Fashion Victim , for carenejeans
People, I wasn't expecting this story, and I did debate as to posting or not. But I thought, (a) more fic is good and (b) it couldn't happen to a nicer person. So, more fic for carenejeans .
Title: Fashion Victim
Sekrit Writer Name: Cinderella
Witten for: Carene aka carenejeans
Characters/Pairings: Duncan, Methos, Joe, original characters
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~ 3500
Contents: pre-slash, humor, secrets, a bit of angst and chained-Duncan
Author's Notes: I hope it is readable, I had this idea and wanted to write it very much, though still not sure if anybody else would agree with me on it J
Summary: Every man has to have a secret, to have an outlet for his artistic impulses, though sometimes it plays not the way you thought it should…
Fashion Victim.
Beginning of the November 2000
There goes a man made by the Lord Almighty and not by his tailor. Andrew Jackson
Duncan walked through the mall arcade rather quickly, hiding under his very 60’s sunglasses. He was tired, angry for no apparent reasons and generally distressed. Nothing made him glad these days. He pulled his cap lower over his ears and ducked into the indiscernible door.
“Monsieur D’Argault! Thank god, you’re here!” Tall, well-built woman in her forties, with the face resembled a thoroughbred mare, easily matched Duncan’s stride. She wasn’t surprised or affronted by his dirty jeans and smelly sweatshirt, like it was quite fashionable for the head of a well-known in a particular circles fashion house to come to his place of creation after the jogging and workout.
“Monsieur Heidel’s spitting feathers when he saw the gown you created for his daughter. He said he’d never pay for it, if…” They’re able now to hear the heated arguments between the German-accented customer and Alexander, perfectly polite personal assistant of a fashion guru.
Duncan sighed, “Could you stall him for a moment, Jasmine, please. I need a…” he gestured at his attire and smiled weakly, “… shower. And send Alexander.”
Jasmine smiled at him indulgently and left to see to the other things.
Fashion is the science of appearance, and it inspires one with the desire to seem rather than to be. Henry Fielding
Duncan stayed under the cascade of the hot water, feeling as ache and weariness left him. He still was bone tired, but it got nothing to do with the physical pain from pushing himself hard. The cup of coffee appeared beside the sink and he sipped at it while toweling himself dry. He heard the soft clicks of the keyboard from the room and the distant echo of Christmas Carols. It was quite soothing hum.
“How are you, Dun?” The older man looked up at his boss when he left the bathroom at last. “Are you up to some work?”
“Mmm… not bad, considering. I think I overworked my right arm, though.”
“Doing what, exactly? Wanking?” Both Alexander and Duncan snorted and turned towards Jasmine, who brought up the tray with the breakfast.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Duncan poured himself another cup of coffee and sat on the windowsill nibbling on the croissant. “So, do we have any more problems with the fathers who lack sense of fashion?”
Jasmine hit him playfully with her file and with that the little tight and devoted to each other group went through their morning routine. There were clothes to be made, customers to be measured, and models to be tried on.
I love luxury. And luxury lies not in richness and ornateness but in the absence of vulgarity. Vulgarity is the ugliest word in our language. I stay in the game to fight it.
Coco Chanel
“The D’Argault Fashion House” had never been well known by general public. It was one of that tailor’s workshops catering to the higher society, people who preferred ‘class & quality’ to the name.
It’s history had begun somewhere in the last years of Napoleon’s reign. Mademoiselle Genevieve D’Argault who was well known in particular circles for her fashion taste, decided to put said taste to use and gathered a group of milliners and tailors to make clothe for people at court. Some years later, she was honored with an invitation to make a formal dress for the Josephine herself. From here on the history of success had begun.
In the afternoon of her life, she’d left her house to a grandnephew and from now on it went from one male descendant to another. Some of them weren’t interested in it at all, the others on the contrary took an active part in it - from the simple managers to surprisingly good fashion designers. The one thing they all were agreed upon - they took a good pride in not advertising their fashion house, relying on the word goes from mouth to mouth. And they stood on a solid ground to relay on it.
Now, two hundred years later, they still lived by these principals - no advertising, recommendations from the permanent customers, designer’s word is a law and the likes. It may seem strange to the outsider, but when one tried their services, he returned to them without doubt.
A well-knotted cravat is the first serious step in a man’s life. Oscar Wilde
Alexander stayed for some time after their morning meeting. They went through the sketches, Duncan actually liked that part the most, Alexander was the best assistant he had had through the years. It was always the hardest - to find just the right person to stand for him. They met each other when Alexander was barely out of his teens and tried to find a place for himself in the fashion industry. They both benefited from this meeting.
