Hearts at War

by jazzy2may

Slash DM/M, Summary inside. SLASH. on HIATUS 4 now

1. Chapter 1

Highlander: Hearts War
Author(s): Jazzy and Eva (© 2001)
Pairing: DM/M
Rating: MATURE
Characters: Joe, DM, M, Connor-n-spirit, Kate The DeValincourts and many others immortal and none. NOTE: I will re-write this story in the future and Story is Unfinished W-I-P at present.

Summary: Takes place after the Highlander Film: END GAME Macleod is going insane or thinks he is. He has a wonderful partner in Methos and they have finally settled in to their new home and new routines. Macleod has become basically a depressed home body.

Warnings: DARK FIC, H/C, Established Relationship, Post- HL series & HL #4: EndGame. Angst, serious matters, possible emotional, physical, and psychological torture, and issues of depression.

Chapter 1

He sat in an overstuffed chair by a banking fire, reading a book that did not interest him in the least. Yet, it was something he could do to pass the time while he waited. He was waiting. Joe called to say that Duncan had finished Jacob Kel off in New York, (thank whatever divinity was present at the time!) though Mac's victory was something Methos had felt certain of even without Joe's phone call. Methos had felt Duncan through the joint quickening of several years ago, the bond had weakened with their time apart from each other and the distance which Methos had put between them purposely. But nothing could dampen the power Methos had felt coursing through Duncan with Connor's quickening and Kel's, as well.

That power had rocked Methos out of a sound sleep and coursed down his own body, the sheer magnitude of such quickenings were awesome, he had felt nothing that powerful since the night of the four horsemen's doom. Joe continued to tell him of the lonely funeral Duncan had attended. How everyone Connor had known or loved was either dead or just would not go to the funeral, not even Connor's adopted son, John. How awful that must have been for the highlander, to go through! Still probably not as bad as Duncan must have felt while being forced to take his kinsmen's head, but still, how tragic it all was.

"He'll be arriving in London soon Methos. Try to take it easy on him, okay?"

Methos sighed, "Why am I always the bad guy Joe?" he complained, "Oh never mind. I'll be as careful with him as I am with new borns. I swear Joe, no stress at all!"

"There better not be, or I'll come over their and kick your ass, legs or no legs, man."

"I got it Joe." Methos laughed good naturedly, "I know you will. You're a good friend to us Joe. I don't know what we'll ever do without you."

Joe snorted through the phone. "Keep it up Methos, and I might just forgive you for the last heartache you gave him. Honeyed talker that you are. I'll see the both of you later. Man, I'm gonna love Oahu."

Again Methos laughed. "Enjoy your vacation Joe."

"you know it pal. Bye Methos."

"Bye Joe."

The line went empty with a click and Methos hung up as well. He was happy that Duncan would soon be arriving, coming home. To their home. However, it seemed that time had it's own agenda, and was moving way too slowly for Methos' piece of mind, he had too much of it. Methos stood up moved to the fire and fiddled with it for a few moments than he decided that the fire needed more wood, so he brought in more wood, grabbed himself another beer from the fridge, than he sat back down in his comfy chair and waited.

He knew Duncan would be "okay" if any man would be "okay," after killing all the family left in the world to him. Yes, it was going to be hard in the weeks, months, years, to come ahead of them, but Duncan would survive. Methos would make sure of that. As he had promised Joe he would. He was still worried that Duncan would be staring into the emptiness without Connor's bracing hand at his back and caustic wit in his ears.

Losing a teacher, a brother, a friend and beloved one was always difficult, and it was one that they were both familiar with. Connor had been Duncan's first teacher, as well as his kinsmen, and for a Scot, Clan was everything. What to do? What to do? Would Duncan even let Methos help?

Finally, Methos felt Duncan's Presence, strong and clear, echoing in his head as well as in his heart. No other's Presence had ever worked that way on Methos or anyone else. But Duncan's Presence seemed to resonate, even harmonize, with others. Mac was that very rare bird, a social Immortal. Mac was also a guiding star, a moral compass for many in the Immortal community, Methos among them. Without Duncan, Methos knew in his heart, that he would never have become as human as he was now, as compassionate or as changed as he was. Without Duncan Methos very well knew that he would have accepted Kronos' dominion again and turn back to his old evil ways. Methos shuddered at these images.

Nasty business, keep your mind off of what-have-beens and would-have-beens and get your mind on comforting your friend, idiot!

Methos looked out the window and saw Duncan get out of the cab. He watched Duncan turn, look around, then walk slowly up the steps of their home. Duncan shuffled his feet like an old man, he almost seemed his actual age, Four Hundred years old and troubled, extremely troubled. Methos knew it was because of Connor's death and Rachel's death. Why did Duncan stop like that, tilt his head like that? As if he were listening to some voice, Connor's voice, now silenced, forever. Or could it be that Duncan was troubled by the reemergence of the wife. Yes, Methos knew about that particular bit of business as well. He knew about Kate. Would Duncan ever speak of it? Would Duncan be changing his mind about the two of them? Would Duncan choose dearest Kate over some stodgy old cynic book worm, like him?

I had hoped so much that day he came to visit me, it would not be for information but for something else. Something they had danced around for close to 15 years about. Love, Social Visit, Dating, anything at all. I had a bad feeling that day. I could feel Duncan's emotions. His worry and his fears for his kinsman. I could deny my Highlander nothing, of course that didn't mean I wasn't above making Duncan work for it, pithy remarks and cute little puzzles for my Duncan to figure, but as usual Duncan bull headed it and forced me to speak the plain words that would help him on the road to finding his Connor. I knew the information I had for him would be just another wound in his heart, still, I had no choice. Duncan wouldn't let it go. He wouldn't let me keep my secrets.

I suppose in the long run I really didn't want to keep this particular one. I didn't agree with Sanctuary. What kind of refuge would Sanctuary be, when it was not even on Holy Ground? Especially with idiots like those running it? Those questions' answers were self evident now. It was no protection and no refuge at all.

Hello, Watchers, you really did muck this one up, but thank the Gods you did so. Otherwise, we'd all be dead or else what little survivors there would have been would still be trying to dig themselves out of the rubble. Pompeii, Mt. Vesuvius, ring any bells? Or how about Atlantis? Or Herculanium? Gods! What a bunch of idiots.

How I hated myself that day. For what I had to tell Duncan. Watching another shard of him break off. And while I spoke and watched my friend, the love of my immortal life, suffer once more and try to deny what was so right there in his face. I knew it was the beginning of the end for either my Duncan or for his Connor. I knew in my bones that one of them was going to die. And how I hated myself that day and dreaded what I knew would happen next. And selfish bastard that I am, I prayed that it would not be Duncan that would be the one to die. Which then damned Connor and damned my Highlander as well. For with one's destruction it was inevitable that the other would follow.

I would try now to pick up the pieces and see to it, that it was my Highlander that would survive and come back whole again, and stronger than ever. That Highlander whose name was Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod, it is he that I would like to see again. That proud, painful thorn in my side. A man who would stand straight once more and laugh once more and tease once more.

Methos also knew that the danger was not past. It was still out there. She was still out there. Kate was a sleeping serpent, waiting. Methos suspected that Kate was another Cassandra, broken and bitter. A viper, trained and ready to strike when the time was right. Methos knew she was Kel's, his trained little puppet. A pawn, now made a queen and free ranging in her movements, a powerful piece, in this newest round of Kel's game.

Duncan should not have allowed her to go so easily, nor Kel allow her to keep her deranged head. Did Duncan realy not know, not realy suspect what she was? The danger she presented for them both? How could he not? Wait a minute, this is Duncan I'm talking about. Of course he wouldn't know, or else he just can't deal with it. After all she was once his wife and the love of his heart. Killing her would be impossible for him, even in self-defense. Bloody idiot Scot! I might as well be angry at the weather for as all that it will do for me to be angry with that part of his nature which I Love so well. His honor, his heart, his goodness. If Duncan will not kill her, Than I must. And I will do whatever it takes to keep Duncan safe. Now I must stop these ramblings and far ranging plannings, because now it is, that Duncan needs me to put him back together again.

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Duncan looked longingly up at their brick home. he knew that inside Methos was waiting for him, along with a nicely made fire, warm and snug. Maybe once he was inside, the chill would leave him at last? He was shaking and could not remember a time when he had ever been this chilled or this cold. The cold went so deep, deeper than even his bones or marrow, he even went so far as to suspect that the chill was lodged somewhere in his soul or was it his heart, probably both.

It was stupid. Everything that had happened to this point had been so stupid, so pointless! Kel had been one seriously disturbed piece of whacked work. None of it made any sense to Duncan. Both sides had been wronged. Who was to say which person's life had been more important? Certainly not Kel. That was God's place. Connor's Mam had been killed as was Kel's adopted Father. An eye for an eye had already been paid. No one's life had been worth so much innocent blood being spilled. How could Kel hunt Connor so long and kill all those whom Connor had loved? It had been so... so wrong.

And Rachel? Poor sweet Rachel, who had done no harm to anyone in all her fifty years of living. Oh, dearest God, why Connor's Rachel? Why my dearest and only niece? Duncan knew it was futile to ask God why. He knew he would not get God's answer until that day when it would be his own turn, when his own time to go had come. It was just another question he would have to store with all the rest, for that day.

Connor had adored his adopted daughter so much. Connor and Duncan could not deny Rachel anything, from stories at night to adventures in far away countries, cruises and the rest. One would think that such spoilage would ruin the person's character but it did not. She was forever kind, a little timid, sometimes, a lion at others. She had been Connor's daughter in every meaning of the word, and Duncan's niece. Duncan's heart was torn for both of them. He didn't know for whom he grieved more, for Connor or for Rachel, or for himself. No more Connor. No more Rachel. No more Kin. It was horrible! Horrible, horrible, pain.

Than there was John. Practically a stranger to Connor as well as to Duncan. John had been Connor's other and last adopted child, a son. Jonathan Macleod, estranged. An adult quite capable of taking care of himself now as well as being married and expecting a baern on the way. Duncan was grateful that John was not a child any more and would not need Duncan to care for him in Connor's absence, because Duncan very much doubted he would be up to taking care of anybody least of all a child or even himself. He just wanted to curl up and cry again for the pain of his losses.

John had grieved openly over the phone and assured Duncan that he would himself be okay. John's words played in his head. "I'll miss him terribly Uncle, but Dad prepared me for this eventuality a long time ago. I've had time to accept it.

"Oh Duncan, I know how much you looked up to Dad, and how much you relied on him. All the late night and early morning phone calls, the letters, dating back decades even hundreds of years. I know how hard this must be for you, Uncle Duncan, but he's in a better place now. There with his beloved Heather and beloved first teacher, Ramirez. I'm very certain that he's happy now, really happy now, and we must let him go and move on with our lives as he would want us to.

"I wish I could have been there for the funeral Uncle, you know I do, but with Tara expecting so soon, we just couldn't chance her being away from her doctor and I couldn't go on my own because Tara needs me there also for the delivery, she would have felt alone and scared if I had abandoned her to go to the funeral. I'm so sorry Uncle, really. I am so sorry that he did this to you. But if you had been in his place, to whom would you want your quickening to go to? Some wacko nut case murderer, or to your brother?"

