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Chapter Text

xXx

Duncan was busy doing some antiques scouting in towns outside Paris when a sense of disquiet came over him. Disconcerted, he looked around, but he couldn’t see or sense any other Immortals or obvious trouble.

The feeling didn’t ease over the hours of the trip home. Mac suspected it had something to do with the aftermath of the double Quickening. Since he and Methos had experienced it, there seemed to often be some sort of link or bond between them. Some sort of sense of each other. But they had been too busy avoiding each other to discuss it. Duncan had done his best to ignore whatever it was. Or perhaps it was the Quickenings of the Horsemen that were rising up again, refusing to completely settle.

I’ll call him, Duncan decided, even though he wanted more time to try to come to terms with what he’d learned about Methos’ past.

Inside the barge, he saw the answering machine was blinking.

The playback on the first message cut in and out, sounding garbled. He could tell the caller was Methos, but he couldn’t make out much of what Methos was saying. Something about needing help, and ‘fools’ and for him to contact Noor, who was another Immortal they knew. The other messages were from Noor, asking him to call back.

Worried, Duncan called Methos’ mobile, just in case, but got an out-of-range message. He dialled again, this time to Noor. To his relief, she answered.

“Hi Noor, it’s Duncan MacLeod. Did –

She cut in urgently: “Did Adam call you?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m calling you about – I can’t make out much of the voice message. But he mentioned your name and that he needs help.”

“Play the message back. Put your phone up close so I can hear it.”

Duncan immediately obeyed.

Then he lifted the handset back to his face. “That’s all there was.”

“So, you’re at your barge?”

“Yes.”

“I think I know where Adam is. It’s NOT a safe place. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes. Bring your sword and be dressed for hiking. I’ll call in some reinforcements too. Will explain on the way.” She hung up on his unspoken questions and worries.

What the hell had Methos gotten himself into?

Duncan hastily put on suitable clothing and footwear, then his coat and sword and threw some other clothes and such into a backpack. He locked up the barge, while remembering the first time he’d met Noor.

xXx

Paris:

Duncan decided to drop in and see Methos at his apartment. It was a weekday evening, and he wanted to see his friend and enjoy his company.

As Duncan rang the bell, he sensed more than one Immortal presence. No sounds of a Challenge though. Oh…was he inadvertently interrupting something…? Like a date? (And was that a burst of jealousy he felt at the thought?)

When Methos opened the door, Duncan said, “Sorry, I didn’t realise that you had company.”

Methos smiled, seemingly not put out. “Come in – It’s an old friend.”

“Less of the old, old man!” came a cheerful female voice from inside.

A woman in her sixties stood up from the sofa. She was about five feet four, but much more than that in presence. She had rich brown eyes and skin. Her long white hair was bound up in complex braids. She wore a beautiful matching set of ring, bracelet, necklace and earrings, and a flowing green dress.  

Methos said, “Old World, meet ‘New’. This is Noor. She spent a lot of her Immortality rattling up and down what’s now North and South America, before exploring the rest of the world.”

“Duncan MacLeod. Pleased to meet you.”

“Same here.” Her handshake was firm and her eyes were lively and curious. He wondered how old she was.

Methos added, “I tried to contact Noor when you had that bad Quickening, in case she had some wisdom about what to do.”

“But I was on a dig halfway around the world, and out of phone range. Sorry. Sounds like Adam did come up with a solution.”

“Yes, he did.” Duncan made a mental note not to refer to their friend as ‘Methos’ around Noor.

He sat on an armchair in the living room and saw that the TV was on, frozen on a scene. They were watching the Pierce Brosnan movie ‘Dante’s Peak’.

“We’re nearly finished,” Methos said. “We’ve both seen it before, but couldn’t resist. Help yourself to what’s left of the snacks.” He pointed to bowls on the coffee table, then at the screen. “It’s just at the climax, then we’ll get you something to drink. We’ll both need something to drink then too!”

They settled down and watched Dante’s Peak erupt. The special effects looked pretty good. The trio saw forest and buildings wiped out by the force of the pyroclastic flow, with it hot on the heels of the main characters, who were desperately driving as fast as they could away from it.

Methos yelled at the screen, “I don’t care if you’re James Bloody Bond – you CANNOT outrun a pyroclastic blast!”

Noor shrugged and said, “I guess they’re trying to give it a thin veneer of credibility by having him DRIVING… Even though that still wouldn’t be fast enough.”

“The tyres got burnt off by lava how many scenes ago? The ash alone should have choked them to death by now, regardless of the blast or not. Hollywood…”

“Well, that IS Sarah Connor and James Bond,” Duncan pointed out.

Methos muttered something and crammed some popcorn in his mouth, perhaps to prevent further outbursts.

After the movie finished, drinks were made, and the three Immortals settled down to chat.

Duncan watched Noor and Methos interact. There was an ease and familiarity between the two, as if they were brother and sister. He quickly found out that Noor did know Adam’s real identity but she tended to call him his ‘now-name’ to be on the safe side. Noor was her own now-name, a nickname she liked. Mac learned that Noor was fun company, had a wicked sense of humour, loved cats and making art and jewellery and was at least two thousand years old. But you don’t ask a lady her exact age, especially when she carried a sword.

xXx

Pacing on the quay as he waited for Noor, Duncan kept feeling uneasy. He hoped whatever trouble Methos was in, that he and Noor could reach him in time.

xXx

End Part 1 of 8

Chapter Text

xXx

Noor was wearing a thick shirt, slacks and sturdy boots. She drove her Volkswagen intensely, taking them out of the city with the familiarity of someone who had known Paris for a long time, and who had been driving since cars first became commonplace. Duncan considered what she’d just told him. Not ‘fools’ after all.

“Ghouls? Ghouls trying to escape from a sarcophagus in a cave? Seriously?”

Noor nodded. “Whatever these beings are, they look like ghouls, so that’s what Adam dubbed them. They look like vicious, floating ghosts, but they can interact with the physical world. With horrible results.” She sighed and shrugged. “The best theory that he and I could come up with is that they’re coming through from another dimension, via that sarcophagus when its lid is open – it’s some sort of portal. Or they’re spirits that became seriously warped somehow.”

“And this sarcophagus is in a cave in an isolated part of the French countryside?”

