"Bless you," Duncan said, chuckling, realizing how lucky he was to be an immortal and not have to put up with such things as colds. Though the sadness of living forever and seeing mortal friends like Joe age and eventually die would touch him day in and day out, such things as sickness could not even get close.
"Look, MacLeod," Dawson continued, determined to get to his point. "You haven't seen Amanda lately, have you?"
Duncan cast his eyes toward the bed and grinned. "Actually, I have," his Scottish accent showed through a bit as it always did when he was emotional. "She, uh, spent the night. Why?"
"Damn!" Dawson cursed under his breath, regretting his decision to take care of himself the night before and not race over to report the news to Duncan.
"You alright, Joe?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine, but you won't. I'll be right over.
Duncan raised his left eyebrow in wonder. "Sure, Joe, see you."
Joe began, "Be riii-" but felt a sneeze coming. "Ha.." he covered his mouth with a gloved hand, smothering the powerful sound of the sneeze. "Chummm!"
"Bless you, Joe." He flipped the phone shut and set it back down on the shelf next to his opera CDs. A little ruffled now, both physically and mentally, he pulled his long, brown-black hair back into a pony tail, fastening it neatly with a MacLeod crest pin. He changed into comfortable attire- jeans and his slightly-oversized beige knit sweater. Then he sat down beside Amanda, rubbing her arm gently to wake her.
She stirred, opening her eyes and groggily sitting herself up. Then she rubbed at the side of her nose with her slender fingers. She looked at him a moment, then fell back down upon the bed with a groan. "It's true!"
Utterly confused, Duncan begged her to explain. "Why? What's wrong?"
Amanda cupped a hand over her nose and mouth, closing her eyes. Then she gasped to take in a big breath of air and burst forward with a strong but feminine sneeze.
Duncan's eyes were wide with fear. "Tell me that was just from dust."
She shook her head and closed her eyes again. "Ahh- Ahh-" a quick and panicky build-up. "Achioo!"
"B-bless you," Duncan managed. He touched her forehead with the pack of his hand, then her cheeks, both feeling hot against his skin. "You're burning up!"
She sniffled and nodded, wiping her nose on her sleeve for she knew he would have neither tissues nor handkerchiefs to offer her. "I'm sick... and I hadn't realized how horrible it feels. How do mortals put up with this?"
Duncan was struck speechless, and was glad to hear the welcome knock on the door. Just as expected, there was Joe Dawson, leaning on his cane for support. His handsome face was pale, drooping, his thin gray beard uncombed, his eyes bloodshot. "Hey, MacLeod," he said, sounding congested. The man entered with his usual limp, for he'd lost his legs in Nam... the same event that had introduced him to immortals, and the watcher profession he would soon make the biggest part of his life. He saw Amanda and went to her, letting down the bag he was holding on the edge of the bed. He dug through it a moment, then pulled out a box of tissues, opening it and handing it to her.
Taking them gratefully, she pulled out a few to blow her nose. She sniffled a little, feeling another tickle, then sneezed three times into them, closing her eyes tightly, her nose twitching to let them out one after another. "Achioo! Achaa! AChiioo!"
"God Bless!" Joe took a few steps over to her, patting her head comfortingly, trying to assure her that all would be alright.
She looked up at him helplessly. "Isn't there something you can get me for this?"
He shook his head, his spiky hair waving a little. "I'm sorry. We're trying. Mortal drugs do... do... nothing to... to... " he quickly withdrew his hand to grab his handkerchief and bury his nose in it to give a mighty, muffled, "HUSHMMPH!" the force causing him to bend at the waist, nearly far enough down to touch her.
Duncan, as confused as ever, tried to stay in control and tried to do what he could for them. He was born to be a chieftain, raised learning how to help and protect... it was the least he could do to comfort them a little now. "Tea anyone?" he asked, already knowing what their answer would be.
Joe walked back to the center of the barge, the living room, and took a seat on the couch. He leaned back to rest his eyes until it was ready... needing a little time to figure out how to explain it to them.
