Passion's Release
Copyright October 22, 1999 by Rory V. Pascual PROLOGUE:
Duncan sat huddled in a corner of the attic that was his prison. He wrapped his arms around his naked form, not because he desired warmth or a welcome respite from the invisible hands that tormented his flesh. The Scot wanted comfort and, most of all, reassurance that he did the right thing.
Take him! It's not me you want! Only he could give you pleasure! Not me!
"NOOO!" Duncan cried out as something hard whacked his rump, driving him down to the floor. But the blows kept on coming, and all he could do was lie down and weep. He felt like a rag doll, being beaten this way and that. He felt as brittle as broken glass. The Highlander wondered if Dhonncaidh was feeling the same way. Or maybe the emotions he was experiencing were not his at all, but the hustler's.
Duncan pondered how quickly hope turned to despair. Dhonncaidh had released him, delivering him, unwilling at first, into Methos' hands. The prostitute even let him enjoy a moment's pleasure in his lover's embrace, something he has longed for quite sometime. Of course, it wasn't much of a sacrifice on Dhonncaidh's part. The hustler enjoyed the coupling, though indirectly, as much as he did. The Scot felt the love radiating from Dhonncaidh for the ancient Immortal.
So the Highlander knew how painful it was for the prostitute to lose Methos to him. Dhonncaidh didn't want to lose Duncan as well. The Scot felt it in the brief kiss they had – the longing, the loneliness. Duncan didn't want to give in, though the desire was strong. However, the hustler detected his unwillingness and it was he who pulled away. Duncan wished he had felt guilt. After all, he was practically stealing Methos away from the prostitute. Despite his anguish, Dhonncaidh accepted the inevitability of losing the Old Man, believing in the universal credo that good always triumphed over evil. It was a hollow victory, and Duncan knew it, especially since it was obvious to him that Methos loved Dhonncaidh just as deeply. Still, he couldn't find it in him to feel pity for his dark side-turned-flesh. To Duncan, the wheel of life has turned and now Dhonncaidh was paying for his sins.
Then, that car suddenly appeared. It had surprised him when, as gunshots were fired, Dhonncaidh shielded them with his body, taking a bullet in the shoulder. But his courage was for naught because Methos was shot as well, fatally. Before any of them realized what was happening, he and Dhonncaidh were abducted in broad daylight and hauled into the car, leaving the ancient dead on the sidewalk.
Duncan admitted that he was terrified during the drive, especially when the car brought them back to the red light district of Paris they had escaped from months back. Though it was Dhonncaidh who was hurt and bleeding, it was he who comforted the Scot the best he could, whispering soothing words in his ear.
"Dinna be frightened, Duncan," Dhonncaidh told him. "'Tis me Kinsey wants. I'll make him let ye gae. I swear I winna allow him ta hurt ye."
Take him! It's not me you want! Only he could give you pleasure! Not me!
The Highlander placed his hands over his ears, ghostly hands slapping him just as the accusing cries of his conscience pounded his heart.
Tears welling up in his eyes, he remembered arriving at the nondescript club. To Duncan, it didn't look like a club at all, more like an old building. But Dhonncaidh was terrified of it. It showed in the sudden alertness in his pain-glazed eyes. Still, the hustler mustered enough courage for both of them as their abductors led them inside.
Compared to the club's exterior, the interior revealed a gaudy facade of rooms filled with red and black curtains and stages. There was no mistaking what this place was. Going through the main showroom, where a lone stripper was practicing on stage, they were ushered up a flight of stairs at the back and brought to a small room. Seated at his desk, waiting for them, was Gilbert Kinsey.
"You're difficult to find, Dhonncaidh," he commented his mustache quirking up.
"Ye just weren't lookin' hard aneuch," Dhonncaidh answered calmly. Grinning, he asked, "Did ye miss me, Kinsey?"
Kinsey's face darkened at this query that he motioned to his men. The hustler was slammed face down onto the table, his arm twisted behind his back. Dhonncaidh gritted his teeth, feeling the pain in his shoulder. Duncan, however, only felt a dull ache in his own shoulder. Judging from the strain on the hustler's face, the Scot could see that he was trying to keep his pains from traversing the link between them, so the Scot would not feel his agony.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Kinsey eyed the bullet wound in mock concern. "I told them not to hurt you...much."
The Immortal yanked Dhonncaidh's head up and kissed him brutally. When Kinsey broke the kiss, the hustler pursed his lips together and spat in his face. Angered, he struck Dhonncaidh hard in the jaw that he fell to the floor. This time, Duncan felt the blow, his head snapping back.
Kinsey stood up and glowered at the hustler, lying at his feet. "Aren't you going to ask me how I found you?"
Laughing Dhonncaidh sat up, as he wiped the blood from his mouth. "I figured ye were goin' ta tell me anyway."
"Your friend – Jules Dordet. I thought he was a loyal employee of mine. It turned out he was more loyal to you than he was to me. What did you do, Dhonncaidh? Did you seduce him? Did he fuck your sweet ass?"
