Author's Note: This story was originally posted in 1999 on the Seventh Dimension Highlander fan fiction website. I decided to revise it for typos and for the flow of the story, but otherwise it remains very much like it was originally posted.

Synopsis: After TO BE and NOT TO BE Duncan begins a new life, but it turns out to be much like the one he left behind. Warning: Contains disciplinary spanking of a teenager in later chapters. If that isn't your thing, don't read it. Rated M for violence and some foul language.

Original Author's Note: This story takes place sometime after the end of HIGHLANDER: THE SERIES. The title for this story came from something Duncan MacLeod said repeatedly: those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. I wrote the story with no title in mind, but this just seemed to fit. There will be at least one sequel. Any ideas, comments or constructive criticisms are welcome.

This story is dedicated to the loving memory of my great-aunt, Earlie G "Gean" DeStephano (1929-1999). May you find peace and happiness, wherever you may be.

Now all that's out of the way...

HISTORY LESSONS

Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod looked around his latest business venture. With a nod of satisfaction he headed toward the door to lock up and head home for the night. After leaving Paris following his encounter with Liam O'Rourke, when he had nearly given up his head in order to protect the lives of his friends Joe Dawson and Amanda, he'd wandered around the globe until finally settling in a mid-sized town near Chicago. He hadn't sensed any immortals in the area, and none of his friends knew of his whereabouts. That was just how Duncan wanted it. He was determined that his friends, mortal and immortal alike, would never again be used as pawns against him. He had recently purchased a storefront in the downtown business district and had turned it into an art gallery featuring the works of several undiscovered area artists. He'd also placed several of Tessa's works on display, knowing that he would never be able to part with any of them.

Duncan sighed as he closed and locked the door. He had a thousand things to do before the gallery opened in a week, and he was probably on number twenty. Duncan tensed as he sensed the barely discernable presence of a pre-immortal just before he felt a slight body bump into his back. He turned to see a teenage girl standing behind him. She giggled and muttered a slurred "excuse me" and proceeded to stagger down the street toward the corner. Duncan stood there watching her progress, shaking his head in disgust. Something pulled at his subconscious and he reached into his back pocket to check for his wallet. It was missing.

With a growl Duncan took off after the girl. At the sound of his footsteps, the girl dropped the pretense that she was high and took off running. Duncan caught her at the corner and, with a firm grip on her upper arm, pulled her into a nearby alley. The girl struggled against his hold. Duncan captured both her arms and pinned her against the building just inside the entrance to the alley.

"Stop it!" At the sound of the unquestionable authority in his voice, the girl stopped struggling and starred up at him with wary eyes. Duncan took a good look at the girl. She appeared to be in her mid-teens with dirty, lanky light brown hair, a dirt smudged face and ragged clothing.

"Okay, hand it over," Duncan ordered in the same authoritative voice.

"Hand what over? I don't know what you're talking about. Let me go."

"My wallet. Now. Either you hand it over, or I'll drag you to the nearest police station and turn you in for picking my pocket."

"I don't have your damned wallet. Let me go, or I'll start screaming."

"Go right ahead and I'll just explain how you bumped into me, stole my wallet and took off. I merely gave chase to retrieve my property." Duncan raked his eyes meaningfully over her. "Just whose story do you think they'll believe, hmmm?

"Okay. But I can't get it unless you let me go."

Duncan released his grip on her left arm, but maintained a firm hold on her right arm. He leveled a glare that had made many an immortal and mortal alike fear for their lives on the girl and held out his left hand, palm up. "Okay. I'm waiting."

"This would be a lot easier if you'd let go of my other arm."

"I don't think so. I suggest you hurry up, because I'm beginning to run out of patience."

The girl debated her options for a few seconds. Then she looked up into his face. Her eyes meet his, and what she saw there caused her to flinch. Duncan watched as the girl reached under the loose tail of her long shirt and pulled his wallet out of the front pocket of her blue jeans. "There, you've got your wallet back. Everything's there, I didn't take anything. So you can let me go now."

Duncan had watched as fear momentarily flickered in her eyes and over her face. He wondered if it was him she feared or someone else. He reached out and took his wallet from the girl's hand. When she shrank back as though she was trying to melt into the wall Duncan released her otherarm. "Stay put."

