I Sing the Body Electric Pt 4 Highlander Ducan/Methos FRAO
NYPD 21st Precinct,
Barton Street
Methos sat in a chair staring at Jerry Halwell who sat in a chair staring back at him. They hadn’t spoken to each other since MacLeod had left them in his office almost thirty minutes ago. Finally the silence began to really annoy him. Heaving a sigh Methos swung around in the chair and said, “You might as well get it over.”
Halwell glanced up frowning, “What?”
“Get it over, the lecture, the one where you tell me that I’m not good enough for Mac. That I’m hurting him, if I truly cared about him I’d leave.”
“Sorry to disappoint you kid, but Mac is a grown man. He’s free to make his own choices. Look even an old straight guy like me, who’s never played the other side of the field, can see your not inconsiderable charms. Hell, I think you’re probably a good kid. I know you’re not working for Minnelli because you want to. But this is going to cost him, maybe his career. How do you think he’ll feel about you then? Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
Methos uttered a brittle laugh, “I already have. I have regret upon regret, doubled over.”
“How can you?”
“Oh, Mr. Halwell, if you only knew.”
MacLeod felt uneasy about leaving his partner and Methos together. Hoping that warfare wouldn’t erupt between the two he had closed his office door after picking up the messages waiting for him on his desk.
John Roberts in the Records Department had come through yet again. The guy was a genius at deciphering government bullshit, and cutting red tape. Yesterday he had found the last part of the puzzle that had been troubling the Highlander since Methos had first reappeared in his life. The body of the executed criminal in the AI case had never been released for burial. It was still in the deep freeze in the county morgue of this very precinct.
Carefully MacLeod trudged down the steep winding staircase to the bottom floor of the ancient building. The air was cold in the basement, and MacLeod wondered if it was cold because they had built the morgue down here or had they built the morgue down here because it was cold.
Rounding the corner he paused, there was a faint scent of mildew or mold in the air overlaying an even fainter but no less troubling scent that couldn’t be disguised as anything but what it was. The scent of decay, of human flesh lying too long in warm air.
Taking a deep breath MacLeod pushed open the morgue doors. It was empty in the cavernous room, his footsteps echoed on the cement block walls, booming hollowly.
The metal tables were empty though and he sighed in relief, not that he hadn’t seen far too many human bodies in the course of his long life, had been responsible for far too many of them.
Quickly MacLeod fumbled a slip of paper from his trouser pocket, glancing at the white typed cards on the front of each door he moved down the line of metal cold storage units.
Finally he found the number that corresponded to the note in his hand. Closing his eyes for a minute he opened the door and pulled out the sliding table.
The figure on the table was rigid in a way only a dead human body could be. A white sheet was draped neatly over the figure covering it from head to toe, although MacLeod could see a few wisps of dark brown hair sticking out.
The head was at an awkward angle and he had seen far too many decapitated bodies not to understand that it was no longer attached to the shoulders. With a trembling hand MacLeod reached for the sheet ready to unwind it and expose the dead face. He paused.
What was he doing here? If it was Methos’ body under this sheet what was the man he had left sitting, staring daggers at his partner? All MacLeod could remember was the warm feeling that had spread from his gut throughout his entire body the first day he had walked with Methos to the pizza parlor for lunch. The man who had sat in that chair making snide remarks about everything had been Methos, just as much as the image firmly implanted in his brain.
And what about the man who lay beside him at night, the long warm limbs wrapped snugly around his body as if Methos was trying to insinuate himself into the center of MacLeod’s being? Was he not real? Even now MacLeod’s body was tingling warmly from just the memories.
MacLeod sighed, Methos was more than just the sum of his individual parts, but was he more than a whole human body? If he had been mortal, like Tessa, would MacLeod have loved him any less just because he had grown older. He didn’t think so; he hadn’t loved Methos any less when he had thought the man dead. Jerry Halwell’s voice echoed in his mind, “A difference that makes no difference is no difference.”
Yet all MacLeod had to do was pull away the sheet and all his doubts could be settled. All he had to do was pull away the sheet and reveal the face beneath it.
All he had to do was pull away the sheet.
Quickly he pushed the table inside, and closed the door. His hands shaking he crumpled the paper into a tight wad, tossing it into the garbage can beside one of the metal exam tables as he hurried out of the room.
Halfway up the stairs MacLeod’s legs were trembling so hard he collapsed onto the cold stone. He half sprawled on the step panting as if he had run fifteen miles. Weakly he pulled himself upright, pressing his head against the clammy stone wall. He inhaled the scent of the place again, the dark moldy and mildew smell underlain with the sickly sweet scent of human decay, and his stomach rebelled. He retched violently just managing to force the coffee to stay inside. He rose on shaky legs and hauled himself up the rest of the stairs leaning heavily on the railing.
