Duncan had never to this day fully understood just how different Methos really was. He had always thought that the oldest immortal was just playing the tough guy without a conscience because attempting to lead something like a normal life and to behave like anyone else would be too painful as it was surely doomed to fail. Who could be "normal" after a life of 5000+ years filled with love, loss and pain? Even after he had been told about the horsemen MacLeod had still harbored the idea that his "friend" had just been a misguided youth and that he had only killed because some of his earlier traumatic experiences. Not because he was inherently evil. No, he just had not known better, he tried to convince himself. He knew that Methos had experienced some really ugly shit when he was still young. But now, he was not so sure about Methos not being evil anymore.

Today he had come to realize that even if there had been a soft and empathetic version of Methos once, it sure as hell was gone now. Completely gone.

He had seen him kill the woman, wait, not woman, he had to correct himself, almost a mere child, without any second thoughts. Duncan felt a pang of guilt because he was grateful although he knew that what Methos had done was all kinds of wrong.

But if his friend had not broken the rules, Duncan would be dead now.

He remembered the cold swiftness with which Methos had stepped in after he had slipped...it still baffled him. There had been an oily spot on the floor where the woman and he had fought. Obviously someone had told her lies about him and led her to believe that he was a rapist and had to be stopped. There had been such a fury in her eyes. Nevertheless he had tried to reason with her, had desperately tried to explain that she was making a mistake. He had not wanted to take the life of an innocent child. If she had only listened,...

And then, while he had still been trying to stop her from attacking him, he had taken a defensive step backwards to evade her sword, and he had slipped. She had of course taken advantage and would surely have decapitated him, if it had not been for Methos.

He still saw Joe's stunned gaze before him as the old watcher had witnessed the unthinkable. Methos had broken the rules. And his eyes...Duncan felt a shudder run through him. Methos' eyes had had a cold yellowish hue to them as he had lifted his sword. He had not paused. Hell, he had not even blinked as he had brought the sword down and ended her life. Everything had happened within seconds and Duncan still wondered how the old immortal had been able to bridge the space between them so quickly.

But this had not been all. He had pulled another trick, the old bastard.

The quickening had started to rise but Methos had voluntarily controlled it, preventing the energy from running wild, so that Joe and Duncan had had the time to escape the onslaught of lightening and thunder. If he thought about it, this had been the creepiest moment of the whole encounter. Methos had in this moment really seemed to control the life force seeping out of the woman's dead body. Duncan felt sick because that meant that Methos' nickname "Death" had not been chosen without a reason. Besides this shocking revelation he was still angry with the oldest immortal. It had been his fight and the rules clearly forbade any intervention.

All this had happened three days ago and he had still not found the courage to talk to Methos again. Neither had he talked to Joe, although his friend had called him several times. He sighed. Perhaps he should go and see Joe.