Duncan remembered his throat closing at that point and he had to fight to keep a sniveling whimper from escaping his control. But it seemed that John heard him anyway.

"Oh, Duncan, maybe... Oh God! Tara!" the phone was dropped and Duncan could hear the scuffling of panicky feet and a woman's cry of "Its time, its time!"

Then John seemed to get some wits back and picked up the phone.

"Sorry Uncle Duncan, Tara's having the baby right now and I gotta go. I'll talk to you later. Oh God, Tara, I'm coming."

Then the phone clicked and their conversation was at an end, and in spite of his grief, Duncan had actually found a small amused smile to wear on his face. After a few moments though the loneliness was back, crashing down on him and destroying his moment of peace. That was also when the cold seemed to move in on a permanent residency, it got worse and spread farther within him, and now it seemed he was doomed never to be warm again. He was wearing a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, an over shirt, a jacket and an overcoat, and still he felt so very, very, cold and so very, very, old. He felt like he was dying, slowly and painfully, a piece of him at a time.

Would this never end? Would the killing never end? Nor the grieving ever end?

Methos! Methos! Help ma! I think I may be dying after all. Can this grief really kill ma? Will I just let it kill ma? Oh Methos, make it end. Make it go away. Make it all just go away. Tears again stung his eyes.

How was this grief less painful for John? Was it through separation and the rare visits? Or was it a remnant from that one time when John had been kidnapped and tormented by that one monstrous Immortal? Could John truly be less attached to Connor, how could this be if John truly loved Connor as a son loves his father? Mac couldn't understand it. How does anyone detach themselves from their loved ones?

In his four hundred years of life he had loved and lost and grieved to the fullest, never able to bring himself not to get too attached. It was something though he had once or twice advised Richie about, not something he'd ever learned how to do either. Accepting that a mortal lives such a short time, a blink of an eye really, was not something he had a problem with knowing, but letting them go, getting on with his life, that one had always been rather tricky and hard to do for him. Letting anyone go, even Methos, was so very hard for him to do, when all he wanted was to hold on tight and never let them out of his sight or out of his grasp ever again. Mortals live and Mortals die. Immortals live and Immortals die. That is the way of life. He knew that, Methos told him so more times than he could count, but it was also something Duncan had known for himself, experienced for himself.

Duncan had missed out on many different years with Connor and still Connor's absence was horribly painful, so separation could not possibly be a way of making acceptance easier. But still as the boy had said, late night calls traded between them, photos swapped and stories told over a pint at a friendly tavern or road house, or today's dance clubs. Countless and precious and far between their visits, and now never to be again.

Why must I have been the one, Connor? It is such a terrible burden yew have left on ma heart, and a hole in ma soul. Connor... Connor...

Tears fell again down his cheeks and choking him while he inhaled salty wetness through his nose. Duncan was well aware that if he hadn't struck the beheading blow Connor would have. The man had had that rare manic look to him and was dead set against hearing any reason. If Duncan had not taken Connor, Connor would have taken Duncan, the man had been desperate. Than where would Duncan be? Staring out from his cousin's eyes, never to touch Methos again or see his love again with his own eyes.

Methos would have hit the roof. Connor alive but no Duncan! Connor would have been a walking dead man, and both Highlanders had known it. It was best this way, or so Connor kept assuring him. But somehow Duncan didn't feel that it was. The grief was still so strong and the anger as well. He was so upset with Connor over all of this. Yet, how can he blame a dead man? It wasn't right. The guilt was tearing him apart. Blood of his kin on his hands for the second time in his long life, and guilt for being angry with that dead kinsman. And guilt for much much more.

//Och now, Laddy, yew know why it had to happen. And yew are the far better choice than some evil Immortal like Kel. Yew went up against him Ladd, yew know that I alone could noht have defeated him. Only as one could we have even had the chance of it, and it worked.//

Oh Connor. He sighed sadly. I still disagree with it. We could have had a chance without resorting to this. I killed Kronos and Caspian, two very ancient and very powerful Immortals. I also defeated, with Methos' help of course, a dark quickening. I think together, one on one, we could have defeated Kel without having had me absorb your quickening!

//I know Duncan. I know you are angry still, and that yew are hurting. I know that yew're also feeling guilty Ladd. Yew have every right to feel that way. I blame yew noht. If Ramirez had done as I had, I too would be feeling as yew do. But I know it deeply, that this was the right thing ta do.//

Noh! Noh it wasna right, twas wrong, wrong, wrong.

Connor's spirit sighed. //Stubborn brat. All right, all right, for now we will agree to disagree, all right?//

Still noht good enough Connor. growled Duncan, But for sake of no more arguing, Aye, I will agree ta disagree with yew.

//Good Ladd!// Connor's caustic chuckle filled Duncan's ears and again in spite of his pain Duncan found a glimmer of a smile. How could he not, when he was home and Connor's laughter was ringing in his ears? That one of a kind laugh, which was heard only rarely. It was such a strange laugh and not a laugh that could be denied accompaniment. So Duncan laughed with his dead kinsman, he laughed until again the sobs choked him and his tears were accompanied by newly falling rain. Perhaps the angels were weeping as well?

Oh Connor...Connor...Connor...

//Go inside Laddy, he waits fer yew. He's worried and he loves yew. Go to him. Let him comfort and take care of yew, fer a change. He wants to. He loves yew Duncan so verrah much.//

How can I? How can I go to him, when I've slept with her? He demanded. This newest burden of shame at last given voice, something new to torment himself with. It was perhaps the more agonizing of his pain, even more terrible than even his grief. Noh, I cannah. I slept with her! I, I've betrayed Methos. We worked so hard to overcome so much. This will ruin it all. Why did I have to go and screw it all up again?! Was it noht I, that always told Fitz ta keep it in his pants? Ta think before giving in ta his passions? How can I keep ma honor? When I have become a hypocrite!

We were hurt and estranged for over eight years Connor. How can I tell him what I have done? He'll leave ma! Noh! He'll kill ma. Noh, He'll leave ma than he'll kill ma. How could I have done this to him? After all this time apart and now we're back together, how can I risk losing him again? He helped ma to find yew Connor. Giving ma his good will though I deserved it little. He accepted ma back with a few quiet words and a bottle of beer, almost reminiscent of our first meeting. And I betrayed him. I slept with her. Och, I wish I were dead! I slept with her, though ma heart rebelled against it. Still I slept with her, with Kate. Kate, whom I thought long dead all these years. How do I tell him I am married? I cannah, I can noht!

//Then don't. The marriage was over the night yew killed her, Duncan. I do not accuse you, Laddy. I speak only the truth, a truth you well know in your heart. She rejected yew and yew went on with yewr life. Both your rings gone, thrown away like yewr lives together. Yew know also, that back in those days, once the rings were off the marriage ended, was annulled, paperwork was never needed but by the rich and blue blooded. It was over a long time ago Ladd, let it go. Let this new guilt go. Yew did not cheat on Kate with Little Deer, or with Amanda, or with dearest Tessa, or any number of the others yew have loved and lost over the years.

Methos loves yew. Ask his forgiveness, tell him. He loves yew. Methos will understand. He will accept yew, and understand why yew did it. Just tell him that yew love him still. Let him know that Kate means nothing to yew any more, that he is yewr heart's true-love and that yew love him and only him. Let him know how yew feel. Tell him! Will yew noh listen ta me Ladd, och yew always were the more stubborn of the two of us. Fine! have it yewr way, boy-o.//

I'm dirty Connor. I feel so dirty, and so tired, so bloody goddam tired. I cannah tell him. I am so deathly ashamed. How dare I to tell him, to ask him to keep me? When I, I slept with her, even after, after Methos took me back. I can't lose him. I can't tell him what I've done. He'll kill ma, or turn his back on ma.

Connor, Connor, I can't lose him. I will noh, lose him. Noht so soon after I have lost yew, Connor, killed yew. I need him. He's all I have left, as my rock as my foundation. I can't lose him. I wont.

//Will History be repeated once more Donnechaide? I can't believe I'm hearing this from you again. Did you learn nothing from the Kate fiasco? Kate it was that you once loved and held onto with strangling grip, and it was she that you could not bear to lose to time or natural death, so you made her immortal instead of leaving her be and letting her go. You killed her rather than be parted from her and in doing so yew sundered your marriage and her life. Tell Methos, Ladd.

Don't repeat what happened to Kate, with Methos. Come clean, accept his decision for good or ill. Keeping this quiet will only make things worse in the long run. This will hurt the both of yew and in the end come to no good by keeping this a secret from him. Tell him before he finds out or figures it out from someone else. Yew owe it to yewr mon, ta come clean Ladd. It was a one night stand and it will never happen again, yew tell him this and keep to yewr word and he will trust yew and forgive yew. If yew do noht tell him, yew will lose him. That's a given.//

And it tis also a given that I shall lose him anyway if I tell him I slept with her!

//It's fear that's speaking Duncan, and stupidity. Let go of yewr fears. Talk to him, ask his forgiveness. He will give it to yew. Remember his words? You are too important to lose. those words, his words. He does not want to lose yew either, not ever again. The guilt is already killing yew. Tell him, and the pain will end, and yew will know for good that he loves yew, because I know he will forgive yew. Let him decide. Don't make the choices for him as well as for yewrself. Let him make the choice, let him choose to forgive yew or toss yew out on yewr arse. It will hurt no matter what route yew take Donnechaide. His trust will be hard to get back, but in time it will be there again.//

I don't know if I can live with that kind of pain right now Connor. I don't know if I can risk losing Methos because of Kate and the night we spent together before yewr De-- so soon after losing yew.

Connor's sigh filled his ears. //Yew can say it Donnechaide, my death. Say it.//

Duncan's throat closed, he choked back another sob. "Yewr death." he whispered softly.

//That's right Laddy, my death. Take your time Duncan, heal, be comforted, enjoy Methos' warmth, but I advise yew to tell him... tell him soon.//

I will Connor, Connebhar, I will. But not now, not right this minute.

//Then do not, but soon.//

Yes Connebhar soon, I swear it. Methos is all I have left and he does deserve the truth. I need Methos, I need him, I need Methos.

//I know Donnechaide, I know. It's all right. Methos will help yew, he will understand. Trust ma Donnechaid, now knock on the door. He's waiting for yew.//

Thank yew Connebhar.

// Don't thank ma yet Ladd, the true test has yet ta come, thank ma then.//

All right Connor. All right.

Chilled through and through by the rain and the pain of his grief, Duncan at last reached the last step before the door and raised his hand about to knock or ring the door, when Methos threw open the door and before the Highlander could even clear his throat or open his mouth to speak Methos gathered him up into a hug. Duncan looked into his eyes as they stepped away from each other for a full measuring look.

Then Duncan smiled rather shyly, asking, "I take it I am still welcome as yewr guest?"

Chapter 2

Methos pulled back from Duncan, but still held him. He looked at Duncan closely, touching his face gently right on the cheekbones.

"Guess you can tell I haven't shaved in a day or so."

