda said archly. "Shopping is what makes my life interesting." She nuzzled the side of his face with her nose. "And you. You're fairly interesting too."
"Thank you," he said gravely.
"And you're not too hard on the eyes," she continued.
"Again, my thanks."
"And you live on a boat." She looked around. "You know I've got some vases and paintings that would really make this place look fabulous."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he said, smiling.
"Who's getting ahead, I just-" She stopped when his lips covered hers, and pulled herself closer. He tightened his arms around her waist. She broke the kiss to catch her breath, but kissed him again as soon as she had. His voice, his words were deep and rich and full of comfort, but she was past the need for them. Being with him was enough.
end
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