Highlander - Not Into Temptation
Another HL fic, this one a bit less lighthearted than the last.
Title: Not Into Temptation
Genre: Highlander, Gen
Words: ~1025
Rating: PG-13
Season/Spoilers: Richie’s in it, set around the end of Season Five.
Synopsis: It would be so easy...
Author’s Notes: For the cliche_bingo entry “darkfic”. Not sure if it’s dark enough, but it’s what came to mind. Title once again by johnnym77.
Disclaimer: Not mine, the characters and concept belongs to people with far more money than me. I’m just borrowing them to play and making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Duncan watched as the others gathered around the bar laughing, joking, teasing and generally having a good time. Wine, beer, and a bit hardier drinks were flowing freely, only the incredible tolerance brought on by the Immortal healing capabilities stopping anyone from doing anything stupid. Yet.
“Have another,” Joe offered, pushing a glass of amber liquid towards him.
Duncan forced a grin, played along. “I think I will,” he replied, enunciating each word just a bit more carefully, knowing it came off as the edge of drunk. He wasn’t, not yet, not by a long shot. He wouldn’t let himself. He couldn’t risk losing control.
Amanda was regaling the others with a tale of one of her exploits, Richie hanging on every word. It probably helped that she was dressed in skintight leather and practically sitting in his lap. It was an older tale, about a robbery in the 1820’s and how she fooled the guards and the police and made off with even more than they suspected. He knew she was paying for her current apartment with the sale of only a fraction of the goods, having waited long enough that everyone had stopped looking to bring them back into the light.
Her fingertips danced along the stem of her wine glass and she started in on another adventure, this one recent enough that he was surprised she would mention it in a public location where others could turn her in. It was a sign of how relaxed and confident she was, and how much she trusted Joe to keep them safe.
Richie was laughing, downing the last of his beer and immediately picking up the other that had appeared before he even set his first glass down. He was comparing her grand larceny to some of the petty theft he had done before Mac had happened across him. Amanda was suitably impressed, or at least faked it well, and mentioned that perhaps the two of them should work together in the future.
Duncan knew this was a bad idea and made the appropriate noises of protest, but his heart wasn’t in it. So they had some fun, made away with goods probably obtained under less than prime circumstances in the first place, and made a life off of another criminal’s loss. It was against most people’s morals and should be against his own but, then again, they were not most people. Most people did not have the thrum of Eternal Life buzzing through their veins, the draw to that power, the need to possess and control and do anything it took to have the chance of obtaining just a little bit more, even if it meant the death of another so you had the chance to live.
He looked to the others, felt their Immortality crackling in his blood, his fingers itching to touch it, to take it, to blend their life’s energy with his own, to make it his the way it should be. A blade, his blade, against their throats would be all it would take. They were so relaxed, so unsuspecting right now; it would be so easy. He could imagine the Quickening, the life force pouring from any one of them into himself as easily as Joe filling another cup with wine or whiskey behind the bar, only the taste of it far sweeter than anything mere mortals could ever dream.
Richie’s would be quick. A tiny jolt of a life shorter than most mortals, yet longer than nature intended. The boy was still learning, the few heads he had taken were by luck as much as skill. He trusted Duncan to teach him everything he had yet to learn, would fall almost willingly at his feet.
Amanda’s would be incredible, probably destroying half a city block as it consumed him, as he consumed it. Centuries of knowledge would be his in the blink of an eye, the least of which being the wealth she possessed and how to use it to obtain what he needed. She would put up a fight, make it good, if she even realized what was going on. She knew more than a few tricks and the struggle would be exhilarating, if given the chance. He was stronger though, larger, and knew how to use his bulk against her. She also trusted him, something that might just cause the split second of hesitation he needed to win out against her.
His gaze finally settled on the final member of their group. Older than the others, older than history itself. Methos had an essence he could taste, could get lost in just in passing. To feel that, to control that; he could only dream what it would be like.
The Immortal in question raised an eyebrow at him, looked at him pointedly and forced him out of his fugue. He realized his fingers had drifted from the cool glass to the subtle strength of the sword tucked away in his coat on the back of the chair. He forced his fingers from the pommel, grabbed his glass and tossed it back, not tasting a single drop.
“You want to go home, MacLeod?” Methos asked, expression not betraying a thing. He knew. He always knew. If Duncan felt like this after only handful of centuries, he could only imagine what it felt like over several millennia.
“I think maybe that’s for the best,” he agreed. He put cash down on the bar for his drinks, ignored Joe’s protest, and grabbed his coat to feel the security of his blade at his side once more.
Methos joined him, wandering out to the street. “There’s a rumor that Korisek was seen over by 52nd and 1st. Old run down hostel, training some new Immortals to become his henchmen,” he commented idly without preamble.
“Really?” Duncan replied, voice steady.
Methos nodded. “He’s not that good, favors his right side a bit much, but has a few heads under his belt.” A pause as he turned towards the district he just mentioned, the streetlight casting shadows across his face. “The henchmen are worthless, too new to know much.”