“Yeah, I think it’ll do.” Highlander gathered all the sketches in one neat pile and turned to his friend. “Now, spill it out.”
Alexander hesitated. “You see, she came herself this time. She really wanted to have you over to her place, she told us she’s planning a big … like - ball … in the end of the spring and she really wanted you to come to her place and see it that you’d able to decide on the theme and make sketches and so on.”
“Damn, why me?! I’m not a set or production designer.” Duncan threw the file across the room. “Did you tell her it’s not how we work here?”
“Sure, Dun. Don’t let her get to you; she just wants in your pants.” He grinned lopsidedly, but by the look on Duncan’s face Alexander knew it didn’t help. “Okay, okay. I get Alec to check her out - she’s good, just one of that crazy rich bimbos who don’t know what to do with herself or her money. It may be a good diversion for you…” He looked at Duncan expectantly.
“Write her…” Duncan closed his eyes and leaned tiredly back in his chair, “something along the lines - ‘Dear Madame StEvens, I’m flattered at your invitation, but my obligations doesn’t allow me to accept your interesting offer’ and so on.”
Alexander looked at his master with concern. Right now, worn out, pale, with his hair grew longer than he used to wear it for the last couple of years and lost weight Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod looked both younger, less mature than Alexander was comfortable with; and older, lot less involved in the life around him that was also quite uncharacteristic for him. He sighed.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Duncan muttered through the teeth not even opened his eyes. “It’s… I just need to live it through and find the lost balance.”
“All you need is a new Tessa in your life.”
“Don’t!” Duncan leaped up into his face. “Don’t! Just…”
Alexander snarled. “Okay, you don’t need another Tessa, I agree with you on that; you’ll just keep pinning after that skinny Ireland ass till the world turns in it’s axes.” It was the sore topic for both of them. Duncan’s confession to one of his friends who really knew him for what he was beside the clan leader - bisexual artist with the perfect sense of fashion and true compassion for a lot of unorthodox cause (the one, his friends knew him as Highlander, didn’t see) - left the older man angry on his behalf.
Know first who you are, and then adorn yourself accordingly. Epictetus
They didn’t talk till the end of the day. It was only after Alec, Alexander’s son and the electronic guru of their little kingdom, came as negotiator, that Duncan was able to let go of his hurt for Methos. He just knew that once Alexander meets Methos he’d be charmed. The problem was his two worlds had never met before and unlikely had any reasons to do now. It was always better that way. And it sucked.
“You know, man, it sucks.” Alec’s words echoed his own thoughts. “We should do something about it.”
“About what, exactly?” Duncan watched father and son with some kind of awe every time they were together in the same room. Alexander was tall, skinny, impeccably dressed in a three-piece designer suite, always polite even when he talked bullshit; and Alec - even taller, built like a hockey player, preferred to wear silk sweaters with the snowboard pants. Quite a pair. The best people to work with and really good friends.
It sucked that he wouldn’t introduce them to Joe and Adam.
“About that StEvens girl. She gives us a sweet deal. Don’t you interested? I mean - to have such a playground…” It sounded pretty cheese. Though Duncan wasn’t interested. Now, if it were one skinny Ireland ass to make a suggestion, here he’d be tempted.
Fashion is a tyrant from which there is no deliverance; all must conform to its whimsical.
French Proverb
middle of December 2000
Though starving at school, I never took twice of pudding, and paid sixpence a week out of my shilling to have my shoes blacked. Bulwer-Lytton
The bar was at full swing. Joe stood behind the counter talking to Methos while keeping an eye on his new bartender. The guy was good with the people and Joe relaxed into the conversation and that subtle pre-Christmas feeling that wrapped up all the customers.
Somewhere in the middle of the conversation, Methos got distracted watching somebody quite intently.
“Problem?”
“Problem? No. No, just feeling… Don’t you think you saw that guy somewhere?” Methos nodded discreetly at the fifty something man - salt and pepper hair, deep laughing lines in the corner of his eyes, coat too elegant for the bar like this. In some ways he reminded Joe of Duncan and his heart constricted a little at the thought of him. While Joe knew that Duncan was okay, they felt strangely uncomfortable with each other these days and didn’t visit much. Actually, it was couple of months, since he’s heard from the Highlander himself.
”Yeah, the feeling…” Joe muttered under his breath and caught the look of recognition from the newcomer. “Damn, Me…Adam, do we have a problem here?”
