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Surprises By Kiristeen ke Alaya Disclaimer: Panzer/Davis et al own everything recognizable as Highlander. The only thing mine is the plot, such as it is. I will make no money. I mean no harm. I'm only trying to keep the love alive. Warnings: Here be slash. It's light, it's reasonably innocent, but it's two men interested in each other. If that squicks you, you're *really* in the wrong place. Rated: PG13 for mild language ********** Surprises ********** Mac woke to the sound of a buzzer. Blinking wearily, it didn't take him long to figure out it was the downstairs door. He frowned, wondering who would be here at -- he glanced at the clock -- 6 o'clock in the morning. Quickly rising, Mac threw on some sweat-pants and headed down, but made it only as far as the lift when it hit him. He spun around and glared at the empty couch. Methos was gone. The bedding he'd made up for the older Immortal didn't even looked slept in. Which meant, he realized with a shock, that Methos had left last night. The doorbell sounded again, jerking Mac out of his thoughts, and with a soft curse, he once again headed down to greet his early visitor. **Why?** he thought. Images of Methos going out hunting played through his mind making him shudder. He snorted as he realized just how ludicrous that fear was. Methos wasn't like him. Methos wouldn't stay to challenge; he would leave. Unfortunately, that set off a whole new round of questions. Why leave in the middle of the night? Why not wait for morning? Most importantly, why leave without saying anything? It simply didn't make any sense. It hurt. When Methos had shown up out of the blue-- **God! Was it only yesterday?** --it had hit Mac all at once. He'd suddenly realized just why it was he'd felt so utterly betrayed when Kronos had shown up -- revealing a piece of Methos' less than pristine past -- and they'd all been caught up in the lies, the confusion, and the intrigue. He sincerely wished it hadn't taken such a startling event to bring it all into focus -- though Mac was the first to admit that sometimes it took a two-by-four up-side his head to make him see straight. He'd been frozen in place, watching Methos hesitantly stand just inside the lift -- unsure of his welcome -- as everything crystalized inside his mind, the shock of it all putting him on the defensive. He frowned. He'd almost driven Methos away right then, his own uncertainty coming out in angry sarcasm. "Yes?" Mac asked as he pulled the door open to stare at the uniformed man standing outside in the early predawn light. "Good Morning, Sir," the man said cheerfully. "Are you Duncan MacLeod?" "Yes," he replied warily. "And you are?" "Matthew Monahan of Monahan's Delivery Service. You want it delivered? We'll deliver it," Matthew responded brightly, holding out a crisp business card. Mechanically, Mac took it, barely bothering to glance down at it. "I have a package for you. I'll need to see some ID to verify you're indeed the recipient." "What is it you have for me?" Mac asked frowning. "I don't know," Matthew replied, shrugging, then holding up a very small package. Mac's eyes widened. He'd forgotten all about that! "Come in," he said as he spun away from the door, and strode quickly toward the lift. "I'll be right back down," he shouted over his shoulder. ** Mac stared at the note lying obscenely on his desk, the package in his hand utterly forgotten. **What?!** Had the old man finally, completely lost his mind, Mac wondered. Reaching out toward the paper that held Methos' precise handwriting, Mac suddenly remembered his all-so-important package. He frowned. Would it mean *anything* now? Grabbing the offending note, Mac stuffed it in a pocket -- giving the package similar treatment. Then, pivoting on one heel, he headed out the front with long, angry strides. He had to talk to Joe. Maybe *he* could make sense of seeming nonsense. **A joke? Methos really thought I'd play a joke like *this*?