Duncan opened the wallet and browsed through the contents to verify that they were all there. He then removed one of his new business cards. "My name is Duncan MacLeod. I'm opening an art gallery, Undiscovered Treasures, down the street. If you ever need any help, give me a call orcome see me. I promise I'll do what I can. Although, it would be nice to know to whom I'm offering my assistance."

The girl just starred at MacLeod. "And what will you expect in return for your assistance? A free fuck, or maybe you're the kind of guy who likes to take pictures? Why should I come to you for help when I've got friends for that? Besides, I'm nobody's whore."

"I promise, it's nothing like that. Let's just say you remind me of a friend I haven't seen in a long time," replied Duncan, thinking of a young Richie Ryan. The young man had been introduced to the world of immortality when he had broken into Duncan and Tessa's antique store and witnessed the confrontation between Duncan, Slan Quince, and Duncan's kinsman, Connor MacLeod. "He had gotten himself into some trouble and needed a helping hand. I think you may be in the same situation. I might just be able to offer you a way off the streets, if you'll let me." With that, Duncan turned and walked out of the alley, leaving the girl to stare after him.

Two Weeks Later

MacLeod locked the door to his art gallery, and turned to walk the four blocks to Antonio's, the Italian restaurant where he'd decided to dine that evening. Business had been slow, but steady, since the opening of the gallery the week before. Several people had approached him with suggestions of artists he might want to consider displaying in the gallery.

He had met with one of the recommended artists, a sculptor who specialized in Native American art, earlier that day. Duncan's mind had wondered back to their meeting when the presence of an immortal brought his senses back to his surroundings. Thankful that he had never quite given up the habit of carrying his sword with him, he paused to look around and realized he was only a few yards away from the alley where he had confronted the young thief a couple of weeks earlier. Since he really didn't want to get into a situation where he might have to accept a challenge, Duncan started to continue on his way, until he heard voices raised in anger coming from the alley.

"I'm through giving you chances, Amber. I told you two weeks ago to bring me the gallery owner's wallet. Maybe the lesson I gave you after you got caught wasn't good enough. Maybe you need another one. When I give you an order, I expect you to follow it. No excuses."

"But I tried, Snake, I really did. I haven't been able to get close to him again. Every time I try to sneak up on him, he looks around like he knows I'm there. Besides, I can't exactly go into the gallery without sticking out like a sore thumb. I need a little more time to come up with a plan.

Why does it have to be this guy's wallet, anyway? Lifting it is only going to cause trouble."

"You'll do as I tell you, without asking questions." Snake snarled before slapping Amber hard enough to knock her off her feet. He reached down to drag the girl back to her feet, but paused when he felt a strong buzzing sensation in his head and down his spine.

Before the echo of the slap had a chance to die away, Duncan MacLeod stepped into the entrance of the alley. If he was even slightly surprised to see the teenage girl he'd confronted two weeks earlier, it didn't show in his face. Standing above her was a thin young man, about twenty years old, dressed in a sweater and blue jeans. He had long, greasy black hair and a scar that curved along his right check from his eyebrow to the corner of his mouth. The scar had been enhanced with a tattoo that made it appear to be the reptile for which he was named.

Snake was standing hunched over with his hands pressed to his temples as though he was trying to keep his head from exploding. Duncan quickly realized this was the other immortal he'd sensed. He could help but briefly wonder if the other man knew exactly who and what he was.

"Why don't you try picking on someone your own size for once? Or is it that you can't find someone that small, hmmm?" He walked over, helped Amber to her feet and pushed her toward the alley entrance before turning back to confront Snake. Duncan pulled his katana from the inside of his full-length jacket and held it in front of his chest in a ready position, using his body to block Amber's view of the action.

"I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. And you are?"

"Mister, you'd better stay out of what ain't your business. This is between me and the little bitch over there, so why don't you take your fancy toy and get the hell out of here."

"Boy, I'm afraid you made it my business the minute you hit the young lady. Now, I suggest you get out of here and never show your face around here again. Otherwise I might just have to do something about it, like removing your head from your shoulders."

"Cut my head off? Are you fucking crazy or something?" Snake reached into the top of his right his boot and pulled out a gun. "I'll kill you before you even get close enough to try it."