At the top of the stairs he pushed the door to the hallway open, drawing in a deep breath. His stomach had settled enough that he pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket dialing the number of Department Six of the Superior court. The clerk answered and he said, “MaryAnn, this is Detective MacLeod is Judge Hamilton in? No, what about Judge Donner? Great let me speak to him.”
The judge’s rich, slightly accented voice came on, “Mac, I heard. It’s terrible. I need to see you immediately so we can figure out how to proceed now that the witnesses against Minnelli are all dead.”
MacLeod sighed then lowered his voice, looking around to see if anyone was close enough to hear him, “They’re all not dead I was providing custody for one of them at my house. Adam Dawson is still alive.”
“What?” he gasped and he could tell by the shocked tone of Donner’s voice he hadn’t’ been informed of Carroll Hamilton’s order releasing Methos to his custody. “Thank God that he wasn’t, we still have a chance then. I need to see you, Mr. Dawson and Jerry Halwell immediately.”
“Sure, I’ll round the others up, and we’ll come right over.”
By the time that MacLeod reached his office he was feeling much better. Closing the door behind him he glanced at the two men sitting on the opposite sides of his desk, taking in the harried worn and creased visage of his mortal partner, and the equally harried yet youthful face of the man he loved.
Methos glared at the Highlander then half rose from his seat until the other man waved him back. Halwell turned also noting MacLeod’s pale face, “Mac, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I guess this thing really threw me. I called Department Six, and Judge Donner wants us to come over now.”
The lunchtime traffic was not too heavy and the Bronco pulled into the parking lot for the superior court just half an hour later. The court was busy and they had to wait in line at the metal detectors. Once they were at the front of the line MacLeod and Halwell identified themselves as police offices then handed their guns and badges to the security guards who deposited them in a locked metal cabinet to be returned later.
MacLeod frowned as his gun disappeared into the box, but he accepted the receipt that the guard gave him. Glancing around he put his hand against the small of Methos’ back propelling him forward through the machine. Finally, Halwell brought up the rear.
“I hate being unarmed, if Minnelli’s men counted the witnesses they’re going to know that one is still alive, and if they’ve got an accomplice in the court system you’re not safe here.”
Methos merely shrugged, “Come on Mac, bathroom.”
The two detectives followed the other man to the men’s room on the first floor. Methos huddled in the stall but didn’t close the door. Turning he tugged his tee-shirt out of his jeans then removed a black leather sheath from his waist. Carefully wrapping the straps around the knife sheath he handed it to MacLeod.
The Highlander glanced down at the weapon in his hands, pulling it free from the scabbard. Ten inches of high-density serrated plastic with a hard, plastic handle fell into his palm. The knife was razor sharp and just as deadly, and completely invisible to any metal detector.
“Adam,” MacLeod hissed, “this thing is illegal as hell, and given the circumstances completely unnecessary.”
“Old habits die hard, Mac.”
Quickly MacLeod lifted the hem of his polo shirt and strapped the sheath on, pulling it around so that the knife lay in the curve of his spine.
Frank Donner was the Judge presiding in Department Six on alternate days, Carroll Hamilton’s friend and colleague. MacLeod was a bit concerned that he hadn’t been informed that Methos was staying at MacLeod’s but he remembered that Hamilton had been in a hurry as well, so likely she just forgot.
The Judge waved them into his chambers, closing the door leading into the courtroom. Settling behind the desk he frowned at MacLeod. Donner was a big man, physically imposing on his own without the added authority of the black robes he wore. Taking a deep breath he said, “I don’t know why I wasn’t informed about Mr. Dawson being located in your home, but I hope that you have a damn good reason.”
MacLeod bristled, “I had a very good reason, Your Honor.”
Glancing shrewdly at Methos the judge sneered, “Oh yes, think that I can see it. Look MacLeod we haven’t ever gotten along so I’ll try to keep this professional. I don’t really care why you decided to keep the boy in your home. But the truth is he wouldn’t be alive right now, so I’ll let it slide. I know that you and Carroll Hamilton play fast and lose with the rules when it suits you; for the most part we end up with good results. But right now this young man is the most important person I know. The only person who can testify against Anthony Minnelli.”
“I am aware of that, your honor. Believe me I have my own reasons for wanting to keep Adam alive. As near as I can figure there is a leak somewhere in the department or here in the court house.”
“I am inclined to agree with you on that point. So from now on I want Mr. Dawson in a safe house...”
“Oh yeah, that really worked so well last time,” Methos snorted. Both the judge and MacLeod shot him a look, and he subsided back in his chair grumbling under his breath. Leaning the chair back he crossed both arms over his chest, and glared back.