"Jules..." Dhonncaidh turned visibly pale, hearing the name of the Black bouncer. "What the hell did ye do ta him?" he demanded, the dread apparent in his voice.
"He wouldn't talk at first," Kinsey replied with infuriating casualness. "But after my men and I were through with him, he was practically singing out the address. Such a pity you won't be able to appreciate his vocal talents. Right now, poor Jules' body is lying somewhere at the bottom of the Seine."
"YE DEVIL!" Dhonncaidh leaped to his feet, hand curled up in a fist. But Kinsey kneed him in the groin. The hustler crumpled to the floor, doubled up in pain. Duncan also felt a sharp ache that he bent over. Thinking he was going to help Dhonncaidh, the men holding him yanked him back.
Kinsey clucked his tongue. "Somehow, I've lost my appeal for you, Dhonncaidh. I never thought you would have the audacity to escape from me. It doesn't matter. I have your twin to take your place. Besides, it seems he and I belong to the same species. He would prove to be more resilient than you."
Duncan gasped in shock, seeing the leer on the Immortal's face. The prospect of being a whore for all eternity revolted him.
"Leave him ou' o' this!" the prostitute snarled. "'Tis me ye want! Ye can do wha'e'er ye want wi' me! Just let Duncan gae!"
"Oh, I don't know," mused Kinsey, stroking Duncan's cheek. "There is such sweetness in him I find appealing. So virginal, though I know someone has already claimed his innocence. He's so terrified of sex, especially with a man." His hand went down to the cleft between the Scot's buttocks. "Sooo exquisitely tight! A veritable cock trap! I wouldn't mind opening your love channel again with my fist."
In his terror and panic, Duncan pointed to Dhonncaidh. "Take him! It's not me you want! Only he could give you pleasure! Not me!"
"Duncan?" Dhonncaidh's brown eyes were wide with shock. It was the ultimate betrayal, and Duncan felt the hustler's anguish in his own heart.
Fighting back his tears, Dhonncaidh cocked his chin up. "Duncan's right, Kinsey. Ye know tha' 'tis only I who cad please ye. I will do anythin' ye want. Let me try ta regain yer trust in me."
Then, the prostitute did a most shocking thing. Getting on his hands and knees, he crawled on all fours towards Kinsey. Bending down, Dhonncaidh pressed his lips to the toe of the evil Immortal's boot. The tears he tried so hard to hold trickled down his cheeks as he licked Kinsey's boots, lapping up his bitter tears at the same time.
"I beg ye, Kinsey," Dhonncaidh pleaded with him. "Let Duncan gae. I swear I will no' disobey ye e'er again."
Kinsey thought for a moment, relishing the sight of his favorite whore throwing himself at his mercy. Smiling, he said, "I don't want you to think that I'm an unreasonable man. I'll tell you what, Dhonncaidh. It's the Basement for you this time. I want you to serve my exclusive clientele. But I will be watching your every move. If I see you displease my customers in any way, or you are not pleasing them enough, I will take your twin." The Immortal leered at him. "And you know for a fact how difficult I am to please. Do we have a deal?"
Dropping his gaze, Dhonncaidh nodded his head.
Turning to one of his men, Kinsey ordered, "See that his wound is tended to before he is brought down to the Basement."
At this command, Dhonncaidh was pulled to his feet.
Before he was led away, the Immortal called out, "Wait!" As the prostitute looked up, he saw Kinsey walk behind the Highlander. "I just want to give you a reminder."
To Duncan's horror, the Immortal stripped him of his garments, tearing his shirt and cutting his jeans apart with a sharp dagger. Flipping the blade in his hand, Kinsey jammed the hilt into Duncan's ass. Both the Scot and the prostitute screamed in pain.
"I see you feel what is being done to the other, and vice versa," Kinsey observed aloud. "I'm keeping Duncan naked, ready for me at all times. Remember. If you should displease me in anyway..." He thrust the hilt in once more. "You'll know."
"Dhonncaidh?" Duncan whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Despite the pain of his broken heart, Dhonncaidh gave him a gentle smile. "He winna hurt ye, Duncan. I promise ye tha'!"
As the memory ended, that all too familiar pain ripped through his ass. Duncan whimpered as he propped his hands against the wall, spreading his thighs apart to ease the pain of the invisible entry.
Dhonncaidh, I'm sorry! He thought for a thousandth time. But there was no reply from the hustler. Dhonncaidh was probably lost in the agony of his sufferings.
After what seemed like an eternity of torment, the blows and the thrusts ceased. Duncan lay prone on the floor, his body bruised, blood trickling down his thighs.
It was near midnight when the door to his prison opened and Dhonncaidh was pushed inside. The prostitute was battered all over, trembling violently. Because he was mortal, he was in much worse shape than the Highlander.
For a moment, their eyes met. Slowly, Duncan reached his hand out to him. Dhonncaidh, however, ignored the offered hand. Limping, he went to the farthest, darkest corner of the room. Lying down on his side, back turned to the Scot, he curled up in a fetal position and burst into heartbreaking sobs.