“They’re yours,” Duncan promised, falling into step beside him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Not Into Temptation
Genre: Highlander, Gen
Words: ~1025
Rating: PG-13
Season/Spoilers: Richie’s in it, set around the end of Season Five.
Synopsis: It would be so easy...
Author’s Notes: For the cliche_bingo entry “darkfic”. Not sure if it’s dark enough, but it’s what came to mind. Title once again by johnnym77.
Disclaimer: Not mine, the characters and concept belongs to people with far more money than me. I’m just borrowing them to play and making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Duncan watched as the others gathered around the bar laughing, joking, teasing and generally having a good time. Wine, beer, and a bit hardier drinks were flowing freely, only the incredible tolerance brought on by the Immortal healing capabilities stopping anyone from doing anything stupid. Yet.
“Have another,” Joe offered, pushing a glass of amber liquid towards him.
Duncan forced a grin, played along. “I think I will,” he replied, enunciating each word just a bit more carefully, knowing it came off as the edge of drunk. He wasn’t, not yet, not by a long shot. He wouldn’t let himself. He couldn’t risk losing control.
Amanda was regaling the others with a tale of one of her exploits, Richie hanging on every word. It probably helped that she was dressed in skintight leather and practically sitting in his lap. It was an older tale, about a robbery in the 1820’s and how she fooled the guards and the police and made off with even more than they suspected. He knew she was paying for her current apartment with the sale of only a fraction of the goods, having waited long enough that everyone had stopped looking to bring them back into the light.
Her fingertips danced along the stem of her wine glass and she started in on another adventure, this one recent enough that he was surprised she would mention it in a public location where others could turn her in. It was a sign of how relaxed and confident she was, and how much she trusted Joe to keep them safe.
Richie was laughing, downing the last of his beer and immediately picking up the other that had appeared before he even set his first glass down. He was comparing her grand larceny to some of the petty theft he had done before Mac had happened across him. Amanda was suitably impressed, or at least faked it well, and mentioned that perhaps the two of them should work together in the future.
Duncan knew this was a bad idea and made the appropriate noises of protest, but his heart wasn’t in it. So they had some fun, made away with goods probably obtained under less than prime circumstances in the first place, and made a life off of another criminal’s loss. It was against most people’s morals and should be against his own but, then again, they were not most people. Most people did not have the thrum of Eternal Life buzzing through their veins, the draw to that power, the need to possess and control and do anything it took to have the chance of obtaining just a little bit more, even if it meant the death of another so you had the chance to live.
He looked to the others, felt their Immortality crackling in his blood, his fingers itching to touch it, to take it, to blend their life’s energy with his own, to make it his the way it should be. A blade, his blade, against their throats would be all it would take. They were so relaxed, so unsuspecting right now; it would be so easy. He could imagine the Quickening, the life force pouring from any one of them into himself as easily as Joe filling another cup with wine or whiskey behind the bar, only the taste of it far sweeter than anything mere mortals could ever dream.
Richie’s would be quick. A tiny jolt of a life shorter than most mortals, yet longer than nature intended. The boy was still learning, the few heads he had taken were by luck as much as skill. He trusted Duncan to teach him everything he had yet to learn, would fall almost willingly at his feet.
Amanda’s would be incredible, probably destroying half a city block as it consumed him, as he consumed it. Centuries of knowledge would be his in the blink of an eye, the least of which being the wealth she possessed and how to use it to obtain what he needed. She would put up a fight, make it good, if she even realized what was going on. She knew more than a few tricks and the struggle would be exhilarating, if given the chance. He was stronger though, larger, and knew how to use his bulk against her. She also trusted him, something that might just cause the split second of hesitation he needed to win out against her.
His gaze finally settled on the final member of their group. Older than the others, older than history itself. Methos had an essence he could taste, could get lost in just in passing. To feel that, to control that; he could only dream what it would be like.
The Immortal in question raised an eyebrow at him, looked at him pointedly and forced him out of his fugue. He realized his fingers had drifted from the cool glass to the subtle strength of the sword tucked away in his coat on the back of the chair. He forced his fingers from the pommel, grabbed his glass and tossed it back, not tasting a single drop.
“You want to go home, MacLeod?” Methos asked, expression not betraying a thing. He knew. He always knew. If Duncan felt like this after only handful of centuries, he could only imagine what it felt like over several millennia.
“I think maybe that’s for the best,” he agreed. He put cash down on the bar for his drinks, ignored Joe’s protest, and grabbed his coat to feel the security of his blade at his side once more.
Methos joined him, wandering out to the street. “There’s a rumor that Korisek was seen over by 52nd and 1st. Old run down hostel, training some new Immortals to become his henchmen,” he commented idly without preamble.
“Really?” Duncan replied, voice steady.
Methos nodded. “He’s not that good, favors his right side a bit much, but has a few heads under his belt.” A pause as he turned towards the district he just mentioned, the streetlight casting shadows across his face. “The henchmen are worthless, too new to know much.”
“They’re yours,” Duncan promised, falling into step beside him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.