About the Fear of Flying, by MacNair
Title: About the Fear of Flying
Author: MacNair
Pairing: None
Why this must be read: I would recommend any of MacNair's Highlander stories. This one's got a dedicated Watcher going down with the (air)ship, it's got a very hunky Amnesiac!Tarzan!Connor, it's got Duncan as caretaker for Connor (and ordinarily, as good as Duncan is? Connor can still kick his ass). Best of all, it's got quicksand.
Quicksand, quicksand, the plot device of a hundred "B" westerns and old comic books. Shed a tear for those plot devices of yore, for their like will not come again. And this is especially creepy quicksand, because getting stuck in quicksand, reviving and dying for centuries, is a fate worse than decapitation for Immortals.
A taste...
Joseph Dawson stood on the front steps, cane in one hand and a bottle of fine scotch whisky in the other. The rain dotted the top of his head and trickled down his face. He let it.
Christ, he thought to himself. He was sorely out of practice with this. He had delivered bad news before, of course. It was the nature of the business sometimes to bring bad news. But this?
He had no illusions about the severity of his tidings tonight and it would show on his face the moment he stepped inside the door. He felt sick. And it would get worse. How much worse he had no idea, but certainly worse than it already was.
He opened the door after a short knock. After all, he was expected here for dinner.
Duncan MacLeod was in the kitchen dicing vegetables for the stir-fry. The steam boiled out of the iron wok beside him. He did not even look up, just smiled down at the busy knife in his hand and called a cheery 'hello' to his Watcher and friend. Joseph wondered when he would see that smile again and tossed his wet coat on the back of the nearest chair.
"I hope you're in the mood for chicken. I found this great recipe the other day and thought you wouldn't mind trying it out-," Duncan's voice faltered abruptly as he looked up at the bearded bartender, "-with me ... Joe?" He put the knife down and leaned both hands on the chopping block. "What's wrong?"
"I've some bad news, Mac." Dawson had known this immortal too long to beat around the bush about such things. Still, his throat tightened and his heart cringed at this grim task set before him. "You remember that jetliner that went down near the equator?"
"Yes." The Highlander's eyes were hard and fixed on his face. "They are still pulling bodies out two days later. What of it?"
"One of my men was aboard."
"Oh, Joe, I'm sorry," Duncan's voice was immediately soft with sympathy. "On vacation? The plane was headed to South America, I heard."
"No." Dawson plunged ahead with his revelation as if he had to get it out before it burned a hole in his insides. "He was Watching Connor MacLeod."
Quicksand and amnesia. It's irresistible.
About the Fear of Flying
Author's Website: MacNair's stories can be found at Daire's Fanfic Refuge and Connor's Rotunda.
Author: MacNair
Pairing: None
Why this must be read: I would recommend any of MacNair's Highlander stories. This one's got a dedicated Watcher going down with the (air)ship, it's got a very hunky Amnesiac!Tarzan!Connor, it's got Duncan as caretaker for Connor (and ordinarily, as good as Duncan is? Connor can still kick his ass). Best of all, it's got quicksand.
Quicksand, quicksand, the plot device of a hundred "B" westerns and old comic books. Shed a tear for those plot devices of yore, for their like will not come again. And this is especially creepy quicksand, because getting stuck in quicksand, reviving and dying for centuries, is a fate worse than decapitation for Immortals.
A taste...
Joseph Dawson stood on the front steps, cane in one hand and a bottle of fine scotch whisky in the other. The rain dotted the top of his head and trickled down his face. He let it.
Christ, he thought to himself. He was sorely out of practice with this. He had delivered bad news before, of course. It was the nature of the business sometimes to bring bad news. But this?
He had no illusions about the severity of his tidings tonight and it would show on his face the moment he stepped inside the door. He felt sick. And it would get worse. How much worse he had no idea, but certainly worse than it already was.
He opened the door after a short knock. After all, he was expected here for dinner.
Duncan MacLeod was in the kitchen dicing vegetables for the stir-fry. The steam boiled out of the iron wok beside him. He did not even look up, just smiled down at the busy knife in his hand and called a cheery 'hello' to his Watcher and friend. Joseph wondered when he would see that smile again and tossed his wet coat on the back of the nearest chair.
"I hope you're in the mood for chicken. I found this great recipe the other day and thought you wouldn't mind trying it out-," Duncan's voice faltered abruptly as he looked up at the bearded bartender, "-with me ... Joe?" He put the knife down and leaned both hands on the chopping block. "What's wrong?"
"I've some bad news, Mac." Dawson had known this immortal too long to beat around the bush about such things. Still, his throat tightened and his heart cringed at this grim task set before him. "You remember that jetliner that went down near the equator?"
"Yes." The Highlander's eyes were hard and fixed on his face. "They are still pulling bodies out two days later. What of it?"
"One of my men was aboard."
"Oh, Joe, I'm sorry," Duncan's voice was immediately soft with sympathy. "On vacation? The plane was headed to South America, I heard."
"No." Dawson plunged ahead with his revelation as if he had to get it out before it burned a hole in his insides. "He was Watching Connor MacLeod."
Quicksand and amnesia. It's irresistible.
About the Fear of Flying
Author's Website: MacNair's stories can be found at Daire's Fanfic Refuge and Connor's Rotunda.