As Duncan brought over the tea and sat down on the other side of the couch, Amanda came over, wrapped in a blanket. She sat down on his lap, putting her arms around him, resting her head again on his shoulder. And while he held her tea, letting her sip it as she liked, Joe drank his own and tried his best to explain, trying to do so without straining his voice or breaking much to sneeze.
"An immortal named Kayly developed it, tested it on himself
"What happened to him?" Duncan said, taking it as a personal challenge to find and kill him, follow through with his own sense of justice that so defined his noble character.
"He.. he... hold on.. Ha-HaSHOO!
"Joe," came Duncan's soft voice, wishing his friend were better.
Joe Dawson took another sip of the warm tea. "I'm just sneezing. It's not
Amanda began snoring ever so lightly, form her sweet, stuffy nose.
"So this is a deadly virus?" Duncan asked, loving this new experience of holding her, taking care of her.
Dawson shook his head. "Not the virus itself, no. It's just like a mortal cold, or a bad case of the sniffles. But to
Duncan understood all too well. Immortals fought and killed to survive. He realized what would happen to an immortal with a cold, being too weak to lift a sword in a block, or sneeze at a thrust and miss- such an immortal was sure to loose his head. "There's no cure?"
Joe shrugged and wiped his nose with the corner of his handkerchief. "Nope. And there's more to it, Mac. Kayly had help developing it, we suspect that it wasn't even his idea to begin with."
"Then who..."
"Kayly's watcher. Tate Onovan."
Duncan grumbled. "A renegade." Renegades were watchers who, instead of recording and cherishing the lives of immortals, used their knowledge of the secret to bring an end to immortals. Renegades broke from the watchers to kill, to bring down every immortal, good or bad, for the sake that the human race would not be dominated. Duncan had had his fair share of Renegade watchers... he'd had one of his closest friends murdered by one... in fact, Joe's own brother-in-law had been one, before Duncan was forced to kill him. "Where is he now?"
"He knew we were on to him; he killed himself to keep whatever cure he might have come across lost forever. Now it's seeping over all of you, and hitting all the ancients especially."
"The ancient immortals?" Duncan asked, even more worried.
"Oh, it works the same as a normal virus, but it was developed to hit those with longer lives harder. You, for instance, would be somewhere in the middle."
"Methos?" Duncan was concerned about his friend. Legend had it that Methos was the oldest immortal, so old he could not remember a thing before his first quickening, the power-gain that resulted when one immortal beheaded another. Some said Methos was a myth... others, a select few, actually knew him personally. He was over five thousand years old, a far cry from Duncan who would be four hundred and five in December, or Amanda who had died the first time in the time of the bubonic plague.
"I called him right after I called you. He's fine. And he's staying hidden."
Duncan was relieved to hear it. "Joe, what can I do about this?"
Joe smiled. "Not much except stay inside so you don't spread it around. It's highly contagious. The last thing we need is for every immortal on this planet to be sick. What a great game that would be!" He cleared his throat. "We've got watchers all over the world trying to figure out how to get rid of this. The Brazilian rain forests, the... the... Ha-SHOO! Ha-SHOO! Ha-Ha-" he paused, the handkerchief hovering in the air in front of his nose and mouth, ready. He sighed, lowering it, then suddenly brought it back up to sneeze, his nostrils flaring widely at the great, body-shaking sneeze. "HAAHSHOOO!"
"Joe, you should be in bed," Duncan said softly.
His watcher nodded. "Yeah, I should be, shouldn't I?" He blew his nose and shrugged. "Well, maybe later. I've got a lot to do over at head... head.. HA-HA-HASHOOO!" he groaned as the force filled his nose and exploded out, forcing him far forward. He leaned back against the couch, wanting so much to be able to stay there. "Headquarters," he finished. "I'd better go before I get worse, anyway."
Duncan tried again. "Joe, you need to take care of yourself. You shouldn't be driving in your condition, either."
Joe sighed. "I've been sick before, MacLeod, many times. It's nothing I can't handle," even if he did feel horrible. "Take care of Amanda. Take care of yourself. Let us take care of the
A man's voice boomed through the door and down the stairway. "Hey, Joe! You ready to go?"