Duncan wanted to go to the hustler but, in his shame, he couldn't bring himself to do so.
I've judged him to be evil, thought the Scot in guilt. I wanted to be purged of him. But what have I done? Dhonncaidh tried to save me from Kinsey's clutches, and I condemned him to this...this hell. I'm the one who's evil! Not him!
His voice sounded so loud in the silence between them. "Dhonncaidh, I'm sorry!"
Between sobs, Dhonncaidh replied brokenly, "Leave me alone, Duncan! There is nothin' for us ta talk abou'! I swear I will keep ma end o' the bargain! I winna let him abuse ye!"
"But, Dhonncaidh, I..."
"I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Duncan curled up into himself at those harsh words. In his mind, he kept on repeating over and over again, I'm sorry, Dhonncaidh! I'm sorry I betrayed you!
CHAPTER ONE:
"It's about time you showed up!"
"Hey! Do you think it's easy for me to just pack up and hie off to Paris at your whim, Grandpa?" Joe Dawson declared, as he and Methos made their way through the busy throng of Notre Dame Airport. "I have a life too, you know!"
With exaggerated flair, Methos exclaimed, "Honestly, Joe, you hurt my feelings. Do I look like your grandfather? You look a hell of a lot older than I am!"
"One of the advantages of being Immortal!" the Watcher sneered at the ancient, with a bit of envy. Snorting, Joe thrust his suitcase into Methos' hands. "Here, kid! Show some kindness to your Old Man!"
As the Watcher walked off, the Real Old Guy made a face at his friend's back.
Reaching Methos' Range Rover, Joe headed straight for the front passenger seat. The ancient was about to throw the Watcher's bag into the back, but Joe cried, "Watch my suitcase! I've got my laptop in there." Getting inside, he added, "You could tell me everything on the way. You hardly made any sense on the phone."
Methos muttered several curses under his breath as he loaded the suitcase in the back. Shutting the trunk door, he got into the driver's seat and drove off.
All the way to Methos' flat, Joe listened intently to the Immortal's story, not interrupting. Even when the ancient had already ceased his narrative, the Watcher was lost in thoughtful silence. But the wrinkled frown on his brow told Methos that Joe was deeply troubled.
When they were finally in the privacy of the flat, Joe asked the inevitable question. "What is it you want me to do? It's obvious to me you didn't drag me out here just to give me a Watcher's report, absolutely bizarre and unbelievable though it may be."
"There is nothing bizarre about this, Joe," said Methos, getting two cans of beer. He handed one to the Watcher. "In a strange way, it makes perfect sense. Let's face it! We don't know everything there is to know about Immortals. I've lived for 5,000 years and I never imagined something like this could happen."
"But TWO Duncan MacLeods? Come on, Methos! Are you sure you're not high on hashish or something? Maybe you over-meditated on the lint in your belly button up in that Tibetan monastery."
"No. I've seen them before my two eyes. I talked to them." Grudgingly, the Old Man admitted, "I even made love to both of them."
"Great! That is really great!" Joe declared in exasperation. "Didn't I tell you not to lay your grubby mitts on Mac?"
"I couldn't help myself!" said Methos defensively. "I was lonely, Joe. And you were right. I DO love him."
"Which one? His good or his bad side?"
"I don't think Dhonncaidh's evil. I believe he was just as overwhelmed by the Dark Quickening as Duncan was. If it were Dhonncaidh's desire to get even with Duncan, he would've done so a long time ago. But he didn't. In fact, he tried to keep his distance. Dhonncaidh never expected to run into Duncan again."
Joe leaned into his seat and sighed. "I think it was inevitable. From the way you described both to me, one really cannot exist without the other. Dhonncaidh was placed in an even more vulnerable position because he is mortal. I'm afraid, Methos. What if Dhonncaidh dies? What's going to happen to Mac?"
The Old Man shook his head. "I don't know, and I really don't want to find out. Something must be done to bring them back together again. Right now, I don't see how we could accomplish this, especially since Duncan absolutely hates Dhonncaidh. In a way, it was his fault Dhonncaidh became a separate entity. He just couldn't accept that a part of him could be sexually attracted to another man. When Arthur Merchant and his men raped him, it was easy to pin all the blame on his dark side."
"Which brings me back to my first question – what do you want me to do?"
"I need someone to go inside Kinsey's club and scope out the place. I would do this myself if I could, but his men saw me. I need to know where Kinsey is keeping Duncan and Dhonncaidh." Methos fidgetted uncomfortably. "I would've asked someone else, someone named Jules Dordet, but…"
"But what?"
With much hesitation, Methos replied, "He's dead, Joe. The police fished his body out of the river two days ago."
Joe grimaced. "And now you're putting me in the line of fire."
"I have to know they're all right. Once I'm certain, I could figure out my next move. Would you do this for me, Joe? Please?"
"You know this is interfering," Joe stated the fact of a Watcher's position out right. "Besides, after Jakob Gollatti, Mac and I…we're really not on good terms right now."
"Joe, he's your friend," Methos insisted. "You've made exceptions in the past. Why should this be any different? He needs you. I need you."