“Yes, there’s a whole series of caves and holes in that area. It’s on private property, and even the owners leave the place alone, because it’s dangerous. There are rockslides, but they also may know the history of that place. From what I can make out from Adam’s messages, there’s a chance of the ghouls escaping.”

Duncan stared at the passing scenery, not really taking it in. “How much damage can these things do?”

“If a ghoul encounters a human, the ghoul can kill them and usually does; seems to feed off their life force. Immortals have more staying power against them – we possibly don’t taste as good to the beasties – but there is the chance that the creatures can do enough damage to an Immortal that it takes them decades to revive or fully heal.”

There was a pause, then Noor continued. “Adam saw what happened the last time some of the ghouls got loose. He stopped them and sealed the box, so to speak. The deaths of the nearby villagers were explained away as due to a plague. It could have also started or inspired the myth of Pandora’s Box somewhere down the line. Well, the original myths called it a jar. Another theory is that some places just ‘turn out wrong’ somehow. Perhaps from things that have happened there.”

Duncan said, “So at least one Immortal was injured. Was it Adam?”

“One of Adam’s Immortal friends was badly hurt. Adam’s not sure if the ghoul felt provoked or if it was because his friend was such a young Immortal that he was more vulnerable; just 20 years since his first death. Or whether it even came down to the reactions of the ghouls to the various metals and precious stones they wore as jewellery. We only know what happened to the two Immortals who were present then. That the ghouls seemed to be avoiding Adam while zeroing in on his friend. Some humans got left alone.” Noor briefly tapped a bag between her and Duncan on the seat. “Put one or two of those on.”

Mac opened the bag and found an assorted jumble of necklaces, bracelets and rings with jewels on them. He disentangled a thick necklace and also found a ring that fitted. He put them on and inwardly joked with himself that it felt like preparing for a fashion show. But it wasn’t a time to joke. Methos, hold on.

“Have you been to that cave?” he asked.

“Not personally. I have gone over a lot of information about it though, as part of my studies of the phenomenon. Adam made detailed notes about his encounter.” Noor had many interests and skills in the fields of archaeology, immortal health and physiology. “The entrances to the outer and inner caverns were sealed after he encountered the ghouls all those many years ago. The exact spot was lost to time. Some earthquake activity or rockslides may have opened it up again… Being on private land has helped keep it isolated and forgotten – part of an estate owned by the de Breteuil family. But people rambling or looking for caves to explore or prehistoric art may have stumbled across it, despite the fences and danger signs. Humans and their curiosity…”

Fools and ghouls – a bad mix. The feeling that Methos was in danger had not eased. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ve contacted some friends, who will meet us there. An emergency squad, so to speak. Some Immortals, and also some humans; they can quarantine and decontaminate the place if need be. The humans I can vouch for – I’ve saved the lives of at least two of them. They know what we’ll be dealing with. The humans will stay right back at the de Breteuil chateau until they know for sure that the danger has been contained.”

“How do we contain it?”

“If the sarcophagus is open, we shut it.”

“That’s it?” Duncan asked. Could it be that simple?

“That’s the first step. From what Adam said, the lid is so heavy that it will take about three people to put it back into place.”

“If the lid has come off, there could already be ghouls out and on the loose.”

“My team have caving and abseiling experience, and are armed. They’re going to look for the cave and Adam, and if they find any ghouls, they’ll dispatch them. The ghouls aren’t immune to a sword or dagger swipe.”

“That’s a relief. Do we have to use bronze blades?”

“No.” She gestured. “On the back seat, I’ve got copies of some of Adam’s notes and other info.”

Duncan had a look at the documents and diagrams. There was a sizeable cavern inside a hill, which then led to a smaller cave area. The smaller area was oblong in shape, with the sarcophagus up against the furtherest point opposite the entrance. The rocks that made up the walls, floor and ceiling of that chamber were of a type that the ghouls for some reason couldn’t penetrate, so they would have to go out into the main cavern in order to reach the outside.

“Whose sarcophagus is it? How did it get there?” Mac asked.

Noor replied, “We don’t know. I think Adam was in such a hurry, understandably, to seal the place up the first time around, seeing he didn’t have large earthmoving machinery to hand back then, that he didn’t get to study the markings on the coffin in detail. He put down what he could remember.” Noor gave him a brief, wry look. “It’s not the Ark of the Covenant, anyway.”

“How reassuring.” Another thought occurred to him. “Aliens?”

“Probably not.”

“And how did Adam find out about this new danger?”

“That’s something we’ll have to ask him.”

“These other Immortals – what about their Watchers?” He knew that Noor didn’t have a Watcher on her.

“A few of them don’t have Watchers. The others will have done their best to give theirs the slip. But if they’ve been unsuccessful, we’ll just have to deal with it after we’ve made sure Adam is all right and that the cave is secure.”

xXx

In the countryside, they turned into private land, going a long way up a back lane to a gate which bristled with ‘DANGER – DO NOT ENTER’ signs in various languages. An Immortal was standing there waiting for them. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Methos.

The young-looking man recognised Noor, waved, and opened the gate for them. After the vehicle drove through, Noor stopped and waited for the gate to be closed and the man to get into the back seat. His gear included a walkie-talkie and a British naval officer sword from the Age of Sail. Noor resumed driving.

“Duncan MacLeod, this is Evan.”

Evan said in an Australian accent, “Pleased to meet you.”

Then Evan got down to business. “We’ve found Adam’s vehicle up ahead, but there’s no sign of him. Very bad phone reception here, so I’ve got you some spare radios. There are some other cars that were here already; no sign of their drivers. The good news is that no ghouls seem to have escaped yet. Otherwise, they would have honed in on humans and headed towards the chateau, wanting a snack. The de Breteuils haven’t anything weird to report. The humans from our group are with them, swords ready if needed.”

“The owners of the place are okay with us walking around with swords to protect them from an unknown threat?” Duncan asked.

“They seem to know that those hills have some secrets best kept sealed up. It’s an odd place. Anyway, the chateau dogs double as an early warning system. Simone and Krish are looking around the hills, but there was rain before we arrived, so I doubt if we’ll find any tracks. And it’s like a bloody rabbit warren. They’ve got one of the dogs with them.”

