TM 154: Dance
"Come on, MacLeod. Let's do it. Let's jump." They were going to hell anyway. They might as well have fun in the process. A little dying never hurt anyone.
But MacLeod would never have that. The situation was unnerving, but the heights seemed to have the same effect as well.
He gave her a pleading look before he spoke. "No! Uh...let's dance."
That became a dance of a lifetime, a dance of one hundred lifetimes. They had danced in Munich, a tango in Berlin, a dance of a different kind in Verona, and she had danced for him--while under protest--in Constantinople. Dancing was their nature, was what they both held so dear. Always trying to outdo the other, or they were in such perfect alignment with one another that it would be a bother to return to the sparing. No boy scout could ever refuse a minx…and it seemed, a great deal of the time, the reverse was true as well.
Those times when they found synchronization, those interactions made up for when they butted heads together, when Duncan was trying to stop her from completing a well-constructed heist. She could become so angry with him, but when she felt that sense of partnership--not in the way of a partner-in-crime, but an actual mutual meeting between them--all of her negative feelings evaporated away. It drove him crazy when that happened. He wanted to resist, or at least not be a man who fell under her whims. But truth be told, when they were in that capacity, she wasn’t doing anything to entice him into doing her wants. Her aim had become to please him, to have him find his happiness.
But as it always is with MacLeod, he has a tendency of questioning too much, of not being able to accept anything at face value. He needed an explanation. It was in his nature to resist, especially to resist someone like her. She loved him best when she could get him to forget for a while, to simply get himself to lighten up, to let go, and to just let break the rules.
But MacLeod would never have that. The situation was unnerving, but the heights seemed to have the same effect as well.
He gave her a pleading look before he spoke. "No! Uh...let's dance."
That became a dance of a lifetime, a dance of one hundred lifetimes. They had danced in Munich, a tango in Berlin, a dance of a different kind in Verona, and she had danced for him--while under protest--in Constantinople. Dancing was their nature, was what they both held so dear. Always trying to outdo the other, or they were in such perfect alignment with one another that it would be a bother to return to the sparing. No boy scout could ever refuse a minx…and it seemed, a great deal of the time, the reverse was true as well.
Those times when they found synchronization, those interactions made up for when they butted heads together, when Duncan was trying to stop her from completing a well-constructed heist. She could become so angry with him, but when she felt that sense of partnership--not in the way of a partner-in-crime, but an actual mutual meeting between them--all of her negative feelings evaporated away. It drove him crazy when that happened. He wanted to resist, or at least not be a man who fell under her whims. But truth be told, when they were in that capacity, she wasn’t doing anything to entice him into doing her wants. Her aim had become to please him, to have him find his happiness.
But as it always is with MacLeod, he has a tendency of questioning too much, of not being able to accept anything at face value. He needed an explanation. It was in his nature to resist, especially to resist someone like her. She loved him best when she could get him to forget for a while, to simply get himself to lighten up, to let go, and to just let break the rules.