"Many people show their grief that way. I wish you had called me to join you for Connor's funeral. Good times and bad, Duncan, remember?
"I remember; but the whole funeral was like a dream to me. I had to get through it. I could not wake up. He's really dead, I- He, he's really dead."

At that, Duncan's voice got a little shaky, exhaustion, grief, and loss was taking its' toll upon him. And that rat-bastard Kell...

"Has Kell's Quickening settled, or is he striking out at you from within?" Asked Methos.

Duncan started. Could Kell still be trying to get his revenge on the MacLeods? Even dead- Could an Immortal's quickening still strike at it's host after being absorbed? It was a concept never before realized. "You know better than I would, Old Man. Though, I've never heard of such a thing."

"Well," explained Methos. "There was never anybody who took heads like Kell, just for the energy. Though I too have never heard of such a things still, He was a "man with a plan." If you get my meaning Mac? But I say fuck him and the horse he rode in on. I'm glad you sent him to hell. Could you imagine HIM winning The Prize?" laughed Methos. "Oh, yeah, let's discuss this in the door jam in the rain." He said sarcastically, "Come on inside, Duncan. I have plans for you this evening, Lover."

Duncan looked startled, wondering what Methos meant by that. He didn't feel ready to make love to this fascinating and beautiful man, not after all the crap he'd lived through in the last few weeks, or even after having cheated on this man he loved so much, so much more than his own life. What had possessed him to do what he had done?

Connor's voice was silent for the moment. But Duncan could feel the spirit's disapproval. Hastily Methos reassured his errant beloved, "Not THOSE kind of plans, Duncan; I have missed you. But what I really want to do right this minute is just take care of you. You took care of me through all my bullshit. I just want your company and to make you feel a little bit better." So much better. I want to run my hands up and down your lovely skin and hold you tight forever and never let you go. Methos restrained himself knowing that now was not the time for such displays of need, want and love. Methos pulled Duncan in through the doorway giving him another brief hug. Then he picked up Duncan's bag and ushered him into the comforting warmth of the living room.

"I have a low fire going in the living room as well as in the reading room. Where shall I escort you to?" he asked and paused waiting for a reply but Duncan was silent, his mind elsewhere for the moment, so Methos babbled on. "Personally I wouldn't mind spending some more time in the reading room, but you look like you could use a bite to eat or maybe a hot drink in your hand to warm you up from the inside out. Goodness! I've never seen you wear so much clothes in my life? Are you cold sweet heart?"Duncan bit his lip than sighed, "Aye, I'm freez'n."

Oh dear! Methos flinched a little. It was worse than he thought. Duncan was still suffering from shock, or guilt, or else, deep, deep, loss and misery. He couldn't stop a stab of pity to enter his heart. Duncan would need his kindness and compassion a lot more than Methos had originally planned for.

"Please allow me to take care of you, Love." He said as he helped Duncan out of his over coat and hung it up. Duncan lowered his head in shame. He was not use to being pampered or anyone taking care of him. It was usually the other way around.

Suddenly Duncan hugged Methos fiercely, whispering in a choked voice. "I love you so much Methos."

Methos patted his hands. "I know Duncan, I know." But it didn't keep you from sleeping with her, did it? Save it for later old man. He needs you now. Don't be petty. He's home and he's safe. Well as safe as he can be with that serpent still alive and around. She's trouble. But Duncan's depression for the time being was more dangerous. He had to do damage control and give Duncan a reason to live. I won't leave you Lover, no matter what. I will always be here for you. If a thousand years go by and you fall in love with any other, as long as you returned to me I will always welcome you back, my truest love.

Duncan walked into the living room, and stood for a second. He took in the homely charms of the place. This was what he missed the most when he was in Scotland and again chasing down Kell and Connor. He was home, this warm comfortable place, with all it's books and lounging furniture. He felt grounded, all of a sudden. He was happy to be here at long last. He was home. Methos was fussing, not too much, though, just enough to make him feel how much he was loved and had been missed.
Oh, dear God, how do I tell him? He's never been this nice to me before or so understanding. How do I find it within maself to tell him the crime I have done against him? Where's a scarlet letter brand? I would brand maself and show him that way. Actions have always suited ma better than words. But even action has gotten ma into trouble with Methos before. Adulterer! Slut! Whore! How could you have done this to Methos, the love of your immortal life?

//Donnechaide, don't do this! Stop picturing the mohn running yew through with his blade. Aye, he will be upset. But I seriously doubt he will do violence to yew//. Said Connor. //Yew fret over much//.

It is because I know what Methos is capable of, and yew dearest kinsman, do noht!

//That may be Lad, but the one thing that I do know of about him is that ee does love yew something fierce. I also know ee has a compassionate heart. Ee was once a doctor after all. And ee has forgiven yew for much over the years. Do yew really think ee cannah forgive this latest blunder?//

It may be the last straw Connobhar. The straw that breaks this particular camel's back.

Connor's spirit sighed. //Yew make a valid and very good point there kinsmon. Still, I think yew make it out o' fear rather than logic.//

Duncan was brought out of his thoughts and mental argument with Connor by Methos' strained and concerned voice.

"Duncan? Duncan, would you please, please, PLEASE, sit down. Your swaying is making me seasick."

"I'm NOT swaying." Protested Duncan, than reluctantly he was forced to agree with his fussing mate, "Well, maybe a little." He conceded as he grabbed for the chair's back to steady him-self.

After that Duncan made his way to the black leather couch. The smell of cologne and musty, musky, leather made him feel good. It also brought back a very heady memory. They had made love on this couch just before he had felt the urgent need to find his kinsman. Now he wished he had never left. He wished he could go back and just stay on that couch with Methos loving him, hard and inside of him. Duncan sank deep into the cushions and let the memory play out for a moment or two more, before reluctantly forcing it completely from his mind. Shaking the memory from his thoughts, he rubbed his right hand wearily over his face in a gesture of nerves and exhaustion. He felt like his skin was drawn too tight. Like his four hundred plus years had finally caught up with him. And that he was dying under the weight and experiences of that age.

His hair was longer than it had been and it was too loose. He couldn't keep it in a tie. It just hung half in, half out. Glad Methos loves me he thought I feel SO attractive right now Sarcasm was such an ugly thing, but he could not help himself. Somehow, he just couldn't keep himself from crying, or the black moods from over taking him. Stubble, sleepless nights, red rimmed eyes from too much crying; He was turning into such a depressed crybaby. He was done in. How did he still have any energy left, to keep on going?

Methos pulled up the footstool next to the couch, and then picked up one, then the other of Duncan's feet. "Methos, I don't need you to take my shoes off. Christ, do you think I can't handle undressing?"

"Oh, stop. Lean back and shut up. You're done in, and you know it. Don't protest so much, Lover. Let me take care of you. I know you can undress yourself, but let me do it this one time. Let me take care of you." He repeated, gently.

Quietly Duncan sighed, then complied with his lover's command. He nodded his head conceding to the master of self -indulgence. Doing as he was told, he then closed his eyes leaning far back into the buttery soft leather of the couch, as Methos removed his shoes and began to gently rub his right, then left foot. Methos knuckles grazed the insides of the arches of his feet, then needed his fingers into the meatier parts of the aching feet. Getting the circulation going and easing the pain away with his massaging. Even in socks it felt so good. Soft and firm and just so relaxing. Almost, Duncan felt like he was floating; he breathed deeply once, his head resting against the couch's backrest and then he surprised himself by passing into a sort of waking sleep.

The sleeping Duncan turned towards Connor, who was sitting in the chair next to the fire. Connor looked so good, so real and so solid. Connor back among the living with his head back on his neck, so real, so alive. He wanted to talk to him about Methos, ask him...ask him...He came to awareness with a jump. He was several shirts lighter and felt warmer than he had been in weeks. With another pang Duncan became aware once again that Connor was dead. His ghost though, seemed to be haunting him. Duncan knew he was losing his mind. He was trying to fight against it but it was so hard. He didn't want Connor to be dead. He didn't want Kell to have been real or Kate either.

Going insane never helped matters, it only tended to make things worse, though oblivion and nothingness had its' own siren song and it was singing to him with the sweetest of tunes. Moments, passing and fleeting. We live we die. I killed Connobhar and I slept with Kate. I'm not even good enough to be dirt on Methos' dirtiest pair of worn out hiking boots.

"Was I out of it or what?" he asked no one in particular, laughing shakily. "Methos you have the most magical hands I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Gosh, I haven't felt this relaxed in so long. That flight was a nightmare. I don't think I ever want to ride on another air plane ever again, for as long as I live."

Methos chuckled at that declaration then leaned up to give Duncan a quick peck on the lips. "I'll get you something warm to drink now." He said, smiling. "I think the kettle may be ready for pouring. I didn't think after all that travelling that alcohol would be the way to go; hope you don't mind some tea with lots and lots of cream and sugar. You need some rest, and tea always seems to relax you. It shouldn't, you know, but it does."

"Know that about me, eh?" Duncan asked, playfully.

"You know it, Highlander." Said Methos, bopping Duncan gently on the head, as he stretched to his feet. Than he walked out of the room and towards the kitchen. Duncan's comfort the sole thing on his mind. He hummed to himself as he prepared the tea pot and cups on a tray, and put some small cakes and sandwiches on a platter for Duncan to pick and choose from; all of them, Duncan's favorites. Methos than poured the boiling water into the small delicate blue and white china pot decorated with majestic and gracefully flying Asian dragons. He smiled. This particular pot had been a gift from Duncan three years ago. It had been given to him during their time of estrangement. A gift carefully wrapped and lovingly cushioned with Styrofoam peanuts, and sent through the mail from a long distance away. Even then his Duncan had been thinking about him. Methos adored this pot, only because Duncan had given it to him. Personally he rather liked a little more color and pizzazz than elegance in his crockery. Carefully he balanced both trays than walked through the swinging door and made his way to the living room and to the coffee table between chair and couch. Duncan was shivering from another chill, even with the fire roaring and the room now in the 80's range of temperature, the Highlander was freezing.

"Here love drink this. Careful now, it's hot."

Duncan clasped both hands around the delicate teacup, drawing as much heat from it as possible than carefully he sipped from it. Color suffused his cheeks and lips. Duncan was soon looking a little more thawed than when he had first come into the room or even after his foot massage.

An idea came to Methos just then. Duncan could use a nice steaming bath. Why didn't I think of that earlier? Because, once you have him naked you will be hard put to stop yourself from making love to him, Idiot, that's why. replied his more annoying asinine inner voice. Oh shut up! I can control myself just fine. Besides, Duncan needs more thawing and more relaxation. What better way to relax him and heat him up than by giving him a scented bath? No annoying voice made any reply. Methos smirked at himself than put thoughts into action.

He waited only long enough for Duncan to finish his tea and a cake and a finger sandwich before dragging his reluctant love into the bathroom for a Jacuzzi like experience.