They drove into a clearing with parked vehicles in it. There were two other Immortals waiting for them. Noor found a spot and pulled in. Evan pointed across at a Volvo which Duncan instantly recognised as Methos’.

They got out, greeting Immortals named Jaq and Mara, who carried swords and ropes. While Noor made sure that everyone was already wearing or given possibly-protective jewellery, Duncan looked through the windows of Methos’ locked car for any clues. He could see an overnight bag in the back. No signs of blood or a struggle.

This place DID feel eerie, Mac realised as he put his backpack on. Unsettling.

Noor pointed towards the nearby hills and said, “We probably won’t be able to feel Adam’s buzz if he’s in a cave somewhere. I wonder if the dog is getting any results…”

Duncan hesitated. His instincts were now yelling at him to find Methos right away. And the whatever-it-was connection between them definitely felt stronger. “I have an idea.” He revealed, “This year, Adam and I shared a double Quickening. It resulted in some sort of connection between us. I’ve been too… hesitant to try to explore it. But in some way, I can sense him, and I may be able to use it to find him now.”

Noor stared at him in astonishment and quickly said, “Then you’re our sniffer dog. Find him!”

At least she didn’t call him ‘Lassie’. Or ‘Laddie’ would be more appropriate.

Duncan stood still, closed his eyes, and took a series of deep breaths, like he was meditating. Methos. Methos, hear me. Where are you? Let me find you.

There was what felt to him like a long pause. Then Duncan’s eyes snapped open and he hurried off, scrambling over the uneven ground and mud, following the mental thread that bound them.

xXx

End Part 2 of 8

Chapter Text

xXx

Thankfully, Duncan hadn’t fallen down any holes in these hills. Yet. He kept going in the direction his senses told him to. He found himself approaching a cave entrance that seemed to have been freshly uncovered, perhaps by a landslide. Then he spotted a discarded shovel nearby. And the cave wasn’t dark inside. Not waiting for Noor and the others to catch up – though they weren’t far behind and he could hear Noor talking on her radio – he drew his sword and cautiously entered.

There was a downward slope which opened into a large cavern. Two rows of battery lanterns led into its depths, creating a path towards what had to be the smaller cave. Beside that entrance were a scatter of boulders and shovels and picks. As an Immortal buzz hit him from ahead, Duncan could hear noises. Combat?

He rushed to the entrance to that chamber. Methos was about halfway down it, sword raised, heading towards a ghostly figure. It was floating eerily towards the entrance, luminous, and fairly fast. There was a whistling noise emanating from it. The scene was lit by more battery lanterns around the edges of the chamber.

‘Ghoul’ was an apt description: the body was translucent, like a classic ghost or jellyfish, but the face was very visible. Blazing eyes and a cruel mouth. The creature was about seven feet tall. It seemed focused on getting outside. It was trying to avoid Methos.

Methos closed his eyes and leapt. When his sword slashed through the ghoul, the being shrieked and detonated into a cloud of white-grey dust. Methos flinched in pain, grunting like he’d been stung. There were piles of the dust or powder in the chamber – the substance covered a lot of the floor, apart from an area near the sarcophagus, to all the way nearly up to Duncan’s feet.

The older Immortal’s jumper, jeans and boots were heavily splattered with the chalk powder residue, the same with his head and sword. His hair looked like an untidy powdered wig. He’d at some point tied a large handkerchief around the lower half of his face, to try to keep his nose and mouth free of the grit. As Duncan got closer, he could see that his friend’s eyes were red-rimmed slits. Underneath the chalk, his skin was covered with red splotches like hives.

Two more ghouls were heading for freedom, trying to get past Methos. He crunched through the ghost-debris, which in places was above his ankles. Duncan realised he may well be half-blinded from the powder. Watery trails were coming from Methos’ eyes, causing streaks on his face. He sneezed.

At least the ceiling wasn’t very high, so a sword blade could reach the ghouls if the wielder leapt. But that wasn’t much of an advantage.

Duncan wasn’t even sure if Methos had registered he was there, by sight or by the bond. All his focus and his dwindling energy was on his task. The sarcophagus was against the far wall, its lid partly off. Four human bodies lay twisted near the sarcophagus, clearly very dead. Presumably the drivers of the other cars, the people who had foolishly opened the entrances and the lid. Another ghoul or two were squeezing their way out of the gap.

The Highlander took all of this in in quickly as he went to help Methos, but Noor yelled: “Evan, help Adam kill the ghouls. Duncan, Jaq and Mara, get that lid back on. I’ll deal with any ghouls that try to come out of it while you do that.”

Reluctant but understanding, Duncan complied, heading down the chamber. It took all his self-control to let the ghouls go instead of swiping at them. He kept his sword out in case one of the creatures attacked, but they didn’t and he sheathed it after they passed.

When Methos had arrived, he’d probably been too late to take up a position right at the sarcophagus, to cut them down there. Instead, he’d been stuck in defence. Especially with having to deal with more than one ghoul at a time.

Glancing back, Duncan saw Evan throwing a dagger into one of the beings. A smart idea, in theory a way to wound or destroy them from a distance. He didn’t get to see if it was that effective in practice, as he turned to his own task.

The Immortals carefully avoided the corpses and reached the sarcophagus. Each focused on arranging themselves to effectively push at the lid. Noor positioned herself to cut down any ghoul which was trying to unbox itself, while not impaling any of her colleagues. There were some faint inscriptions or images carved into the lid and sides of the sarcophagus, but there was no time to examine them or wonder what era it was from. A bright white glow was visible inside the sarcophagus.

“Ready?” Duncan asked the others. “On three. One, two, three. Heave!”

With an ear-hurting grinding noise, the lid slid shut.

Just in time. Duncan didn’t need the bond to know that Methos was running on vapours and was close to collapse. An ordinary person would have keeled over long beforehand.

Methos slew the final ghoul, who died with a scream and an explosion of powder.

Exhausted, he stood, swaying, clinging to his sword. He seemed to comprehend that no more adversaries were forthcoming.

Duncan hurried up to him, boots moving through the debris. “Adam, it’s over. You can rest now.”

Bloodshot, watering eyes stared with difficulty into his. Was there any recognition there?

Mac tried to mentally reach Methos via their bond, while also saying, “Adam, it’s me, Duncan. You can put your sword down. The ghouls are contained.”

