This is a vignette of what might have happened if Duncan had not regained his speech so soon in Rory's beloved story, "Innocence of Love."
FOUR THE ENGINE...continued
©Ewing, Mary
Methos and Amanda walked on either side of the excited younger Immortal. There was just so much to see and smell and feel and touch, Duncan didn't quite know where to start.
The two Immortals kept a close eye on Duncan. He was doing very well, but once in a while, he'd stumble. His coordination and strength wasn't up to his optimum, but that didn't stop him from running after a squirrel and squealing with delight when he saw a balloon floating in the clear blue sky.
Adam bought some popcorn and held out the sack for his companions. "Want some?"
Amanda smiled and dug her hand into the sack, removing a handful and munching on the salted, puffed kernels. Duncan came over to inspect what his uncle and friend were eating. He reached in and took a few in his hand. Mac chewed on it and decided he liked it, so he reached back into the bag and pulled out a fistful of the treat.
"Well," Amanda chuckled, "at least we've found something he likes. I don't recall ever seeing MacLeod eat popcorn before."
The eldest Immortal smiled and dug into the sack himself. "After all, Amanda, he's in his second childhood."
The Highland bairn in question noticed he'd become popular with two seagulls that seemed to float in the air above him. He paused and held up a kernel which one of them quickly snagged. Duncan looked back at his friends who were a hundred yards away and grinned. Adam nodded and waved in recognition of Mac's achievement.
The Raven felt moisture form in the corners of her eyes and turned away so that the Scot wouldn't see her crying. Adam saw her reaction and understood her emotion. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders.
"It's okay to cry, Amanda." he quietly said.
She sniffed and accepted his handkerchief from his duster's pocket. "I know; it's a female's prerogative to cry. It's just... it's so hard to see him like this..." her voice cracked and trailed off.
"I know it is, but he's progressing, Amanda. We have to be thankful for the little achievements and hope they turn into big ones."
Meanwhile, unnoticed by the two adults who had their backs momentarily turned to MacLeod, three boys approached the Highlander. All of them were about ten years of age and were carrying baseball gloves and bats, in addition to a ball that was crammed into the pants' pocket of a black haired one named Allen. He was on the chubby side and wore an old pair of blue jeans and shirt that had been washed at least fifty times. He carried his bat over his left shoulder. One of his other chums, a crew cut blond named Chick wore a pair of designer jeans and a white T-shirt with its sleeves rolled up to accentuate his muscular arms. He was definitely the leader of the group. A practiced eye would know he had an air of superiority and was a bit of a bully.
However, it was the third lad who caught Duncan's eye. This one was somewhat smaller and had a shock of bright red curls atop a freckled face. His eyes were as blue as the sky. Duncan couldn't remember who the child favored but felt as though he knew him. Mac turned around to look for his guardian. Adam still had his back turned, talking to Amanda.
"Hey, I'm talkin' to ya, Mister." Chick demanded. He boldly walked up to Duncan and pushed him. It was as though the blond instantly knew there was something wrong with the man and was ready to assert his aggressiveness. "Gimme some of yer popcorn."
"Yeah, mister, share some with us." chimed in Allen. He crowded Duncan on his left side.
Duncan began backing up, confused and frightened by the youngsters. He uneasily looked for his Uncle Adam, but the elder man still wasn't looking Duncan's way. The Scot opened and closed his mouth but no sound came out. He was confused and did not like these boys. He wanted them to leave him alone.
"Come on, Dude, fork up some popcorn and while yer at it, gimme yer cash, too. Fella wearing fine threads like these," his dirty fingers reached up and rubbed Mac's red silk shirt. "has cash." Chick kept goading Duncan and backing him further and further away from the other Immortals and closer to the water. Duncan's popcorn fell unheeded to the ground.
"Chick, why don't we let him alone." prompted the redhead, speaking for the first time. "I think somethin's wrong with him; maybe he's a retard or something."
"Naw, there's nothin' wrong with him; he's just scared." Backing the Highlander up even further towards the water's edge, Chick poked the adult in the ribs. "Hey, pretty boy, what's a matter? Cat got yer tongue, huh?"
By this time Allen, who existed in the stronger boy's shadow, joined in the taunts of the helpless Highlander. Both of them jeered and heckled MacLeod until the Immortal folded up in a heap on the rocky shore. Hot tears of shame and frustration poured from his eyes; Duncan helplessly and silently sobbed.
"Hey, hey, what's a matter, scaredy-cat? Can't you defend yerself?"
By now, the redhead was tugging on his friend's arm. "Come on, Chick, let him alone. Can't you see he's cryin'?"
