OOC: Written for_chibidragon_ with the prompt, As you lay to die beside me, baby. I'm the one in the shootin' game.


Connor stands on the roof of a building with too many bits and scaffolding, suggesting either someone's architectural nightmare or renovations of some kind. He stands on this roof and he contemplates his own death.

Brooding is something people associate with immortality- somehow the turn of the centuries tends to make people a little more prone to turning things over in their heads and sinking into an melancholy stupor. Methos used to make fun of that cliche and Connor had, for the most part, joined him, until the next time the grief set in. In five thousand years, Methos hasn't lost nearly as much as Connor has in almost three hundred. He never had Jacob Kell.

Methos would, if he were here, probably put a gun to his head for even considering this.

Connor stands on the roof of a building and waits for Duncan, and hates himself for even putting this on the lad. Methos is too pragmatic and even if Connor knows that the man can fight, this is a fight for a MacLeod. And he knows that Duncan can win, but he needs one thing to tilt him towards victory and to have that one thing, someone has to die, no matter how much it's going to hurt.

Specifically, Connor has to die.

Connor stands on the roof of a building and swears on everything that he once believed in that Jacob Kell will no longer hold sway over him. If this is the last thing he does (and it will be), he will make sure that Kell pays.

What he's not sure of is how many other people are going to pay just so that wish can be fulfilled.

Muse: Connor MacLeod
Word Count: 277