Author’s Note: This story is a TYR/Highlander crossover. Just a little background on the show, Highlander. It is about a man named Duncan MacLeod, the Highlander. He was born in 1592 in the Highlands of Scotland, and he is still alive. He is Immortal and has been alive for 400 years. He is constantly facing other Immortals in combat to the death. The winner takes his enemy's head; and with it, his power (1)

You may not believe it
But I don’t believe in miracles anymore
And when I think about it
I don’t believe I ever did for sure
All the things I’ve said in songs
All the purple prose you bought from me
Reality’s just black and white
The sentimental things I’d write
Never meant that much to me (2)

“I’m tired Duncan,” Teaspoon Hunter said wearily to the young highlander, Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod.

“I realize that,” Duncan said quickly, trying to silence the words he knew would be forthcoming. Duncan had stumbled upon his old friend a few days ago, surprised to see Teaspoon here, living among the Cheyenne. It seemed a little dull for his friend’s style. But he soon learned that Teaspoon had found peace here, something they were all looking for.

Duncan had known Teaspoon for quite some time, even before he had taken the name Aloysius ‘Teaspoon’ Hunter. They met in the state of New York where Teaspoon had been using the name Ichabod Crane. Together, the two of them had solved a series of murders, which were purportedly carried out by an apparition known as the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. They discovered that the murderer was another immortal, one who possessed a healthy sense of irony.

“I don’t care anymore,” Teaspoon. “Let him come for me.” He gave Duncan a hard look. “And you don’t even think about meddling in my business. I don’t need a pup like you running interference for me.”

Duncan frowned to himself as the older man got up from the fire he had been sitting at and went to the teepee he had shared with his wife, Happy Mouth, until last week that is. Last week, Happy Mouth had been murdered by another immortal, Galen Verhoven, an old and if not out of mind, then definitely an out of sight enemy. No one had heard from or seen Galen Verhoven in decades. And he seemed to have re-appeared for the express purpose of seeking out and destroying Teaspoon. Killing Happy Mouth had been the first part in Galen’s plan for revenge as he had never forgiven Teaspoon for turning him into the authorities during the Revolutionary War for his treasonous activities.

Galen wanted to make Teaspoon suffer, sap his will to live so he could kill Teaspoon without much of a fight. And suffer he did. Duncan didn’t think he had ever seen his friend look so down. It was like all his old beliefs had simply vanished into thin air. Teaspoon didn’t even have it in him to spout off, giving unwanted advice in the form of wise old sayings, twisted of course to fit the situation and the man.

You don’t need to hear it
But I’m dried up and sick to death of love
If you need to know it
I never really understood that stuff
All the stars and bleeding hearts
All the tears that welled up in my eyes
Never meant a thing to me
Read ‘em as they say and weep
I’ve never felt enough to cry (2)

“You’re not going to do anything?” Duncan half-shouted. “Just sit and wait for him to take your head? What’s wrong with you?”

“Let it be, son,” Teaspoon answered calmly.

Duncan shook his head. He couldn’t believe that a man like Teaspoon Hunter would just sit by and let this happen. It was like losing Happy Mouth was the final straw. Duncan had always considered Teaspoon one of a kind, a true romantic. But the man who followed his heart seemed to be gone and that was left was this shell. A shell which was simply waiting to die.

When I say that I don’t care
It really means my engine’s breaking down
The chisel chips my heart again
The granite cracks beneath my skin
I crumble into pieces on the ground (2)

The clang of swords rang out. Teaspoon’s head jerked up. He cursed himself for dozing off, letting that lad run off to do what he should be doing. He raced out of the sweat lodge he had been sitting in, hoping to cure what ailed him.

But instead of meditating, trying to work through his demons, he was running, running to save a damn fool from his demise. Teaspoon raced to the sound and found Duncan, gingerly tossing his sword from one hand to the other, balancing on the balls of his feet, circling the fire, with Galen Verhoven across from him.

“Enough!” Teaspoon shouted. Both men lowered their swords and stared at him.

“This is my fight, MacLeod,” Teaspoon told Duncan firmly.

Duncan watched the older man’s face carefully for any sign of hesitation or faltering. He would not help his friend commit suicide. Much to his relief there was none, there was nothing but resolution. He stepped back then.

“Your fight’s with me, Verhoven,” Teaspoon announced, moving a hand from behind his back, brandishing his usually carefully hidden sword. “Not MacLeod.”

“That it is, old man,” Verhoven sneered. He raised his sword, rushing at his opponent.

I used to be the main express
All steam and whistles heading west
Picking up my pain from door to door
Riding on the storyline
Furnace burning overtime
But this train don’t stop,
This train don’t stop there anymore (2)

“I cannot believe you’re really going to do this,” Duncan said, shaking his head. “Be a part of the Pony Express.”

Teaspoon grinned at him. “I always did like being a part of history. You know that.”

Duncan clapped him on the shoulder. “I know.” He stepped away, moving toward his horse.

“Keep in touch,” Teaspoon called out to him.

“I will,” Duncan responded. “Take care of yourself,” he paused for a moment. “And your charges.”

“I will,” Teaspoon said. “Until they’re ready for you.” It wasn’t easy balancing the forces of good and evil. It always seemed like good needed a lot more help. So he had decided not to sit on the sidelines. What did that do? Nothing. All it did was let evil win. If this was the lesson he was supposed to learn from Happy Mouth’s death, then he had learned it. He just wished there had been an easier way. But he was in the game again. And he had a purpose once more. It took a little finagling, but he managed it, he managed to get a group of riders who were in great need of his assistance. Riders he knew would eventually need Duncan’s help as well. He just hoped they didn’t need it for a long time to come.




“McCloud,” Teaspoon mused aloud. “So you say your name is McCloud,” he said once more, focusing his attention on the puny rider before him. “You got any kin in Scotland?” he asked, while Lou simply stared at him.

“Never mind,” Teaspoon said quickly. “Let’s go see what you can do,” he continued, exiting the barn, ready to take on the rest of the riders awaiting him outside.

“I’ll watch over ‘em, Duncan,” he whispered to himself. “Until it’s your turn.”

End notes:
(1) grove.ufl.edu/~aquarius/highlander.html
(2) This Train Don’t Stop There Anymore, music by Elton John, lyrics by Bernie Taupin

A big thanks to Karen for the idea and the kind ladies who beta for me. You know who you are. Thank you!

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