Adam, at last, glanced back to check on MacLeod. To his consternation, he immediately saw that the younger man, now cowering at the edge of the water, was surrounded by three young boys. "Hey, let him alone!" he called and broke into a run towards them.
Chick and Allen quickly ran off but the third one who'd tried to stop the others lingered. He reached down and patted MacLeod on the back, feeling the adult shaking beneath his small hand. "I'm sorry for what happened; it's gonna be all right; you'll be okay."
Pierson reached the Highlander first and knelt beside the emotionally distraught Immortal. He pulled him into his arms and murmured soothing phrases to him in an effort to calm the Scot down. Amanda was only a few steps behind the ancient. She confronted the last boy.
"What were you kids doing to Duncan?" she demanded, her fists doubled up on her hips.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. We were on our way home from a ball game. Chick started pestering him; he does that sort of thing with folks who can't defend themselves." His young voice faltered. "I'm sorry." he again told the Scot and touched him on the shoulder. He turned to Pierson who still held Duncan in his arms. "He's been hurt, hasn't he, Mister?" he asked of the other man, a knowing tone in his young voice.
Adam looked up from brushing Duncan's long hair out of his tear stained face. "Yes, he has."
Amanda asked, "How did you know?"
"My brother came back from the Persian Gulf War actin' kinda like that. He wasn't as bad but he had a rough time of it, too." the youngster quietly replied.
"What's your name, son?" Amanda asked.
"Richie, Richie Blanchard."
The youngster failed to notice the lovely woman's face suddenly pale. The boy was so much like Richie Ryan, Duncan's former student. He was as considerate of other people's feelings also as the other redhead had been.
"I hope he's gonna be okay, Lady. He seems real nice; I feel sorry for him."
Adam looked over Duncan's shoulder. "He will be, Richie. Thanks for your concern."
"Anytime, but, hey, I gotta get home before my mom hides me; dinner's at six and we're having fried chicken." The boy started to run off, but paused to wave at the three Immortals one last time.
Methos lifted Duncan's chin until the younger man's weeping doe eyes met his hazel ones. "We're going home, Duncan. It's almost supper time for us, too. You're okay now; the boys are gone. I won't leave you again; I promise."
MacLeod's silent question was, << Do you promise?>>
"Yes, I promise, Duncan." he answered, as if hearing the lad speak.
It was another fifteen minutes before Amanda and Methos were able to help MacLeod home to the loft. Once there, Adam hustled him into a warm shower while Amanda fixed him a milk shake and turned the bed linen down.
Methos wrapped a large towel around the Scot's wet, trembling body and walked with him out into the loft. He helped him put on a pair of briefs and then sat him on the edge of the bed. Amanda handed the Highlander a glass of the thickened malt which he sipped until almost one third of the drink was gone.
Duncan didn't want anymore; he just wanted to go to bed and sleep and forget what had happened. He swung his legs around onto the mattress and rolled over onto his side while his uncle pulled the covers up over his shoulders. It wasn't long until the two adults could hear his soft snores signaling his sleep. Even so, Methos and Amanda sat on either side of their friend. Both of them wanted to reassure Mac and themselves that they would look after him and not allow a repetition of the appalling scene at the park.
Joe Dawson's husky voice droned on as he read "Thomas Tells A Lie" to Duncan. The Watcher sat on the leather couch with MacLeod right next to him. The Scot's chin was perched on Dawson's left shoulder while his hand would pause the reader now and then so he could look at the corresponding picture.
Dawson had acted on impulse and stopped off at a local bookstore before coming to see Duncan. He'd recalled how much the Scot loved books and was an avid reader. It stood to reason he'd enjoy being read to.
The nice lady in the children's section had helped him make his selections. It had been almost fifteen years since he'd bought one for his niece, Lynn.
Adam set the sandwiches and chips on the table and went to pour Duncan a glass of milk. He couldn't help but grin. Joe had been reading to Mac for almost an hour, ever since he'd arrived, bringing a sack full of picture and preschool books for Duncan. Dawson had also brought two puzzles. The pieces were thick and large so that Duncan's still somewhat clumsy fingers could put them together.
Whenever Joe finished a book, Duncan carefully took it from him, laid it on his own lap and turned each page again slowly, savoring the pictures and probably recreating the story in his own mind.
" 'Peep, peep!' says Thomas. 'Safety is our first concern.' The end." Joe finished and dutifully handed the book to his captivated audience of one. The story had been about a train and how it found out that it was important to always be truthful.