Joe breathed in deeply. "I think I'm going to regret this."
It took Joe five days to establish contact with one of Kinsey's pimps. He told the man he wanted the best male whore the evil Immortal could give him, one who could satisfy his "special needs", and that he was willing to pay a handsome price. Thanks to Kinsey's Watcher, who was just as eager to see the Immortal lose his head, Joe learned that Kinsey has an Immortal acquaintance who avails of Kinsey's services whenever he was in Paris, which was rarely. They also do not keep close communications with each other, though the man frequently sends "clients" over to Kinsey. When he gave the Immortal's name to the pimp, the following day, the deal was made.
Soon enough, Joe found himself in Kinsey's club, sitting inside the evil Immortal's office.
"Well, Mr. Dawson," Kinsey began, lounging back into his seat. "I hear you're looking for the best whore I have to offer."
"That is correct," Joe answered simply. "Derek Chalmers spoke highly of your…services."
The Immortal formed a steeple with his hands, elbows on the armrests, as he looked at the Watcher closely. "Yes, Derek is a very good friend of mine. How is he?"
Inwardly, Joe thanked God that Chalmers' Watcher was one of the best he has out in the field. "Derek is in New York City right now, talking to some investors about the possibility of opening a resort in the Bahamas." He gave the Immortal a meaningful glance. "I believe you and Derek have discussed opening one of your clubs there."
Kinsey laughed. "Why, yes! It's true. I can't believe he's pushing through with it."
"You might hear from him very soon. Derek said he's developing a small island, exclusively for the club. He made me swear not to tell you. I think he wants to surprise you. But I just couldn't resist telling you the good news."
"And it's good news indeed! Very well, Mr. Dawson. As soon as we are finished with one final piece of business, my man here shall escort you to our suite."
Joe picked up the attaché case at his side and flipped the latches open. The Immortal smiled in satisfaction as he perused the bundles of franc notes inside.
Motioning to the man who stood in the corner, Kinsey ordered, "Escort Mr. Dawson here to our choice suite. Then, bring our best whore to him. Mr. Dawson paid us handsomely for our…services."
Nodding once, the man waved a hand to the door as the Watcher stood up. Leaving the office, the man led Joe out into the hallway and then went down a flight of stairs. The Watcher wondered if he was being taken to the dreaded Basement. However, the man suddenly went through another door on the left, though Joe noted that the stairway went further down.
The door led into a dimly lighted corridor with rooms on either side and at the far end. It was to the room at the far end where Joe was taken. When the man opened the light, the Watcher almost winced when he saw what was inside.
Aside from the huge four poster bed in the middle of the room, there were shackles mounted on one wall. A rack held a number of whips and clamps of various sizes, as well as other gruesome implements of torture. Even a leather outfit was folded neatly on the bed for Joe's use.
Eyeing the camera in the corner, Joe frowned. "Mr. Kinsey, I have specific instructions for privacy. This room will not do."
At this remark, Kinsey answered over the intercom. "Mr. Dawson, you have my word that you will be given utmost privacy,"
"I paid good money, sir. I expect my instructions to be followed to the letter."
There was an audible sigh. "Very well." Kinsey then ordered his man to remove the camera.
"Don't forget the hidden microphones."
"Remove those as well. But one last thing. I must admit I am not agreeable with this. The whore I'll be giving you…. He's been rather difficult of late. I want to be sure he behaves with you."
"Don't worry, Mr. Kinsey!" Joe assured the Immortal, tapping his cane noisily on the floor. "I have the perfect instrument to discipline a stubborn whore."
Kinsey laughed in approval. "Good show, sir! Maybe you could pound some sense into him, if you know what I mean."
"Yes," the Watcher replied, trying to control his disgust. "I certainly will."
Their brief talk ended, the man removed the hidden microphones as well and left Joe alone. Still, the Watcher searched every nook and cranny for any bugs.
As he was feeling under the bed, Joe heard the door open behind him and then click shut. His eyes widened in shock, seeing the terrified man trembling before him.
MacLeod! thought Joe in horror at the sight of his best friend. What have they done to you?
Even MacLeod was just as stunned. Ashamed to have his good friend see him in this pitiful state, he tried desperately to cover his nakedness with his hands. But Joe already noted the bruises and healing welts on his skin. There was a wildness in his dark brown eyes as he surveyed the room.
"It's all right!" Joe mouthed the words. "I had them remove everything."
MacLeod, however, shook his head, pointing to the table. The Watcher ran his hand under the table and found a bug.
Speaking into the microphone, Joe said, "Put this on my tab!", and promptly dropped it into the water inside the vase of roses.
Turning to the frightened man, he asked softly, "May I know who you are? Methos told me there were two of you."
"Dhonncaidh," came the tremulous reply. Going towards the Watcher, the hustler asked, "How's Adam? Is he all right?"
"He's Immortal, remember?"
"Aye!" Dhonncaidh realized his mistake. "It's just tha' I was sa worried abou' him. I keep seein' him lyin' dead on the sidewalk."
