Date: Fri, 17 Nov 1995 15:34:06 -0600 Reply-To: Julia Kosatka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Julia Kosatka Subject: Daybreak, 1/4 ADULT WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated! WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated! This story is a sequel to our X-Files/Highlander/Star Trek: Next Generation stories "In the Dark" and "Into the Light" Though time-wise it actually fits into "Into the Light" before the epilogue, we felt that it works better as a separate story so we are presenting it as such. Additional Warning!!! There is explicit homoerotic content herein, which some may find disturbing, so if you are among those people who find the loving depiction of human sexuality offensive, either do NOT read this story, or get someone who doesn't mind to black out all the juicy parts for you before you read it. If you're underage, get parental permission to read it. Don't flame us if you're silly enough to go ahead and read it after we warned you, and then get offended by it. This story copyright 1995 by the authors. Highlander is a trademark of Rysher Entertainment, characters not used by permission. Star Trek: The Next Generation is a trademark of Paramount, Inc., characters not used by permission. Kellie Matthews-Simmons Julia Kosatka ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- C. 1995 JEK & KMS Daybreak (A sequel to "Into the Light") by Kellie Matthews-Simmons and Julia Kosatka Duncan opened the oven and peered inside to check on the cassoulet he'd put in half-an-hour earlier. He couldn't see it very well so he leaned closer, and managed to burn his forearm on the rack. Reflexively he yanked his arm away and knocked the skillet off the stove. The mushrooms he'd been sauteing went everywhere. With a sigh, he cleaned up the mess and wondered why he was even bothering to fix dinner. It had been nearly six hours since Methos had left the house. He'd missed lunch, was about to miss dinner, and he had the kind of metabolism that demanded frequent maintenance. Duncan was starting to worry. He knew it was silly, really. It wasn't likely that an Immortal could be harmed by wind or weather, but still, it was his fault Methos was gone, and he knew it. It had been a stupid argument to begin with, but his stubborn streak had manifested and he'd been utterly pigheaded, refusing to acknowledge Methos' point of view. Without Guinan's moderating influence, the argument had escalated into a full-fledged fight, ending with Methos storming out of the house in frustration. The instant the door had slammed shut behind him, Duncan had regretted the whole thing, but his pride had kept him from going after Methos to apologize. He figured he'd just wait until he got back. But now with the storm gathering, he was feeling guilty, and worried. He suspected that Methos would probably be amused that he was worrying about him, but that didn't stop him from doing it. The rumble of thunder from overhead spurred him to action. He was pretty sure he knew where Methos had gone. There was a shepherd's shelter up on The Cailleach where he went when he wanted to be alone. It was difficult to reach, virtually assuring privacy, but Duncan knew the place well enough to get there. He made his decision, grabbed his cloak and stepped outside, hoping the rain would hold off long enough for him to make it over the talus field. His luck held true to the day's pattern. He was halfway across the steep gradient of rock and gravel when the sky let loose with a vengeance. His cloak soaked through in a matter of moments, becoming astonishingly heavy, the wool acting as a sort of sponge. He discarded it so it wouldn't throw him off balance on the wet, slick rocks. He kept on, doggedly, slipping several times, gashing his palms and knees. Fortunately they healed quickly enough that they didn't hinder him. The twisted ankle did slow him down a bit, deep-tissue injuries took longer to heal than superficial cuts. He was also getting cold, cold enough to shiver. He hated that. Hypothermia was not a pleasant experience. As he finally left the rocks behind, he felt Presence and knew he'd been right, Methos was near. A moment later he sensed an electric tingle that had nothing to do with another immortal. Realizing he was the tallest object in sight, he flung himself flat seconds before the world exploded into searing brilliance around him. **** Pain. God... everything hurt, from his toes to his teeth. Even his eyelashes hurt. He groaned, but no sound came out. Something was dripping on his face, though apparently not on the rest of him. Puzzled, he opened his eyes to find Methos staring down at him. His hair was soaking wet, which explained what was dripping onto Duncan's face. His expression was as thunderous as the sky had been, but he looked like a hologram on mute. His lips were moving but no sound emerged. After a moment Duncan realized that Methos was speaking, he just couldn't hear him. The thunderclap must have temporarily deafened him. He wondered how long that would take to heal. He shook his head gingerly, hoping his skull would stay in one piece. "I can't hear you," he said. At least, he thought he had. It felt odd to speak, to feel the vibration of sound in his throat and on his lips, yet to hear nothing. Methos scowled, but his lips stopped moving. It must have been at least