“No. He isn’t one of us, though he definitely knows us.” Methos watched the progress of the man towards the counter.
“Monsieur Pierson?” Up close he looked more like in his late fifties, though was in the excellent physical state. He waited for Adam’s nod before continue. “I’m a friend of Duncan MacLeod and he asked me to find you if I’m worried.”
Nor Adam neither Joe spoke for several minutes. “And why you’d be worried about him? He’s a big boy…”
“I know exactly how big he is.” It sounded like the man knew exactly what he talks about, namely - that Duncan was immortal. Strangely enough, it gives Joe sort of hope, that Duncan had someone to lean on when he didn’t talk to them. He nodded to the man, he still didn’t know his name, to continue.
“He should’ve called me a week ago and didn’t, we’d had the additional date set up, but he didn’t call either. We know each other for over forty years and no once did he miss check up calls. No once.” The man looked at them intently. “So, I had to find somebody to help me look for him. You’re the people he spoke often about and praised.”
“Please.” Joe looked at the new guy questionably. “Can we begin again from the beginning? You are…?”
“Me?” He was obviously so determined to find help for Duncan he didn’t have time to stop and think that maybe nobody there knew who he was. “Sorry, got carried away. My name is Alexander Flaxen; I’m a general manager for “The D’Argault Fashion House” and personal assistant of Monsieur D’Argault.”
He said it with quite a proud and looked expectantly at both men. The name said nothing to Joe, he wasn’t really into fashion, though he saw a hint of recognition in Methos’s eyes. He was the one to answer.
“It’s a good place to work. And how do you know Duncan?”
One may become rich, but one is born elegant. Balzac
Monsieur Flaxen opened his mouth to say something and snapped it instantly, looking at them with suspicion. The silence grew uncomfortable. Joe tried to figure out what to say when their new acquaintance suddenly chuckled quietly. “Oh, yes, I see it now, old man.” He shook his head and smiled at them without any suspicion this time.
“Sorry, I forgot for a moment, hope he’ll forgive me it was me to say it, though.” He paused for a second. “Duncan MacLeod is, in fact, the one and only true Monsieur D’Argault, who owns this fashion house since 1821.”
Joe and Methos have been left speechless.
“You didn’t know it? Really?” The fashion man looked at them incredulously. “That’s… Isn’t that something! I was sure he was kidding me.” He laughed a little and shook his head. “Just something!”
“Fashion designer!” Joe sat heavily on the stool. “Fashion! Fucking! Designer! Of all…”
Adam and Alexander began to laugh quietly. It was really quite funny - the mighty clan leader, the epitome of the manliness and chivalrous as a fashion designer, though Methos could imagine him creating the perfect dress for a Woman. That appealed.
Christmas Eve 2000
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy: for the apparel oft proclaims the man. Shakespeare
They argued from the moment Joe and Adam realized why it was so urgent to go and find Duncan. Adam, as a self appointed leader, insisted on doing it his way - sneaking into the mansion and taking Duncan away. It sounded too easy even for the totally inexperienced Alexander.
Joe was opted to act openly - go to see the woman and ask her point-blank.
“We tried it.” Alexander broke off his silence. “We called her and asked. She said she didn’t see him half the year, since her summer visit.” He had his doubts now concerning their rescue mission. Dependable, trustworthy Joe, dressed as… as an average Joe and that guy Adam, student-y, talkative, inexperienced, wrapped up in the layers of worn sweaters and jeans. Alexander just wasn’t sure they could pull it off together. Maybe he should’ve stuck with his son.
Nah. They needed to combine their forces to do it.
“Do you think she’s crazy?” There was a challenge in Adam’s eyes.
Alexander grinned to himself. “Nah. I think she’s in love.”
Challenge in Adam’s eyes turned into something undecipherable. “What did she tell you exactly?”
“Nothing much. Basically - what I already told you.”
“How do you know, then, that we needed to do it quick?”
Do you think it means nothing to have the right, as you make your entry into a salon, to look down on everybody from the height of your cravat and be privileged to despise the most important man there if his waistcoat is out of fashion? Balzac
The main house of the mansion - three-story classical structure - was lit by the sea of lights and outrageously decorated with Christmas goodies. One could even see the dancing shadows in the windows if he had good eyes. The three unlikely rescuers stood on the edge of the forest peering into their binoculars.
“Here you’re, guys! Great!”
Alexander watched on the quiet his companion’s reaction for his son. There was silence, glance towards him, more silence. Until Alec took it all in his capable hands.