"Well, he's very worried about you. That's why he sent me here."
"Joe, I dinna want ye ta get into trouble on ma account. The Watchers…"
"To hell with the Watchers!" Joe declared furiously. "My God! Look at you!"
"Looks can be deceivin'. 'Tis all right. I'm used ta this. But Duncan…"
Hearing that name, Joe held the hustler's arms. "Where's Duncan?"
"He's fine. They're keepin' him prisoner in a room on the top floor. They 'ave no' touched him." Reluctantly, Dhonncaidh admitted, "I've been keepin' Kinsey an' his clients busy, sa Duncan wad no' 'ave ta suffer ma fate as well."
Joe had difficulty choking back his tears at this reply. "You don't deserve this!"
"Don't I? Joe, ye've seen the mon I am. If it wasn't for ye, if ye hadn't shot me, I cad 'ave killed Richie."
"But you were overwhelmed by the Dark Quickening. Methos is right. Duncan may think of you as his dark side because you are the embodiment of suppressed, but longed for, desires. But this does not make you evil."
"I wish I cad believe ye!" cried Dhonncaidh, a tear falling down his cheek.
"I know how hard it is for you." The Watcher gave the prostitute a sad smile. "But even if Methos and I tell you this many times, you won't listen. It's Duncan's acceptance that you need. Am I correct?"
Biting down on his lower lip, Dhonncaidh slowly nodded. "He will no' accept me, Joe. But I understand how he feels, especially after all the trouble I caused him. Duncan…he e'en…"
The Watcher looked at the young man suspiciously. "He what? Did he do something to you?"
"No." However, that denial caused more tears to flow from the hustler's eyes. "Joe, tell Adam ta get Duncan ou' o' here. I will tell ye the ins an' outs o' this place. Duncan cannae survive here."
"We're getting both of you out of this damned place.!"
Dhonncaidh shook his head. "I will no' gae wi' ye. I belong here. I must stay."
"What for? To be abused by a bunch of sick perverts? I won't allow it!"
"There is nothin' ye cad do!" the hustler argued strongly. "If ye tak me as well, Kinsey will hunt us down. No matter where we hide, he will find us. Ma guid friend Jules is dead because o' me. I dinna want mair deaths on ma head, especially Duncan's, Adam's, or yours."
"But Dhonncaidh…"
"No mair arguments! PLEASE!" Wearily, Dhonncaidh sat at the table. "Come! I will tell ye how ta gae aroond this place. Ye're a Watcher wi' an excellent memory. I'm sure ye cad remember ma directions. Kinsey will kill ye if he finds a map on yer person."
Sitting beside him, Joe breathed in deeply.
It took an hour for the Watcher to memorize and repeat word for word the instructions the hustler had given him.
When Dhonncaidh was finally satisfied, he said, "Tha's it! I know ye will no' forget."
"Good!" Joe declared in relief, about to stand. "Just hang on, Dhonncaidh! No matter what you said, Adam and I'll spring you out of here."
Before he could reach for his cane, Dhonncaidh grabbed his hand. "Wait! We're no' finished yet."
"Sure we are! I know the layout of this place, don't I?"
"Aye! Howe'er, ye forgot somethin' verra important."
In the brief silence between them, Joe stared at the prostitute in confusion.
Then, in sudden realization, the Watcher's jaw dropped, aghast. "You have to be joking!"
There was such hardness in Dhonncaidh's eyes as he looked up at his friend. "Do I look like I'm jokin'?"
Joe let out a nervous laugh. "Surely you're not suggesting that…"
But there was no response from the hustler's handsome face, just that stony determination.
"You're dead serious!" Joe gasped out.
"Ye 'ave no choice," stated Dhonncaidh solemnly. "Kinsey has…expectations. If I dinna fulfill them, he will take Duncan for certain."
"But…but…I can't! I'm not…"
Dhonncaidh stood up, circling the Watcher like a mad dog. "Wha's it gonna tak ta set ye off, Joe? Wha' do I 'ave ta do?"
"Forget it!" the Watcher exclaimed. "I'm leaving!"
The hustler suddenly stood very still, his eyes shut tightly. Joe watched nervously as those broad hands closed into fists.
"No!" Dhonncaidh muttered, slowly opening his eyes. "Ye killed him! Ye an' yer Watcher friends! Ye murdered Jakob!"
Joe stepped back nervously. "Gollatti was killing Watchers. I had no choice."
"There is always a choice, but ye always pick the wrong one." Dhonncaidh went towards Joe. "How many o' ma friends 'ave ta die because o' ye? First, Charlie. Now, Jakob."
"I did what I had to do!" Joe raised his cane. "God, Dhonncaidh! Don\t come any closer! I don't want to hurt you!"
"But tha's wha' ye want ta do, isn't it? 'Coz if ye don't, I will!"
"Stay back! I'm warning you!"
As Dhonncaidh took another step closer, he muttered, "It's too late!", and the cane began to fall.
It was midnight when Joe stepped out of the club. For a moment, he paused before his car and glanced back. He knew that somewhere in those rooms lay the broken pieces of what had once been his best friend.