Duncan sighed heavily. He was in no mood for this. In a move too quick to see Duncan knocked the gun from Snake's hand and threw him to the ground. He reached down with one hand and grabbed the front of the other man's shirt and pulled him to his feet. With his other hand, Duncan held the tip of his katana to his throat. A trickle of blood appeared where the sharp blade had nicked his skin.

In a deadly calm voice that belied the rage he was feeling, Duncan said, "You have no idea what you are, do you? Well, I'm not going to play teacher. I suggest you disappear. Don't ever cross my path again. If I even hear your name whispered in my presence, I'll hunt you down and teach you a lesson you'll never forget." He gave the other immortal a hard shake to emphasize the clear meaning of his words. "One more little bit of advice, I'd pay attention to that headache if I were you. You never know when you may lose your head because of it." Duncan then threw Snake toward the alley entrance and stood watching as Snake scrambled to his feet and took off running up the street.

So much for a quiet dinner out, Duncan thought as he walked over to where the girl was huddled against the wall.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked as he took in the faded bruises around the girl's neck, the rapidly darkening bruise on her cheek, and the blood welling up from a cut on her arm.

"Um, no, I'm okay. I've survived worse. You should have left it alone. All you did was make it worse. He'll only be angrier, and he'll take it out on me. Thanks a lot, Mister." Amber started to walk away, but only got a few feet before she collapsed.

Duncan caught Amber before she fell flat on her face in the dirty alleyway. He picked her up in his arms and started back toward the art gallery. "I thought you said you were okay."

"I am, put me down." She started to struggle, but Duncan only tightened his grip. "I have to get back to the house to try and smooth things over with Snake. I've got to try and calm him down before he takes his anger out on any of the others. Some of them aren't that strong. They can't stand up to him. Please, let me go."

"I'm taking you to the gallery. I'll take a look at that cut on your arm and the bruise on your face. I probably ought to take you to the emergency room, but for some reason I doubt you'd agree to go. Besides, I don't think Snake will be around to bother you much longer."

"Let me go!" Amber said as she once again began to struggle in Duncan's arms. "Snake will come after me if for no other reason than I was the reason you embarrassed him. He won't let that go. He'll take it out on me, and then he'll come after you."

When they reached the gallery Duncan sat Amber on her feet, but kept a firm grip on her arm as he unlocked the door. He led her through the gallery to the small kitchen area in the back. Pushed her down into a chair next to the small table, he ordered, "stay put, I'll be back in a minute."

He gathered a clean dishtowel filled with crushed ice, a second clean dishtowel and a bowl of warm soapy water and returned to set them on the table next to Amber. Duncan pulled the remaining chair around and sat down in front of her. He handed her the ice-filled towel and instructed her to hold it against her bruised cheek. He then picked up her arm and proceeded to clean it with the dishtowel and soapy water. "I wish I had some antiseptic to put on this cut. Anyway, I don't think it's as bad as I initially thought. I might be able to find some ibuprofen if you want any." He was sure he'd seen some in the first aid kit he'd felt compelled to purchase a few days earlier.

Amber just sat and starred at Duncan as he continued with his ministrations. "Why are you doing this? You heard what Snake said, I was supposed to rob you. I almost succeeded once. Why didn't you call the police?"

When Duncan finished cleaning the cut on her arm, he sat back in his chair and took a good look at Amber. He would find the first aid kit and bandage her arm after they had a little talk.

"I'll deal with Snake. You don't have to worry about him. Like I told you a few weeks ago, you remind me a lot of a young friend of mine. Richie and I first met when I caught him breaking into my antique store. I saw through his tough-guy exterior to the scared and angry young man who was full of potential. Instead of pressing charges against him, I offered him a job and a chance to turn his life around. I may be willing to do the same for you, but you'll have to meet me half way. This isn't a hand out. You will have to earn whatever I do for you. However, I have a few questions I want answered first."

"Like what?"

"Let's start off with the basics, Amber. That is your name, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, Amber, what's your last name and how old are you? Why are you living on the streets?"

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

Duncan sighed. "Just answer the questions, and I want the truth."