Methos sank to his knees. Duncan did the same, facing him. He knew the others were hovering, concerned for Adam and the weapon in his hand.

The hives on his skin hadn’t healed yet. Had Methos absorbed so much of the ghouls’ toxins into his body that it was overloading him – not giving his healing enough time to clear it out?

Methos met his gaze again. Under the handkerchief mask, Duncan saw his lips briefly move. No sound came out, but the word was: “Mac?” Duncan could feel and hear it – in his head, in his bones and soul.

“It’s me. I’m really here. It’s over.” Duncan slowly and carefully reached out and touched Methos’ left shoulder.

At the touch, Methos looked relieved and closed his eyes. He slowly put his sword on the ground by his side, moving like an old man with arthritis. Noor darted in and snatched it away. No reaction from Methos.

Duncan moved closer and put his arms around Methos, who didn’t resist. The older Immortal leaned into the hug, then exhaled and slumped against him. He’d passed out.

xXx

End Part 3 of 8

Chapter Text

xXx

The main part of the cavern had been turned into various ‘sections’, with makeshift partitioning, away from prying eyes, including medical bays and a morgue. At least this particular cavern seemed  internally stable.

In a quiet corner, a bed, chair and card table had been set up, with other paraphernalia like lamps, for Methos and Duncan.

They’d been decontaminated, which meant that Methos was extra splotchy at the moment from the scrubbing etc. His joints were swollen from all the hours of leaping, running and sword work. His hair was back to its normal colour. He muttered and moved on the bed, sweating and at least partly delirious.

Duncan watched him anxiously, and shifted in his chair, which was an outdoors folding one. Not the most comfortable, but it would do, and much better than the cave floor. He took a deep swig of strong coffee, and gazed down at Methos. He hoped the patient wouldn’t be too restless – he wasn’t sure if that camp bed would simply topple over if its occupant shifted around too much.

The Highlander was very careful about what he said, as he wasn’t sure whether the cavern’s acoustics would carry his words further than intended. Even though it was Noor’s own team here, he wanted to protect Methos’ privacy.

It was awful watching Methos suffer. And his rapid healing wasn’t working. Noor’s doctors were giving him what meds they could to try to ease the fever and pain, but it seemed like nothing much was working all that well or for very long until the amount of toxin lessened. And killing Methos to try to ‘reset’ his body and healing factor hadn’t worked either.

“He has to ride it out, unfortunately,” Noor said, while changing one of the bags on the IV stand. “But at least it looks like he’s not going to take ages to heal. That’s our stubborn boy.”

The more of the toxin that Methos could expel, the better. He was probably too dehydrated at the moment to urinate, but he was sweating out a lot, and also coughing, sneezing and throwing up at times too. Duncan hoped he wouldn’t get pneumonia, not in this weakened condition, to add to his ordeal.

Fire-faced, Methos rambled in other tongues, and sometimes in sentences that contained a mix of different languages. Duncan kept trying to calm him, and also hoping that their shared Quickening was also letting Methos know at least subconsciously that he was there. The older Immortal was naked and covered with towels – easier to deal with and change than blankets. Mac supported his head while he vomited into a bucket.

In a quiet moment, Duncan said, “Hey, we should go camping after all this is over. Have a break. Or perhaps you’ll have had enough of that for a while, and want a luxury hotel instead. Whatever you want, Adam. Let’s do it together.”

xXx

Methos stirred, moving his arms and legs, then his eyes popped open and he flailed around in alarm, grabbing at his coverings. He was searching for something. Duncan caught him before he fell off the other side of the bed, but Methos was now scrabbling with his arms towards the floor.

He was trying to find his Ivanhoe, which Mac would have put prudently well out of reach anyway, if it wasn’t currently being decontaminated and cleaned.

“No! No, Adam. It’s over! There’s no danger, nothing to fight. You need to rest. Rest and get better.”

Some part of that seemed to get through. Methos quieted and stopped thrashing around trying to get up, allowing Mac to settle him back onto the cot, and re-arrange the towels. Somehow, the IV hadn’t become tangled or pulled out.

“Live, grow stronger, fight another day – remember?” Duncan said, running a hand soothingly over his forehead and through his hair. He watched Methos’ eyes flutter then close. They both began to breathe more slowly and evenly.  

The semi-conscious agitation repeated several times during the next hours. In-between, Duncan mopped his face and body with wet compresses, and tried to get water into his mouth.

In the quiet moments, Duncan gazed at Methos’ face, and wondered how it happened that sometimes he looked ancient and then looked impossibly young like a sleeping teenager or even like a child.

Noor and her assistants kept up a steady supply of fresh towels, water, coffee and food for Duncan, and medical supplies.

On Evan’s first turn, he asked, “How’s your mate doing?”

That startled Mac, until he remembered that in Australia, ‘mate’ generally meant ‘friend’, not ‘lover’. But, was either wrong in this case?

Again, Duncan tried to use the bond to reach Methos. He attempted to use meditation techniques to reconnect, but it didn’t seem to work.

He removed one compress from Methos’ forehead, to replace it with a cooler, wetter one. Then he stood quietly and stretched, grimacing. When food arrived, Duncan ate it mechanically, fuel to keep him alert enough to maintain his vigil in this underground, twilight world.

When Noor next checked on them, Duncan asked, “So that toxic powder can be neutralised and gathered up and safely disposed of, but what can be done about that portal? Can the chamber be filled in? Only to be rediscovered in another thousand years?”

“We could fill it in,” Noor said. “But there could be another option. I think Adam holds the key to that, literally. I’ve been having a look at the carvings on the sarcophagus and I’ve had the powder analysed. From those and from my studies, I have an idea. Adam should hopefully have an artefact in his possession, in one of his storage places, which I believe we can use to close the portal permanently. Last I saw, he had it in an ornate black box.”

“Oh… With gold trimmings? Aye, he’s still got that. If it’s the one I’m thinking of. I never saw what was in it, but Adam seemed to treat it like it was something really important.”

“Good. When he wakes up and is coherent enough, we’ll ask him where it is.”