Instead of taking this one, however, the Highlander made a noise and opened it back to its beginning. He wanted his Uncle Joe to read it again. Dawson's booming laughter coincided with Adam's.
"Joe, I would say you have an insatiable audience. At the rate you're going, you won't make it to the club in time for the first set."
"I think you're right, Adam."
Dawson looked at MacLeod. The Scot had hung his head and had his lower lip protruding in a sulk.
"I'll tell you what, Duncan. Let's eat and then I'll read it one more time." He lifted Mac's face up under his chin. "Uncle Joe has to go to work, but I'll come by later and sing you a song before you go to sleep. How about that?"
A heart-thumping grin now beamed on MacLeod's face. His next favorite thing he enjoyed his Uncle Joe doing was singing to him and playing his guitar.
Dawson laid the book aside and reached for his cane to get himself up from the couch. A helpful and loving Highlander reached for the Watcher's other arm and helped him.
"Thank you, Duncan. You're very thoughtful."
Now eager for the bologna sandwiches his other guardian had made, Duncan skipped over to the table and plopped down in his chair.
"Duncan, did you wash your hands?" Pierson asked.
The youngster shook his head no and drug his feet over to the sink to wash up. Unka Adam never forgets nothin' he thought. My hands aren't dirty.
Amanda sniffed and wiped her tears away with the tissue Methos handed her. She checked her purse for her ticket as she once again heard the call for all passengers to board Flight 279 for Paris at Gate 4.
"Well, I guess that's me." This was the part she dreaded the most. Turning to the handsome, Highland man-child, the pert thief hugged Duncan's neck. "I love you, Duncan MacLeod, never forget that."
The younger Immortal had been all eyes and ears for his first visit to an airport. He hadn't understood exactly why they came here or why Amanda had all her things packed. Now, he knew; she was going away. Duncan sensed this wasn't the first time she'd left him, nor would it be the last. Speech was still a skill he'd not achieved, so, instead, he hugged her neck and ignored the watery tears trickling down his face.
"Adam, I'm sorry I have to leave, but Liam told me it was urgent. Nick has been drunk the whole time I've been gone. I feel responsible for him, Adam." she explained for the tenth time.
Methos, an odd grin on his regal face, quipped, "Amanda feels responsible?"
The woman smiled and gave the ancient Immortal a quick kiss on the cheek. "I know, it's not the real Amanda, but I've not been the same since I met that cop."
"You really love him, don't you." the astute man observed.
She nodded her blond head. "But, I'll always love Duncan and you, too, Adam." She swung her eyes over to Duncan. "Take care of him, Methos." she whispered in the slender man's ear. She hugged the Scot one last time and rushed off for the gate and the plane.
Methos saw Duncan wave wiggly fingers bye to the beautiful woman as his tears continued to flow. He drew the younger man into his embrace and hugged him tightly. "She'll come back, Duncan." he told him.
In his child's mind, Duncan returned, "She always does; she's my best friend."
It didn't occur to the youngster that he had just experienced his first, coherent, adult thought; nor was he, sadly, able to share it with his guardian.
The two men watched the plane taxi down the runway; it wasn't long before the big bird lifted into the sky. Methos turned to his companion. "Did you enjoy coming here today, Duncan?"
The Highlander nodded furiously and grinned. His Uncle Adam had promised to take him by Uncle Joe's for a little while before they went back home. He was looking forward to that, too.
As the Immortals retraced their steps to MacLeod's antique Thunderbird, Methos paused and visibly searched for the Immortal he'd just felt. It disappeared as quickly as it had happened, so Methos tightly held MacLeod's hand and quickly increased their pace to the awaiting car.
"Do you have any idea who it was, Adam?" Joe asked as he set a glass of orange juice on the table in front of Duncan and a mug of beer down for Methos.
"No, I don't, Joe. It's got me worried. What if it's someone after Duncan?"
Dawson eased himself to a chair and waved at Sam to watch the bar for him. "Do you want me to put some feelers out? See if anyone's in town that we know of?"
"Would you? I'd appreciate it, Joe." The troubled look on the eldest Immortal's face eased a bit. "I really didn't want to go to the island this soon. At least, not until Duncan can talk. I'll have an even harder time keeping up with him."
The Watcher nodded. "Yeah, and with you guys up there, I wouldn't be able to sit with him either. It's a shame Amanda had to leave."
Methos grinned. "This is off subject, I know, but I think she's really fallen in love this time."
An elegant lift of an eyebrow signaled the Watcher's surprise at the news. "The ex-cop, Nick Wolfe?"
