Thanks to Rowan for the lyric, which is shown below. Don't own the rights to the lyric, don't own the rights to the guys. This story has slash overtones, but no explicit sex. For those who aren't familiar with the Lyric Wheel, song lyrics are exchanged and a story is supposed to result, four pages long, with a line from the chorus of the song used in the story (but not sung or quoted).

This takes place at the end of the episode "Timeless"

 Little Blue by Laura Mason

Duncan's verse

Methos, your smile looks like heaven, but your eyes hold a storm about to brew. Fortunately, Alexa only sees the smile. How you can do this to yourself, I'll never understand. Loving mortals may keep us human, even sane, but it's always painful. And to love someone who is dying, who may not have a year of life remaining...

I think the unshed tears in your eyes are keeping them colorless. Despite your obvious happiness, you look gaunt already. Please, please take care of yourself as you care for her. Don't let despair ruin the time you'll have, and please God keep him safe from any other immortals during this trip.

"Mac, hand over that cooler, will you?" You smile again, and it's killing me. Stop looking at me that way, stop giving me memories that will only torment me once you're gone. Please...

"Here." I grunt as I lift the heavy container.

"Her medicine needs to be kept cool," you whisper, touching the plastic softly before securing it in place in the back of the camper. And then you're back with her, standing close beside her as she says goodbye to the others from the bar, her girlfriend, a technician from the hospital. They give her flowers and cards which she passes to you, and you stow them in your pockets and under your arm.

"Where's Claudia?" I jump because I didn't see Dawson come over.


"On her own? Untrained?"

"That's how she wants it, Joe." We watch the couple as the crowd disperses and they are alone. She looks up at you, and her love is blindingly obvious. *She* can look at you that way and see the emotions returned in your eyes. She doesn't worry that someday she'll be forced to face you with a sword.

Then she turns to Dawson for a final hug, and the sorrow in her face takes my breath away. Connor taught me never to say goodbye, and I wonder if that's a wise thing. Alexa knows this is a final farewell; she'll never see Joe again. Knowing this, she lets all the affection and gratitude inside her spill out in a way that he'll always remember and she'll never regret. It's courageous and wonderful and awful.

You gently move her into the passenger seat, lightening the moment so her tears won't fall. Dawson looks grateful, too, as you squeeze his arm. Now you're coming to me and I have nothing to say.

"It's not long enough." At least the smile is gone so I can meet your eyes, filled with storm clouds.

"It never is." I cannot hug you, cannot find true words of farewell, even though I know our lives can end any day, any time. "Take care, my friend."

You pull away and Dawson speaks to me of Claudia again, of two people grasping for life in completely opposite ways. Another friend far from my protection, alone in a hostile world. Please God, keep him safe. Bring him... Just keep him safe. Wherever he goes.

Methos' Chorus

Oh, Highlander. Your smile looks like heaven, but your eyes hold a storm about to brew. And there's not a damn thing I can do about that, is there? I sit here, useless to you. Claudia's decision is causing you pain, and I can't protect you or help you. I'm leaving.

Don't smile at me, MacLeod. When I see your smiling face... I know I should be happy for you, be happy you can still smile. But when you smile at me, it twists a knife in my gut.

"Mac, hand over that cooler, will you?" And you do so with a grunt. I try to explain, but stop and search for Alexa instead. She's still saying goodbye to her life here. I stand with her, knowing I can't say goodbye to you. Even though I should.

I was kicked out of the loft so you could have Claudia there under your protection. Or in your bed. I gave up quiet evenings at the loft, conversations that spanned the universe and fed my soul, so you could reminisce with Walter instead. And I don't mind, honestly I don't. This is just a small part of the Clan, the gathering of friends you cherish. There will always be others in your life, so important to you. How could I resent them for loving you? If they were blind, unappreciative, unresponsive - then I'd hate them.

It might be nice to pretend I'm a part of that Clan. Not a full member, you understand. More like the bastard son, welcomed back after repenting of his youthful excesses. But of course you don't know about my youth. You have no idea what I've done, been. How much repentance is still necessary. If you did, you'd have taken my head when I offered it to you.

Still, I can't hate the others for being included in your Clan. They need your sunshine and warmth as much as I do. But I can resent you for not realizing that I need you, too. Your time, your attention. You try to give everyone what they want and need, so why don't you see me? Your inattention may be the only reason I'm still alive, still allowed here on the fringes of your life. And I know it's my own fault, for choosing to be Adam who blends into the woodwork. Why should you see me?

Alexa's friends finally let her go and you're still here, still brooding about Claudia and discussing her situation with Joe. Then Alexa says her farewell to Dawson, breaking my heart with her open generosity of spirit. The same kind of courage I sensed in you, Highlander, from the day we met. And I'm just as awkward with her as I've been with you, joking to cover what I feel.

Alexa needs me. She doesn't love me, I know that, but still she gives me what I need. New eyes, a fresh look at the world, a reason to keep on going. I thought you'd be able to give me that, Duncan, but I was wrong.

 Little Blue (performed by The Beautiful South)

You can't write a novel from a briefcase
You can't write song from a trench
You can dream a dream from a to B
But you can't catch a bus from a ditch
You don't back a horse called Striding Snail
You don't name your boat Titanic II
So why when I see your happy smiling face
Do I always end up singing Little Blue?

Little Blue, how do you do
Your smile looks like heaven, but your eyes hold a storm about to brew
Little Blue
How can a flower so pretty, be so laden down with dew
Little Blue
How can a flower so beautiful
Be so laden down with dew
Little Blue

 You can't build a brewery on a cemetery
You can build a pub on a church
And people fall quicker than buildings do
You have to decide what comes first
You don't call a plane the Flying Roman
'Cause the Romans always walked and never flew
So why when I see your happy smiling face
Do I always end up singing Little Blue?

 Well Bukowski wrote a story from a barstool
And Keats from the top of a hill
So I'm going to save my special song for you
From a grave where it's quiet and it's chill
Cause there's a queue of clouds assembled
On the horizon of your smile
Where most think that you're holding back
I know you're holding blue

 Feedback welcome

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