What Happens to the Hero-Part 1
Duncan MacLeod has had a fierce time of in the six years of the series. The battering losses have been unrelenting. Even Heroes are sometimes defeated. A cry of pain in the dark night of the soul may go unheard. What happens to the hero?
What happens to the Hero when the Quest is done? When the battle is over, where does the Warrior go?
The old tales tell of the hero's death.
What happens if the hero cannot die?
Valkyrie carry him off to Valhalla
I wish I could find the map...
Once I remember reading that there is nothing as useless as an out-of-work hero
Then, of course there's the other question, am I a hero?
What exactly is a hero? Joe's a hero. He lived through a horrible war and lost his legs. Joseph has a courage that's been tempered in the heat of battle and the pain of bad choices. He's kept his humanity through it all. Have I?
Dawn light is coming through the windows. The birds have begun to carol the sun up. I feel... I don't even know how I feel. It's been three months since I left Paris. I suppose Joe has a watcher here somewhere. I haven't noticed.
I feel like the ghost of myself.
I've spent the last three months cocooning myself here on holy ground. I ventured out long enough to update mechanical things and pick up a stereo... I built a water wheel and installed solar cells for power, no fuel needed. I dug out a deeper, cooler cellar.
Now, there's nothing else to do. I have to face myself. I've got to answer some questions... I'm not even really sure what they are. If I don't know the questions, how in hell can I find the answers?
Am I afraid? Honest answer? Yes. What am I afraid of? Good question. Wish I had an answer.
Do I hide out here until the next warrior needs training, a thousand years from now? Do I give him my head as the hermit gave me his?
I have lost so much in the last few years. Tessa was the best thing that ever happened to me. Gone now. A tombstone in Paris, photographs beginning to fade are all I have of her. The memory of her body warm against mine... Torn out of my life with no warning, no way to make any sense out of it.
I had a life with her. We built a family, she and I. We even had a child of sorts, though Richie would balk every time we made parental noises. He loved Tessa too.
Her hands were so strong. Watching her working metal into graceful and powerful shapes was like watching a universe take on life. Her beauty attracted me. The elegance of her soul, her creativity held me. I could have loved her for all her days. Sadly, I did...
Even in my dreams I want her back in my arms. It was so real, that dream of Fitz and what might have been. Did I make a difference?
I got Tessa killed. I couldn't save her from the aftermath of a kidnapping that happened because of me, because of what I am.
I killed Richie.
I've tried to accept the idea that Ahriman caused his death, but it was my hand on the sword. I tried giving up the sword, but there are still people in the world who use their Immortality to hurt mortals. I guess I still feel that I must stop those who regard mortals as their playthings.
Is all of this an illusion? Have I lost my mind? Somehow, that would make sense... Am I in a locked room somewhere, believing that I'm an Immortal warrior and creating this frightening fantasy of death and loss?
Tessa kept me sane. She was so real. There was never any doubt that she loved me. No matter what was happening in the rest of the world, she loved me. Her passion, her unlimited trust in me...
I lean back in the old leather chair. I'm cold. The fire's gone out and the sun's too newly risen to warm me.
I should get
up and go for a run. Physical activity will help... At
least, it used to.
But even a long run through this place of peace doesn't help. The questions are still there.
In the shower, I let the water pour over me. The heat feels good. The old-fashioned straight razor I use slips and there is blood running down my neck, blood all over me again.
Real people die when they bleed too much. I watch in the mirror
as the wound heals. Another cut deeper this time... but still,
it heals. The hermit took his head with my sword. That
one wasn't made from as fine a steel as the katana. It was sharp
enough, though. How could I hold the blade so's not to make a
botch of it?
I'd probably have to brace it some way... The mechanics of it ... interesting.
Maybe I'll go back to bed for a while. At least I can hold her in my dreams. Losing a lover has always been hard for me. I feel lost, betrayed... I want to get angry at her for leaving me. Sean told me that was normal. What the hell is "normal" for someone like me?
I am Immortal. Does that make me less than human? Does it make me superhuman? Who am I? A killer? Certainly, that. I kill when I must... I kill to survive.
I'm so tired of the killing.
How does Adam do it, how does he go on, day after bloody day...
I wonder where he is? I wonder what he is? "Just a guy?" Even Joe didn't buy that one. Death... How could the man who dithered at me about Alexa be the same one who raped and murdered Cassandra and all those other people?
Even after he screamed at me, gloating about the killing, I couldn't really believe it. Cassandra was going to kill him. I couldn't argue that she had no right. All I could do was order her not to do it.
I'm still not sure why I did that. I tell myself that I didn't want all that knowledge lost, but that's only partially true. I needed to talk to him, to find out what was going on. That's not quite true either. We were connected, for that few seconds, while the Quickening thundered through us. I saw... Kronos was his lover.
Is lover the word I want? I felt the pain, agony of broken bones, suffocating, drowning in my own blood, again and again. There was a helplessness, no way out of the madness and fear. What was he before he met Kronos? I only got glimpses in the moment we were linked. The hatred and anger, Kronos was so much stronger than anything else.
Adam... I didn't really know either of them, Adam or Methos. All I really know is that when I needed help, whether or not I admitted it, he was there for me. The shy, quiet man I walked with in that bright Parisian afternoon was intelligent, pleasant and very sure of himself.
The man who 'attacked' me under the bridge was desperate, brave... Was all that a pose? It could have been, I guess. It didn't feel like one then and it doesn't feel like one now. Was Methos manipulating me? Maybe. But why? Why go after Kristen?
The Dark Quickening was more frightening than anything I'd ever experienced. He risked his life, left Alexa and followed me to Marseilles to save my life... my soul? I hurt him. I almost killed him. The memories of that time are distorted. Jagged colors, constant screaming voices in my mind, incoherent in their rage and cutting through it all, his voice demanding that I put it aside. "Take his strength, and yours and come with me."
How could he even bear to be near me, after what I did to him? Oh, yes, I remember it now, cracking his head against the granite wall of the church, the button breaking at his waist as I yanked his jeans down. I remember seeing the bruises on his hip and the dazed look in his eyes when I turned him and slammed him into the floor. I wanted to hurt him, to dominate him. He never spoke. There was a sob when I forced my way into him, something tore and there was blood... I couldn't stop, didn't want to stop and yet, somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear myself crying that this wasn't what 'I' wanted. I wanted it to be different...
I've lost him too. I couldn't get past Kronos. Even after he stepped in and stopped O'Rourke, I kept seeing Kronos making love to him. No. Taking him as Byron did. Not loving him, taking him hard and fast without the love I wanted to give him. Why couldn't I tell him I love him? I told Brian and Fitz. Was it his age? I'm in awe of his years, his ability to survive. Why can't I accept that Kronos was part of that?
Now... Would I be able to tell him now? Can I even find him?
The winds are singing in the tall fir trees that surround the cabin. Storm coming...
I need him desperately, again. The storm is in me. The storm is me and I'm going to lose this time. Death is just out of reach. Methos is out of reach. Would he come to me if I called to him?
Can you hear me, Adam? Methos, I'm lost in the darkness and the pain. Come to me, find me. Either Death will find me or death will find me. Please come... before there is no me left to find.