Pierson nodded. "Yeah, Father Riley in Paris contacted her this morning. It seems our newest Immortal wasn't handling the news very well. He's been stoned ever since it happened."
"And our girl took off to go take care of him."
"Yep. Would you believe that? Course, I know she hated to leave Duncan."
Joe sipped his cup of black coffee. "She and Mac go back a long way. You know, a couple years ago, I would've sworn they'd have tied the knot, but they didn't."
"Mac and Amanda have a special relationship but I think both of them are aware they can't be around each other indefinitely. At least not the way he was with Tessa."
At the mention of his dead lover, Duncan's head bobbed up from the board puzzle Joe had bought him. An image of a tall, blonde woman wearing a heavy apron and goggles and holding some kind of rod in her hand came to his mind. He wasn't aware that his dark, olive toned skin had paled until his Uncle Adam slipped his arm around his shoulders and asked,
"Duncan, are you all right?"
MacLeod's headache had come back, the one he always got when he tried to remember stuff. He pressed his fisted hands up to the sides of his head but it wouldn't go away. The lovely lady told him, "I love you, Duncan." in a funny accent he didn't recognize.
"Duncan, are you remembering something?" a concerned Pierson asked.
The Highlander slowly nodded his head and pointed to the image of a girl in his picture puzzle, one with blonde hair.
"Tessa? Was it Tessa?" he asked.
A confused expression marred the Scot's lovely countenance. At first he nodded, then shook his head and made a derisive noise and stomped out of the bar.
"Go ahead, Adam; I'll see you at the loft. I'll let Sam close up for me tonight."
Methos was already out of his chair and speeding from the establishment to catch up with the younger Immortal. He thought he hollered, "Thanks, Joe." but couldn't recall and didn't really care if he hadn't. Duncan couldn't be left alone.
MacLeod wasn't in his usual peak physical condition plus his mind was in a turmoil of confusion. For those reasons, Methos easily caught up with the youngster in the parking lot.
Duncan twisted and thrashed around, trying to squirm out of the Horseman's iron like grips on his upper arms.
"Duncan! Duncan, what is it?!"
The Scot shook his head in a frantic attempt to free his memories of the beautiful woman who had blood all over her blouse. Mac wriggled free but didn't get far before Methos tackled him. Both Immortals tumbled to the ground. Mac, somehow, ended up on his back, while Methos found himself lying on top of Duncan's appealing form.
At first, Mac's only awareness was the driveway's gravel biting into his back. Anon, he found a pair of hazel orbs brimming with love and devotion peering down upon him. They merely served to confuse him even more and flood his body with a tantalizing fascination with his Unka Adam's mouth.
As for the elder Immortal, Methos' psyche was upended by the brownish yellow tones of the Highlander's eyes. This was the man of his dreams beneath him; he had long had dreams of conquering MacLeod's near perfection body. The Immortal was beautiful in a masculine, non-feminine way.
Methos found himself dipping his thin, shapely lips onto the full, pouty, kissable ones of MacLeod's. His heavy, waving hair, his thick eyebrows that almost met whenever Duncan was either angry or upset about something roiled the old man's stomach. Mac's high cheek bones and forehead, to say nothing of the man's impelling gaze, shredded what resistance Methos had.
Duncan tasted as good as Methos had dreamt he would. The ancient's sensitive taste buds singled out the orange juice the Scot had just drank and the faintest blend of cloves Duncan always used in his cooking. With his well endowed proboscis, Methos even detected the fragrant aroma of sweet smelling heather and another blend of musk and leather that was inordinately Duncan MacLeod.
Duncan, on the other hand, had no idea what his Unka Adam was doing. All he knew was that he was enjoying it. Unka Adam's lips were soft and insistent as was his tongue that darted in and out of MacLeod's mouth.
The younger man tasted the beer his uncle had been drinking and the pretzels he'd been munching. His nostrils picked up various odors of desert sands and oases with small pools of water. Mac didn't know where the thoughts and images he was receiving came from. The only place he could recall was where he'd been living above the play room for grownups. The one thing he did know was that he liked what his uncle was doing. Duncan opened his mouth wider and lifted his hips up towards his guardian's.
Methos snapped as to what was happening when he felt MacLeod's hips grind up into his groin. He reluctantly retreated from his vulnerable position and panted, "No, we can't do this; it's not right."
Duncan's audible moan combined with his glittering eyes filled with confusion and desire. He turned over onto his side and curled up into a ball. << Unka Adam doesn't want me. >>
Pierson crawled over to the youngster and pulled Mac's shuddering body onto his lap. He rocked him to and fro and murmured, "It's okay, Duncan. I won't let anyone, including me, hurt you."