“S’okay, guys. I have it all under control. I put some small cameras outside and movement sensors. She keeps Dun on the third floor. There a lot of guests to hide between, so we should be able to do it in no time.” Alec smiled satisfied with himself and Adam smiled back.
Alexander nearly chocked, but said nothing.
“That’s great, man. What kind of sensors do you use? Are there any mics?”
Alexander and Joe looked at each other and rolled their eyes simultaneously. Children…
If people turn to look at you on the street, you are not well dressed. Beau Brummel
Alec brought two big suitcases with the best formal wear to find on a short notice.
“Joe, you stay in the car.” Methos actually liked to plan, to act. The situation was pretty strange - whether real kidnapping or just a bad joke - to find a right way to treat it. At first he was sure it was just a joke. Then he recognized the sense in the older man’s eyes for real worry and had to take it seriously. Though it didn’t mean he had to like Alexander. He liked his son better - big boisterous man with the very intelligent eyes and love for tricky electronic devices. Useful connection.
Joe knew he could get under foot and stayed behind. The three of them put on formal attire and quietly moved towards the house. Methos felt loosening inside. For one - he gets to see Duncan, and then - to find such a fantastic reason for teasing… He even laughed to himself and then subside a little, firstly he had to make sure Duncan was okay and wanted to be the object of teasing. He sighed.
“I go inside. Alexander stays in the corridor on the watch, Alec - on the stairway enclosure.” Methos didn’t look back but felt their nods with the nerve endings. He was already able to feel Duncan’s Buzz. It was like coming home.
He poked his head in the room. Duncan sat by the window beside small working table. Quite thick metal chain went from his ankle to the wall hoop. Duncan hunched above something raggy. He strangely enough didn’t react to Methos’s Buzz.
“Hey!”
Duncan still didn’t pay attention to him.
“Duncan!” Methos couldn’t risk saying it loud. “Hey!”
All of a sudden Duncan tossed the cloth on the floor, thrust forefinger in the mouth and swore. It looked almost comically if you could forget about the chain. Methos couldn’t.
“Duncan!”
The other immortal raised his head and looked at him unbelievably. “Methos… Adam! What?!” he almost rushed to him only to be stopped by the chain. “Adam!”
Methos run to him, kissed him on the lips without any thought and lurched to the chain’s padlock. It took him a minute to open it, and he turned to face Highlander, realized just this second what he’d done.
“Listen, Hi…” He was interrupted with the lips on his lips and these incredible dark eyes millimeters from his told him clearly ‘another word of regret and I’ll kill you right here’. Methos was all for it and nodded somewhat unlike his usual self - happy and releaved.
Style is when they’re running you out of town and you make it look like you’re leading the parade. William Battie
Duncan didn’t let go of Adam’s hand the whole run to the car and their way towards Zurich and the hotel. Alexander exchanged glances with Alec and the both grinned wolfishly - here lies the endless material for tease and jokes. Then he met Joe’s grateful gaze in the rare view mirror and smiled in answer his own happy free smile of the indulgent ‘father’. He felt generous and even began to construct appropriate suites for the ‘boys’ to go on a formal date in his mind.
“Hey, Dun, at what did she need from you after all?” Alexander didn’t foresee that such a simple question could bring on Duncan’s face such an unhappy expression.
He watched as the immortal fidgeted on the rear seat didn’t look at any of them. There had to be something really weird with this woman if he’s afraid to explain it.
“She… uhm… she wanted me to sew her … uhm … to design and sew dowry for her.” He sighed unhappily. “It was okay with the design, even if she wanted something quite medieval. But she… uhm… wanted me to sew it by hand. All! Could you imagine it? So, I tried to run and got lost…” he sighed again.
“And what’s the deal?” Alec was confused, even if he worked in the fashion industry he didn’t deal with the clothe making itself and couldn’t fathom difficulties of the hand sewing. “Why do you have a problem with it?”
Duncan bared his teeth, “I don’t know how to sew by hand. I’m a designer, not a tailor! I don’t even have a proper education and certainly don’t have time to learn how to sew.”
It was… okay, Alexander thought they shouldn’t have to laugh, but it was really funny. He watched in the rear view mirror as Adam gathered Duncan in his arms and whispered something to him. Then he raised his voice for everybody to hear, “…and we’ll find somebody to help you with all the fine points how to be the proper head of the fashion house, not that you were a bad one.” And he looked pointedly at Alexander.
He sighed. And grinned. That promises them endless hours of fun, otherwise all the life becomes pointless if you couldn’t enjoy it. He raised his eyes and met adam’s gaze in the mirror. A laughing gaze.
Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening.
Coco Chanel
The guessing post for this fic is here.
Title: Fashion Victim
Sekrit Writer Name: Cinderella
Witten for: Carene aka carenejeans
Characters/Pairings: Duncan, Methos, Joe, original characters
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~ 3500
Contents: pre-slash, humor, secrets, a bit of angst and chained-Duncan
Author's Notes: I hope it is readable, I had this idea and wanted to write it very much, though still not sure if anybody else would agree with me on it J
Summary: Every man has to have a secret, to have an outlet for his artistic impulses, though sometimes it plays not the way you thought it should…
Fashion Victim.
Beginning of the November 2000
There goes a man made by the Lord Almighty and not by his tailor. Andrew Jackson
Duncan walked through the mall arcade rather quickly, hiding under his very 60’s sunglasses. He was tired, angry for no apparent reasons and generally distressed. Nothing made him glad these days. He pulled his cap lower over his ears and ducked into the indiscernible door.
“Monsieur D’Argault! Thank god, you’re here!” Tall, well-built woman in her forties, with the face resembled a thoroughbred mare, easily matched Duncan’s stride. She wasn’t surprised or affronted by his dirty jeans and smelly sweatshirt, like it was quite fashionable for the head of a well-known in a particular circles fashion house to come to his place of creation after the jogging and workout.
“Monsieur Heidel’s spitting feathers when he saw the gown you created for his daughter. He said he’d never pay for it, if…” They’re able now to hear the heated arguments between the German-accented customer and Alexander, perfectly polite personal assistant of a fashion guru.
Duncan sighed, “Could you stall him for a moment, Jasmine, please. I need a…” he gestured at his attire and smiled weakly, “… shower. And send Alexander.”
Jasmine smiled at him indulgently and left to see to the other things.
Fashion is the science of appearance, and it inspires one with the desire to seem rather than to be. Henry Fielding
Duncan stayed under the cascade of the hot water, feeling as ache and weariness left him. He still was bone tired, but it got nothing to do with the physical pain from pushing himself hard. The cup of coffee appeared beside the sink and he sipped at it while toweling himself dry. He heard the soft clicks of the keyboard from the room and the distant echo of Christmas Carols. It was quite soothing hum.
“How are you, Dun?” The older man looked up at his boss when he left the bathroom at last. “Are you up to some work?”
“Mmm… not bad, considering. I think I overworked my right arm, though.”
“Doing what, exactly? Wanking?” Both Alexander and Duncan snorted and turned towards Jasmine, who brought up the tray with the breakfast.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Duncan poured himself another cup of coffee and sat on the windowsill nibbling on the croissant. “So, do we have any more problems with the fathers who lack sense of fashion?”
Jasmine hit him playfully with her file and with that the little tight and devoted to each other group went through their morning routine. There were clothes to be made, customers to be measured, and models to be tried on.
I love luxury. And luxury lies not in richness and ornateness but in the absence of vulgarity. Vulgarity is the ugliest word in our language. I stay in the game to fight it.
Coco Chanel
“The D’Argault Fashion House” had never been well known by general public. It was one of that tailor’s workshops catering to the higher society, people who preferred ‘class & quality’ to the name.
It’s history had begun somewhere in the last years of Napoleon’s reign. Mademoiselle Genevieve D’Argault who was well known in particular circles for her fashion taste, decided to put said taste to use and gathered a group of milliners and tailors to make clothe for people at court. Some years later, she was honored with an invitation to make a formal dress for the Josephine herself. From here on the history of success had begun.
In the afternoon of her life, she’d left her house to a grandnephew and from now on it went from one male descendant to another. Some of them weren’t interested in it at all, the others on the contrary took an active part in it - from the simple managers to surprisingly good fashion designers. The one thing they all were agreed upon - they took a good pride in not advertising their fashion house, relying on the word goes from mouth to mouth. And they stood on a solid ground to relay on it.
Now, two hundred years later, they still lived by these principals - no advertising, recommendations from the permanent customers, designer’s word is a law and the likes. It may seem strange to the outsider, but when one tried their services, he returned to them without doubt.
A well-knotted cravat is the first serious step in a man’s life. Oscar Wilde
Alexander stayed for some time after their morning meeting. They went through the sketches, Duncan actually liked that part the most, Alexander was the best assistant he had had through the years. It was always the hardest - to find just the right person to stand for him. They met each other when Alexander was barely out of his teens and tried to find a place for himself in the fashion industry. They both benefited from this meeting.