Methos dashed in a few tablespoons of scented powder. Fragrance of spice and soft relaxing sweetness filled the steamy air. Duncan slid into the large tub and allowed Methos to bathe him with rags and soap and scrub brush, as well as a rubber ducky floating in the water making the occasional "quack-quack" sound, which never failed to make Duncan laugh at the old man's antics. Methos was easily amused by a lot of things in life and unfortunately for Duncan, Ducky was one of them. Duncan didn't believe that full-grown men should have bath toys, it was just too undignified. But Methos loved his cute little bath toy and Duncan could not persuade him to be rid of it, kind of like one of Methos' old ratty sweaters.

The man loved to live in comfort rather than in style. Methos hands rubbed along his tightly stressed muscles relieving the tensions there. Duncan was soon shaking with suppressed emotions. A tear escaped his eye. Methos kissed the tear away than showered more kisses over Duncan's forehead, eyelids, cheeks and lips. Lovingly caressing the golden and flushed warrior. Methos was soon kissing Duncan ardently and was reaching down to touch Duncan's most sensitive parts, when Duncan captured his hand and stopped him. Methos tried to protest this action on Duncan's part, his tongue slipping out of Duncan's mouth, he didn't want to be rejected. Methos wanted to make love to his wounded warrior. But Duncan would not let him. Duncan stiffened, and not in a good way.

"Don't. Don't please." he gasped. "I cannah, it's too much."

Methos bit down on his own initial reaction which was to force Duncan to submit, either by coaxing loving words or a more physical approach. But looking into his anguished beloved's eyes he knew it was too soon. He couldn't hurt Duncan by taking what he wanted from his lover. It was either consensual all the way or no sex at all. That was one of their rules. It was a rule he was very close to breaking, weeks of separation and only his hand to make love to, it had been cruelly lonely and horrid, but he would not break this rule for the world.

Trust was so much the big issue between them. Duncan was still not use to the ways of men loving each other. Duncan still had some deep-rooted reservations, but he never let it interfere in loving Methos, and Methos understood that. Methos understood that when Duncan said, "NO", no matter how it sounded or when it was said, Methos knew Duncan meant it. "No" meant "No" and that would always be final. Why Duncan was this way, Methos could only ponder. Perhaps, at one time, early on in his life, Duncan had been raped by or else had a close call with a man, which still scared him four hundred years later to today. Either way, when that one word was spoken that was it.

"All right Duncan. I understand. It's all right love. You're safe here. You know I will not force this. I love you and though I yearn to make love to you I understand. Sex is not necessary for me to love you. I can love you without it for as long as you need me to. I promise."

Duncan fought against more tears. I don't deserve him. I'm so ashamed. Ee's too good to ma. I'm noh worthy enough for him. Ee deserves so much more. Ee deserves someone so much better than ma.

Connor's presence comforted him, wrapping him up in a warm ethereal embrace.

"I love yew Methos and I want yew, really I do. I…" his words trailed off than suddenly he was fiercely kissing his lover, trying to muster up all his passion and give himself once more to Methos. He wanted to make Methos happy. However, Methos pulled away.

"No Highlander," he murmured softly, finishing up washing the Scot's beautiful thick wavy curly hair. "You're tired. And you're not ready for our favorite activity. Come on let's rinse you off and get you ready for bed."

Dully Duncan replied. "Yes Methos."

Don't show me compassion show me not your understanding. I'm undeserving of it. How can you still love me? Touch me? Want me? I gave ma body to another. I loved her once, but I love Methos now. I belong to Methos now. He has the right to claim me if he wants to. It was wrong of ma to interfere with his need. I let maself make love to someone other than ma lover. Oh Methos, I deserve not your love nor your precious and so rare sympathy. I deserve only your cruel mockery and anger. I was faithless to you. I did not keep our oath. Yew deserve someone brilliant and worthy of yew, old mohn, someone smart and loyal and deep unlike this hollow, shallow shell of a mohn who sits before you in all his unworthiness.

//Gradaech, yew are being too hard on yewrself, Donnechaide, stop wallowing. It's not very pretty.//

I know that tis noht. I am stupid and hide-bound and stubborn, and I did the unforgivable. I'm a slut! He deserves so much better than ma. All the pain I've caused him. All the worry!

//Stop this. Stop this right now.// roared Connor. Duncan flinched. Methos' eyes did not fail to see this action.

Concerned, Methos asked. "Duncan, is something wrong?"

Duncan shook his head. The truth slipping free from him. "No, just Connobhar yelling at ma."

Methos took in a sharp breath. "What do you mean Duncan? Connor is dead. He can't be talking to you, he's gone on to a better place." Not that I believe in an afterlife, but anything to ease Duncan. I would say and do anything to help him.

Duncan blushed and lied. "I know thot. It twas only memory, that is all. Just a memory."

Methos knew Duncan was lying but let it go. Duncan wasn't ready to admit to any problems and right now badgering the poor Scot would do no good.

"All right Duncan." He sighed. "Let's get you dried off, shall we?"

Drying Duncan off vigorously with a pair of towels, he then clothed Duncan in a warm pure white, very soft bath-wrap/robe. Methos then led Duncan back out of the green and blue mosaic tiled bathroom, out into their large master bedroom. He then sat Duncan down on some pillows by the vanity mirror where Methos than began to brush out the Highlander's raven black and extremely soft hair. Duncan sighed and leaned back against Methos' chest. Feeling the haven of Methos' arms around him, Duncan at long last was truly able to relax and he felt safe, protected, cherished. And he felt guilty as hell.

Chapter 3

Duncan sat up, suddenly aware that he was not in Seacover and that he was not sparring with his teacher. Methos stopped stroking his sweat dampened hair, and looked at him, long and piercing. "I know I don't know what you're going through, personally nor can I even remotely comprehend what it is you're going through, but I do know it hurts. You should speak of it. These dreams are killing you." He said. Resuming stroking of Duncan's hair. Duncan sighed and reveled for a short moment in his lover's touch, before guilt and shame and grief struck him down once more.

"Oh, Methos," he said half sob, "I loved him longer than anyone else in the world. He gave me my life back. He gave me a way of life, cleared my confusion with enlightenment. He filled ma heart once more with joy. He was everything I looked up to in a mohn. He was so much more to ma than my own father. Connor was all I had left to carry ma on through the years. He never died. He was never cruel to me, stern yes, his jokes, his horrid jokes, yes. He was never angry or cast ma out of his life. He was Kin and teacher and father, and he WAS everything to ma. He was everything worth living for, when all the rest o' them died he was there. When ma heart was too heavy an, I couldnah go on, he was there, with his understanding and his compassion and his love for ma! He made ma see life and look past one year to the next and made ma feel curious of the future to come. How could he just give up? How could he make ma do that?" Suddenly Duncan slapped his hands over his mouth. "Noh!" he cried horrified by his slip of the tongue. The sound muffled only a little by his hands. "Noh! I will noh be angry with him, tis wrong ta be angry with the dead."

"Be angry Duncan. Let it out, so that you can carry on, as he would want you to carry on, Love."

"Noh! I will noht!" hissed Duncan stubbornly and horribly stricken.

"You don't think he was lucky to have YOU in his life?" growled Methos, shaking Duncan by the shoulders to get his point across. Before Duncan's eyes once again Connor's spirit manifested. Connor seemed to be agreeing with Methos. Duncan shook his head in further denial.

"I can't Methos. When I took his head it was like something really big, like my heart, was torn out. This man was vital was important to me. Why Methos, why?"

"You don't think it gave him comfort to know somebody from the world HE grew up in was still around? Oh Duncan. Part of me is so angry at him for doing this to you, but the other part of me understands absolutely that HE COULD NOT face living in a world without you in it. He would've been devastated. He'd faced the loss of his wife, his children, other friends, you were the unacceptable loss. This I can relate to. You are also for me the unacceptable loss. Let me love you Duncan."

"I can't Methos. I did something really, really, bad." Said the anguished Highlander, his voice coming out small, like a child's. He was unable to look his best friend and lover in the eye.

Methos shook his head. "You did nothing wrong Duncan. You only did as he asked of you." Said Methos, pretending not to know the other reason behind Duncan's sudden confession of terrible behavior.

"If so, than why does he noht rest in peace, Methos? I see him everywhere. Does it surprise you to know he still talks to me? That I can hear him, see him, talk to him?" asked Duncan suddenly wild in the eyes. "That I just saw him? Is this normal Methos? My teacher is dead and I, and I, he's gone. My mentor, my father, is dead. Do you think that this is grief, or, hey, maybe I'm losing it big time?"

The subject of the demon Ahriman was left unspoken between them, it was a subject which neither one of them had ever tried to bring up in conversation nor tried to puzzle out or make mention of. That time had been so frightening for the both of them, a time of pain and walls between them, a time of confusion and more hurt feelings. Methos had been afraid for Mac and Mac had been afraid for himself as well as for Methos. And they both had been horribly afraid of his feelings for the other.

Methos paused and measured his words carefully. He wanted to nip this thing in the bud NOW, before Duncan got fixated on the idea of Ghost-Connor.

"I don't believe you're insane Duncan. I think you're exhausted and in a lot of pain and feeling a lot of remorse and shame and guilt. I'm going to tell you something now and I hope this will help you. When I had to take Silas, it was the most devastating Quickening I had ever endured. Yes, endured. I felt his sense of my betrayal and his anger at me, but also, and to the depth of what he was, his love, his abiding love for me. He was in my dreams for a long time...I saw events we had both lived, through HIS eyes...I was afraid to sleep but also afraid to let him go. To let him fade would be killing him a second time and it had been unbearable. In the end, he loved me enough to let me go, and to leave on his own. Connor loved you very much Duncan. He obviously wants to help you deal with your grief. Help ease you into his passing."

Duncan's face showed his unease. "You believe me?"

"Yes I do. Isn't that what I was saying just moments ago?"

Duncan bit his lip and nodded uncertainly. "Yes Methos, it is. But, Methos What if it's more than that? What if…what if Connobhar is haunting ma for some other reason?" (Duncan was amazed still at how well Methos was taking his confession of seeing ghosts. He had almost expected the oldster to jump out of bed and run for the hills. But than came to mind that Methos could be extremely loyal, could squelch his own impulses to flee in order to save his beloved.) Then venturing the words he most feared of all. He said, "Or, or maybe I'm just finally losing ma mind?" Afraid to hear an answer on that particular question, he than quickly changed the subject by demanding, "Why didn't you ever tell ma about Silas?"

"We weren't talking at the time; and anyway, I felt it was something I had to handle alone. I don't want you to handle this alone Duncan. This was a death you did not seek, you did not want, but you will have to endure. My only advise is to remember how much he loved you."

At that Duncan fell back against his pillows and shut his eyes for just a moment. Letting things sink in. Methos arms still wrapped around him, holding him, giving him comfort. Duncan's eyes cracked open and saw Connor in the low firelight, by the hearth at the end of their bed, with a slight smile on his lips and a nod towards Methos. Connor spoke to his cousin in soft words.

//You must tell him, Donnechaid. He will understand. You won't be right yourself until you tell him.//

Methos ached to do more than just hold his highlander but he knew Duncan wasn't ready for more, not yet, with a sigh Methos closed his own eyes and kissing Duncan'' cheek he whispered. "Sleep love, all will be well in time."

