Land of My Birth (5/9)

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*Two days later*


"And of course, we both had changes of clothes in our
packs," Richie was telling a still-amazed Joe Dawson.
"We'd planned to spend a night in another inn before
coming back here. So we got Connor dry and dressed,
somehow, and put him across Mac's horse. We took
turns walking."

Duncan gazed down at the tankard of ale he clutched in
both hands. Hands that refused to stop shaking.

His voice was no steadier. "If Richie hadn't been there,
I think I would have gone to pieces. Been so sure I was
having a mental breakdown that I really would have
had one."

Connor said loyally, "No, you wouldn't."

But he said it without conviction.

The men were seated around a rough oak table in the
tavern area of Rachel MacLeod's inn, which she'd closed
for their "private party." Despite some misgivings on
Richie's part, all four had shared a traditional meal of
haggis.

Duncan hadn't been completely sure Connor wasn't a
ghost till he watched him eat.

//Though ghosts are supposed to be pale and
emaciated...  Connor has never looked better. In fact,
he seems to have shed a dozen years! //

The elder Highlander caught him staring. He said
gently, "I swear I didn't know this would happen when
I asked you to take my head, Duncan. Right now I'm the
most surprised man on the planet."

Joe gave a bemused shake of his head. "You might have
some rivals for that title."

"No, I think it's all mine. Bad enough that I tried to
make a noble sacrifice, only to come back to life on my
*birth day*." Connor made the words distinctly
separate, and spat them out with distaste. "On top of
that, I'm learning Duncan had become a much more
powerful Immortal than I knew. Well able to defeat
Jacob Kell on his own. My death wish may actually
have weakened him."

Duncan tried to  protest, but Connor was on a roll. "As if
that wasn't enough, I hear the Watchers are out to kill
me and anyone who has contact with me. And if I'd had
my wits about me--if I wasn't always so singleminded
about my obsessions--I would have known that, from
the moment I walked away from their blasted
Sanctuary." He drained his ale tankard and slammed it
into the table, for no particular reason.

"Are you through?" As usual, Duncan found himself
functioning better when there was a need to cheer
someone else. "It's not true that I could have taken Kell
alone. Or that you weakened me.

"When you and I met on that rooftop...yes, I did believe
I could defeat him. I'd seen through Joe's little trick."

Joe had already admitted that he'd deliberately misled
Duncan about his "confirmed kills"--and, for that
matter, Connor's--in an attempt to convince him they
stood no chance against Kell. His real motive in trying
to keep Duncan out of it had been to protect him from
the Watchers.

"I believed *you* could take him just as easily," Duncan
went on, "if you gave yourself time to recover from the
Sanctuary experience--to get back in shape and
practice." Their eyes met, and he said *sotto voce*, "Yes,
I know now that there was more involved. I really did
receive your Quickening..."

//We can discuss that later. If there ever is a "later."//

"I despaired of making you understand. And, yes, the
reason I let myself be persuaded to take your head was
the one you never thought of. I was sure the Watchers
wouldn't let you live! I knew that in the state of mind I
was seeing, you wouldn't defend yourself. And I couldn't
bear the thought of your Quickening being lost."

He needed to steady himself with a deep breath before
he could continue. "The fight with Kell was much
harder than I expected. You weren't aware, Connor,
that I'd stopped taking heads several years ago. I knew
that in this crisis, I had to do it--to save your
Quickening, and stop Kell's desecrations of holy ground.
But it was one thing to know that, another to act.

"In mid-fight with him, I was questioning my motive.
Was it really what I thought, or was I seeking revenge?
For his murdering Kate, making me kill you?

"Worst of all, Joe and I hadn't realized how dangerous
Kell really was. The nine Immortals he'd murdered in
the Sanctuary were extremely old and powerful. Not
just swordsmen, hypnotists and magicians. He was only
gradually assimilating their power--but he *was* doing
it. If he'd had another week, he would have been
unstoppable.

"As it was...I swear this is true, Connor. The part of you
that was in me realized I was losing, and came to the
fore. And together, we defeated him."

Connor studied him for a long minute before saying
evenly, "And now you have all those sorcerers' power?"

Duncan met his gaze without evasion. "Yes, in theory.
But I've vowed never to use it, not even try to learn how
to wield it. And I've sworn off taking heads again."

Connor looked into his onetime student's eyes, and
seemed satisfied with what he saw. He gave a quick,
crisp nod. "All right. I'm glad to know I really was able
to help. Now can I have a refill on that ale?"

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