Desolation

Disclaimers: The concept of immortality and the characters, Duncan MacLeod & Methos/Adam Pierson, belong to Rysher: Panzer Davis. The quotes at the bottom are from 'Death of a Hired Man' by Robert Frost, used entirely without permission and 'Secure Yourself' by the Indigo Girls, also used without permission.
Aidan Logan is mine, and I fear the grief may be, too.
Don't expect this to match in with my series. I have no idea when Aidan left the letter, or why, but it's almost certainly not going to happen. I just left it up because I thought it was well-written.
Rated: um, PG? This one jumped out and bit me.

The note was left on the dropcloth covered kitchen table, addressed simply to 'Duncan and Adam.'

Too much

Too many

Too few

So few

Gone. So many gone.

How many wives? Gold hair threaded with white, tousled and tangling round my sun-gilded hands. Red hair short-cut for convenience in the fever which never let up, never returned her to my arms. Black hair, not raven black but soot black, matte-black, coarse as sackcloth, curly as drawn ribbon, falling over my thighs in the dark.

How many husbands? Black skin reflecting the light in blue edge. Olive skin burnished brown in the sun. Pale skin burned red under the summer blue. Strong hands, callused with work; solid bodies, muscled from labor. A warm chest in the night, a rumbling voice in the dark, ringing laughter in the morning.

And the children. Oh, Goddess. Giggles in the dark when they should have slept, firelit early evenings spent telling tales to half-sleeping weight in my lap, the sweet scent of a freshly washed hair. And the broken bones from trees too tall and frail to hold their weight, the frantic search hunting the lost wanderer, the splattered blood left behind the raiders' path....

This death is the straw's weight too much -- again.

Too many memories, oh my hearts, and too many ghosts haunting my sight, seen in the corners of my eyes, the unfocusing of my mind. Too few friends and lovers still to be held against the darkness of those griefs. So few of us are left it seems.

I will come home when I can breathe air, taste food, hear joy. There is nothing in me but grey. Ash in my mouth, grief in my blood, and the dull drudge of muscle against a task which cannot but be borne. It dulls my sword, and must not dull yours. I've come too far to lie down, though. Look for me when you see me -- but you will see me.

For what is love if not a road, and a way, and a promise, and a return? Even if I can't see it just now?

Edana

Found written on the bottom of the letter, when the house was reopened by its owner:

'Home is that place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.'

We'll be here.

Duncan

'Falling softly as the rain; no footsteps ringing in your ears.
Ragged down worn to the skin, warrior raging, have no fear.
Secure yourself to heaven. Hold on tight, the night has come.
Fasten up your earthly burdens. We have just begun.'

Not beta'd, not edited, and *so* not expected.
Any opinions or comments can go to Rhi