The same dreams night after night, being kicked and punched and disturbed all through the hours of the night, after two weeks of this, Methos' patience was beginning to thin. He was tired and needed his own sleep as well, but yet with his feelings regarding Duncan being ones of comfort and protection, Methos could not sleep as deep as he usually did. He was always on alert and not just for other Immortals but for Duncan's nightmares and restless sleeping behavior. He just hoped it wouldn't be for too much longer. Classes would be resumed shortly and it was too late to get a sub in for this semester's courses.

"Sleep undisturbed and be protected Love, I am here, be at ease, I will never let any one hurt you, not ever again." He promised.

Another two weeks later….

How long can this possibly go on? Wondered Methos irritably. It wasn't that he objected to holding Duncan, or snuggling or cuddling. Methos truly loved Mac and enjoyed very much the times when his Highlander would let him take care of him and hold on to him. But it was driving him bonkers not to be able to do more with Mac, like making love to him. Of all things that Methos loved most about Mac was love making. There was no one more sensual, more responsive, or sexier than Duncan before and during and after sex. Celibacy was not an impossible thing for Methos. After all, he had gone without sex for long periods of time in his life before. But for some reason, not being able to make love to Duncan was truly driving him out of his mind.

Great, now there's going to be two more crazy Immortals out loose in this world. Said the snarky part of his brain. There you go again, being selfish again. Is celibacy really so bad? You've done it before, you can survive doing it again. "Oh shut up." He grumbled to himself and letting out another long mournful sigh.

Duncan was currently turning and tossing and muttering in his sleep. None of it sounded good. Here we go again, another nightmare. Owch! That was my face, he just whacked! Owch, not the shin! Owch! Oh gods, thank you for making me Immortal because I won't be bruised in the morning or in any pain. But goddammit! Macleod! I wish you would just stop doing this to yourself and to me. Just get the truth out and you and I will be so happy. And then I would get laid!

Jeeze! Said a voice sounding very much like Joe Dawson's voice in his head. Is that all you can think about? Getting laid? What kind of man are you? You're being selfish. Duncan has suffered a terrible loss. There is nothing more painful nor something so terrible as losing one's teacher. Scolded Joe. "Yeah, yeah, I know all that already." He grumbled aloud, luckily Mac was not awakened by his grumbles. Continuing the monologue in his own head. I've been told about it often enough and not just about Mac's experience but other Immortals' experiences as well, not that I can recall ever experiencing the loss of my own teacher whether to my own sword or to someone elses. But I do know what it is like to take a Brother's quickening, two brothers' quickenings, if I count the joint one with Mac on Kronos, and my own pain and trauma of it. Which Methos really didn't want think about or analyze right now about.

The snarky, bratty, selfish part of him cried out betrayal. Where was he for you? Where was Duncan when you suffered this pain? You know very well that at the time, I could not bare being anywhere near my Highlander. I could not face the fact that I chose him over my brothers, no matter that I loved Duncan best. After the Horsemen incident, I hated myself and I hated Mac and I hated Cassandra and her need for revenge. I hated the fact that I had to choose between my brothers and my Lover. Her undying hatred of Me, her obsession with the horsemen and her own personal hurts caused all of us to suffer. There has never been a more selfish woman in all of my life, which I regret ever having met or helped into the Immortal life. Not even Cleopatra or Medea or even Helen had the kind of drive for vengeance that Cassandra had. Nor do they bring me the same feelings of anger and regret that I feel having known her has given me.

I left Duncan to allow us both time to heal. It hurt to leave him, but it also hurt being near him. So we became estranged. You know I didn't give him a chance to comfort me. Silly Methos, you know it's true, all your pain all of your hurt you brought upon yourself, and you know it. Now I will do all that is in my power to comfort him, to make things right between us again. I will not lose him. I might be a little angry with him still, and I might even have dreams of punishing him soon, but I do not want to lose him. I will do all that I can to make him feel safe, protected, loved, cherished, and most of all help him to become mentally sound again.

Oh bravo, bravo, great speech there Methos pal, but I mean really, it's a joke. You weren't able to help him when he killed Richie were you? You weren't able to give him love or comfort. He rejected you, just like he's doing now. You're a fool Methos, a fool! cried his more cynical and somewhat Kronos sounding voice in his head.

Oh shut up! I will not have my doubts destroy my relationship with Mac. I will not let the selfish part of me screw this one good thing in my life up. I wont let you destroy this for either of us, Duncan or Me. There is no "I" in "We" or in "Couple" and that's what me and Mac are. We're a couple. We are a We. We love each other and we will survive this. Even if I have to beat some sense into his bloody stubborn mulish Scottish head! I will not lose him to this or to any other tragedy. Nor will I just stand by and lose him to Kate. Oh no, I will not, I can fight for what's mine if I need to. If it's important enough, and Mac is important to me. He is my every thing. He's the laughter and the joy in my soul. He forces me to reach out from my shell again and embrace the world and all life around me. If I lose him, I lose my reason for being good. I lose my reason for living, though I will not seek my death nor kill my self if I lose him. No way! I'm not that mellow- dramatic, nor that foolish! But I will leave this world and hole up somewhere till the gathering has ended and then I will come back down and face the last Immortal and take the stupid putz's head, see if I wont! Even if the last Immortal turns out to be Duncan. I'll kill the jerk! But somehow I've got to believe I will not lose him to her.

Duncan loves me. He even said so. He says so, every morning as we wake and every night before we fall asleep. Just because we haven't had sex doesn't mean he doesn't love me or desire me. He's just in a lot of emotional and mental anguish. It will get better with time. I know it will.

Then sighing he punched his pillow and gathered the now still Duncan back up into his arms and held him, snuggling deeply under the covers and pressing skin to skin to his beloved Highlander, Methos at long last fell asleep.

A few more days later…

Duncan Macleod was still moping around. He was deep in his world of depression. He slept for hours or else didn't move from his chair bundled in sweaters, the fire lit and still roaring hot. Yet it still couldn't touch him. Methos seemed to be the only thing keeping him alive or even remotely warm. His body seemed to derive heat only from Methos, as well as any comfort to be given. His heart and mind were at war with one another. His balance was precarious at best. And the dreams, the dreams never seemed to end.

He was tormented by images of Connor forever dead. Reliving that terrible night when he had taken Kate back into his bed, though perhaps not back into his heart. Yet, the old feelings had risen up and choked him with need at the first sight of her, the need to set things right between them once again, and his need to love her. She was his wife. He had loved her once upon a time, had pledged eternity to her, knowing full well that eternity was possible for them. Though later his feelings were tempered by confusion and outrage, by Connor's death and by Kate's betrayal. And his realization of how much, he was really, truly, in love with Methos.

He was drifting back into that place of numbness, that world of dreams and terror. He blinked several times trying to force his eyes to stay open, stubbornly fighting against his sudden need for sleep, but eventually he lost the battle and sleep lay claim to him. His head fell back on the couch's rest, the fire crackling, the small TV quietly playing its' newest program on the Gourmet Chef Channel. It wasn't long before the dreams began.

"Noh! Connor donnah make ma, please." He begged. "Please donnah make ma do this. I cannah bare it."

He was again on the roof of his hotel, in his silk jammies, Connor in his brown duster coat. "There can be only one, Donnechaide. Only one! And if you will not be it than I will. We have noh choice, either it tis Kell or it tis us." Growled Connor. His sword arm fell like his pronouncement upon his kinsman.

Duncan blocked it, just barely but with his choice to live so sealed the fate of Connobhar Macleod of the Clan Macleod.

"Kin-slayer!" Roared the Clan. "Kin-slayer!"

"NOH!!!" He screamed in denial and agony as Connor's quickening turned to mist and swept up in the gale-like gusts of the coming storm. Lightening and quickening energy struck Duncan Macleod full force, reeling backward he fell and sobbed as the energy pounded into him like the most painful of fist fights or repetitive sword thrusts. It was a very powerful quickening almost as powerful as the Horsemen, as Kronos' and Caspian's own.

"NOOOO!"

Connnnnooooor!"

Methos came running in from the garden, he was thankful classes didn't start for another two days, maybe by that time Duncan would get this thing under control.

"Hush Love, hush I am here. It's just a nightmare. Only a dream, it cannot hurt you any more." He said as he wrapped his arms around the sleeping highlander, his lips brushing Duncan's cheeks in soft kisses, then whispered more comfort in his friend, his beloved's ear. "It was wrong of him to do that to you, but it's over now, it's in the past. You survived it. Don't feel this shame any more, it's not yours to carry. Let it out. Let it go Love."

At the sound of Duncan's pleading whimpers and anguishing cries deeply hurt and disturbed him. He didn't want Duncan to feel this pain any more. He wanted Duncan to become well and his old self again. Even if that other had been a little cocky and a little arrogant and a little self-righteous. But Duncan was also playful, charming, amusing and so full of life and love and passion. This new Duncan was just a shade. A frightened, broken, sad shade.

"Wake up Duncan. Please let it go and wake, Love. Wake up please."

He murmured in Duncan's ear holding his highlander as tears gushed, from both their eyes and soaking Methos' t-shirt and Duncan's layer-clad shoulder. Duncan seemed to now enjoy being clothed from head to foot and covered so that not even an inch of flesh could be seen other than his face and hands. Bared skin was a distress for Macleod, obviously it was his guilt reaction to the whole one -night stand thing, with the X-wife.

Duncan did not wake but fell deeper into his dreams. He was now in the Highlands of Scotland, standing outside the dilapidated ruins of a castle, which had once belonged to his cousins Connobhar and Heather Macleod, exiles of the Clan Macleod. The shore smelled as usual of salt and ocean birds, rotting seaweed and discarded shells. Duncan felt at home, but for the sudden ache of aloneness and sadness, which overflowed and crowded out the good feelings. This wasn't his home, it had never been his home, it had been Connor's home and only a haven that Duncan had been grateful for, this wasn't his home nor his haven, not any more. This was not a shelter, and he had not used it as one in over three hundred and seventy nine years. This was Connobhar's home and a place where Duncan had been invited to stay during their training days. But here it was 2003 the Castle was little more than stone and ruin.

He found himself walking a long the grassy knolls, heading towards the cliff side. As he walked he could see the outlines of the new stones on Heather and Connor's graves, standing alone in the near distance, where cliff met sky they stood proudly. The sun seemed to be setting and day was turning to night, there should have been color but nothing was bright nothing was beautiful, it was cold and gray. He couldn't help but muse how like his life this symbol seemed. The twilight hours between dusk and dawn, what should be magical moments were instead sun less. The dusk settling like the sun in his dream it seemed it was setting into this oppressive thing of darkness and night.

Will I never be allowed happiness? He wondered dully. Will I never get a chance to get ma act together? What was it that was so awful in ma life that I would be forever cursed? Once ma life gets settled some new crisis is always cropping up. Some new tragedy on the move and ready to enter it and turn it once again upside down. Couldn't Kell or Connobhar have waited, like say a hundred years or more, when ma own life had settled and had gotten really boring? Then maybe I could have handled it a little bit better. But no, the stuff hit the fan and now I'm paying for it, again! Maybe that was just plain selfishness talking, but he couldn't handle it. This had been the last straw that had broken the camel's back. This had broken him. He couldn't bare it. And Methos? What about Methos, he deserved so much more, so much better than this broken used up carcass that was all that was left of the original Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod. He thought melodramatically.