** Mac had really thought the old man knew him better than that, and finding out he didn't, shook Mac. Mac breathed deeply, trying to rid himself of the tightness in his chest that was growing by leaps and bounds. If Methos *did* believe that -- given what Joe had revealed yesterday -- the ancient was probably half way to Timbuktu by now -- or, Mac half-grinned, Bora Bora. He just hoped it wasn't too late to track down one wily, running, Immortal. Half-way to Joe's, Mac realized he had one other place to check first -- not that he really expected Methos to still be at his motel, but he had to try. He would end up kicking himself if he didn't, and he missed catching the older Immortal because of it. Lost in thought, it didn't take long to get there, and Mac jumped out of his car. Feeling the lack of presence, halted Mac's hand before he knocked, though he was sorely tempted to do so anyway. It was a legitimate excuse to hit something -- even if it was a defenseless door. Frowning, he turned away, leaving the door unmolested. The whole thing was enough to make him wish he hadn't acted on impulse yesterday. **All of one day,** he thought morosely, **and my life has been turned upside down.** He still wasn't sure, exactly, what made him track Methos down and seduce him. Methos' skittish behavior had left him confused, and he'd stared at the door the older Immortal had darted through for a long time before anything had made sense. With a new perspective, and 20/20 hindsight, the tell-tale little clues had started jumping out at him. It had all made perfect sense at the time, and he'd leapt before he thought, doing the only thing he could think to do in the circumstances. He'd acted, or -- perhaps more accurately -- reacted. He'd followed his instincts, and look where it got him. He sighed as he pulled to a stop in front of Joe's, no longer certain exactly what he was feeling. He'd jumped back and forth between being inches from tears, to wanting to strike out at anything -- or anyone -- in anger, to gut clenching fear that Methos was gone for good, that everything inside him was a twisted, jumbled up mess. The problem was, it all came back to one simple question: Why? **Why? Why? Why?** The words bounced around his mind, repeating over and over. Giving his head a resolute shake, a vain attempt to clear his thoughts, Mac purposely did *not* slam the car door as he got out. He very carefully did *not* pound on Joe's door, and he very patiently did *not* holler for Joe to hurry up, when the door was not answered as soon as he would have liked. After several silent moments, Mac was about to knock again, but was surprised when the door actually opened to reveal Joe -- already dressed. He blinked. "Hi." Joe snorted, shaking his head. "Well, you're intelligent in the morning, Mac." Mac grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I really hadn't expected you to be awake yet." "So you came over just to wake me up?" Joe asked, sarcasm making his words sharp. "No," Mac exclaimed, then sighed, worrying his lower lip. Unable to come up with a delicate way to broach the subject, he suddenly thrust the note toward Joe. "What do you know about this?" he asked, then without giving the man time to read the note, continued. "Why would he think that?" "Why would who think what, Mac?" Joe asked, then shook his head. "No, wait. Come in, I'll read, then you'll explain." MacLeod stepped inside, impatience growing as Joe closed the door and slowly made his way over to the kitchen table. Joe frowned pensively after turning away from the Highlander. He already knew what this was about. He was pretty sure he could quote the note in his hand without even looking at it, but not knowing how to answer his friend, he slowly opened and scanned it quickly, pretending to take far longer at it than it really took. He swallowed. **Shit! We didn't think this through enough, Old Man.** He turned slowly, still unsure what part of this whole thing had MacLeod confused. Had Methos messed up his last wish? Neither one of them had been exactly sober when they'd discussed it, and he couldn't remember precisely what they'd decided on. "You mean it wasn't some kind of set up?" Joe asked, wincing the second the words were out of his mouth, instantly knowing it was the wrong approach. Mac's horrified expression only confirmed it. The Immortal standing before him literally deflating at what could *only* be constrewed as an accusation. MacLeod snatched the note out of his hand, spun on one heel and strode toward the door. "Mac! Wait!" Joe exclaimed, scrambling to follow his subject and friend. MacLeod opened the door. "Damn it, Man, wait! Please!" The Highlander paused, but didn't turn, and Joe knew he had only one last chance to get this right. He'd already insulted his friend's strongly held honor. The problem was, no matter what he did, he could be considered to