marginally intelligible. Duncan stifled another groan. He'd rarely felt this bad. The last time he could recall feeling this bad, he'd fallen off a cliff. Coming back from that one had been hell. Coming back... struggling a little, he lifted his head and looked down at himself. His clothing bore scorch marks. It dawned on him suddenly that the lightning might not have missed. He looked questioningly at Methos and read confirmation in his gaze, and in his nod. Shit. No wonder he felt so bad. He closed his eyes and lay as still as humanly possible, trying to breathe shallowly so it didn't hurt. After a little while, a painful popping sensation seared first one ear, then the other, and suddenly he could hear again. He heard water. A lot of it, rushing... probably the rain. He heard an almost continuous grumble of thunder. He heard Methos muttering. "... damned stupid moron. Idiot." "Yeah," Duncan agreed, his voice sounding raw even to his own ears. "That's me." Methos turned and looked at him. "You heard me?" "Hearing's back on-line. The rest of me is another story." "What the hell did you think you were doing, out on a mountainside in a thunderstorm?" Methos snapped, still fuming. "Looking for you." "What for?" Methos asked suspiciously. "I wanted to apologize, and I was worried about you." Methos stared at him, mouth open, looking rather stunned. "Well, I do occasionally, you know," he muttered, a little annoyed by Methos' response. "What, worry, or apologize?" Methos asked. Duncan lifted an eyebrow and Methos' trademark smile dented one corner of his mouth. "Well, you're not exactly known for your apologies," he said drily. "Maybe I shouldn't have bothered." "No, no, sorry! It just surprised me. I shouldn't be surly." "Why not? I was." Methos mouth curved in a slight smile. "Yeah, but surly looks better on you. You've got the face for it." Duncan eyed him sourly. "Well, I'd say you do a pretty good job of it yourself on occasion." Feeling at a disadvantage, he struggled to sit up. Methos put a hand behind his back and helped him maneuver into a sitting position. Once he'd attained it, Methos' hand lingered on his shoulder a moment. "You scared me," he said quietly, staring into his eyes. "Some forms of lightning are pretty close to the same thing as a phaser-blast. It could have killed you. Permanently." Duncan stared back, shaken. "God, you're right! That never even occurred to me!" "How did you ever get to be the age you are being that thoughtless?" Duncan shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "Just lucky, I guess. It was pretty stupid, wasn't it? I didn't want to leave things like they were. I was just being stubborn." "When aren't you stubborn?" Methos asked, shaking his head. He stood up and walked over to the open door of the cabin where he stared out at the rain in silence. Duncan didn't quite know what to do or say at that point. He'd apologized, but Methos hadn't actually accepted it. He could push the point, but that might do more harm than good. Maybe he should just leave it as it was. The aches and soreness in his muscles were beginning to abate, probably in a few more minutes he'd be fine again and he could leave Methos in peace. But then, that would involve going out in the thunderstorm again, and he suspected that Methos would physically bar him from leaving the cabin before the storm ended. He was stuck. As Methos had said, he hadn't been thinking very clearly when he'd come up. He watched Methos' back with an internal sigh of resignation. Somehow he'd thought that once he apologized, everything would be fine and back to normal again. Though, come to think of it, things hadn't been normal for awhile. He'd noticed Methos' increasing irritability, and when Guinan had taken the kids to the reunion it had gotten much worse, as if her presence had been the only stabilizing factor. In fact, things were starting to remind him of the period just before the last big fight he'd had with Methos, two hundred years earlier. That thought sent a shock through him, and he realized he couldn't afford to just ignore the symptoms any more. He had to act. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly. "Nothing's wrong." Methos replied, without turning around. "Yes, there is, and you know it." "I don't want to talk about it." Duncan clenched his teeth, and managed to get to his feet. A little shakily he made his way over to where Methos stood, and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not letting this slide, Methos. We are going to talk about this." At that Methos finally turned around, and Duncan was surprised by the pain he saw in his friend's normally untroubled gaze. There was some anger there as well, but mostly what he saw was a bone-deep unhappiness. "Fine, you want to know what's wrong? I am." "What do you mean?" "I've been thinking about leaving." Duncan felt as if he'd just been poleaxed. He stared at Methos for what felt like forever, and finally found his voice. "What? For God's sake, why?" Methos sighed and shook his head, turning away again. "I don't belong here. I'm not needed, I'm in the way. The classic third wheel." "No you're not!" "Yes, I am, and even if I weren't, I wouldn't stay. I'm just not happy." That came as a shock. Duncan had been happy, almost too happy, he had things he'd never dreamed he'd really have. It had never occurred