It was Amber's turn to sigh as she slumped down in her chair. She threw Duncan a mutinous look before saying, "My full name is Amber Leigh Miller. I'm sixteen, and I've been living on the streets for about six months, ever since I ran away after my foster father tried to rape me. I refuse to go back, so don't even think about it. I'll just run away again if you try and make me go. I can take care of myself, and I don't need any help from you or anyone else."

Duncan knew he had to be careful in his approach. If he scared her away, she would wind up back on the streets. There she'd be an easy target for any immortal strong enough to sense her. There were many of his kind who didn't have any compunction against killing children or pre-immortals for the easy quickening.

"Yeah, I can see how well you can take care of yourself," he said sarcastically, looking pointedly at her bruised cheek. "Look, I'm not going to turn you over to Social Services, but I do want to help you. For right now, all I'm offering is a meal and a warm bed for the night. We can talk about my offer in the morning. If you're interested, fine. But if you're not, you're free to go. I promise I have no ulterior motives."

Amber studied Duncan's face. She'd gotten pretty good at reading people over the last six months, and she didn't see anything other than concern etched on his hard features. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a decent meal, and the thought of spending the night someplace where she didn't have to keep one eye open was too appealing to resist. Besides, she thought, she could always take off if he tried anything.

"All right, I'll go with you. Not that I trust you or anything. I'll be keeping an eye on you, so don't think you can try anything. First sign of anything funny, and I'm out of there. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it. I would expect nothing less."

Fifteen minutes later, Duncan pulled the Thunderbird into the driveway of a modest two-story house located at the end of a secluded, tree-lined street. Amber got out of the car and looked at her surroundings. The house looked a little run-down, but there were buckets of paint and drop cloths piled on the front porch, and the wooden porch steps looked brand new. All in all, it didn't appear to be such a bad place to spend the night.

Duncan watched Amber's face as she took in his house and its surroundings. "It was in pretty bad shape when I bought it a few months ago, but I've got the inside and the porch all fixed up. I hope to get started on painting it before too long. Come on inside."

Once in the house, Duncan ushered Amber into the living room and pointed to the staircase leading to the second floor. "You can take a shower if you'd like. The bathroom's the second door on the left. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink. I'll put some clothes you can change into outside the door. Put your dirty ones out in the hallway. I'll put them in the washer. When you're done, come to the kitchen. I'll get dinner started."

Amber nodded absently, taking in the furnishings filling the room. Even with her untrained eye, she recognized a number of them as valuable antiques. She started up the stairs to hunt out the bathroom. A shower sounded like a good idea. She couldn't remember the last time she had been really clean. Most of the time she did the best she could with a wet paper towel in a grungy public restroom. Finding the bathroom just where Duncan had said it would be, she quickly shed her dirty clothes. As she reached for the faucets to turn on the shower, she heard a knock on the door.

"I'm putting a pair of sweats and a T-shirt in front of the door for you. I'll come back up in a bit to get your dirty clothes. Dinner should be ready in about half an hour or so. There's also a hair dryer under the sink if you want to use it."

Amber turned on the faucets and adjusted the temperature. While she was waiting for the water to warm up she took a good look at herself in the mirror hanging above the sink. It was no wonder MacLeod thought she needed a keeper. She looked like she'd been dead a week but someone just forgot to tell her. She fingered the purpling bruise on her cheek and winced at the pain that shot through her face. She'd have to remember to ask for some Advil and another ice pack when she went to the kitchen.

She stayed in the shower until the water began to grow cold. It was so nice to feel clean again. She quickly dressed. The tail of the t-shirt came almost to her knees, and the sleeves hung well past her elbows. It was a good thing the sweats had a drawstring waistband, or there would be no way they would have stayed in place. Like the sleeves of the shirt, the pant legs were several inches too long. These were rolled up several times.

Amber almost laughed at the thought that she looked like a kid playing dress-up. It had been so long since she'd felt like laughing that the feeling was strange. To keep herself from dwelling on it, she quickly combed the tangles out of it as well as she could with her fingers and then blew it dry with the hair dryer she found lying on a shelf above the towels.