Everything froze, not quite night and not quite day, Connobhar all frilled up and in older clan colors appeared before him.

"Why are yew noht at rest Connobhar? Didn't I dew all thot yew asked o' ma? Why will yew noht leave ma alone?"

It seemed that here for the moment Connor's spirit could not answer him. Connor showed him a face drawn and haggard with pain and tears and great heavy sadness. The ages had always been written upon Connobhar's soul. A very deep man was Connor, or rather had been. An old soul, not just that he had been five hundred or so years old or that he carried the weight of so many other Immortal's souls, but that Connor had always had deep sad gray eyes. The kind of eyes that seemed to say, "I've seen it all and none of it ended happily."

"Oh Connobhar I cannah bare it. Please kinsman do noh weep. Why are yew so sad? Why are yew noh with yewr bonny Heather, and yewr sassy Brenda and yewr beloved daughter, Rachel? Why do yew haunt ma Connobhar? IS it that yew want ma to let it go and be happy?" He paused as if waiting for the spirit to speak and when no sound was forth coming Duncan continued. "Happy that yew're dead?!" He scoffed. A sneer curled his lips and rage burned in his eyes. "How can I be happy when yew're dead and I am at fault for it? Don't yew dare tell me tis because there can be Only One, if yew say it I will noh listen. I will noh forgive it. I was yew're instrument for suicide. If I still believed as I once did in ma youth the rigged teachings of the church, I would name yew dammed, dammed to eternity Connobhar. I still struggle with those beliefs. I wake up and I scream NOH! Don't yew dare burn'm, he's a gewd mohn. Please God donnah send ma cousin ta Hell! Obviously He has noht, for yew are still with ma. What has death taught yew Connobhar? Yew are noht at rest, are yew? Why are yew here?" he repeated, demanded. Voice choking on a new bout of sobs. "Why are yew here?"

Connor sighed sadly. "It is true that I have noht found ma rest or ma peace in death as yet, but I know in ma heart that it was the right thing ta do, though it caused yew great anguish and pain and I am guilty for causing yew that. I am so sorry for yewr pain Duncan. Yew must know that? How truly sorry I am for all o' it?"

"Aye, Yes, I know, I know, Connobhar. Truly I do know how sorry yew are. But it doesn't make it all better. It doesn't make the pain any less. Sorry's noh good enough this time Connor. Yew're dead!" he screamed outraged, pained. "I was the sword that K-k-"

"Yew can say it Duncan, yew need to say it."

"Shut up Connobhar!" He screamed, "Donnah interrupt ma!" Then a pause for a deep breath, then he continued, "Yes, I can say it, but can I face what yew have asked ma ta do?" he asked. "Am I strong enough to stand this? No, Connobhar, noh more. I cannah bare it." He sobbed. "I Killed yew! I killed yew." He howled, falling to his knees, blood smeared hands covering his face. Trying to lock in the wailing and the shedding of his tears as they flooded once more down his face.

"Kin-slayer!" screamed the voices of the clans again. "Kin-slayer."

"Noh! Noh!" denied Duncan in anguish, "Ee made ma do it." He accused, pointing his finger at the ghost of his teacher. "Ee made ma do it." He cried.

He felt for the barest of instants the softest and coldest of touches and knew it was Connor touching him from beyond the grave. He shivered from the chill as well as from the fear. His teacher's ghost had touched him.

"Aye, Lad, let it out. Let it all out. Methos is with yew now. Let'm help yew Donnechaide, please let him help yew. He wants to. He loves yew so much, so very, very, much."

"Leave ma alone!" screamed Duncan, jerking away from his kinsman's touch and flinching away from his words. "I betrayed'm! Ee shouldn't love ma. Noh one should love ma. They all die Connobhar. They all die, even the Immortals and some of them at ma own hands. I'm drowning in their blood Connor. These hands, these oafish bloodied hands, how can I touch him with them? I have sinned thrice over, I have murdered, I have committed adultery, and I sleep with a mohn, and let's noh forget that I have dammed yew, Connor. Dammed ma Brother ma Teacher ma Father. How does that get forgiven? How dare I think I am worthy to touch Methos, a worthy a match of Methos, worthy even to live!"

Connor suddenly slammed his fist into Duncan's face. "Don't yew say those things Donnechaide. Yew are worthy! Worthy to live. Worthy to love. God loves yew, He always has, He's gifted yew with so much, so much so that I have on occasion been horribly jealous. Beauty, laughter, charm, and light, and all the luck in the all the world to find love so often and so true and pure in friendships as well as in mates. God gave yew this life and He gave yew yewr gifts and He made yew Immortal fer a reason! And it sure as Hell wasn't fer this reason of self pity and yewr indulgence in this depression."

Duncan Macleod let out his hurt and rage and pain the only way he knew how, he brawled. Methos jerked away as a fist slammed into his face.

"God dammit Macleod!" he roared, snapping out his angry rebuke without much thought. "Wake up you bloody idiot! It's only a dream. Wake the fuck up!" he screamed as another fist went flying for his face. "Fuck! God dammit, that was my bloody nose you little shit! Shit it hurts! Wake up. Wake up this instant."

And this time it was Methos that punched Duncan in the face just as the highlander was waking. Fortunately for Methos his fist didn't do much harm and Duncan was stunned by it rather than knocked out by it.

"Jeesh Methos, what was that for? My God, what happened to yewr nose. Here let ma fix it, Love." He said face all misery and concerned as his hands reached out to Methos to fix the damage they had caused. With a quick snap Methos' nose was set and healed immediately.

"Thank you Duncan. I couldn't wake you in time. Do you want to talk of it?"

"Noh, it was awful I just want ta forget about it."

"Forgetting about it doesn't seem to be making it go away Duncan. You can't go on like this, and neither can I. I need my sleep at night. Classes start in two days Duncan. I won't be here to wake you up or comfort you or get you any tea or sandwiches, there will be no one but you, here, alone. This needs to get resolved Duncan and the only way that's going to happen is if you speak of it."

"Please," begged Duncan, "Give ma more time. I cannah face it right now. Please Methos, I love yew, but donnah make ma speak of it yet, not yet."

Methos sighed, his first instinct was to argue and say "No" but he knew that by forcing it out of him it wouldn't be helping Mac or keep Methos in the Scot's good graces. Looking into the earnest, somber, brown eyes, Methos crumbled.

"All right Love." Said Methos, smiling whimsically, "Whatever time you need, it's yours. I love you Duncan, and whatever I can do to ease your suffering, whatever time you need, you got it. You got it all."

"Thank you Methos."

"You're welcome Love. Now how about we get you all washed up again? You look like you could use another hot scented bath. Maybe bubbles this time?"

Duncan blushed. "No bubbles.

"Oh come on now you know you like it. Those soft warm bubbles tingling all over your skin, making you all soapy and silky."

Duncan's blush burned a little hotter and crept up his face and neck covering his ears, turning them pink. Methos hand movements did not fail to also convey the sexual innuendo, or the craving he had for intimacy.

Embarrassment faded replaced by solemnity and regret. His eyes were drowning pools of sadness and full of regret as he gently pushed Methos' hand away and spoke quietly, saying, "Yew know I'm noh ready for that yet Methos."

Methos sighed. "I know Duncan, I know. But it's been over four weeks since your return. I know these things take time, but I miss you. I miss making love to you, being inside you, touching you. Making you scream my name as you come for me. I never see you naked. I never get to caress your skin any more. We don't luxuriate like we use to, skin on skin lounging around. You're always sad. I don't think I can even recall one single smile since before you left for New York. You're home now Duncan. You're safe and cherished and protected. What is so wrong with me, that you will not let me love you any more? Is there someone else?" He demanded. Stressing the last question as much as possible. His pain for once he was unable to hide from his beloved highlander.

Macleod's startled gaze looked for once directly into his eyes.

"Are you in love with someone else?" asked Methos again, voice a quiet little composed thing.

"I'm sorry, Methos" said Mac.

Methos held his breath, his chest painful from sudden tension.

"I'm sorry for making yew suffer. Yew know there is no one else. Not anyone else. I only love yew, yew silly sot." He growled. His grip on Methos' hand turned possessive.

"Then why wont you talk to me? Why wont you let me love you, touch you? I feel like the air in my lungs has been stolen from me. Like the sun in my orbit has been diminished. And I don't know how to repair either of them. Do I help you at all, Duncan? Are you leaving me and you're too afraid to speak of it?"

"Noh!" Roared Duncan, voice full of conviction and horror. "Noh, Methos! I am noh leaving yew. I love yew. I LOVE YEW, I love yew, yew silly idiot! Dammit! Of course yew've helped ma! I couldnah ask fer a better mate or helpmeet. Yew've been so kind ta ma, so good and understanding of everything. I feel unclean. I feel like I'm noh good enough fer yew. That yew deserve so much more and so much better than ma."

"No Mac, no don't say those things. If anyone's unworthy of you it's me. I was Death. I was an Evil bastard. I did terrible things in my long life Duncan. I can forgive you anything and love you forever, if you just let me. Tell me what is wrong Love. Please just tell me, so that our suffering can end."

Duncan shook his head in misery. Methos sounded so much like Connor at that moment. Pain flared in his heart and the cold seeped in to his bones a little more. Could Methos really forgive him for what he had done? He didn't think so. Duncan couldn't forgive himself, and he knew if things had been the other way around; it would have been a very cold day in HELL before he'd have forgiven Methos his transgressions. Besides, Duncan couldn't even forgive himself, so why would Methos?

//Because Ee loves yew.// growled Connor's stubborn spirit.

Even though Duncan glared at Connor's vaporous spirit, he knew what his kinsman said was true. But Duncan still felt the familiar sting of tears well up once more in his eyes. He was just so miserable.

"Damn these tears! Will they never end?" Duncan hissed. Methos' arms were once more around him, Duncan's head cradled under Methos' pointy chin. They rocked together on the warm little throw rug on the wood floor.

"Come on love, that's it, its only natural to grieve, let it all out, good man. Maybe we should just go to bed and forget the bubble bath tonight, too much temptation, which neither one of us is ready for."

"Aye Methos, that sounds like a gewd idea." Murmured Duncan sniffing and trying to stop his tears from continuing to fall.

Much later they lay on the bed under the covers fully dressed in jammies, Methos in a dark hunter's green and Duncan in a dark indigo blue. They each lay waiting for the other to sleep or speak what was on their mind. Sleep was far from their brain.

"I could go sleep in the guest bedroom." Methos offered, reluctantly.

"Don't" whispered Ducan.

Methos sighed again. "What is the point of sleeping together Mac. I've become nothing more than your security blanket. Sometimes if I'm lucky you'll let me hold you, maybe even kiss you for long amounts of time. But we do nothing else. We don't even talk in this bed let alone laugh in it like we use to. I know you need time, okay, I know that. I just… I just miss you, Duncan, that's all, I just miss you."

