Lost

Chapter 18

Richie paced back and forth at Joe’s apartment. Ever since Connor had disappeared he’d been trying to figure out just what Mac might have been thinking to take the Old Fucker into his bed...or more pointedly, why it bothered him so much that he did. He’d stayed with Joe until the bar closed and had then accompanied him back to the older man’s apartment. They had talked a bit more but it was obvious Joe was still suffering from his injuries and had decided to go to bed, but not before extracting a promise from Richie that he wouldn’t do anything until they heard from Methos or Connor. Shit! So Richie paced.

He thought back to the phone call from Joe telling him about Mac’s death. That had been a moment from hell. To think that Mac would ever lose his head in a challenge was bad enough...but to lose it in a car wreck? It had almost made Mac seem mortal...just as capable of being killed in pointless accident as anyone else.

So he’d kept the dojo running, remembering what Mac had said about a will six months after his death, and so here he was. Only maybe Mac wasn’t dead, which was great news...but where was he? Was he with this Lacasse guy? And when were these old bastards going to let him in on what was happening? Maybe he should go check this guy out for himself...? Damnit! He’d promised Joe that he’d hang until they got back. Jesus, this sucked!

He threw himself down on the couch. Maybe he should try to get some sleep. Pulling off his shoes and jeans he slipped under the blanket and shut his eyes but images kept flashing behind his lids...Mac laughing with him while they sparred, Mac all dressed up and taking Tessa out to dinner, Mac and Amanda dancing together in the loft during an impromptu party...all those images of Mac being the man Rich knew and loved. He couldn’t reconcile that with the thought of Mac and Methos together...especially not after Tessa and Amanda. Mac was such an alpha top dog type...you could feel it as soon as he walked into a room. There probably wasn’t anything Mac didn’t know about fighting even though he was always telling Rich that there was always something to learn. And the women! Jeez, any woman who saw him would practically drool and probably got so wet they’d slide out of their chairs...

Mac was what Rich always figured that phrase referred to...a man’s man. And Rich wanted to be just like him. So is that what bothered him so much? That if Mac could swing that way, then anyone could? He pushed that thought aside. He’d battled that sort of thing since he was a kid in foster care, had even been molested in one foster home...but he’d run away that night. You saw it all the time and he’d had a few guys try it with him, but either by luck or whatever, he’d always gotten out of it before he got raped. Not to mention that he knew a few guys that were gay but they were still good guys. He knew he didn’t swing that way but also realized it didn’t bother him when someone else did. Maybe things like that just didn’t matter anymore once you got to a certain age. He hoped it would be a long, long time before he was able to answer that question.

So maybe it wasn’t men but Methos himself? Big nose, skinny, sarcastic, tongue as sharp as a sword and devious as hell. Methos would rather run away than fight, not like Mac. Mac was all honor and nobility...a real knight in shining armor. He couldn’t see it. So maybe opposites attract? Or similarities…Shit! He was back to square one.

But, if he had to be honest, here they were six months after Mac had been declared dead, only to find that Methos is the only one who still believes him to be alive. He’d been searching for six long months because he believes he can feel Mac’s quickening. Was he for real or was he fooling himself? Well, he was going to find out. In the long run, no matter what choices Mac makes with his life, at least he’d have a life and he knew that he’d do whatever it takes to make sure of it. Rich closed his eyes and slept.

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Methos had been aroused from his thoughts by the guards bringing in a breakfast tray. Sipping on the coffee he was amused as his captors brought in a choice of suits. Finally showered and dressed he was bound and led downstairs, through several turns and then out through a very nice garden...the one he’d seen from his vantage point several days before. Eventually they arrived at a small chapel where they all seated themselves on the left side. Methos remained still, his body rigid as he was held by the guards. There were several people in the little chapel, but none seemed to notice or care that he was bound. Slowly several people filed in and seated themselves on the right. It looked like he was the only one there for the bride.

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Duncan sat quietly letting Louisa’s comments float through the air around him. At any other time Duncan would have been amused at the sly witticisms, but today nothing could ease the dread in his heart. He knew this marriage wasn’t legally binding and it couldn’t be sanctioned by God...he knew this and yet he still felt the cold tendrils of superstitious belief tightening around him... ‘you will never have a wife because you will be a wife...’ Andre had taunted him with the knowledge that any other marriage he’d know in his immortal life would be tainted by this first. Could he count his marriage to Kate? In his foolishness, Duncan had killed her on their wedding night in his belief that awakening her immortality would keep them together forever. He’d never told her, never gave her the choice between a normal lifetime with a family or childless immortality. Upon awakening and learning her fate, any love she bore him turned into a deep hatred. She’d run off into the morning mist and he’d never seen her again. Duncan could never bring himself to look for her and for all he knew, she hated him still.