“Yeah, I think it’ll do.” Highlander gathered all the sketches in one neat pile and turned to his friend. “Now, spill it out.”
Alexander hesitated. “You see, she came herself this time. She really wanted to have you over to her place, she told us she’s planning a big … like - ball … in the end of the spring and she really wanted you to come to her place and see it that you’d able to decide on the theme and make sketches and so on.”
“Damn, why me?! I’m not a set or production designer.” Duncan threw the file across the room. “Did you tell her it’s not how we work here?”
“Sure, Dun. Don’t let her get to you; she just wants in your pants.” He grinned lopsidedly, but by the look on Duncan’s face Alexander knew it didn’t help. “Okay, okay. I get Alec to check her out - she’s good, just one of that crazy rich bimbos who don’t know what to do with herself or her money. It may be a good diversion for you…” He looked at Duncan expectantly.
“Write her…” Duncan closed his eyes and leaned tiredly back in his chair, “something along the lines - ‘Dear Madame StEvens, I’m flattered at your invitation, but my obligations doesn’t allow me to accept your interesting offer’ and so on.”
Alexander looked at his master with concern. Right now, worn out, pale, with his hair grew longer than he used to wear it for the last couple of years and lost weight Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod looked both younger, less mature than Alexander was comfortable with; and older, lot less involved in the life around him that was also quite uncharacteristic for him. He sighed.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Duncan muttered through the teeth not even opened his eyes. “It’s… I just need to live it through and find the lost balance.”
“All you need is a new Tessa in your life.”
“Don’t!” Duncan leaped up into his face. “Don’t! Just…”
Alexander snarled. “Okay, you don’t need another Tessa, I agree with you on that; you’ll just keep pinning after that skinny Ireland ass till the world turns in it’s axes.” It was the sore topic for both of them. Duncan’s confession to one of his friends who really knew him for what he was beside the clan leader - bisexual artist with the perfect sense of fashion and true compassion for a lot of unorthodox cause (the one, his friends knew him as Highlander, didn’t see) - left the older man angry on his behalf.
Know first who you are, and then adorn yourself accordingly. Epictetus
They didn’t talk till the end of the day. It was only after Alec, Alexander’s son and the electronic guru of their little kingdom, came as negotiator, that Duncan was able to let go of his hurt for Methos. He just knew that once Alexander meets Methos he’d be charmed. The problem was his two worlds had never met before and unlikely had any reasons to do now. It was always better that way. And it sucked.
“You know, man, it sucks.” Alec’s words echoed his own thoughts. “We should do something about it.”
“About what, exactly?” Duncan watched father and son with some kind of awe every time they were together in the same room. Alexander was tall, skinny, impeccably dressed in a three-piece designer suite, always polite even when he talked bullshit; and Alec - even taller, built like a hockey player, preferred to wear silk sweaters with the snowboard pants. Quite a pair. The best people to work with and really good friends.
It sucked that he wouldn’t introduce them to Joe and Adam.
“About that StEvens girl. She gives us a sweet deal. Don’t you interested? I mean - to have such a playground…” It sounded pretty cheese. Though Duncan wasn’t interested. Now, if it were one skinny Ireland ass to make a suggestion, here he’d be tempted.
Fashion is a tyrant from which there is no deliverance; all must conform to its whimsical.
French Proverb
middle of December 2000
Though starving at school, I never took twice of pudding, and paid sixpence a week out of my shilling to have my shoes blacked. Bulwer-Lytton
The bar was at full swing. Joe stood behind the counter talking to Methos while keeping an eye on his new bartender. The guy was good with the people and Joe relaxed into the conversation and that subtle pre-Christmas feeling that wrapped up all the customers.
Somewhere in the middle of the conversation, Methos got distracted watching somebody quite intently.
“Problem?”
“Problem? No. No, just feeling… Don’t you think you saw that guy somewhere?” Methos nodded discreetly at the fifty something man - salt and pepper hair, deep laughing lines in the corner of his eyes, coat too elegant for the bar like this. In some ways he reminded Joe of Duncan and his heart constricted a little at the thought of him. While Joe knew that Duncan was okay, they felt strangely uncomfortable with each other these days and didn’t visit much. Actually, it was couple of months, since he’s heard from the Highlander himself.
”Yeah, the feeling…” Joe muttered under his breath and caught the look of recognition from the newcomer. “Damn, Me…Adam, do we have a problem here?”
“No. He isn’t one of us, though he definitely knows us.” Methos watched the progress of the man towards the counter.