Methos had no idea that it wasn't fear that gripped the Highlander's body. It was the loss of warmth and the miscommunication that his beloved Uncle Adam no longer cared for him that was ravaging the boy's body.
FIVE
"Joe, I think I've screwed up." Methos confessed over the telephone to the Watcher.
"How's that, Adam?"
Methos turned towards the window where Duncan couldn't see his face. "I...he..." The Immortal wasn't sure where to start.
Dawson knew something was up. "Is Duncan okay? Did you catch up with him a while ago?"
"Yeah, I did, Joe; that's the trouble. I had to tackle him to get him to stop and then I kind of...landed on top of him and..."
"My God, Methos! Did you...?" All of a sudden, the man who'd thought he'd seen and heard it all lost his cool. "Dammit, man, did you...?"
"Rape him?! Of course not! What do you think I am?" the former Watcher demanded.
"Well, I know you love him." Dawson candidly observed.
"Well, yeah, I do love him," he hissed under his breath. "but I won't hurt him, not Mac, not like he is now."Joe waited a moment to allow the ancient to continue; when he didn't he prompted him. "What did happen, Adam?"
"I, ah, kissed him and he responded and..."
Dawson interrupted yet again. "I thought you didn't do anything!"
"Joe, please, just listen! I didn't do anything else; I stopped myself in time. It's just..." his baritone voice faded yet again.
"Adam?"
"I'm still here, Joe. I'm worried about Duncan." The truthful words at last bubbled out of Pierson's mouth. "He curled up into a ball when I pulled away from him. It was all I could do to get him back to the loft. He's lying on the bed sucking his thumb and hasn't moved." Methos cursed under his breath. "I don't know what to do."
"Hang in there, buddy; I'll be right over." Dawson soothed.
"Joe? Bring your guitar; Duncan likes you to play for him. I don't know of anything else to do."
The Watcher heard the heartfelt plea for help from the ancient. It seemed it didn't matter how long one lived; one didn't know any more about love and affairs of the heart after five thousand years than did Joe himself after only fifty-some-odd years of his own.
"Sam? I've got to go over to MacLeod's. Hold the fort down, okay?" he called over his shoulder, as he picked up his guitar case and exited out the side door to his van.
The black bartender shook his head and hoped everything would be all right. Nothing had been the same since the Highlander had gotten shot.
Within fifteen minutes, Joe Dawson's rocking gait swept him off the elevator and into the loft. Duncan lay on the bed facing away from him. Methos sat beside him, his hand absently rubbing the younger Immortal's back. The blues' guitarist walked to the opposite side of the bed where he could see MacLeod's face. Sitting down on its edge, he unfastened the instrument's locks and lifted it out.
"Duncan, hey, buddy, how are you?" he gently asked.
The younger appearing Immortal's sad, puppy brown eyes peeked out between his curtain of dark brownish-black hair. A shimmer of a tear glittered in the lamp light as it trickled from his left eye and over his downy cheek to splash on the pillow case beneath his head. Joe watched him as he nursed his right thumb.
"What's wrong? Tell Uncle Joe?" he coaxed, hoping against hope that one day he'd hear a reply.
The Scot looked between his fallen locks at his Uncle Joe and rolled his eyes toward his beloved Uncle Adam. Mac couldn't answer him so he instead hugged Master Teddy. Joe removed his guitar from its case and began playing "Stand By Me." Together, he and Adam, they maintained their vigil on the injured Highland warrior.
The next day, Methos was once again near his wit's end. Duncan was meddled into first one thing and then another. The one thing that bothered the ancient the most was that MacLeod could hardly look at his guardian. It was as if he'd closed his mind to anything remotely connected to Adam Pierson.
Methos wanted to distract the Highlander with something that might interest the youngster. So, he called him over to his side. "Duncan, would you like to go to the park?"
The Scot's head bobbed up, a brilliant smile illuminating his lovely face.
Methos returned the smile. "Well, let's get ready."
Before they left, Duncan grabbed Master Teddy. For once Adam didn't argue about a grown man dragging around a teddy bear. He let him take it.
Duncan squealed and pointed toward a butterfly. He held up his bear and motioned for his uncle so that he could see it, too.
Methos leaned against the tree and answered, "Yes, I see."
The lopsided grin on MacLeod's face broadened even more when the delicate moth landed on a lock of his hair. His infectious giggle was shared by his guardian who drank in the breathtaking sight of MacLeod in a world of nature.
The Highland child was oblivious to the smiles and grins of the women tending their own children in the park. All of them were captivated by the Scot's beauty and by the obvious fact that he was a child in a man's body.