Duncan noticed that Noor didn’t elaborate on just what was in the box. He decided not to ask. Not yet, at least. She excused herself to continue supervising and organising for more supplies.

xXx

End Part 4

Chapter Text

xXx

The next time Noor returned to their corner of the cavern, she took Methos’ temperature, examined his not-so-blotchy skin, and checked his lungs. Duncan hovered. Noor’s long hair was out of its braids, still drying from decontamination procedures. She pushed it back out of the way. In this setting, in the lamplight, she looked like an ancient, powerful seer.

Noor said with satisfaction, “He’s definitely getting better.  Go and get some air and a coffee. I’ll sit with him. Have a break.”

“I can’t,” Duncan replied.

“Can’t or won’t? At least have a loo break. Or are you using the upchuck bucket as a piss pot too?”

“I’ve never seen him sick like this before.” Not even Methos’ collapse at the submarine base had jolted him this much – that had been more mental, more grief. Though still bone-deep exhaustion.

Noor gently said, “It’s not going to be permanently fatal to him. His body is getting rid of the toxin – he’s just not going to enjoy things until it does. At some point his full healing ability will kick in. Though he’ll probably be exhausted afterwards and need some quiet days to recuperate.”

Duncan nodded but didn’t move. His head understood what she was saying, but not his heart.

Noor sat down on a rock on the other side of the bed. Duncan instinctively went to offer his chair to her, but she waved him off and asked, “Did you two have some sort of lovers quarrel?”

At Duncan’s stunned look, she said, “Don’t try to hide from the old woman. I can see a church by daylight. Or get hit by a clue bus. I know what the look of love is. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. The PINING! Have you still not got together?”

Duncan went red and shook his head.

“Do you want to get together?”

Duncan nodded.

“There’s enough pine between you two for a bloody conifer forest!”

“You don’t have a problem… about us? Two men?”

Noor rolled her eyes, sighed and recited:

“As years come in and years go out
I totter toward the tomb,
Still caring less and less about
Who goes to bed with whom.”

Then she said, “You’re both single. He’s my adopted big brother. I want him to be happy. I want you to be happy. If you want my blessing, yes, you’ve got it. I’ve been close friends with gay couples – and part of gay couples at times – for all of my life.”

Duncan smiled. “Was that a Dorothy Porter poem you quoted?”

“Close. Dorothy L Sayers.” She said, “Speaking of Porter, when I talked to Methos a few months ago, I asked how he was, and he replied with one of her poems:

My land is bare of chattering folk;
The clouds are low along the ridges,
And sweet's the air with curly smoke
From all my burning bridges.”

There was a pause. Noor said, “It seems he hasn’t burned them as much as he thought he did. I hope this will give you and him the jolt or the kick up the arse you both desperately need. Or will I have to personally deliver it?”

Duncan’s lips twitched in memory and he said, “He and I are the blind leading the visually challenged.”

“Exactly.”

Methos shifted in his sleep, mumbling. Duncan gently rested his hand on Methos’ shoulder, soothing him. Then he told Noor, “I need him to know I’m here.”

“All right. And when he recovers and wakes up, are you just going to go back to the way things were?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then make sure you don’t. Otherwise, I’ll have to run you over with that clue bus.”

“No need to, big sister.”

“I’m glad to hear that, future brother-in-law.”

“I prefer you to his so-called-brothers…” At her sharp look, Duncan sighed and said, “Another piece of his past came back to bite him.”

She spoke very quietly. “He told you about his past in the Horsemen?”

He whispered back, “They turned up.”

“And?”

So Methos hadn’t elaborated to Noor about his burning bridges. “They’re dead now. The three of them. A few months ago. The deaths of two of them caused that double Quickening.”

“But they are still causing problems between you and Methos.”

“It’s a lot to take in.”

She nodded. “People can be many things over their lifespan; Immortals even more so. I helped to build some of the Nazca lines in Peru. Two thousand years later, I was able to fly over them in a small plane. See them from a God’s eye view. Life can be extraordinary.” Noor then continued, “I know what Tenochtitlan was like, before Cortes razed it.”

Duncan stayed quiet, waiting to see where she was going with this, or if she was just talking to distract him from his vigil and worries.

“I was captured by the Spaniards back then. Because of my age, they fortunately didn’t want me as a concubine, but as a servant. I took advantage of that. I didn’t have a knife, so when the opportunity presented itself, I punched Cortes in the crotch. It was so satisfying to see him squeal and throw up and collapse, whimpering. I didn’t have long to enjoy it or to try to break his neck while he was helpless, as one of his men then killed me. They’d underestimated me, thought an old, unarmed woman would be harmless. It was worth that death. And that was how I was able to escape.”

Duncan saw her face lit up with memories and satisfaction, which seemed to be as strong now as when she had done it. Which would have been… around 1520 AD.

She continued, “If I’d been around back when Adam was riding with the Horseman, I’d probably have done the same to him, if I’d had the opportunity. But would Cortes have ever changed? If he’d had thousands of years? I don’t think so. Adam did. What you were isn’t necessarily who you are. For two thousand years, he’s been a better person.”

Noor shifted on the rock, her gaze still in the past. “Many people were – are – just trying to survive. Like Thoreau said, lives of quiet desperation. For example, opinions are split or keep changing about La Malinche and her role in the fall of the Aztec Empire. She was an indigenous woman who became Cortez’s interpreter, advisor and intermediary. Was she treacherous, a victim, mother of the new Mexican people, somewhere in-between, or used by the Spaniards to justify their actions?” Noor’s face did not give away her own opinion.

Duncan considered this. Methos had done horrible things as a Horseman. But from the way he had reacted to Kronos, he had probably also been a victim of abuse too. Both things could be true.

Noor stood up and stretched. Duncan caught a wince on her face that she couldn’t quite manage to hide, and he blurted out an apology for not making her take the chair, such as it was.

She smiled and replied, “I’d have the same reaction even when getting up from a plush sofa. That’s one of the downsides of becoming immortal when I did as an elder – a lot of creaking joints pre-first-death, that carried over. Thankfully my knees were in good shape. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I better get some things sorted, including yet more time with a hair dryer…”

xXx

Methos was definitely getting better. The blotches were fading, the joint swelling had gone down, his temperature was dropping, he wasn’t as restless, and his mutterings were usually at least in recognisable languages. The words ‘Mac’, ‘MacLeod’ and ‘Duncan’ were prominent.