to him that Methos might not be equally content. Immediately he began to wonder if it was something he'd done. As if reading his mind, Methos spoke again. "It's not you, or Guinan, not really. It's me. I thought I could be content with things as they stood, but as time goes on I find I can't. I find myself getting jealous, getting petty... and I don't like it." Duncan shook off his paralysis. "You can't leave, Methos! What would we do without you?" "You'll be fine without me. I don't really belong here anyway, I'm an afterthought." Duncan was stunned to find out that Methos felt this way. He felt a bit panicked at the thought of him leaving. Perhaps he hadn't made it clear enough how much he meant to him. "Methos, you're not an afterthought! You're part of us!" Methos gave a derisive snort as a reply. Duncan felt his temper rising and caught Methos by the arm. "Damn it! You're part of us, you can't just leave! It would be like cutting off an arm!" "No, it wouldn't. I'm not that important to any of you." "Methos, you are! You're important to me!" Methos looked away. "Not important enough." Duncan thought about that, and slowly he began to realize what might lie at the heart of this. The same thing that had lain at the heart of their last fight, had he but known it then. Something he had thought didn't matter, but he was beginning to realize that it did. He remembered their first night together, remembered Methos words; "If I do this, it's as much because I want to make love to you as I do to Guinan. Can you accept that?" As it had turned out, he hadn't quite been able to... nor had they ever dealt with that. Methos had said he'd wait, but he couldn't be expected to wait forever. That had been five years ago. Duncan had gotten close, many times, but had never quite been able to make that move. He'd never been able to admit that half his reluctance stemmed from sheer ignorance. Clearly, it was time to stop procrastinating. "Methos, you mean a lot to me. More, perhaps, than I had realized until faced with losing you. Please, don't go. I want you to stay with us... with me." Methos turned and studied him, eyes narrowed. He read the invitation in Duncan's eyes and his mouth hardened. "Fuck that, Duncan! I don't need you to do this out of some misguided sense of nobility!" "What makes you think that's what it is?" "I know you. It's your nature." Duncan drew a breath, trying to calm himself. Two could play at this. "Just like it's yours to run and hide whenever things don't go quite right?" Methos flinched from the truth in Duncan's words, but didn't speak. "What about Daria?" Duncan asked quietly. "She needs you." Methos looked at him steadily. "No, she doesn't need me. She goes to you or to Guinan when she wants anything. To be honest, I've never been quite sure what to do with her. It's not that I don't love her, I'd give my life for her if it were needed, I just don't have the same way with her that you two do." Duncan couldn't really argue with that. It was true that Daria tended to favor him or Guinan over Methos when she scraped her knee, or wanted cuddling. But that was irrelevant. "She loves you Methos, she'll miss you." Methos' mouth thinned. "At first, perhaps. She'll get used to not having me here. It's more... usual." "Methos! She's your daughter! She needs you." "Don't, Duncan." Methos said warningly. "You can't just leave her..." in his mind he was saying `You can't leave us,' but he thought Daria would work better as emotional blackmail. "I'd come back to visit, of course, but I just can't handle this any more!" Feeling slightly desperate, Duncan tried another tactic. "Why should you be the one who leaves? I was always the one who moved around. You like to stay put, you like security. If anyone should leave, it should be me." "Bullshit! Don't give me that crap, Duncan! You're a born parent!" "Maybe I am, but I know I wouldn't have been able to get through the last five years without you." "Yes, you would have. You always rise to the occasion, Duncan. Sometimes it's damned hard living in your shadow." Methos sighed, and turned away again, looking back out into the rain. When he spoke again his voice was softer, laced with resignation. "No, it's best if I leave. Perhaps some distance will let me deal with my own emotions." Duncan sensed the sudden change from anger to sadness, and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to convey his own pain, his own need. Touching him felt right. He'd done it for years. Why hadn't he ever taken that last step, crossed that last bridge? Now it was too late. He increased the pressure on Methos' shoulder, forcing him to turn toward him, and he saw the shimmer of tears in his eyes. He couldn't think of anything to do that would convince him, anything that would convey his sincerity. If it were Guinan, he would... The thought stopped him. What difference was there? Guinan, Methos, they were both his partners. He loved both of them. Slowly he moved his hand upward from Methos' shoulder to his jaw, then he leaned forward to claim his lips. Methos turned away so Duncan's lips grazed his jaw instead. His stiffly-held shoulders and set mouth told Duncan he was angry, and his words confirmed it. "Don't do me any favors, MacLeod, I know your heart's not in it." MacLeod? How many years had it been since Methos had last referred to him that way? Duncan's