be betraying someone. To tell the Highlander the truth, just about the only thing that would really help here, would be to betray Methos' confidences. To lie, and try to connive his way through this would be to betray Mac's trust in him, and quite possibly make him insert his nonexistent foot a little *further* into his mouth. He sighed and slumped heavily onto his couch. "I give up. I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't." Mac turned to him, a frown marring his features. "What?" "I know it's too early for it, Mac, but get us both a drink. We're going to need it before I'm done." Mac paused, but did as he was bid, anger and impatience written in every line of his body and every jerking move he made. Joe remained silent until the requested drinks were made, and Mac came to stand over him. "Sit . . . please," he asked accepting his drink, then downing half of it straight away. MacLeod rolled his eyes, but sat -- much to Joe's relief. Unfortunately, Mac also turned *that* expression on him, the one that asked, 'help me understand why'. He closed his eyes. He'd always known Mac wore his heart on his sleeve. He'd certainly seen the Highlander hurt often enough because of it, but this was the first time that hurt expression was truly turned his way, and that it was up to him to make it better. Slowly, haltingly, Joe spilled. He started from the moment Methos had walked into his bar with a confusing problem, and didn't stop talking until he'd related everything up to and including the frantic phone call between him and Methos while MacLeod had been fighting. Surprisingly, Mac didn't interrupt him once. MacLeod burst out laughing, but Joe wasn't fooled, the tears shining clearly in the Highlander's eyes gave it all away. "That's your explanation?" Joe nodded warily. "It's what happened. I *know* it's hard to believe." "Hard to believe?" Mac asked incredulously. "Try impossible." "So are demons, Mac." MacLeod opened his mouth to retort, but suddenly slumped back into his chair instead. "You're not trying to pull one over on me, are you?" he said finally, his assessement more a statement than a question. "No, I'm not." "That's . . . frightening." Joe blew out an emphatic breath. "You got *that* in one, Mac! You should try it when the necklace is sitting within reach. Mac jumped up, immediately starting to pace. "No, thank you!" Joe simply watched the Immortal work things out inside his own mind. There really wasn't anything more he *could* say at this point. Finally, Mac stopped, turning to stare at him. "That still leaves one problem." "One?" Joe exclaimed, his turn to be incredulous. **Thank God! I think he actually believes me.** "Yeah, One. I need to find Methos." Joe shook his head. "Not gonna happen, buddy -- not until Methos wants to be found." "What happened to that Watcher you were so proud of?" Joe blinked. He couldn't believe Mac wasn't going to give Methos a chance to recover. "Damn it, MacLeod!" "You know where he is!" "Yes, I do. And *I* think he deserves some time." "You're going to sit there and tell me you're content to let him think what I feel for him was the result of some stupid wish?" **What? Huh? Who?** "You mean . . . it wasn't?" Mac took a slow, deep breath and sat back down before answering. "I think whatever effect Methos' wish had, gave me the impetus I needed to . . . see what was already there. It gave me the guts to actually *do* something about it, but no, what I feel wasn't actually *caused* by the wish. It's been there a long time actually. It's just been . . . simmering, I guess you could say." Mac jumped up again and resumed his pacing. "Jesus, Joe, in over 400 years of living I've never *really* been attracted to another man. And no," he waved off Joe's question, "I'm not talking about the 'oh my, nice!' effect that's bound to happen every once in a while. Methos is the first man I've ever *seriously* considered actually acting on my attraction with. Everything else was . . . overlookable." Mac stopped and turned to stare questioningly at him. "You know what I mean?" Joe shook his head. "No, I really can't say that I do, but as long as *you* know what you mean. I guess that's all that's important." Mac frowned impatiently, frustration clearly shining from his eyes. "What I mean is, momentary lust, or even appreciation, is one thing -- something that can be taken or left. It can be 'over-looked' if you really want to. It can be