End Part 5 of 8

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nazca_lines

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Malinche

Chapter Text

xXx

Duncan watched intently as Methos woke up and gazed in puzzlement at the cavern ceiling. Before Mac could say anything, Methos got that familiar alarmed look on his face and went to launch himself up. Duncan grabbed him by the shoulders and said, “It’s over! None of the ghouls escaped.”

Methos let out a deep breath and slumped back onto the bed. “You’re sure?” he asked faintly.

“Yes, we are.  Noor’s here too, with people she knows and trusts.” Duncan raised Methos up enough to give him some water, hand gently supporting the back of his head and neck. Duncan found himself hoping to touch there again, in more private, intimate circumstances. He pushed that thought away for now.

Then Methos looked at the remains of the blotches on his arms and chest, before raising his covers to visually examine the rest of his body. He pulled a face, perhaps at the state of his crotch area.

“It’s a lot better than it was, Adam. Getting better with every hour.”

“You and Noor got my messages.”

“Only partly. But we figured it out, with the help of the Quickening bond.”

They locked eyes at that. Their bond was palpable. Duncan knew without doubt how Methos felt about him. Before either of them could say anything more, they spotted Noor.

Duncan said, “The lady with the lamp approaches.”

She could see that their patient was awake and aware. She and Duncan smiled at each other with relief.

Noor said to Methos, “Greetings, old rooster.”

“Good day, spring chicken,” he replied with spirit. “At least, I assume it is day.”

“How do you feel?”

Methos rolled his eyes. “Ghouled out. And not wanting to do this again in another thousand or so years.”

“Well, I think I have a solution to that. Duncan said that you still have a black box, whose contents could come in handy.”

“Ah!” Methos looked fascinated and relieved, then he and Noor lapsed into some rapid-fire talk in a language that Duncan didn’t know. 

It soon became clear that they were going to carefully retrieve the whatever-it-was from Methos’ Paris home, and get it over to here. Probably via one of Noor’s Immortal contacts who Methos knew and trusted.

xXx

Methos was alert, fed, and propped up on pillows on the camp bed. Duncan and Noor sat on either side of him, listening to just how he’d ended up here.

“So, those corpses are Watchers?” Duncan asked. “Joe’s not going to be happy to hear that.”

“Yes, from research divisions. They’d stumbled across some information about the sarcophagus – which included misinformation – but it did mention Methos. So they contacted Adam, the Methos scholar, and wanted me to come and look at it, in a library near here. By the time I reached the area, they’d put together some truths, and had actually managed to find the spot. They may have found a map that pinpointed the cave. I’m not sure.”

Methos closed his eyes, and Duncan thought he was going to fall asleep, but he opened them again and continued, “By the time I realised what was going on, I was running out of time – and reception coverage – when I tried to call you and Noor. I did try to leave as clear a trail as I could. Those Watchers… stupid, greedy idiots. They thought there was treasure in the sarcophagus.”

Noor said, “They must never have seen ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ then.”

That made Methos smile, then it faded. He looked as serious as Duncan had ever seen him. “All that time ago, when I saw what those creatures were doing to my village, I vowed then to stop them. The vow still stands.”

Duncan hesitated, then asked, “Did you lose your family?” The notes he had read hadn’t mentioned much about the village.

“I didn’t have a family there, but I had great friends. Some survived, but most died. One Immortal friend ended up badly affected for years afterwards.”

Mac replied, “You stopped a disaster, Adam. Both times. Your friends would have been proud of you. I know I am.”

“Same here,” Noor said, squeezing Methos’ hand.

Duncan continued, “If you ever want to talk about them, I’d be happy to listen.”

They both got a grateful smile in return, then Methos drifted off to sleep.

Even the noises of the remaining toxins being vacuumed up and sealed into vats didn’t wake him.

xXx

Duncan dozed, then woke when Methos sat up. Before the Highlander could launch into his patented ‘it’s-fine-go-back-to-sleep’ routine, he realised that Methos wasn’t trying to jump up and slay dragons. Instead, Methos was staring at his own arms and torso, and he looked at Duncan with blessedly clear eyes and complexion.

“The blotching and swelling are gone. My full healing is back.”

Duncan grinned with relief. It even made him forget about the painful crick in his neck from how he’d slept.

Methos went to get up then promptly listed to the side, saved from falling to the floor by speedy Highlander reflexes.

“Adam! Your healing might be back, but you’re still recovering.”

Methos muttered something in frustration, then became serious. “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of me, Mac.” His face looked red again. Then Duncan realised that Methos was embarrassed.

“You’re welcome.”

They had time, Duncan thought. To explore their bond, and much more.

xXx

Duncan helped Methos to eat some soup, in-between Methos and Noor having a friendly bicker about something-or-other.

“Watch it, Rapunzel – I’ll pull your hair!” the elder said, before he morphed into a pleading, puppy dog look. “When can we get out of here?”

“Soon,” Noor announced, ignoring his previous brattery. “The chateau has some cabins that the de Breteuils are willing for us to stay in. I’ve arranged one for the two of you next to mine. Your cabin only has one bed, but it’s a big bed and you’re big boys – you’ll manage.”

Duncan gave her a look. She gave him a look right back. Methos was too relieved about his imminent freedom to comment on the sleeping arrangements.

xXx

End Part 6 of 8

Chapter Text

xXx

Methos slowly exited the cavern system, supported by Duncan on one side of him, with Noor on the other. Methos grumbled about this but Noor said it was non-negotiable and did he want to be stretchered out instead? “Or carried over a manly Highland shoulder?”

Bridal carry, Duncan thought but didn’t say.

Methos looked at him, surprised, then amused, as if he’d heard that thought. Perhaps he had. They would need to examine this bond of theirs to see just what it was capable of.

When they were almost to the outdoors, Noor halted them, then she came around and put sunglasses on Methos, Duncan and herself. When they stepped out into the sunlight and fresh air after what felt like forever underground, Duncan was very glad for the glasses, even though the sun felt wonderful.

Then they had to strip and go through a decontamination tent in case of lurking ghoul-powder, etc. But after that, they were dry and dressed, Methos in clothing from the bag in his Volvo.  This time it was Noor’s turn to complain, about how it would take her hours to get her hair dry again.

Noor drove her Volkswagon, while Duncan drove Methos’ vehicle to the cabins. Duncan carried some of the luggage in while poised to assist Methos if needed, and Noor carried the rest.