Duncan flopped down beside his guardian and placed his head on Methos' lap. He then reached across him and gathered Master Teddy into his arms. For a while, all they heard were the sounds of nature and the other park visitors.
Their Idyll was soon interrupted when the Highlander gasped. A really bad headache, the owie kind, suddenly struck him and making him sick at his stomach. Duncan sat up and pressed both fists against his temples. Methos immediately knew another Immortal was in the vicinity.
"Duncan, come on, we have to go home." his Uncle told him.
Methos pushed the Highlander to his feet and leaped up. His hazel-eyed gaze swept around the park but he didn't see anyone familiar. He knew without hesitation that it was the same quickening presence he'd felt the other day at the airport.
Tugging the bewildered youngster after him, Methos opened the T-Bird's door and motioned for MacLeod to get in. He then circled around and hopped in, starting the engine and taking off. The Immortal presence they'd felt faded away.
The old Immortal kept glancing in the rear view mirror to see if they were being pursued. It stood to reason whoever it was knew where they lived. Methos was determined to protect Duncan, but he didn't want him involved in an Immortal duel if he could prevent it. The lad had enough to contend with, as it was.
The short trip back to the dojo was uneventful and Adam bundled the Highlander up the stairs to the loft. Once inside with the door locked, he skirted around to the window facing the street and peered secretively out to the alley below.
It wasn't long until a dark Chevrolet sedan eased along the curb adjacent to the dojo. Its driver opened the door and slipped out of the car. The afternoon sun reflected off it and highlighted the Immortal, who gazed expectantly up at the window. He was approximately five feet eleven inches tall, had short blond hair, blue eyes and wore a distinctive beige overcoat. The unknown Immortal strolled over to the alley and leaned against the brick wall, crossing his left leg with his right. He removed a package of cigarettes from his pocket and pulled one out with his teeth. Replacing it with his same left hand, he then removed a lighter from the same place and flicked it until its flame ignited his cigarette. He calmly waited for whoever would accept his unvoiced challenge.
Methos didn't recognize the stranger, which meant he was probably here for MacLeod. Pulling out his cell phone, Methos punched in a number.
"Joe's Place."
"Joe, this is Adam."
Dawson could tell by the Immortal's tone of voice that something was wrong. "What's up?"
"That guy I was asking you about the other day?"
"Yeah."
"Well, he's shown up here at the dojo. He's waiting downstairs in the alley."
Methos turned around and flashed a tight grin of reassurance to the Highlander. Turning his back on him, he lowered his voice so that Duncan couldn't hear what was being said. "I've not seen him before which means he's probably here for Mac. Can you come on over?" I don't want to leave him alone."
"I'll be there in ten minutes, Adam." Dawson quickly replied.He hung up the phone and headed for the front door. "Sam?"
The black bartender flashed his white teeth with a grin. "Yeah, I know, Boss; you gotta go."
Dawson returned his grin. "Yeah, thanks."
"Anytime." he called after the departing Watcher.
Pierson flipped his cell phone shut and dropped it into his pocket. He then walked over and donned his dark brown duster, automatically checking for his Ivanhoe. Turning to Duncan, he finally noticed the Scot's brown eyes were wide with alarm. He walked over to him and gave a tight hug.
"Don't worry, Duncan; everything will be fine. I want you to stay here, no matter what happens downstairs. Do you hear me?"
MacLeod nodded his head. He wished yet again that he could talk. If I could, I'd ask you who that bad man is, the one who makes my head owie.
Methos started for the side door but looked back at the frightened younger Immortal. "Uncle Joe is on his way over here, Duncan. I want you to lock this door and don't open it for anyone. Uncle Joe will be coming up on the elevator."
Duncan nodded and followed his guardian to the door. He watched Adam descend the stairs, but instead of obeying his uncle, he crept down the first few steps until he could see the two men but remain hidden from their view.
Methos maintained a nonchalant pace down the steps. Once on the ground, he deliberately opened his coat and faced his opponent.
The blond Immortal pushed away from the opposite brick wall, dropped his cigarette on the concrete and ground it out with his foot. He swaggered over toward Methos and demanded, "Where is MacLeod? You're not who I'm looking for."
Methos kept his face impassive. "Well, I'm who you get, Mr.?"
"Brown, John J. Brown." he replied, withdrawing what looked to Methos as a World War II German officer's sword. "And you?"
The Horseman known as Death altered his baritone voice. "I'm the one who's going to take your head." and drew his own sword from beneath his coat.