conveniently noted, marked, and stuffed away to be forgotten about." Joe nodded, put that way, he understood *exactly* what Mac was trying to say. "This with Methos is different. It isn't just about sex,--" "Okay, Mac, we're heading into the forbidden area marked 'too much information'." Mac laughed and, this time, the sound had true amusement in it. "So, where do I find Methos?" Joe chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll never change, will you?" "Nope," he replied, "now, where is he?" "You're not going to believe it." "Joe?" Mac growled impatiently. "He's staying on your barge in Paris." "He's *what*?" "You heard me." "Yeah, I heard, I just don't--" "Believe me." A grin lighting up his face, Mac once again jumped to his feet, and headed toward the door. "Thanks, Joe." "Wait!" Joe demanded, struggling to his feet. "Where are you going?" "Paris, where else?" "Mac, are you *sure* it isn't just because of the wish?" "I'm sure." "How?" Mac turned and faced him, lightly tapping his own temple. "My memories." "What if your memories were affected by the wish. What if that's how Methos' wish worked?" Mac frowned. "I thought you said he unwished his wish. If he didn't, the note makes even less sense." "Well, Mac, it just seems-- Damn it! Like I said yesterday, before I knew about all this . . . stuff, it just seems so sudden." Mac bit his lip, worrying it for several moments. "Well, honestly, I don't think I care *how* it happened. I feel how I feel, isn't that what's important?" Joe felt shell-shocked. He couldn't believe Mac was virtually parroting Methos' sentiments of last night. "Joe? Are you alright?" "Honestly? No, I don't think I am." "Here," Mac responded, instantly coming closer. "Sit, relax." Joe did as he was told, so far into his own thoughts he didn't even think to protest when Mac helped him to sit. "What's really bothering you about this?" Joe's mouth dropped open. "God! Where do I start?" "Oh, come on, surely it can't be *that* bad?" "Unh huh, and the first time you two have one of your infamous fights, and this whole thing blows up in your faces? What then? It may not seem like it matters *now*, but what about when you're angry at him?" Mac shuddered. "You've got a point." He paused. "So how do we make sure?" Joe reached for the phone, coming to a quick decision. "Who are you calling?" "Methos." "No!" "Why?" "I don't want him to know I'm coming." Joe sighed. "Don't worry, I won't give that away." Mac nodded uneasily and backed off. Joe quickly dialed the number and waited impatiently while the phone rang, hyperaware of the man ready to listen to every word he said. "Hello, Old Man." ... "Why *else* would I be calling?" ... "So, you did it then? Just like we worked out?" ... "What do you mean, 'not quite'?" MacLeod tensed, frowning intensely. Joe ignored him, turning pointedly away. "Uh huh, how, exactly did you phrase it?" Joe nodded slowly, listening carefully to what the ancient said. "You sure that's *exactly* what you said?" ... "Of course, it's important!" MacLeod sighed impatiently behind him. "Because it is, damn it! I'm the one left here to deal with the fallout if you didn't get this right." ... "Oh, alright, then." ... "Yeah, sounds like it would work." ... "Well, it's not like it's an exact science, now is it?" ... "True." ... "Told you your Watcher was good." ... "Now, now, don't be that way." Joe chuckled, Mac was huffing impatiently behind him, and he could practically *hear* Methos pout. ... "Yeah, you too, Old Man. See you soon." Joe hung up, and slowly turned to face the expectant Highlander. "Well?" Mac demanded when Joe simply sat there. He laughed. "Assuming the first wish had an effect in the first place -- yeah, I know, big assumption -- the last wish *should* have taken care of it." "You're not going to tell me what he wished, are you?" "Nope." "You're just plain evil, Joe. You do know that, right? Listening to one sided conversations is pure hell." "Yep," Joe replied, his grin growing. "Now get the hell out of here. I want some sleep, and you've got a plane to catch." Mac grinned, bounced up and toward the door -- again. "Thanks Joe," he said as he pulled it open. "You're one in a million." "Yeah, I know," Joe replied as the door closed behind his friend. "So are you, buddy. So are you." The End For now Look for "Speaking Louder Than Words" in the near future. Feedback craved at Kiristeen@kiristeen.com Home Highlander Story Index |