“Monsieur Pierson?” Up close he looked more like in his late fifties, though was in the excellent physical state. He waited for Adam’s nod before continue. “I’m a friend of Duncan MacLeod and he asked me to find you if I’m worried.”
Nor Adam neither Joe spoke for several minutes. “And why you’d be worried about him? He’s a big boy…”
“I know exactly how big he is.” It sounded like the man knew exactly what he talks about, namely - that Duncan was immortal. Strangely enough, it gives Joe sort of hope, that Duncan had someone to lean on when he didn’t talk to them. He nodded to the man, he still didn’t know his name, to continue.
“He should’ve called me a week ago and didn’t, we’d had the additional date set up, but he didn’t call either. We know each other for over forty years and no once did he miss check up calls. No once.” The man looked at them intently. “So, I had to find somebody to help me look for him. You’re the people he spoke often about and praised.”
“Please.” Joe looked at the new guy questionably. “Can we begin again from the beginning? You are…?”
“Me?” He was obviously so determined to find help for Duncan he didn’t have time to stop and think that maybe nobody there knew who he was. “Sorry, got carried away. My name is Alexander Flaxen; I’m a general manager for “The D’Argault Fashion House” and personal assistant of Monsieur D’Argault.”
He said it with quite a proud and looked expectantly at both men. The name said nothing to Joe, he wasn’t really into fashion, though he saw a hint of recognition in Methos’s eyes. He was the one to answer.
“It’s a good place to work. And how do you know Duncan?”
One may become rich, but one is born elegant. Balzac
Monsieur Flaxen opened his mouth to say something and snapped it instantly, looking at them with suspicion. The silence grew uncomfortable. Joe tried to figure out what to say when their new acquaintance suddenly chuckled quietly. “Oh, yes, I see it now, old man.” He shook his head and smiled at them without any suspicion this time.
“Sorry, I forgot for a moment, hope he’ll forgive me it was me to say it, though.” He paused for a second. “Duncan MacLeod is, in fact, the one and only true Monsieur D’Argault, who owns this fashion house since 1821.”
Joe and Methos have been left speechless.
“You didn’t know it? Really?” The fashion man looked at them incredulously. “That’s… Isn’t that something! I was sure he was kidding me.” He laughed a little and shook his head. “Just something!”
“Fashion designer!” Joe sat heavily on the stool. “Fashion! Fucking! Designer! Of all…”
Adam and Alexander began to laugh quietly. It was really quite funny - the mighty clan leader, the epitome of the manliness and chivalrous as a fashion designer, though Methos could imagine him creating the perfect dress for a Woman. That appealed.
Christmas Eve 2000
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy: for the apparel oft proclaims the man. Shakespeare
They argued from the moment Joe and Adam realized why it was so urgent to go and find Duncan. Adam, as a self appointed leader, insisted on doing it his way - sneaking into the mansion and taking Duncan away. It sounded too easy even for the totally inexperienced Alexander.
Joe was opted to act openly - go to see the woman and ask her point-blank.
“We tried it.” Alexander broke off his silence. “We called her and asked. She said she didn’t see him half the year, since her summer visit.” He had his doubts now concerning their rescue mission. Dependable, trustworthy Joe, dressed as… as an average Joe and that guy Adam, student-y, talkative, inexperienced, wrapped up in the layers of worn sweaters and jeans. Alexander just wasn’t sure they could pull it off together. Maybe he should’ve stuck with his son.
Nah. They needed to combine their forces to do it.
“Do you think she’s crazy?” There was a challenge in Adam’s eyes.
Alexander grinned to himself. “Nah. I think she’s in love.”
Challenge in Adam’s eyes turned into something undecipherable. “What did she tell you exactly?”
“Nothing much. Basically - what I already told you.”
“How do you know, then, that we needed to do it quick?”
Do you think it means nothing to have the right, as you make your entry into a salon, to look down on everybody from the height of your cravat and be privileged to despise the most important man there if his waistcoat is out of fashion? Balzac
The main house of the mansion - three-story classical structure - was lit by the sea of lights and outrageously decorated with Christmas goodies. One could even see the dancing shadows in the windows if he had good eyes. The three unlikely rescuers stood on the edge of the forest peering into their binoculars.
“Here you’re, guys! Great!”
Alexander watched on the quiet his companion’s reaction for his son. There was silence, glance towards him, more silence. Until Alec took it all in his capable hands.
“S’okay, guys. I have it all under control. I put some small cameras outside and movement sensors. She keeps Dun on the third floor. There a lot of guests to hide between, so we should be able to do it in no time.” Alec smiled satisfied with himself and Adam smiled back.