anger torqued itself tighter. "So you've become an empath after all this time, have you? Where the hell do you get off telling me what I feel?" "If you were interested, you'd have done something about it before this." Duncan couldn't think of a good answer for that... nothing except the truth. Perhaps it was time for that. Looking at his partner steadily, he said what he'd never been able to say before. "Maybe I didn't know how, damn it!" *** Methos' eyes narrowed as he studied Duncan's face searchingly. He'd gotten very good at reading Duncan over the years, and he knew what to look for to catch him in a lie. He wasn't lying. His eyebrows lifted. "You're telling the truth!" Duncan nodded, a faint flush on his face. God, if there was anything in the world Duncan hated, it was revealing ignorance, about anything. Methos felt a smile lift one corner of his mouth. "It's pretty much the same, you know." Duncan thought about that, and nodded finally. "Ah, yeah, I guess so, but..." "Exactly," Methos interrupted, his smile becoming a grin. Duncan groaned and shook his head. "Methos!" "Sorry, couldn't resist. Duncan... you know I'd be happy to teach you." "I'm kind of an experiential learner." Duncan shot back. "I'd rather learn by doing." "No! Really?" Methos chuckled. "God, Duncan, you're so damned `butch,' as they'd have put it a couple of centuries ago. That's what it really boils down to, isn't it? You don't know how to make the first move, but you're not willing to be the passive partner either?" Duncan looked a little sheepish. "Um... that about sums it up, yes." Methos shook his head, this was so Duncan. "Well, there's a solution for that." Duncan lifted his eyebrows, waiting, and Methos reached out to touch the curve of his cheekbone, fingers rasping on stubble. "You just need someone who's willing to let you take that role. I will be whatever you need me to be, Duncan." He couldn't look Methos in the face. "I know," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "But I don't know if I can be what you need me to be. I'm afraid I'd hurt you." "Have you ever hurt Guinan? Have you ever hurt a woman you were with?" Duncan looked up. "I don't think so, not intentionally, anyway. But it's not the same." Methos suppressed a sigh. "Yes, it is. It's exactly the same! Duncan, I've been with you more times than I can count, and I know you better than that! You're far too careful a lover to hurt your partner. You told me once that you'd wondered what it would be like, I'm offering you the chance to find out." Duncan closed his eyes. "I know, Methos, I know. And part of me wants to, but part of me's asking what the hell I think I'm doing! You're..." he stopped suddenly, an odd look on his face. "What?" Methos prompted, suspecting that whatever Duncan was thinking, it was at the heart of the problem. "I just realized the strangest thing. Every time I look at you, my protective instincts kick in!" "Why?" Methos asked, puzzled. "Because you look so damned young! Logically I know you're older than I am, but somehow I can't seem to convince my emotions of that. And if you're `younger' then what you want me to do would be wrong, it would be taking advantage of you." Methos just stared for a moment, then he started to laugh. He kept on laughing until there were tears running down his face and his abdomen ached. Duncan regarded him sourly. "It wasn't that funny, Methos." Methos waved a hand in his direction and gasped for air, finally managing to catch his breath enough to reply. "Oh God, Duncan. If only you knew how many times I've thought almost the exact same thing about you! Comparatively, you're just a baby." Duncan scowled. "I'm not a..." he began. Methos interrupted him before he could get it out. "I know that, but think about it. I'm nearly forty-four hundred years older than you are. Talk about robbing the cradle! Hell, with you, even Amanda would be run up for corrupting a minor!" "All right, Methos! I get the point!" "Do you? Duncan, I've done things you could never even imagine..." "I don't know, I have a pretty good imagination." Methos grinned, knowing exactly where to slide the blade in. "Yeah, you talk a good game." Duncan was blank for a moment, then a flash of indignation chased across his face, followed by a narrowing of his eyes. Methos resisted the urge to grin, knowing Duncan had just picked up the figurative gauntlet he'd thrown. It felt good to have finally told Duncan what was wrong. Guinan knew, she had to. How could she not, as an empath? But she hadn't tried to interfere, knowing this was something they would have to work out between the two of them. He wondered if her trip had been planned with this confrontation in mind. A particularly brilliant sheet of lightning turned everything an incandescent purple, and the cabin shook with the report of the thunder. Methos took a step back from the door, blinking to clear his vision. "Looks like neither of us is going anywhere anytime soon. I guess we might as well get comfortable." He crossed the room to the hearth and added a couple of small logs to the fire, then snagged his wineskin from where it lay and tossed it to Duncan. Unsurprisingly, he caught it, and before Methos thought to warn him, he'd drawn the cap and upended the skin. A stream of cobalt-blue =========================================================================