Duncan sighed this time and turned onto his side to study his partner and lover's face. He could see the misery and the lines of fatigue.

"Oh Methos, I have been doing you so much wrong lately haven't I? Please don't leave ma alone in this room. I cannah bare sleeping without yew. Yew are right," Duncan admitted, "Yew are ma security. Yew are ma comfort, and yew are ma love, ma only love. If yew need to make love to ma, than do it. I won't mind and it will make yew feel better, do it."

"No, not unless you are ready for it and not before that."

"But yew 'ave needs Methos. I 'ave an obligation to yew as yewr spouse to give yew what yew want, what yew need. It's all right Methos. I wont mind, really."

"Shut up Macleod." Growled Methos, his fury beginning to grow. "We had an agreement with those vows of ours, Duncan. We agreed to Love, Honor, Cherish, and most of all, we don't have sex unless both parties want to. We do not take what we want from the other nor force him to do what we want because of some stupid vow. We don't use each other to get off either. If you are ready to have sex, then and only then do we have sex. You got me Macleod?"

"But."

"No buts. You are not ready and I'm not going to demand that you sacrifice yourself for my momentary sexual needs. Now go to sleep." I will not be your domestic rapist! I gave up that kind of transgression two thousand years ago. I'm never going to return to that kind of behavior ever again; if I can help it!

A heavy sigh. Then Macleod mumbled. "Yes, Methos."

Chapter 4

Kate sat in her office looking over the photos from the previous day's photo shoots. The newest model was fascinating. He was handsome and right now dressed like a certain Scotsman she recalled with bitter sweet and new bitter memories. Duncan had left her behind, had chosen to go on with his life, choosing to forget his once beloved Katherine. She had thought he was dead as well, but for Kell.

Kell found her then initiated her into his private vendetta against Connor Macleod and by association his kinsman Duncan Macleod, after he had found her worthy and realized the circumstances of her first death.

This was for them a holy war of sorts. A blood feud in the truest and oldest tradition it most certainly was in truth. Together they had watched the two Scots for well over two hundred years. Her hatred of Duncan grew after her shock had worn off. She should have been grateful to him for making her beautiful for all eternity, but she wasn't. What was beauty and eternal youth, when the years passed one by and one's loves grew old and died before one's eyes?

Taking her life on their wedding night, tainting that precious memory with blood and pain, rather than happiness. Her hatred growing with the years, for her rogue spouse, with infidelity after infidelity, ripping her heart asunder. Tessa had been the last and most bitter pill for her to swallow, for Duncan had truly loved her best of all of his other Loves, mortal and Immortal. Kell had been fair with her then broke her over the decades. Tortured her to make her stronger and capable of destroying the monster that had taken her life away. Instead of hating Kell she revered him. Duncan was her monster. He was her mission, and her objective in this life. What he had done was unforgivable.

On the night that she was to seduce Duncan, she thought her feelings for him had died with their wedding night and over the years since it, but she found that she was wrong. She told herself that she must not forget his many, many, infidelities and the broken trust between them, however the minute his hands touched her, his lips drinking from hers, the moist tongue enflaming her, all those forgotten feelings of passion, love and need was sparked a new. Flooding her with their urgencies. She clung to him and ripped her nails across his back as she saw stars. Then she had to leave as her world tilted once more on its axis and nothing was straight any longer in her head. She was loyal to Kell but her heart still loved Duncan. Her body desired her husband.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nothing was as it seemed. Her plans were destroyed in one moment of weakness. She had failed Kell and she had failed herself. Kell's words ringing in her head as she made a hasty retreat into the elevator. "You are my protégé, my student, I trust you above all others. You will not fail me, my precious one."

But she had, and Kell had fortunately forgiven her. Otherwise she too would have been dead in his harvest on the night of the last meal.

"You must carry on if I fail Kate. Don't let Duncan Macleod trick you again. You are a woman of age and wisdom and control. I know you will not fail me a second time. I am not a careless man Kate and I trust you to pursue this crusade even after I am beheaded, If I am beheaded. You must remember the game. Cat and mouse, he must suffer Kate. Suffer for breaking your heart, for taking you out of your mortal life. He must suffer for killing me if I fall. Is that understood? Do not take his head until the end, when the gathering has come and the last of us have dueled and lost and he and you are left, than and only than can you at last behead him. This is my last wish, my death wish. He must suffer, every Macleod, everyone who has Connor's quickening, they must suffer, suffer eternity!"

Kate swallowed convulsively her master was so intense. Perhaps he was a true messenger of God. She had to keep the faith she mustn't fail him a second time. She would not allow herself to fail Kell, again. She smiled at her teacher adoringly.

"No, I must remember what Duncan did to me. I must remember how his love destroyed my life, and how Kell's love rebuilt it. Duncan, my husband, no longer exists, he never did. He is nothing to me, nothing. I must remember this. Duncan and Connor are the object, the subject, the enemy, they are not anything else, just the wreckers of Kell's life and my own Life. They are why our lives are in ruins. This is the truth I must believe in, that I must hold on to and remember for all Eternity."

Kell smiled proudly at his pupil. "Very good Kate. I know you will succeed if I fail. You give me strength in your belief. Thank you Kate."

"Anything Master." She whispered falling to her knees before him in benediction. He stroked her short, cropped hair and leaned down to kiss her succulent lips, nothing more for either of them, for they adhered to a higher code of morals. Each had taken vows, one to man for life the other to Christ the savior. They could be nothing more to each other than friends, each loving the other in their hearts but not physically intimately. They were student and teacher, the shepherd and the lamb. He then stepped away from her and walked out of their private quarters.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kate sighed returning to her self in her modeling agency office. The photo she held was twisted and crumbled from her death grip and now would be useless for the cover of her magazine. She buzzed her secretary demanding another photo spread be taken of this new model.

"I like him Angela, he's got that otherworldly thing about him which I like best in my models. I want more photos taken, I think I would also like some steamy erotic ones too." She had a sudden idea enter her mind and a cruel frosty smile played across her lips.

Surveillance in this high tech age was so much easier than it had been forty years before. She loved this new Millennium, with its miniature gadgets like microscopic cameras and sound feed. Very expensive but well worth the time and money spent on the creation and deployment of such equipment. These items could go anywhere she wished and had a good radius, a range of one mile. Not even the government had such things yet. She was thinking after she had tested them to the fullest she would later sell them to whichever government would pay the most and make a tidy new fortune for herself.

One of these miniature cameras could go anywhere, namely on an Immortal's coat or in his jewelry, such as a hair pin or in this case a specially crafted replica of a strange ring, which this particular Immortal seemed to wear constantly. It was as if it were a wedding ring or promise ring of some kind. Which he obviously treasured above all other things next to his katana, of course, an Immortal will always treasure his sword above jewelry, it was their only defense against others of their kind.

It had been amazingly simple and easy to slip Duncan the fake, a ring with the camera and sound feed in it. Duncan had been asleep and worn out from taking Kell's quickening as well as his Kinsman's own.

She felt a twinge of pity for him. She could not remember a time when Connor had not been so very important to Duncan. They couldn't even get married without the fair-haired man's approval. Taking Connor's quickening had in a very real and very deep way destroyed her x-spouse. But Kell's last words to her, his last directive for her was to make Duncan suffer and that's what she intended to do.

Loving Duncan had cost her everything. She had lost her past and now she had lost her present to him as well. Kate had Duncan tracked all over the world after that. From Scotland now to England and it was here that Duncan was settled. Was in fact housed with another Immortal, this time a male, of which she knew nothing about and could find even less information about from her resources. This new Immortal was an enigma to her. He was also an unknown quantity, he could be the destruction of Kell's plans or the final victory, the ace she needed to make Duncan pay. She had his new home being surveyed as well. In fact she had little cameras implanted all over the outside and inside of his home.

She was Kell's contingency plan and she knew that if her teacher could see her now he would be so proud of her. He would have called her cunning and exemplary. The finest of his chosen ordained few. She felt all warm and fuzzy at that thought, but then colder ones entered her head and put out the tingly good feelings, Kell would never compliment her again, Kell was dead and it was Duncan's fault.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Methos smiled sweetly up at his mate from the driver's seat he was getting ready to pull out of the driveway and go to work. Duncan stood leaning against the car door, face now a little less care worn and sporting a sleepy but sated smile and twinkling eyes, and only inches away from Methos' own face, lips within easy kissing distance. Methos knew things were getting better now that a break through had at long last occurred. Perhaps it was that spring was once again at work and in the air, love blossoming everywhere. Or maybe it was just that the Highlander was at last beginning to heal. Methos hoped it was the latter. Last night certainly gave him hopes for it to be true.

xxxxxxxxxxx FlashBack xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The dreams had been bad as usual only this time Mac seemed more over come by them than ever before. Duncan was thrashing and whimpering, of course Mac also managed to hit him in the nose again. Methos woke him and demanded to know what the dream was about this time.

Stunningly Mac actually opened his mouth and answered him. "It's Connor and Kell." Then his voice quieted into a very low whisper which Methos could barely make out.

"I dreamed this time I was losing, that Connor's sacrifice was in vain."

Methos eyes closed in a pained flinch. In other words Duncan felt unworthy. How did Duncan manage to lose so much self-confidence in such a short time? Perhaps it was not this one incident that caused this breach but rather the many that were gathered over the short span of years since Tessa's death and Connor's last visit?

"Oh Duncan." He murmured gathering the man up into another embrace. Duncan's ear was pressed against his heart. Methos could feel the warm wetness of more of Mac's shed tears.

"I dreamed I was taken by Kell and that I was hurting yew." Duncan gasped through his running nose and tear clogged throat.

"Oh honey, nothing like that has happened it was just a dream, a miasma of things that could have happened but didn't, brought on by a worried mind. Duncan you are awake and you won. It was just a dream."

"Only some of it Methos, only some of it. I fought him. I felt the tip of his sword touch my throat and then Connor was with me, was there protecting me, and it was us, together, Connor and I who killed and beheaded and won Kell's quickening and hard earned safety. Connor's inside of me and I can't let him go. Why did he have to make me choose this? Methos I can't stand it. I can't stand that he's… that he's….that I."

Methos found he could not let Duncan continue to speak, of it. This was such a painful subject for Duncan. It was causing him so much pain and misery. He could feel it through their bond how much this new admittance was killing Duncan. He also knew it was a positive sign that Duncan was recovering from his loss, that he was now willing to speak of it. As well as actually admitting to having something to do with Connor's death. So he silenced Duncan with a passionate kiss. Drowning his lover with the feeling of hot wetness and delicious tongue action. Taking Duncan's tongue deep into his own mouth sucking on it as hungrily and desperately as he was able. Keeping Duncan's mind on him rather than on his dreams and pain.