The first thing that Methos did in their cabin was head to the bathroom to have a shave. While he did, Noor and Duncan relaxed and had some tea. When their elder came out, he looked refreshed but still pale and tired. And when Duncan suggested he have a lie down, he got that stubborn set in his jaw.

Before he could say something like I’ve been lying down for ages, Noor intervened.

“Duncan, the de Breteuils have offered to supply us with meals from their kitchen while we’re here. Why don’t you go and see their chefs to get us some dinner? I’ll babysit,” Noor suggested. The glare Methos gave her just made her give a serene smile in return.

“Sure,” Duncan said. “Any preferences?”

xXx

Duncan arrived back with their food (including supplies for breakfast and snacks), and what he heard when entered the cabin made him wonder if Noor and Methos were having a fight. Methos was sprawled on the sofa and Noor was in an armchair, and they were throwing words at each other.

“Weiner,” Methos said.

“Prick,” Noor responded.

“Donger.”

“Ha! That’s Australian, isn’t it? Those Aussies… I’ll go American: Johnson.”

“What’s going on?” Duncan asked warily. “This is rather odd name-calling.”

Methos explained, “We’re playing a word game. Namely how many nicknames for ‘penis’ we can remember!”

Duncan watched in anthropological bemusement while a combined minimum of seven thousand years of human intellect enjoyed a rude parlour game about the male sexual anatomy.

This carried on and off during dinner, Duncan also contributing (he figured why not, as the tone of the evening couldn’t exactly get any lower) and a lot of words could be co-opted. They got into more arcane references, sometimes having to translate, though when it came to that sort of joke or wording, everything old was new again. In many ways, human nature didn’t change. And it was great to see Methos howling with laughter at some of them. (As long as he didn’t choke on his meal in the process.)

When they were relaxing afterwards, with tea and biscuits, Methos got out a book and started scribbling in it, despite looking like his energy levels were low.

“That journal of yours…” Noor said, amused and fond.

“I never travel without my diary. I like to have something sensational to read when I’m on public transport!”

Duncan rolled his eyes, recognising the corruption of an Oscar Wilde quote.

xXx

Methos had fallen asleep on the sofa, his head leaning back. Peaceful. It was surprising that he’d stayed awake this long.

Duncan watched him, feeling a rush of love and joy and relief. There was a noise, which he realised was Noor getting up. He’d forgotten she was there. She gave him an understanding smile. He wondered if this was what it had been like for Methos in the times when he and Amanda had started to carry on in front of him. Or whether he had felt jealous or left out.

Noor said, “I’ll go now. You two sleep in and rest tomorrow morning, and I’ll go to the site. If anything major happens there, I’ll call you. Then I’ll see you at noon – I’ll bring lunch.” She looked at Methos then back to Duncan. “You’d better put him to bed and tuck him in, from the inside.”

“Noor…”

She gave a wicked, unrepentant laugh and exited. Duncan chuckled, then shut and locked the door. It wasn’t that late in the evening yet, but an early night was advisable. He probably would have to sleep in the bed; the sofa was too small. He wouldn’t have put it past Noor to ensure that was the case. But would Methos have a problem with that?

He walked over to the sofa and gently said, “Methos.”

Those long, dark eyelashes flickered. “Hmmmm?”

“Time to get ready for bed. Go to the bathroom.”

“Oh… Okay.” Methos opened his eyes and slowly got up, looking a bit dazed and potentially wobbly. Duncan reached out to steady him. Methos looked around to orientate himself; Duncan turned him in the direction of the bathroom. The Highlander was ready to escort him in there but Methos seemed to become alert enough and Duncan didn’t want to risk an argument.

He managed to restrain himself from telling Methos to leave the door open and that if he did fall, to please kindly do so with a loud enough thud or swear word in order to summon help.

While he was in there, Duncan turned off most of the lights and put a glass and jug of water on the chest of drawers next to the bed, on the nearest side to the bathroom, then pulled the covers and sheet down. Why did he feel like a bride on her wedding night? Methos was in no condition to get up to anything, even if he wanted to. And Duncan could do with a long, unbroken sleep too, after all that worry and nurse-maiding.

Methos came back out, having stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. Duncan hovered nearby, pretending to be busy, but poised to help if needed while Methos got into bed. Ancient eyes flickered to the water supply, and he smiled, as if knowing what Duncan was up to.

“There’s a spare blanket at the bottom of the bed, if you get cold,” Duncan said, coming close enough to smell mint toothpaste.

“Thanks.” Methos was shifting around on his side, getting comfortable, while sighing in satisfaction, probably due to the luxury of the mattress over the camp bed, and proper sheets and blankets instead of towels.

“Um, is it all right if I take the other side of the bed? The sofa’s a bit small.”

“Sure.” Methos’ eyes closed. A few seconds later, he was asleep.

Duncan then quietly finished cleaning up the kitchen and living room areas, glancing back at the bed numerous times while doing so. Free of the toxin and fever, Methos slept soundly and in comfort. But that didn’t mean that nightmares wouldn’t be a problem.

After going to the bathroom, Duncan stripped down to his own t-shirt and boxers, turned off all but one lamp, and got into bed as softly and carefully as he could manage. Methos barely twitched. Duncan lay facing him, and quickly dropped into his own deep sleep.

xXx

Duncan woke up around five hours later, and by the lamplight he saw that Methos was still deeply asleep. That lulled him into a false sense of security as he closed his eyes again.

xXx

End Part 7 of 8

Chapter Text

xXx

Duncan wasn’t sure exactly where they were, but it was clearly someplace pleasant. The smells of flowers and mint, the feel of sunshine, a gentle breeze. He was disinclined to gaze around, as he and Methos were embracing. It felt so good, so intimate and right. Warm. Happy. Alive. In love.

The sarcophagus was open. The ghouls were pouring out. But they weren’t trying to escape out into the world. They seized Methos and dragged him to the sarcophagus. Methos didn’t have his sword. He fought. And Duncan fought, trying to reach him. Duncan dived towards him as he started to disappear, reaching desperately for each other –

Twin yells of pain. Confusion. Eyes blinking, trying to adjust to the lamplight.

Duncan and Methos were in the middle of the bed, staring at each other. They’d banged heads.

“Ow!” Methos said.