The Watcher found himself staring at his cane with abhorrence. To him, the thing seemed so heavy and loathsome all of a sudden.
I must get a new cane! he decided firmly, though he doubted if a new walking stick could purge the memory of this night from his mind.
Shuddering, Joe quickly got into his car and drove off. Five blocks down, he stopped, letting Methos in, who stood waiting for him in the shadows.
"What took you so long?" Methos demanded, shutting the door as the Watcher wheeled away from the curb and into the street.
"I saw Dhonncaidh," was Joe's simple reply, not wanting to give his companion even a side glance.
"How is he?"
"He's fine, considering what he's had to endure these past few days."
"Dhonncaidh's the stronger one. I'm not surprised. What about Duncan?"
"Safe for now, but Dhonncaidh isn't sure he could hold off Kinsey and his dogs forever."
Methos gritted his teeth. "It won't take forever. We'll get them out."
A sigh escaped Joe's lips. "I’m afraid you're all alone in this, pal. I've done what I can."
The ancient looked at the Watcher in shock. "But Joe…I thought we're in this together?"
"My job is done. I'll make you a map of the club before I leave for Seacouver."
"I don't understand." Methos' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Did something happen in there?"
Joe closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the memory of a firm body, and how welts formed on that bruised golden skin with every blow. And the blood. And the pleasure, that sweet, yet disgusting, pleasure. Most of all, he remembered that serene smile.
"Now we're through, Joe," the Watcher could still hear those words. "If ye know wha's guid for ye, ye won't be comin' back."
"JOE!"
There was a sudden bright flash, and Joe felt Methos grab the steering wheel, turning it, bringing them back to their right lane. Looking back, the Watcher saw that they almost collided with a van.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" Methos exclaimed.
"I'm sorry." Joe breathed deep and slow, hoping to stop the tremor in his voice. "I'll draw you a map now, then take me straight to the airport, Methos. Like I said, my work is done here."
"There's something you're not telling me," the ancient accused him.
"I made a promise to someone," was all Joe could say in finality. "I aim to keep it."
"Dhonncaidh?" a soft hesitant voice spoke in the darkness. "I know you don't want to talk to me, but I just want to…. Are you all right?"
"Concerned abou' me all o' a sudden, Duncan?" the hustler somehow managed a sarcastic retort. At his reply, Dhonncaidh felt the Highlander's pain lance through his heart. Feeling Duncan about to shrink back into silence, he said, "Forgive me. I dinna mean ta be rude. I'm fine…an' thank ye for yer concern."
"Are you sure? I felt you probing my mind earlier, before…it…started. What were you looking for?"
"Nothin'. I just wanted ta find ou' wha' I missed these months we've been apart."
"You were beaten, very hard," Duncan stated. "I know you tried to shield me from the brunt of it. I hope, whatever you found inside my mind, it helped…ease…the pain a bit."
"Aye, it did," Dhonncaidh lied between his teeth. It was difficult for him to hold back the agony the discovery of Jakob's death caused.
With much reluctance, Duncan admitted, "I wanted to see who was beating you, but you blocked me out of your mind. Who was it? There was so much anger inside you."
"'Twas nobody. Just one o' Kinsey's clients."
"Dhonncaidh, you can't go on like this!" There was genuine anguish and guilt in the Scot's voice. "I won't mind taking your place."
"An' do ye think ye can take it?" The prostitute glared at the dim outline in the far corner of the room. "'Tis better this way, Duncan, an' ye know it."
"At least let me share your pain." The Highlander added, "It would help ease my conscience."
"Why sud ye feel any guilt? I'm gettin' wha' I deserve!" Dhonncaidh lay down on the cold floor, wincing at the sore ache of his battered backside. "Sleep now, Duncan. This discussion is o'er. I 'ave another long day ahead o' me tomorrow."
At these words, silence fell between them. For awhile, the prostitute thought that the Scot had finally fallen asleep. But then, there was a soft answer.
"If you should falter, Dhonncaidh, I'm willing to take your place."
Somehow, the hustler knew that Duncan was speaking true.
As tears fell from his eyes, Dhonncaidh swore with conviction, I will ne'er falter! Duncan, for yer sake, I will ne'er give in!
CHAPTER TWO:
"DHONNCAIDH!"
Methos' head jerked up, roused from restless slumber. He had fallen asleep at the kitchen table while he was studying the map Joe Dawson had made of Kinsey's club. Rubbing his numb arms, getting the circulation back into them, he pushed away from the table and got to his feet. He padded towards the window, staring out into the city. But his mind was greatly troubled by the nightmare he just had. Though it was slowly drifting back into his subconscious, Methos could still remember it very clearly.
In his dream, Dhonncaidh had come to him. The prostitute's face was haggard, and he carried himself as if his whole body was in agony. There was such weariness in the young man.
"Wha's takin' ye sa long, Adam?" Dhonncaidh had asked him.
"I have to plan this right," argued Methos. "This place is like a fortress, and I have no one to help me."
"Time is runnin' short for Duncan. Ye must get him ou' o here!"