The two Immortals circled each other, each man sizing up his opponent. Brown attacked first with a thrust toward Methos' chest. The ancient easily countered it and exchanged a series of parries and cuts with the other man. The two men performed the dance of death up and down and across the alley. They exchanged nicks to their arms and one of Brown's lunges jabbed Pierson's right side.
As involved as the Horseman was, he ignored the bleeding and concentrated on figuring out the younger Immortal's weakness. From what Methos could tell, Brown couldn't be more than fifty or sixty years old. He was probably a Nazi who'd suffered his first death during World War II. That only reinforced his youthful bravado which would bring him to ruin. Methos wasn't about to let him get to Duncan.
As the two of them circled each other, Methos asked, "Why are you looking for MacLeod?"
Brown's blue eyes became almost frigid with hate. "Because he killed a friend of mine, Ingrid Henning. She was a freedom fighter for the perfect world we had envisioned."
The old man's eyes narrowed. If this guy was a friend to that bitch that killed indiscriminately, he was one sick dude. The world could very easily do without him.
The Scot, meanwhile, was all eyes as he watched his guardian fight the other man. A hypnotizing fascination for him were the sharp sticks which were much longer than the one he saw his uncle use. He was frightened; what if Unka Adam lost?
Brown was gaining a slim advantage over Pierson, but Methos still had several tricks up his sleeve. He kept teasing Brown with retreats and evasions to make him think he was weakening. Methos had his dagger strapped to his back. He just might need it in this case. The Horseman didn't want to fool around and inadvertently capitalize on a slip-up.
Methos had time for one more fleeting thought before he engaged his sword once again. He was glad he didn't have to worry about Duncan. Dawson must have arrived by now.
Still unseen by his guardian, Duncan intently watched the battle from his hidden place. He gritted his teeth as he saw his guardian back up to the brick wall and his opponent make a slash to Pierson's right forearm.
The cut weakened Adam's sword arm and Brown was able to kick his Ivanhoe out of the way. He then drew back for the killing blow, but didn't see the blade the old man had drawn from behind his shoulder.
Neither did Duncan see his guardian's move. He expected to momentarily see his Uncle Adam die. Acting purely on instinct, he screamed, "Unka Adam!"
Both Immortals' heads swiveled to the unexpected shout and the sudden appearance of Duncan MacLeod on the staircase.
Brown glared at Methos. "I thought you said he wasn't here!"
Methos' characteristic wry grin quickly evolved into a smile of death. "I didn't say. I merely said you had to face me!"
The Horseman took Brown's distraction of MacLeod's presence to bury his short blade into Brown's abdomen up to its hilt. He then followed through by taking a diving roll to the right, picking up his sword and with a full 360 degree turn severed the Immortal's head from his body.
Methos looked toward Duncan and regretfully noticed the boy's horrified gaping mouth. He'd have to explain things to the youngster, but he did not have any more time to think. Brown's quickening enveloped him and he was lost in the rising mist and lightening bolts assaulting his slender body. His own screams of agony commingled with MacLeod's, who continued to holler his uncle's name.
The Highlander weakly slid down to the step beneath his feet. He did not notice the tears streaking down his face. He couldn't begin to understand what was happening or why his uncle had cut the other man's head off.
Duncan remained in frozen shock when a bloodied and exhausted Adam Pierson pushed him back up the stairway to the loft. A silent Joe Dawson awaited them in the open doorway.
Methos would have liked to have taken a long, hot bath and changed out of his sweaty, blood splattered clothes, but all he could think about was that Duncan had finally spoken. He nodded at Joe who was busy calling a clean up squad of fellow Watchers to take care of Brown's body.
The former Horseman, once again Adam Pierson, walked to the fridge and dug out a beer. He popped the top and took a long slug of the cold brew before approaching MacLeod who now lay huddled on the bed.
"Duncan?" He did not receive any response, so he tried again. "Duncan, I heard you yell my name out there. That means you can talk."
Still, the younger Immortal did not open his mouth except to plunge his right thumb into it and snuggle his teddy bear even closer to his chest.
Joe sat down on the opposite side of the Highlander and patted the Immortal's hand. "Duncan, can you talk to me? Tell me what's wrong."
When the Watcher only received silence, he tried again. "Can you hear me, Duncan?"
The disheveled head nodded.
"Well, can you tell me what's the matter? Your Uncle Adam was protecting you against the bad man." Joe placed his arm around the Immortal's trembling shoulders and played a hunch. "Duncan, are you afraid of your Uncle Adam?"
Mac rolled his big, brown eyes toward Methos and nodded. "Unka Adam doesn't love me. He just wants to use me and throw me away." he whispered in a voice bleak and ragged and hoarse from long disuse.