“I’m going to put Mr. Dawson under twenty-four hour high security to be provided by the court deputies.”
“No,” MacLeod said, “I started this and I’m finishing it. I won’t allow Adam to be placed with any security that I’m not directly involved in.”
“You are not in a position to allow or disallow anything, MacLeod.” Donner snarled. “When this thing is all over I don’t care if you fuck the boy seven ways to Sunday, but right now this is my courtroom.”
“Your honor, if you weren’t wearing that robe I’d take you back behind the courthouse and teach you some manners...” MacLeod snapped.
“Detective, I can always take this robe off.”
“Well if all the macho posturing is over for the moment let me just say that I don’t have to accept any protective custody, at all. Sit down, Mac.” Methos interjected, “I will not go anywhere with anyone unless it’s Detectives MacLeod and Halwell, your honor.”
The judge gave him a hard look then nodded, “That’s true Mr. Dawson, but you don’t stand a chance on the streets. I’m sure that Minnelli will have someone tailing you so as soon as you leave they’ll kill you. However, I think that I can accommodate you on your request for security. Also it is not unknown for witnesses who are at risk to provide their testimony via satellite feed into the courtroom. As in all criminal trials, Minnelli’s trial is on the Fast Track system, so the trial is scheduled for three weeks from today. I’m going to recommend that the three of you be driven to a secured location not far from here. Detective MacLeod your vehicle will be secured here in the impound lot so that you can’t be identified and followed.”
MacLeod nodded understanding that anyone following Methos would probably have already identified his Bronco by the license plates. “Actually I intended on moving Adam as soon as I heard that the other witnesses had been killed, we have our things in my car.”
“Give me the keys,” Donner said, quickly he summoned the bailiff instructing her to retrieve Methos’ and MacLeod’s luggage from his car and bring it to the courtroom. Halwell was on the telephone to his wife and she was sending some of his belongings over as well.
While they were waiting for an unmarked police car from the precinct the Judge continued, “I will get the orders entered into the record that will allow Adam to testify via satellite and once the trial is over he’ll have to be relocated. I’m sure that the Minnelli family will not take it well if Anthony is convicted. You are going to be sent to a public location, a rather large and well-populated hotel not far from here. I can have all the satellite equipment with a two way feed set up in a conference room there. All we can try and do is keep two steps ahead of them.”
Green House Hotel,
12th Street
Methos lay stretched out across one of the two king-sized beds in the suite reserved by the court. Sighing he picked up the remote control for the television clicking through the channels. The television blared, and MacLeod rose turning the volume down glaring at the other man. Jerry Halwell was camped out in the living room of the suite, still industriously applying himself to the meal that room service had delivered earlier.
“I could think of worse ways to spend the next three weeks, MacLeod,” Methos said smiling as he flicked the remote yet again, “Hey look, they’re having an all night slash and hack film festival. Ooooh, Halloween 18: the Grandson of Michael Myers,” Grinning he clicked on the info button, “lends a new meaning to ‘Keeping it All in the Family.’”
MacLeod settled on the other bed, pulling the pillows over his face. He mumbled into the soft, cotton case as Methos turned the volume all the way up. The agonized shrieks of the first victims of the masked killer caused Halwell to barge into the room, gun drawn. “Come on kid, turn it down. You almost scared the hell out of me. I thought that Minnelli’s men had gotten in here.”
“Only one door,” Methos said flicking a hand at the door through which Halwell had entered the room, “The main door to the suite is on your side. They’d have to get past you first.”
Rolling across the bed MacLeod snatched the remote turning the volume down, “Still it’s better to not piss off the other guests. Besides I think it’s time to get some sleep, Jerry you want to sleep first and I’ll take the second watch?”
“No need, there’re several undercover guys scattered through the hotel, and I think one of the cleaning staff is also an undercover cop. Besides the hotel has better security than we did. I’ll pull the bed out in the sofa here. Just to keep an ear on the door.” Halwell smiled, closing the door behind him.
Methos stripped to his boxers, pulling the blankets down before slipping under the covers. MacLeod also stripped to his underwear crawling into the bed beside the other man. Gently he lifted Methos’ head settling him comfortably against his shoulder. Methos raked his fingers through the curls lying on MacLoed’s neck, and said softly, “I didn’t realize how much gray is in your hair.”
“I usually keep it touched up a little. To cover it up so I don’t quite look my age.”
“You color your hair?” Methos snickered, then fingered the curl again sighing, “Actually it’s not as much as a guy your age would have. I was just used to seeing you without any at all.”