"But what about you? I have no intention of leaving you with Kinsey."
Dhonncaidh gave him a sad smile, tears glistening in his eyes. "Ma time is almost o'er."
Methos frowned. "What do you mean?"
To his horror, the prostitute began to break up into ashes before his eyes, the wind blowing him away steadily.
"I'm tired, Adam," Dhonncaidh admitted. "I dinna 'ave the will ta fight anymore."
"Damn it, Dhonncaidh! Don't give up! You must fight back!"
Methos ran forward, hoping to stop his lover from disintegrating. However, his arms encountered only a billowing cloud of ash.
"I'm sarry, Adam, but 'tis tae late for me," the prostitute's voice whispered in the wind. "Save Duncan, afore he tae suffers ma fate."
"No!" Methos cried, trying to seize the ashes that floated around him. The wind, however, carried it away. "Don't leave me!"
"I love ye, Adam!" Dhonncaidh's voice echoed in the darkness. "When ye 'ave Duncan in yer arms, always remember me!"
"Dhonncaidh!" The ancient pounded his fist on the windowsill that his knuckles began to bleed.
Curse you, Joe! he muttered under his breath. How could you desert your friends like this?
Striding back to the table, Methos glared at the map. He slammed his hands on the table top, head bowed low, his body shaking with controlled rage and frustration.
What am I going to do? How am I going to get them out of there?
The memory of the prostitute's smiling face filled his mind once more, followed by the Highlander's vulnerable visage, that soon the two images began to overlap.
"Gods, keep them safe!" the Old Man prayed to all the deities he had ever worshipped. "I beg you! Give them the strength to fight to survive until I come for them!"
Dhonncaidh was running through the hallway in sheer panic, the tinkling of the chains of his nipple clamps further jarring his frayed nerves. Every inch of his body was screaming in pain. His skin was blistered from the cigarettes and cigars Kinsey's customers used to burn him with. But it was the sight of those clubs that drove him into panic, those huge, thick wooden clubs the men intended to plunder his insides with.
When a strong hand grabbed his arm, the hustler screamed in terror and rage, and instinctively began to fight back. He struck out blindly, his fists connecting with a jaw, a cheek, a soft belly. Dhonncaidh would have fought his way out of the club. But Kinsey's voice over the intercom stopped him cold.
"You really disappoint me, Dhonncaidh," the evil Immortal declared, clucking his tongue.
Realizing what he had just done, the prostitute ceased fighting, staring up in horror at the camera mounted on the wall. Before he could get away, blows started raining down upon him. He shielded his head with his arms, cowering on the floor. Dhonncaidh just found himself being dragged back to the chamber he had escaped from. To>
Transfer interrupted!
waiting for him, with two of his men holding Duncan."You didn't tell us there were two of them," one of his tormentors complained.
"I made a deal with Dhonncaidh here that I wouldn't touch his twin if he behaved," Kinsey replied. "But after this, I might as well make a profit out of him as well."
Dhonncaidh threw himself at Kinsey's feet, groveling on the floor.
"I'm sarry, Kinsey!" the prostitute began to weep. "I did no' mean ta run. I became frightened. I just panicked. I swear it will no' happen again."
"A deal's a deal, Dhonncaidh," the evil Immortal reminded him.
"Kinsey, please!" the hustler begged him. "Punish me if ye must! But do no' hurt Duncan! 'Tis ma fault, no' his!"
Kinsey, however, motioned to his men standing guard at the door. Before Dhonncaidh knew what was happening, he was jerked to his feet, his wrists chained to a single ring bolted on the wall, his arms stretched high that he had to kneel and lean on the wall to support himself.
"No, Kinsey! Dinna do this! I beg ye!" A scream was wrenched from his throat as his legs were kicked wide apart, and a club was shoved up his ass. He vaguely heard Duncan cry out as well, shocked as he was by the sudden pain.
"I'm sure you'll like this sweet little morsel, gentlemen," said Kinsey as he made the Scot stand before his leather-clad clients. "Unlike Dhonncaidh here, he's got…minimal…experience. It seems the first time proved to be traumatic for him, and his lovely ass tends to tighten up like a vise when he's fucked."
One man complained, "If that's the case, I don't think I'd like my cock trapped inside him."
"Oh, it's not going to happen, I assure you. Duncan and his…disobedient…twin here share the same reactions. One can feel what is being done to the other. Now that I've got Dhonncaidh opened up here, you can fuck Duncan to your heart's content."
"How could we be sure of this?" another man queried, not convinced.
At these words, Kinsey pushed Duncan onto the bed. There was a leer on his face as he removed his clothes.
"Because, like I promised Dhonncaidh, I will be the first to take him," the evil Immortal declared as he straddled the poor Highlander, pinning him down to the bed.
In the next few hours, Dhonncaidh watched, horrified, as Kinsey and his clients took turns on the Highlander's flesh.
"Nooo!" he screamed himself hoarse. "Stop it! Dinna do this ta him! Dear God! Please stop!"
