Elvis Minutes #07: Chivalry





There are times when I know why I joined the Watchers. It's something I do periodically to see how advanced their techniques have become, how close they are to finding me, the location of certain Immortals I want to avoid, and quite honestly, I really enjoy doing research. I think it's kind of ironic that a man born almost before the invention of writing loves to read. I wonder what I did all those years before books were made. Probably sat around and "read" the sky. Sometimes I wish I could remember what that was like. But unlike most modern psychologists, I don't believe in digging up the past. I buried it for a reason, and knowing me, it was a good one.


No, Miss, just nuts in general. I smile at the stewardess and take the offered bag. Peanuts. God, I hate flying coach. This is the point when I question my decision to be a Watcher. I have to pretend that I'm a poor grad student. The clothes, I don't mind; they help me fade into a crowd. The dumpy flats are okay too--compared to some of the actual hovels I've lived in over the ages, just having a roof over my head is good enough for me. No, what I hate is the lack of creature comforts like flying first class or even business class. Sure, it's better than a steamer (ocean travel gives me nightmares), and we won't talk about going by yak back. Me and yaks? We have a long history of antipathy. Don't ask. It's not pretty.

So why am I whining about flying coach? Simply because I don't want to whine about what's really bothering me. This trip I'm on isn't one of my better ideas and the closer I get to Seacouver, the more I'm regretting it. I could have just picked up a phone and called Dawson. "Joe," I could have said. "Joe, that nasty Immortal, Kristin, is in town and she has your boy Richie by the balls. And you know what's going to happen when she cuts them off. MacLeod's going to fly into defensive mode and when he has her at swordpoint, she's going to go all weepy on him. He'll turn his back, and then she'll take his head. And quite frankly, Joe, I have other uses for his head--and his balls."

Okay, maybe I wouldn't have added that last part, but Joe would have been on the case, protecting his boys. Now there's another person who shouldn't be in the Watchers. He cares too much to just sit back and never interfere. Sooner or later his involvement with MacLeod is going to get him into serious trouble. So, instead of compromising him further, I decided that I'd take on this mission myself.

Thanks to the CD fiasco, I already have a reputation as a rule-breaker in the Organization. If it gets reported that I'm hanging around Duncan MacLeod, most of the upper management will probably just sigh and shake their heads. Another Highlander groupie. Nothing to worry about.

If they only knew. I don't plan for Kristin to survive her latest scheme of "bed and behead." She's dangerous and unstable. Has been for a number of centuries. No, I'm not one of her victims. She hadn't been born when I was in my innocent stage. By the time I heard of her, I knew her kind and steered clear of her vicinity.

Her kind. W-O-M-E-N. I have so much trouble understanding the men of this era. They constantly underestimate the female of our species--and I don't mean just Immortal women, but mortal women as well. I guess it's because they've never lived in a matriarchal society. If they had, they would know that women and men are not equal; women are far more superior. That's why nature made them the childbearers. They are fiercely protective and what they lack in strength, they make up for in cunning.

Back in the Bronze Age, I did a thousand-year stint as a strategist for an enterprising band of marauders. Even now I shudder at the mere thought of that millennium. So much blood spilled by my hand. So little regard for life, for beauty, for self.... God, why has my mind traveled back to that awful time? Oh, I was making a point, wasn't I? Yes, I was a strategist and I excelled at it by thinking like a woman. Women basically operate under one principle: I'm physically weaker, therefore I must be quicker and smarter. It's a good principle to scheme--I mean, live--by.

Can you tell I admire and respect women? I truly do, and I've loved some of the best women to walk the face of this earth. Of course, I've loved some of the best men as well. Most of them weren't as brilliant as the women--and some of them were certifiable--but I've never been able to control this heart of mine. Most men have trouble controlling their dicks, and their minds and hearts follow. I lead with my heart, which is worse because no matter the outcome, I end up hurt.

Take this errand of mercy I'm on, for instance. My mind said no, call Dawson. My dick said no, we can claim Duncan MacLeod at a later date. My heart said he's yours, Methos, protect him. So where am I? Thirty minutes outside of Seacouver, of course. My mind's screaming at me, telling me that I'm not going to get MacLeod to discard his chivalrous nature with a few choice words, and that in the end, I'm going to have to break my two hundred year quickening fast and take out the bitch myself. My dick is screaming at me that as long as we're here, it would be a shame not to sink into the tight heat of MacLeod's ass--even with the threat of Kristin hanging over us. Fuck MacLeod, kill Kristin, fuck MacLeod again. To my dick, that was a perfect plan.

And what about my heart, the demanding organ that put me on the plane in the first place? It's terrified. Not about Kristin. Kristin wasn't going to touch my head or Duncan's. Not while I possessed a sword or even a pocketknife.

No, my heart was scared of rejection.

Is your love, darling, just a mirage?
From the distance, you call to me like an oasis.
Though your kisses keep drawing me near,
Is your love a mirage that will disappear?

I'd been so sure of myself after MacLeod had put down Kalas. I was going to wrap that man around my finger and make him dance to my tune. But the Watchers put a crimp in my plans by sending me off to some god-forsaken archaeological dig in the Himalayas. Cold as hell, remote, no phones.... Might as well as sent my ass to another planet. See if I try to help them again. See if I tell them there's another CD out there. Yep. Don made another copy. He claimed he'd hidden it and I'm starting to believe him. Anyway, my journey to the Lost World made a mess of my seduction scheme. Kind of hard to seduce someone when he's a half a planet away and you have no way to make contact.

The worst part is that when your digging was over for the day, all you could do for entertainment was talk amongst yourselves or fall into your own thoughts. Considering my choice of company, I went with my own thoughts. And promptly ran into trouble. What if the connection between MacLeod and me was just a fabrication of my mind? What if the kiss we shared wasn't as memorable to him? I mean, I still remember every delicious second of it, but I'm not the great Duncan MacLeod. I don't have women falling at my feet every time I walk down the street. Maybe kissing me was just a way of reminding himself that he could have any woman or man that he wanted. That mortal doctor had just dumped him, right? And Amanda was no test; they'd been together for centuries. Besides, I'm a good catch, being so old. Must be worth quite a number of points.

I hate having so many doubts. That's why I devised this brilliant scheme of bearding the lion in his cage. Lay myself before MacLeod like a banquet and see if he comes to feast.

Like a man in the desert, I'm lost.
Is this dream just a trick of my imagination?
Though I thirst for your lips, night and day,
Is your love a mirage that will fade away?

"Please fasten your seatbelts."

There's no fool like an old fool, right? I should be running as far away as possible from this man. He's dangerous--mortally. Immortals seek him. Friends, enemies.... And some of his friends are my enemies and some of his enemies are my friends. It would probably be better if I didn't put him in the middle of something like that. I should let him be while I crawl back into my Parisian hole and let the memory of our one kiss warm me when my world turns cold again.

But five thousand years of knowing reality for the bitch she is doesn't stop me from hoping.

How I pray, heaven, answer my prayer,
When I reach out for you, you'll be there.
And the search for my love will be through,
Like a dream, a mirage will come true.

I pay the taxi driver and get out, staring up at the building before me. DeSalvo's Gym. Not exactly uptown, is it? But Charlie DeSalvo had been one of Mac's friends, and Mac didn't give up his friends easily.

I wonder if I'm a friend.

I wonder if I'm more.

How I pray, heaven, answer my prayer,
When I reach out for you, you'll be there.
And the search for my love will be through,
Like a dream, a mirage will come true.


Mirage ~ Words & music by Giant - Baum - Kaye

Continues in Elvis Minutes #08