Louisa was putting the finishing touches to his hair, fixing the jeweled comb holding the lace veil in place. He was dressed and his jewelry was in place. His makeup was done to carefully hide the telltale signs of a sleepless night. Andre had surprisingly left him alone after the display downstairs, but he was in far too much turmoil to get any rest as he worried over Methos. So now he waited. The ceremony that would bind him to Andre was about to take place. The quiet knock at the door came all too soon. Madame Broussard came in carrying his bouquet. Duncan took no notice, merely gathering the blooms in his icy hands as he made his way down the grand staircase. Waiting below was Andre’s lawyer and Duncan wondered at his presence. Duncan remained oblivious to the flashing of photos as he stared. Reaching the bottom step he looked into the amused colorless eyes of the shorter man. Duncan couldn’t seem to remember his name and found himself slightly confused as he put out his left elbow. Again Madame Broussard moved, bringing the veil down over his face and placing his frozen right hand into the crook of the lawyerly arm.

How appropriate, Duncan thought ironically, the man who legally killed Duncan MacLeod and brought Sarah MacLeod to life is giving me away. He was led through the gardens to the small estate chapel, now festooned with silk and flowers. The sense of the surreal never faltered as he found himself walking down a short aisle towards Andre. He was aware of several faces turned towards him, and none but one was known to him. Methos stood, his hands still tied behind his back, two of Andre’s men next to him. There was no emotion evident on the face seemingly carved of stone. Another chill traveled down Duncan’s body freezing his limbs even more. He felt himself stumble but the hand holding him kept him upright. The lawyer released his arm and pushed him slightly towards Andre. Everything else was lost as vows were made before the nervous priest. What does Andre have on you, priest? His responses were murmured and he assumed they were appropriate since Andre’s satisfied smile never faltered. Love, honor and obey...one out of three but not by choice. The rest was a blur. He remembered looking down at the new gold and diamond band on his finger. He could feel Methos’ eyes on him but couldn’t bring himself to look over to where he knew Methos stood. A pit seemed to open up, swallowing him whole. He was barely aware of the veil being lifted and being engulfed in Andre’s arms as he was kissed. It was done.

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Methos looked up as Andre entered the chapel with another man. They positioned themselves at the altar near the priest and then turned. A few moments later the music started and he watched as a slender woman moved up the aisle to stand opposite Andre and the other man. She was obviously the maid of honor. Methos was pulled to his feet by the guards. Facing the rear of the chapel he knew what he would see, but still started slightly at the figure in a flowing white lace gown. Because of the veil he couldn’t see Duncan’s face until he moved closer, but it seemed Duncan had seen him because he stumbled slightly, something the graceful Highlander never did. Methos looked closely and could only see a hint of pale features and tightly compressed lips. Again the skin on Duncan’s hands was pale and strained, no doubt icy to the touch. Methos didn’t know the man who escorted Duncan, but he had a smirk on his face that made Methos’ jaws clench.

The ceremony started and the inevitable question was asked. Methos seriously contemplated making his objection, but the blade at his throat kept his lips closed. If he thought for one moment that a single objection would stop the insanity he would have screamed it at the top of his lungs. Fight another day...

Methos couldn’t hear Duncan’s quiet murmurs, could only watch as the jeweled band was placed on his finger and the priest’s blessings were given. Jealousy and rage brought spots of color to his pale expressionless face. Although he knew the marriage wasn’t truly legal, the act of having a priest perform the ceremony would embed itself in Duncan’s subconscious...he’d feel as though he truly had been bound to Lacasse. Understanding Duncan’s psyche had undoubtedly been one of Lacasse’s goals and no doubt aided in whatever method of brainwashing and/or torture they’d used. I’ll get you out of this Duncan...I’ll take you to Sean Burns. I swear I won’t leave your side until you’re well...or you ask me to...