"Oh Duncan, oh my Duncan." He moaned in his throat as he continued to kiss Duncan senseless. Duncan was arching up against him, their legs tangling as Methos rolled them a couple times wrestling Mac for top position, meeting each thrust of Duncan's with thrusts of his own. Hips wildly bucking as sensation rocked through them both. He needed Mac so desperately, his hands moved feverishly over silk clothed skin, ripping Duncan's boxers off then forcing Duncan's legs as wide apart as possible, freeing his slick heated flesh, rubbing its tip against the sweetest hole he'd ever fucked in his long life. Methos fingers jerked roughly, gathering as much heated wetness as possible to coat Duncan's opening with, then jammed his fingers relentlessly in, spreading and opening Duncan up wide. His cock aching to be sheathed inside it's hot tight depths. Needing painfully to bury his cock deep inside of his mate to take Duncan and possess him and claim him as HIS. Nail his ass so hard and fast and leave no doubt in either of their minds as to whom Duncan belonged to.

"MINE!" he growled at long last allowed entrance into the one place he had desired to be buried in for months.

Duncan whimpered and gasped, "Yes, no no no, yes dammit yes, oh god, do it Methos do it. Fuck me, yes yes yes! YES! Oh so good so good. I've missed this. I've missed yew. So good so good." He chanted. Both of them out of control. Orgasm gathering all too quickly and climax was at last reached. Duncan was dazed nothing had ever felt so good, nothing. Even the pain of half dry penetration had felt exquisite. "Methos." He panted, covering his lover's jaw with kisses, "Oh Methos. Oh god how I've missed this. Missed the feeling of yew inside of ma, skin to ma skin. So good so good."

Methos chuckled as Mac babbled on. Methos' hand traveled lazy circles over Mac's chest and belly scraping away the cum with his fingers rubbing the cum upward to cover tight pecks, cupping them and soon mouthing and chewing them, sucking them to keep them in their tight little peeks. Duncan shuddered gustily under him as sensual arousal slowly moved through him all over again.

"Lovemaking time isn't done yet." He murmured heatedly, thrusting his hardening cock pointedly in Duncan's very wet and very eager and very hot channel. This time Methos tortured Mac with their lovemaking, leading the pace as slow as possible despite Duncan's very vocal urgings for "More" and "Harder" and "Faster" and "You Son of a Bitch" "Bastard" "Harder!" But Methos ignored him and did what he wanted. Devouring Duncan kiss by hungry kiss, hot caress after hot caress, touching, tickling, gliding fingers and hungry mouths locking on one another like a drowning man to an oxygen tank. Duncan growled and returned Methos thrusts with his own impatient ones.

"Who do you love Duncan?" demanded Methos eyes glittering with a feral kind of madness in them.

"Yew Methos." Duncan gasped as another pointed thrust took his breath away.

"Who do you want Highlander?"

"Yew Methos."

"What do you need?" Methos asked biting Duncan sharply on the collarbone.

"Yew!" yipped Duncan, startled by the bite. "Methos."

"Who do you like getting fucked by the best?"

"Yew Methos! Yew! Yew! Yew!" screamed Duncan as at long last Methos gave into his earlier demands and rammed him hard, driving his cock home, fucking him passionately. Hips and cock moving so fast and hard that Duncan's breath was stolen from him with the full force of sensation of each thrust. Again he climaxed and so did Methos. Panting for breath they fell asleep like that. Methos still buried deep inside of Duncan. Methos body lay on top of Duncan, draping across him like an extra blanket or protective vest.

"I love yew Methos." Duncan murmured as dreamless exhausted sleep claimed him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx End of Flash Back xxxxxxxxxxx

"I'll see you later tonight." Said Methos getting ready to back out, his SUV in its correct gear. Duncan's smile turned into a fully besotted grin. Each one remembered last night very well indeed. Duncan had felt freed from all of his shame, all of his guilt, and all of his pain. He had actually had tears of joy in his eyes this morning remembering how wonderful it all had been, dazed and thoroughly ravished. Methos had been equally disheveled and rakish looking and thoroughly blitzed out. The familiar guilt and shame did not at first come back, slowly it was beginning to emerge but Mac was fighting against it as hard as he could. He wanted this wonderful feeling to last. He needed this wonderful sensation of freedom to last. He felt weightless and so good. He hadn't felt this good in so long. And he liked seeing Methos smiling again, not that sweet sad sympathetic smile but a true grin, the sparkly eyes and white teeth smile. The smile that crowed "Look at me! I'm happy! I'm in love and I am Happy!" that kind of grin next to the teasing sly grin that Duncan loved so much.

That morning Methos had grinned happily, no shadows of worry at all in his hazel eyes for the first time in over two months. And Mac felt like he had at last done something right.

"Damn Mac! That was definitely worth waiting for." He exclaimed, then they had exchanged kisses made love once more then Methos had to get ready for work.

And now here they were. They just couldn't get enough of each other. With a wink and a lip lock kiss, Duncan then let go of his beloved and waved him farewell. Than with a last saucy look at Methos. He then shouted. "Be home on time for Dinner, I have something special planned."

Methos actually blushed. "I will Mac, count on it."

The cameras taped it all from their hiding places in the garden and in the post where the mailbox stood.

In the house the phone rang. Duncan smiling ran to pick it up wondering if it was perhaps Methos on his cell phone making one last soppy declaration. As he put the phone to his ear a stranger's voice filled his ear with venom. His joy from earlier faded swiftly. Fear chilled his heart and he shivered as the cold seeped back into his bones. "Traitor." Click. They hung up, Duncan stood still eyes dulled and seeing nothing but his betrayal of Connor as well as of Methos.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Office hours were finished and Kate was alone in her quiet building. She waited for her henchmen to arrive with the updated reports and videos. Carter arrived, a handsome man of Norwegian decent. Pale blonde and pale blues eyes. He quickly loped to her desk. He was like a wolf with grace and careful walk, making sure to make as little noise as possible. Kate admired him, unfortunately her heart was pinned on her duty and on one man already. She would make Duncan pay. Before if she had never met Kell and found out that her husband was still alive she would have actively pursued someone like Carter.

Unwittingly, she had re-married and had actually found a different kind of true love. It had not been the kind of passion, which Duncan had shown her but it had been a good kind of love a lasting kind. She had married an older man, who had provided for her and loved her in a reserved kind of way. She had lacked for nothing. It had been a woman's duty back in those days to find a man get married and be looked after and taken care of by the man they were wed to, because women could not own property or take care of their own finances. Then Kell had found her, gave her penance for her sins and taught her about Immortality, as well as taking up where her second husband left off when he had died. Kell had taken care of her, taught her all that she needed to know and loved her as a sister.

After Carter gave her the newest report, she told him to leave. She knew most of what was in it, but she knew herself, well enough, that this was going to be unpleasant...mostly on those who had angered her. The video showed a new development her chest rose and fell as her heart beat increased with her rising rage.

The report began in time honored fashion..."The subject appears..." The subject appears? The subject appears? The subject is OBVIOUSLY fornicating with another man. The subject is OBVIOUSLY fornicating with another man in public, in private, and it appears in cars...Public space or private space...who cares? Had they no decency? Obviously not!

Kate looked over the report, at her own face in the mirror. She was as beautiful as the day "the subject" killed her. She had not aged a day and her features were of a classic styled beauty. She had always had a lush figure. Duncan had told her that...the Subject had told her that she was pretty, that his love for her would never die. No matter what, her looks never went out of style, just like his...the subject's. But was beauty really so superficial? Was their love that superficial? Looks? No, there had always been so much more. They had connected on a deeply personal and spiritual level. They were soul mates. They had been the most beautiful couple ever married and now, none of it mattered, none of it at all.

"Let's look at the OBJECT of the SUBJECT's lust." She muttered darkly.

The first picture was of The Subject looking at The Object with a smile on his face. The Subject was holding The Object at both elbows, smiling, leaning his face in to whisper some sweet lie. She knew The Subject. It was all LIES...love, honor and cherish...all LIES.

And he did it again and again.

He'd gotten away with it for years. Always somebody who "mattered" to him, somebody "important."

Kell had followed Duncan Macleod for years, getting more and more information on Connor MacLeod's beloved cousin. Beloved? Wonder if that was true too? she thought nastily.

She began to pace as she read the story of The Subject and The Object. Where they lived, where they shopped, what they ate, what movies they saw. Oh, goodie, The Object had a job as a translator. The Object was gainfully employed. The Subject however seemed to live off his never-ending financial resources.

The Object had rented some nice digs in a nice neighborhood of London and let The Subject move in with him.

They were so sweet and so nice to the neighbors that nobody was scandalized. They lived a quiet life...fornicating in public and private and probably in the drive way if they could not make it to one of their four cars.

How sweet. How nice. She scowled sarcastically. Scornful. So, The Subject now appeared to be enamored of a MALE Object. She stopped reading. She knew herself. She was going to be unpleasant...and somebody else was going to pay. She took out her cell phone.

"Carter, find out some more on this Pierson person. I want his schedule, his routine, his background checked. I want everything you can get on this man. From his office phone number to his office address to when and where he goes on lunch break. You got me? He's the key, I want to know all there is to know on this man, capische?"

Kell would be so proud, I know how to break Duncan, how to make him suffer now. The great Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod is a sodomite. The subject likes men! Back in the old days his type would have been burned at the stake for their affront to God and all decent folk! The subject can't be… what's that modern term they have for those types? Gay, was it? Bisexual? No, he can't. It would mean he never loved me. Not that I care if he ever loved me, after all he's a liar and I don't care, he's the enemy and I'm going to destroy him as Kell asked me to.

"I'll see what I can do Madame. Consider this distasteful affair almost finished."

"Very good Carter."

As the sun set and the phone stayed in it's cradle she watched the video for the third time. She felt a strange kind of sadness come over her. She held a sketch of their wedding day in her hand, Duncan looked happy and proud in it, but he didn't look like this. She froze the frame and felt tears well up in her eyes, Duncan looked in love and at peace, and this Pierson fellow looked like he was the absolute center of Duncan Macleod's world. She Hated Him. She hated them both.

And then something else happened, as she let the video play on, Duncan called Adam by another name. "Methos." It was a sigh, a benediction, a prayer as they parted.

Methos? Why does that name sound familiar? Adam Pierson must be an Immortal, why else have a second name, An alias?

She pulled out her cell phone and called her henchman again. "Carter, as you look for the information I requested on Adam Pierson, also snoop around for some information on a man named Methos. Look under Myths, I think. It sounds like a mythical name to me. I want information on anything Methos related."

"Yes Madame it will be as you command."

Carter would come through for her he always had in the past and now he will again, this time vengeance will be satisfied. Carter will help her see to it, and maybe once Duncan was dead, if she survived the gathering just maybe she could at long last go forward with her life, rather than hold her breath and sit and wait for the past to fix its self.

She relived her phone call to the Pierson-Macleod house from earlier that morning shortly after the subject's object his paramour had left the house, she smiled warmly, a purr escaped her throat it had been wonderful to hear Mac's voice on the phone, his total incomprehension the sound of his choked breath and gasp of pain as her cruelty hit the mark over and over again. Mac's voice had gone shrill in the end as he demanded to know who it was that was phoning him with such hatefulness. Two more phone calls, each one different but yet still harping on the same theme of betrayal. She called later that evening just breathing on the line. He hung up, she phoned him again and just breathed on the line. Mac started freaking out. The next time she called him she received the automated operator's voice telling her the phone was disconnected. Her smile widened and her heart warmed with this small victory.

TBC