“I know.” The Highlander said caressing the other man’s cheek, but Methos stiffened in his arms then hung his head. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s silly. I just realized that ...You’re going to die, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am.” MacLeod said placing his fingertips under Methos’ chin, turning his face up so that they could see each other eye to eye. He was shocked to see a thin lace of moisture in the long, lush eyelashes. “Hey, don’t do that.”
“All those years ago, when we were both Immortal, when we could have been together I was afraid. Afraid of getting too close to another Immortal, afraid of being used as a hostage against you, afraid of the Game so I ran away or, worse, I let you walk away. I never even tried to find you after O’Rourke.”
“I know, I wasn’t ready anyway. After everything that had happened I was a danger to you, to everybody, but now the Gathering is over. We have time, not the same as we might have had when we were both Immortal, but whatever time I have left I want to be with you, Methos.”
“Okay.”
“That’s all, just okay? Wow, this past couple of months I’ve been beating myself up thinking how to ask you to be with me, and all I had to do was let the color grow out of my hair so you could se how old I was getting?” MacLeod smiled nuzzling the smooth curve of Methos’ neck.
“I guess seeing that you were older, the visible sighs of you aging just hit me. It scares me, Mac. What am I going to do when you’re gone?”
“Well, the average life span is 120 years so I’m not going to die for a long time, Methos.
And I intend to be one of those randy old guys still chasing all the pretty young things around.”
“I better be the only pretty, really old thing you chase around,” Methos snorted.
MacLeod rolled over gently pressing Methos to the bed, when the other man would have thrown him off he settled down, using his greater weight to hold the squirming body still.
Methos wedged a leg between MacLeod’s thighs rubbing against his balls, stroking lightly but every now and again adding more pressure as a minuscule threat. MacLeod chuckled, and Methos flushed crimson, sighing he stretched his neck upwards capturing MacLeod’s mouth in a kiss. MacLeod leaned down deepening the kiss, tongue delving into the other man’s mouth. Methos sucked on the invading tongue, feeling the other man shivering above him.
Methos uttered a brief exclamation of discontent when the Highlander pulled away, but smiled when he returned with a tube of lubricant in his hand. Squeezing dollop of the silky gel out into his hand MacLeod blew on it to warm it then slowly began stroking the gel over Methos’ entrance.
Methos lay back spreading his legs wider so that MacLeod could have better access, groaning as the blunt fingers dipped inside too briefly then retreated, before pushing in again. Finally, MacLeod rubbed his still slippery hand over his aching cock, and pressed inside his lover’s body.
Methos raised his legs, wrapping his calves around the other man’s back, using his heels to pull MacLeod forward even more. MacLeod pressed his possession as far as he could, and uttered a deep moan when his balls slapped against Methos ass. Methos bucked his hips up urging Macleod to move.
Grinning MacLeod thrust gently barely moving his hips, and Methos growled at him, “MacLeod, fuck me all ready.”
“I am fucking you, feel that?” he snickered then thrust again slowly, minutely. Methos rolled his eyes.
“I get more action than that from the shower head attachment.”
“Ooooh, so that’s why you take forty-five minute baths,” MacLeod said pulling out and angling his thrust upwards slightly before slamming in flattening Methos against the bed.
Methos howled clenching the sheets in his fists, head thrown back against the pillow. MacLeod thrust again more vigorously and Methos grinned up at him, taking a deep breath he moaned, loudly, then almost shouted, “Ah yes! Give it to me, daddy. Just like that...”
With a wild look at the door to the other room MacLeod leaned down clamping his lips firmly over Methos’ wicked mouth. He set a deep, regular rhythm that had both of them panting with need, then Methos reached between the two of them grasping his slick erection, stroking quickly and firmly until he jerked his mouth away from MacLeod and groaned deeply, coming in hard spurts over his belly and chest. The clenching of Methos’ muscled wrung a hard climax out of Macleod and he grunted dropping like a rock onto the heaving chest below him.
Finally, he rolled away separating them gently then pulled Methos into his arms to sleep. Methos lay with his head against MacLeod’s shoulder listening to the regular rhythm of the other man’s breathing, before grasping his lover tightly. MacLeod wiggled in his sleep objecting to the vise like grip but Methos couldn’t let go. Just the thought that someday he would lose this man hurt like all the other losses of his exceedingly long life never had, yet he would not trade these few precious years to come for anything. Sighing Methos closed his eyes, if only he had been The One truly, he knew what he would ask for as his Prize, the man laying next him, drooling on the pillow. With a grimace Methos shoved MacLeod away, grumbling the Highlander rolled over and Methos spooned up behind him grasping MacLeod’s waist, yes this was what he would have asked for, immortality with this man, for this man, so that Methos could correct a mistake he once made, erase that thousand and first regret.