Eventually the ceremony ended and the guests shuffled back to the house. Methos was taken to a small room where he found his clothes and he smirked knowing he wasn’t invited to the reception. He was led out of a side entrance to a waiting car. Turning back to look at the house he saw Duncan and Lacasse on a balcony. He waved to let Duncan know he was alright. Duncan also raised a hand but it was taken by Lacasse who then dipped his head forward to say something. Methos was pushed into the car but turned to look out of the back window only to have his gut twist as he saw Duncan drop his face into his hands and Lacasse lead him back inside.

Methos turned around to see one of the guards readying a syringe. Well they apparently aren’t going to kill me this time... And although he knew it was useless, he nevertheless put up a struggle. His last thought was of Duncan’s aborted farewell.

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Connor dropped the binoculars and wondered what was happening at the estate. He’d been watching since morning and saw the army of men Lacasse had around his estate. Certainly more men than what would normally be warranted by a paranoid billionaire. Delivery trucks had been arriving all morning. From the flowers and other deliveries it almost appeared that a wedding was to take place.

It was nearly time to move. He’d kept up his surveillance from three different points ever since Pierson had failed to show up the day before. But despite the activity he hadn’t seen anyone other than deliverymen arrive. He continued to watch as it appeared the first of the guests drove in to the estate. Strangely, there didn’t seem to be too many, probably no more than ten or twelve guests. Again, that was odd for a man of Lacasse’s supposed position. Several hours later a lone black car left from the rear of the estate. Two hours after that the rest of the guests took their leave and the estate became very quiet. It was all very curious but unenlightening. Connor decided to head back to the Watcher’s bar. Perhaps they had heard something.

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Andre watched as his beautiful wife trembled. It was utterly delightful. Everything about his prize filled him with complete satisfaction. “Open your eyes, lovely one.” He knew that his wife was imagining another’s hands, another’s lips caressing her and that made his possession even sweeter. He tightened his grip on her hips as he thrust inside that tender heat. He didn’t want her heart...he wanted her body and soul. Let her heart belong to someone else...someone his pet will never have as long as he was alive. He pulled out almost completely and savagely buried himself again. For now, he wanted her to know who possessed her. He’d let her have her fantasies another time...maybe.

The eyes were open now, liquid brown pools filled with such misery that if he had a heart of his own it would have broken. Instead he turned his head to the thigh hanging over his shoulder and bit into the soft skin watching her face all the while. A flinch as he bit released the tears filling the chocolate depths just as it filled his mouth with the sweet coppery taste of blood. A beautiful shudder caused the flesh to quiver in all those places he loved to touch: her breasts, belly and thighs. But it was the small moans and whimpers that he found completely captivating. He thrust in again, sliding in harder and faster, twisting and finding that spot that is his pet’s undoing. Sarah’s moans grew louder as her body responded to the hard thrusts. “Now, touch yourself. Know that you’re coming for me because you are mine and I demand it.” He gasped as he plunged harder and harder still. “Now...come for me.” The hands were a bit slow to move so he grabbed the nearest one, her left, which bore the golden symbol of his possession. He covered the hand as it grasped the hardened rod, moving it so that it slid up and down the covered steel. He continued his thrusts as the hips below him lifted of their own volition, squeezing and thrusting back. “Yes, wife, yes...come with me!” He watched as his fist was covered in thick white fluid but closed his eyes as he felt muscles close around him and his own release exploded sending showers of white lights behind his eyelids. He continued thrusting into the inert body below him until all his spasms passed. Breathing heavily he opened his eyes to see his mate licking her semen off her fingertips. No expression crossed Sarah’s face though tears streamed from her eyes into the hair at her temples as she lifted Andre’s hand that still covered the wet bindings encasing her own spent cock and brought it to her lips to cleanse of her seed. Approval glowed in Andre’s eyes for his well-trained wife. He allowed himself to slip from Sarah’s warmth and moved to lie beside her and gather her in his arms, smoothing the satin gown back over her hips and pulling one thigh up so that he could push his leg in between hers. Covering them both with a light sheet he settled in bringing a broad palm down to cup that beautiful ass. He was feeling a deep satisfaction that their wedding day had gone as he’d envisioned. He slid his fingers into the sweet cleft and buried one digit in the warm moist channel. Wiggling it slightly he sighed as he felt the smooth skin. Dear God how he loved the feel of his wife, both inside and out. And tomorrow would bring only more pleasure.