Duncan raised his eyebrow again. "That was Mike, wasn't that?" Mike was the Assistant Manager of Joe's, the bar Duncan's watcher used as a cover for his real profession, and was the only one Joe trusted it to in his absence. In the days of Duncan teaching Richie, Mike was also Richie's watcher.
"He wasn't reassigned anyone in Secouver, and he was more than willing... Ha... Ha..." Joe got ready again, holding up the handkerchief... only to have the sneeze leave him. His face fell, frustrated. "Sorry, he was more than willing to fly in to help out. And he's driving." He stood up and turned towards the door, "Yeah, Mike. I'll be up in a minute!" He began to walk out, then turned his head back. "Oh, and I got you some stuff. Soup, tissues, bottled water, the kind of things we mortals tend to like when we're sick. Stay warm. Take care... and watch your back."
Duncan smiled. "Thanks, Dawson. I always do."
Joe cocked his head to the side and grunted in his usual style. He said the words softly, his voice that sung such wonderful blues songs even rougher and more airy than usual, "Yeah, I know." He left as slowly as he came, leaving Duncan alone with Amanda.
Normally Duncan would have leapt at the chance to take her to bed... but this was no ordinary mission. In the time he'd spent with mortal women, Debra, Little Deer, and especially Tessa, he'd been by them when they were sick, but this time it was different to be going through it with Amanda. She was strong, self-determined, the one woman he never counted on having to take care of, even in battle.
"MacLeod..." she mumbled as he stood, carrying her to his bed. "What happened?"
He set her down on the bed and kissed her cheek. "It'll be alright, Amanda. I'll take care of you."
She rolled her eyes. "That's all I need. And who takes care of you when you're sick?"
He hadn't thought that far ahead yet, but he wasn't one to let on he was anything but confident. "I can handle a cold."
She smiled and rolled over on her stomach. "Sure you can." Duncan massaged her back and handed her tissues until she fell asleep, then he decided there wasn't much else for him to do either, so he curled back up beside her and drifted off as well.
"You have one, too!" Amanda exclaimed, staring at the thermometer Joe had so nicely provided them with. "It's 103! That can't be right... what's normal, anyway?"
Duncan shrugged. "98 or 99 I think. I've never taken my temperature so I wouldn't... I wouldn't..." a tickle came over his nose and his eyes lit up at the strange, powerful feeling. The urge compelled him to breathe in, his handsome dark face sagging, body slumping, dark brown eyes closing. Forced to sneeze, it erupted out of him in a puff, with a silent building of breaths and a powerful release "CHOO!" He gasped for air and opened his eyes to see her waving a tissue in his face.
"Don't spray the whole place," she giggled. "Here."
He took it from her, sniffing miserably as his head throbbed. "Dacks," he thanked her. He held it over his nose as he'd seen Joe do and blew out through his nose, making his ears pop. He tried again and managed to do a little better. "This isn't as easy as it looks," he said, shivering and pulling the spare blanket up to his waist.
Amanda shook her head. "No it's not... are you cold?"
He nodded, then sneezed again, a perfectly round, "CHUUMPH!" right into the tissue, the last of the sound dying away, leading into a small groan. He remembered Joe and wondered how a mortal could put up with such a feeling. His whole body ached all over, as he'd taken on the whole English army at Culloden single-handedly. And his nose tickled and itched like there was a small feather stuck there.
She was sitting beside him, but edged over so that she was right next to him. She wrapped her arms around him and he put his head on her shoulder this time. "Pretend we're not here in Paris, MacLeod. Think of our little island." She'd asked him about it dozens of times, when she just wanted to escape from the real world for a while. But he was never one for running away from his problems, so they never went. "Where the sun's so warm we don't even need to wear anything. And we lie out on the beach, the sand's hot against us as we make love. And it's the best we've ever had, so wild, so free, so hot..." She stopped to sniff and rub at her nose but already in that time she saw that he was asleep. "Well that's a first," she said with a small giggle and a cough, remembering the nights they'd shared over the three hundred years of knowing each other. "This time I actually wanted to put him to sleep."
RETURN TO THE TAROT OF SNEEZING