Alexander nearly chocked, but said nothing.
“That’s great, man. What kind of sensors do you use? Are there any mics?”
Alexander and Joe looked at each other and rolled their eyes simultaneously. Children…
If people turn to look at you on the street, you are not well dressed. Beau Brummel
Alec brought two big suitcases with the best formal wear to find on a short notice.
“Joe, you stay in the car.” Methos actually liked to plan, to act. The situation was pretty strange - whether real kidnapping or just a bad joke - to find a right way to treat it. At first he was sure it was just a joke. Then he recognized the sense in the older man’s eyes for real worry and had to take it seriously. Though it didn’t mean he had to like Alexander. He liked his son better - big boisterous man with the very intelligent eyes and love for tricky electronic devices. Useful connection.
Joe knew he could get under foot and stayed behind. The three of them put on formal attire and quietly moved towards the house. Methos felt loosening inside. For one - he gets to see Duncan, and then - to find such a fantastic reason for teasing… He even laughed to himself and then subside a little, firstly he had to make sure Duncan was okay and wanted to be the object of teasing. He sighed.
“I go inside. Alexander stays in the corridor on the watch, Alec - on the stairway enclosure.” Methos didn’t look back but felt their nods with the nerve endings. He was already able to feel Duncan’s Buzz. It was like coming home.
He poked his head in the room. Duncan sat by the window beside small working table. Quite thick metal chain went from his ankle to the wall hoop. Duncan hunched above something raggy. He strangely enough didn’t react to Methos’s Buzz.
“Hey!”
Duncan still didn’t pay attention to him.
“Duncan!” Methos couldn’t risk saying it loud. “Hey!”
All of a sudden Duncan tossed the cloth on the floor, thrust forefinger in the mouth and swore. It looked almost comically if you could forget about the chain. Methos couldn’t.
“Duncan!”
The other immortal raised his head and looked at him unbelievably. “Methos… Adam! What?!” he almost rushed to him only to be stopped by the chain. “Adam!”
Methos run to him, kissed him on the lips without any thought and lurched to the chain’s padlock. It took him a minute to open it, and he turned to face Highlander, realized just this second what he’d done.
“Listen, Hi…” He was interrupted with the lips on his lips and these incredible dark eyes millimeters from his told him clearly ‘another word of regret and I’ll kill you right here’. Methos was all for it and nodded somewhat unlike his usual self - happy and releaved.
Style is when they’re running you out of town and you make it look like you’re leading the parade. William Battie
Duncan didn’t let go of Adam’s hand the whole run to the car and their way towards Zurich and the hotel. Alexander exchanged glances with Alec and the both grinned wolfishly - here lies the endless material for tease and jokes. Then he met Joe’s grateful gaze in the rare view mirror and smiled in answer his own happy free smile of the indulgent ‘father’. He felt generous and even began to construct appropriate suites for the ‘boys’ to go on a formal date in his mind.
“Hey, Dun, at what did she need from you after all?” Alexander didn’t foresee that such a simple question could bring on Duncan’s face such an unhappy expression.
He watched as the immortal fidgeted on the rear seat didn’t look at any of them. There had to be something really weird with this woman if he’s afraid to explain it.
“She… uhm… she wanted me to sew her … uhm … to design and sew dowry for her.” He sighed unhappily. “It was okay with the design, even if she wanted something quite medieval. But she… uhm… wanted me to sew it by hand. All! Could you imagine it? So, I tried to run and got lost…” he sighed again.
“And what’s the deal?” Alec was confused, even if he worked in the fashion industry he didn’t deal with the clothe making itself and couldn’t fathom difficulties of the hand sewing. “Why do you have a problem with it?”
Duncan bared his teeth, “I don’t know how to sew by hand. I’m a designer, not a tailor! I don’t even have a proper education and certainly don’t have time to learn how to sew.”
It was… okay, Alexander thought they shouldn’t have to laugh, but it was really funny. He watched in the rear view mirror as Adam gathered Duncan in his arms and whispered something to him. Then he raised his voice for everybody to hear, “…and we’ll find somebody to help you with all the fine points how to be the proper head of the fashion house, not that you were a bad one.” And he looked pointedly at Alexander.
He sighed. And grinned. That promises them endless hours of fun, otherwise all the life becomes pointless if you couldn’t enjoy it. He raised his eyes and met adam’s gaze in the mirror. A laughing gaze.
Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening.
Coco Chanel
The guessing post for this fic is here.