To his dismay, Duncan did not even fight back. He just lay passively on the bed, his dark brown eyes leaking with tears, as his body was brutally plundered. Duncan allowed Kinsey to turn his body this way and that, like a rag doll. His lips were swollen from those rough kisses and from the fellatio he was forced to perform. On the bed was a pool of fresh blood and semen that had poured from his defiled ass.
Dhonncaidh opened his mind to the Scot, wanting to take Duncan's pain. But the Highlander shut his mind to him, an impenetrable door he couldn't break into no matter how hard he tried.
"I'm sarry, Duncan!" the prostitute sobbed aloud. "I'm sa sarry!"
When it was finally over, Dhonncaidh breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Kinsey's men carry the Highlander out. Then, it was his turn. Kinsey and his clients were much harder on him, his body beaten mercilessly. But the guilt he felt overpowered the pain that was inflicted upon him.
As he was raped, Dhonncaidh saw one man whispering something in Kinsey's ear. Then, Kinsey turned to look at him, a wicked gleam in his eye. Somehow, the hustler knew that the Immortal was planning something, and he was certain it would destroy him and Duncan.
When the prostitute was returned to the attic room, Dhonncaidh immediately sought out Duncan. The Highlander sat quietly in his corner. In the darkness, he couldn't tell whether the Scot was looking at him or not.
Hesitantly, Dhonncaidh approached the dark figure. In his shame, he could not look at Duncan's face. He fell to his knees before the Highlander, pressing his forehead to Duncan's feet, weeping bitterly.
"'Tis all ma fault!" Dhonncaidh's voice shook with his tears. "I became weak! I did no' mean ta falter! I swear! The last thing I wanted was for them ta hurt ye! I'm sarry this happened! I'm truly sarry!"
Then, the prostitute felt gentle hands on his arms, pulling him up. He just found himself enfolded in a warm embrace, full lips kissing his brow in comfort.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Duncan whispered in his ear. "I condemned you to this, and don't you dare tell me that you deserve this. You don't – not from Kinsey, not from anybody, and certainly not from me."
"But Duncan…the things I did ta ye in the past. Arthur Merchant…"
"What is past is past. What is important is the here and now. We're in this together, Dhonncaidh. I will not allow you to suffer any more than you already have."
The hustler gazed questioningly at the Highlander. "Wha' are ye tryin' ta say, Duncan?"
Dhonncaidh's eyes widened in shock when Duncan pressed his lips to his. He was nearly overwhelmed by the warm emotions the Highlander was showering upon him through the link they shared.
"NOOO!" Dhonncaidh shouted, shoving the Scot back.
Duncan gaped at him, stunned. "Dhonncaidh?"
"I dinna deserve wha' ye're givin' me," the hustler wept bitterly. "After all the things I've done ta ye!"
"But I understand now. Your desires are my desires. I was wrong to have wished that you be apart from me. I was blind to the truth, that you are part of what makes me the man that I am. I shouldn't have been ashamed of you."
"Well, I'm ashamed o' myself – o' wha' I am now, an' most o' all, o' the misery an' sufferin' I put ye through. I dinna want ta cause trouble for ye anymore, Duncan. Wha' Kinsey did ta ye, wha' he's plannin' for us…tha's the last straw for me."
"Dhonncaidh, I don't understand. What do you mean 'what Kinsey's planning for us'?" Duncan tried to probe the hustler's mind, but the mental door was immediately shut to him.
"Ye dinna deserve ta 'ave me back, Duncan," said Dhonncaidh with great sorrow. "Ye may 'ave accepted me in yer heart, but I dinna want ta gae back ta ye. No' now, no' e'er."
"Do you know what you're saying?" Duncan exclaimed in shock. "Please don't do this, Dhonncaidh! I won't allow you!"
"There is nothin' ye can do. I 'ave made ma choice, an' I choose no' ta be reunited wi' ye." The hustler gave the Highlander a sad little smile. "Besides, we've lived apart for several months, an' ye've done well withou' me."
"And what about Methos? Have you forgotten about him? He loves us both."
Dhonncaidh sighed. "Once he has ye, he will forget abou' me. Ye will fill the love I cad no longer give him."
"I do not approve of this," the Scot said firmly.
"I'm sarry, Duncan, but this is ma decision. 'Tis the best thing for both o' us."
Dhonncaidh slowly went to his corner. Before he could sit down, he felt an arm on his shoulder. He gazed at Duncan's smiling face.
"Why are ye makin' it sa difficult for me?" he asked the Highlander.
"I'm not trying to," said Duncan. "All I want is to give you comfort, the same way you had comforted me. Please do not begrudge me this."
The prostitute saw the sincerity in those dark brown eyes. He found himself succumbing to the needs of his lonely heart. His knees trembled, suddenly weak. It was Duncan who helped him to lie down on the floor. Duncan embraced Dhonncaidh, murmuring soothing words in his ear. The hustler's arms automatically went around the Highlander's waist, cuddling close to him.
Lulled by the stillness of the night, for once, the two men found the peace they thought they had lost in each other's arms, as they drifted off into slumber.