So stunned, both men looked in disbelief at the other and then down at the curled up Highland child, his long hair covering his face.
"Joe, did you...?"
Dawson nodded. "Uh huh, did you...?"
The beginnings of a huge grin replaced the former one of grief, sadness and pain upon the elder Immortal's face. He leaned over and brushed aside MacLeod's curtain of hair. "Duncan? Look at me... please?"
The Highlander turned onto his back to gaze at first one then the other of his guardians.
"What did you just say?" Adam asked in an equally husky voice, only his was from deep set emotion and not from disuse.
MacLeod looked fearfully at his Uncle Adam and then returned his trusting gaze to his other parent. "Unka Adam doesn't love me, Unka Joe." he whispered.
"Oh, baby, oh, God, Duncan, I do love you," Methos burst out and pulled the Highland youngster's body into the safety of his arms. "I love you with all my heart; I can't live without you." he reassured him. "I just don't want to hurt you, Duncan. You are too young yet; wait a while, okay?"
MacLeod swiveled his disheveled head back from his Watcher as his fellow Immortal brushed his long mane back from his doubtful face. Methos reached up and with quivering lips caressed the Scot's forehead. "Baby, I don't want you to ever be afraid of me. I love you more than my own life. I'll do anything to keep someone from harming you." His own baritone voice wavered, so instead, he again softly kissed the Highlander, this time on his cheek.
In return, the younger Immortal matched it with a tentative one to the ancient's right cheek. He then seemed to melt into his guardian's safe arms, not seeming to notice that he no longer suckled his thumb.
After long moments of silence, Joe cleared his now choked up throat and declared, "Well, I don't know about you two, but I need something to eat."Duncan pulled himself out of the shelter of his Uncle Adam's arms and announced, "I want a big burger and French Fries, Unka Joe."
Adam Pierson and Joe Dawson looked at each other before laughing with smiles of delight on both their faces. "He's finally talking. Hey, let's go get some burgers."
"At Jack-In-The-Box, Unka Adam." piped the Highlander.
"Whatever you want, Duncan." Methos paused. "Where did you find out about that place? On TV?"
MacLeod's olive skinned pinked in embarrassment and he nodded.
Methos chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Let me take a quick shower and get some clean clothes on first and then, Jack-In-The-Box, it is."
A little later and just before the two men and the still very young Scot left the loft, Methos thought << I'll have to call Amanda and let her know Duncan's talking again.>> Deep within in his aged heart, he was now assured that MacLeod would eventually be his old self.
"Unka Adam?"
"Yes, Duncan."
"Can I take my train?"
"No, you may not." Methos firmly replied. He hugged Duncan and teasingly pinched the crestfallen, handsome face before adding, "but I'll help you set it up when we get home."
The next afternoon, Methos again took Duncan to the park. The big difference with the first two times was that the Scot talked all the time. He still ooh'd and ah'd the butterflies and flowers and seagulls much to the delight of his audience, the other denizens of the park. He also would pause and watch other children play on the slide and the merry-go-round. Eventually, he flopped down beside his Uncle Adam and looked up at him. "Unka Adam, why am I not small like the other kids here? If I am big like you, why can't I remember more than the last few weeks?"
The former Horseman was silent at first, not quite sure how to respond to MacLeod's pointed question. "You had an accident, Duncan."
"I did? How? What?"
Methos' nimble fingers stroked through MacLeod's satiny tresses. "You were badly hurt, Duncan. When you woke up, you'd forgotten everything."
MacLeod was quiet a long while. He then whispered, "Were you and me in love, Unka Adam?"
Methos blushed. "No, but, we were very close friends."
That seemed to appease the Scot, but Methos had to gasp when he heard the brat whisper,
"I still love you, Unka Adam. The other day wasn't a mistake."
"And I love you, too, Angel. It's just we can't...do...anything about it right now."
"But, Unka Adam..."
"Duncan, it's time to go home."
MacLeod's childlike mind quickly leaped to another topic. "Can I play with my train and let Master Teddy have a ride on it?"
Methos laughed. "Well, I don't know if Master Teddy will fit on the train, but you may try. You know, Uncle Joe has fixed spaghetti for us tonight."
"Um, I can't wait! Come on, Unka Adam!" Duncan squealed.
The old man chuckled as he watched his beloved Highland youngster skip ahead to the van. "Duncan, wait up! He always wants to get ahead. Some things never change." He ran and caught up with him and together they drove home to Uncle Joe, Master Teddy and the train engine.
The End
