Want, Need and Things in Between
by Chelle

Disclaimer: Not mine. Rysher, Panzer and Davis own 'em. Spoilers for Highlander IV: Endgame.

Notes: Thank you to all of those who looked this over for me: Kamil, Annie D, Gena and the SO.

This is in response to Taselby's title/quote challenge. The quote is from Nikki Giovanni's poem "Choices." It's included in the text.


"It ended badly."

Methos nodded and stepped back from the door, wordlessly inviting Duncan inside. He leaned his sword against the wall. "I was just making some tea."

Duncan followed him into the kitchen. It was bright and airy, not at all what most people would expect from a cynical old man. He watched as Methos placed tea bags into a small pot. What was he doing here? They’d ceased being lovers years ago, hadn’t even been able to remain friends after the horsemen. They’d tried, but neither man could find anything to say and the silence had been unbearable to them both. Since then they had settled into a pattern. They stayed apart except when Duncan needed Methos. Methos would provide information, offer generally ignored advice, shoot the bad guy and be on his way. Duncan never asked him to stay, and Methos never offered to.

He shouldn’t be here.

Methos filled the pot with hot water and covered it. "Tea should be ready in a couple of minutes."

"I don’t want tea."

"I know."

Duncan took a hesitant step forward and Methos met him before he could take another. Strong arms wrapped him and firm lips pressed into his.

He let himself be led from the kitchen to the bedroom and oblivion.


Connor’s voice. "In the end there can be only one, and that has to be you."

Duncan came awake with a start. He fell back against the pillow for a moment before shoving the covers aside and going to stare out of the window.

"I will never do that to you," Methos said quietly.

"You did once," Duncan answered without turning around.

"Doesn’t count. We didn’t know one another then." He expected Methos to come to him, but the other man remained on the bed. "I can’t promise you much, Duncan, but I promise you this: I will never ask you to take my head."

"I won’t ask it of you either, not again."

"Thank you."

Duncan turned around and walked back to the bed. "I can’t forgive him."

"Give it time."

Methos had killed a man he regarded as a brother once, and Duncan couldn’t help but ask. "Is this what it was like for you, after Silas?"

Methos shook his head. "There was no one to forgive, except myself. Poor Silas thought I was his brother; he thought he knew me, and I challenged him. I did what was for him unthinkable: I turned against the Horsemen."

"You had no choice."

"Neither did you. It was what Connor wanted. He wanted death and better you than Kell. You saved the world from another madman, Duncan. It’s what you do best. Connor knew that, as part of you he can continue to do that too, continue to be the hero."

"I’d rather he did it from his own body," Duncan whispered.

"I know." Methos reached for him and Duncan leaned into him, letting the sobs come at last.


He had turned to Methos again when the sobs finally eased, needing his tenderness, needing his passion. Methos had given him both, denying him nothing.

He stayed for a week, not able to meet the old man’s eyes when he told him he needed to go. Now, he stood at Methos’ door, hating the awkwardness, hating himself for letting it be awkward.

"Watch your head, Highlander."

Duncan nodded, forced himself to look Methos directly in the eye. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

Unable to find anymore words, he brushed his lips to Methos’ cheek and turned away.


Methos closed the door behind Duncan. Words came unbidden to his mind. A snippet of a poem he had read once and been unable to forget:

if i can’t have
what i want then
my job is to want
what i’ve got
and be satisfied
that at least there
is something more
to want.

He hated that poem.


End