“Are you all right? I was having a dream that the ghouls were pulling you into their world.”

“I was dreaming the same thing…”

They sat there, staring at each other, in a tangle of sheet and blankets. Trying to get their breathing under control as the nightmare faded.

“The same nightmare?” Mac wondered. “Or very similar. Due to the shared double Quickening?”

He found it ironic that they were here in bed together, sweaty and with racing hearts, but not in the way that Noor expected.

Duncan reached out. Methos didn’t pull back. They both moved into the embrace and held tightly. They could have stayed like that for a long time, but Mac could feel exhaustion coming off Methos in waves. At least it wasn’t fever heat.

Their bond and the first part of their dream was responsible for what Duncan did next. He said, “Come on, you need more sleep,” and gently guided him back down to the mattress, keeping his arms around him, apart from a brief release of grip to sort out the blankets.

There was a pause. Methos said, partly into his shoulder, “We’re hugging.”

“Aye.”

“Horizontally.”

“I don’t mind. It feels great. But if you don’t want it, we can stop.” He could feel that Methos liked their embrace, but perhaps it was too much, too soon.

There was a pause. Methos shifted a bit and Duncan was about to release him, but then he realised Methos was just settling in.

“This is fine,” the old man said.

“Good, because I like it a lot.”

Methos made a sleepy noise of agreement.

Their breathing slowed, hearts beating in synch.

“I’m so glad you’re all right, Methos.”

“And us?” It was a whisper, in a cautious tone.

Duncan was surprised – couldn’t Methos feel that? But they were still getting used to their bond, and with some things, it was best to say them as well. “We’re all right too.”

He pressed a kiss to Methos’ forehead. Methos snuggled in like a very contented cat, then went to sleep.

xXx

Around dawn, Duncan reluctantly disentangled himself and went to the bathroom. An adorably rumpled Methos took his turn, then came back into bed, where Duncan was waiting.

“Are you cold? Do you want the spare blanket?” Mac asked.

“Don’t need it,” Methos said in a smug tone. “I’ve got you. Or do you want to go for a run?”

“Not this morning. Noor told me that we should have a lazy morning and she’ll bring us lunch.”

“How lazy?” Methos enquired, looking thoughtful and curious as they resumed their hold.

“That depends on you. I suggest we doze for another hour or two, then have some breakfast. After that, we can return to bed if you like, and see what comes up…”

Methos gave a wicked grin. “Yes, I would like to get to know you better, in good time before Noor turns up with lunch.”

xXx

Post-breakfast, back in bed:

Duncan’s lips had moved on from Methos’ forehead.

At one point during their frenzied kissing, Duncan pulled back and regarded the sight in front of him. He joked, “Maybe we should stop – you’re all red and hot and sweaty again. You could be having a relapse.”

“What I do probably have, despite extensive showering, is that damn powder in my orifices.”

“Then I’d better do a thorough check.”

Ten perfectly delightful minutes for all concerned later:

“What’s worn beneath the kilt?” Methos remarked, then answered his own question, “Nothing – it’s all in perfect working order!”

Soon, all talk had stopped and a lot of moaning and heavy breathing had taken its place.

In the depths of their passion, they glowed. Literally – their Quickenings were visible, dancing between them like sunlight on water. Entwined and joyful. Duncan realised he could feel Methos’ own pleasure, as well as seeing and hearing it.

Afterwards, the glow was still somewhat evident on their skin. When they finally regained the powers of speech, a still stunned-looking Methos commented, “I’ve never heard of or seen that before – never experienced that before. That was incredible.”

“I wonder if that’s going to happen each time we make love?”

“I guess we’d better find out! More research is needed.”

“What if the glow DOESN’T fade and we have to walk around in public like thi- mmmph!”

xXx

From the ‘research’ they had managed to conduct so far that morning, they discovered that they did cease glowing a few minutes after each climax. “Talk about afterglow,” Duncan said.

“Bright boy, or boys, literally.”

After a while, they curled up together to doze and chat.

Methos asked, “Did I hear Noor saying at some point that she’d punch me in the crotch or was I imagining it? Or was she talking about Cortez again?”

“She said she would have done that if she’d known you in your bad old days, not now. Though if I hurt you, I’m sure she’ll punch me there.”

“What can I say? That’s my protective little sister.”

“Noor did give us her blessing.”

“Good. We’d better be up, showered and presentable when she arrives.”

xXx

Lunchtime:

When she saw them, clearly a couple and happy, Noor got a look of satisfaction on her face that surpassed even her ‘I-punched-Cortez’ expression. “So, I don’t have to bang your heads together after all.”

Methos replied wryly, “No, we managed to do that all by ourselves.”

“I’m tempted to ask if that’s a euphemism, but I’d better mind my business.” Then she saw Methos was rubbing his forehead in remembrance, and she blurted out, “You actually did do that?” She then let out an exasperated burst of words in some arcane language, before muttering, “Eager idiots. Coordination affected by hormones…”

Neither idiot corrected her that the cracking of craniums was due to a nightmare and not lust.

After eating lunch, Noor said, “If you two get bored in-between trying every Karma Sutra position this afternoon, I’ve brought along my knitting bag. Feel free to pick a project each to work on.”

“Sure thing, Granny,” Methos replied.

“Watch it, Youth.”

xXx

When Noor returned, both men were so absorbed in their respective knitting that they were surprised that it was approaching evening.

In-between knitting and love-making (making sure the two didn’t mix), they had explored their mental bond, trying to work out what they could and couldn’t do with it. They could block it if they wished.

Methos also opened up to Duncan about his friends from in that long-ago village, happy memories.

xXx

Methos’ artefact did get the portal closed. Noor stayed behind at the chateau to supervise the sealing up of the cavern, as a further precaution.

She sent the boys home, with a promise to visit them soon. While she was saying goodbye, she commented that they were glowing, but she was too busy delivering hugs to notice the alarmed looks the pair gave each other over her head, checking to see if their Quickenings really were visible. Fortunately, she wasn’t being literal.

xXx

It was good to be back in Paris. While stopped at traffic lights, Duncan saw his lover looking at the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

“I remember when it used to be painted red,” Methos said.

“Same here.”

Then they got into the barge and focused on other mighty erections instead.

xXx

THE END (Part 8 of 8).