She decided to explore the second floor of the house before heading downstairs. The first room she explored was across the hall from the bathroom and appeared to be MacLeod's bedroom. Like the living room downstairs, it was furnished with what she instinctively recognized as heavy antiques. The second bedroom, next door to MacLeod's room, was sparsely furnished with a bed and dresser. Amber opened the last door to find a third bedroom that had been converted into a home gym. There was a weight machine in one corner, a rack along one wall containing some type of poles of varying lengths, and hanging around the room were at least ten swords. Some were hanging in matched pairs, while others were hanging singly.

Amber's stomach rumbled and she quickly made her way downstairs. She followed the mouth-watering smells to the kitchen and found MacLeod standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a steaming pot. She could have sworn she hadn't made a sound, but as soon as she entered the room MacLeod turned and looked in her direction.

"There you are. I was beginning to think you had gotten lost." He nodded in the direction of the kitchen table. "Go ahead and sit down. Dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes. I fixed spaghetti since I figured you might have trouble chewing because of that bruise. All I have to drink is water or orange juice. Which would you like."

Amber, feeling a little overwhelmed, sat down at the table and looked around the kitchen. "Huh, what did you say?"

"Do you want water or orange juice to drink with your spaghetti?"

"Water, please."

The next morning Amber awoke warm and comfortable for the first time in recent memory. She felt a momentary sense of panic until she realized where she was. After making use of the bathroom facilities, she finger combed the tangles out of her hair and used her finger and some toothpaste to brush her teeth.

She entered the kitchen, only to find Duncan standing in front of the stove fixing breakfast. He looked up as she entered the room and turned back to the stove. "Good morning. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. Help yourself to some orange juice and have a seat."

Less than five minutes later, Duncan placed a plate filled with scrambled eggs, toast and bacon in front of Amber and took the seat across from her. They ate in companionable silence. The only sounds to be heard were silverware scraping against plates and the dull thud of glasses being placed back on the table. When they were finished, Duncan stood and carried the plates to the sink. He turned at looked at Amber for several seconds before saying, "Your clothes are folded on top of the dryer, in case you'd like to get dressed before we talk. If you'd rather talk first and then get dressed, that's no problem."

"I'll go ahead and get dressed."

"Okay, I'll put the dishes in the dishwasher then get dressed myself. I'll meet you back here in about twenty minutes. How's that sound?"

"Fine."

Twenty minutes later, they were once again sitting at the kitchen table.

Duncan looked into Amber's face and said, "If you'll remember, yesterday I mentioned I had an offer to make you. Well, now it's time to make it. I'll give you a job, a place to live and a chance to turn your life around. In return, you will finish high school and work part-time in my gallery."

"Let me see if I've got this straight. You'll let me live here, and all I have to do is go to school and work part-time in your gallery. That's too easy, what's the catch?" Amber was suspicious. Nobody was going to offer what McLeod just had simply out of the goodness of their heart. Surely he didn't think she was stupid enough to fall for it. He had to have an ulterior motive, but damned if she could spot it.

"The only catch, as you put it, is that I'll be acting as your legal guardian." Duncan leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. "That means there will be rules regarding your behavior and what will and will not be allowed. You will be expected to follow them. You appear to be intelligent, so you will also be expected to maintain decent grades at school. I also expect you to be honest with me at all times. The one thing I absolutely will not tolerate is being lied to."

"Wait just a damned minute here," Amber nearly panicked as a sudden thought occurred to her. "If I even agree to this scheme of your, for you to become my legal guardian you'll have to go through Social Services. I told you once I'd run if you even hinted at turning me over to them." Her one and only experience with the system hadn't been good. She was in no hurry to repeat it. "You promised you wouldn't. So how do you propose to become my legal guardian without going through the system? And how do I know what you're telling me is on the up and up? For all I know, you could be setting me up as slave labor or something."

Duncan nodded once to acknowledge her concerns. He stood and made his way over to the counter, where he poured himself a cup of coffee. Resuming his seat at the table, he continued, "if you agree to my proposal, I will obtain papers naming me as your legal guardian - without going through Social Services. Before you ask, how I intend to do that is none of your concern. It's enough for you to know that they will pass any inspection they may be put through. As for all this being on the up and up, well I guess you'll just have to take my word for it. After all, if I had anything but honorable intentions, wouldn't you say I've had plenty of opportunities to take advantage of the situation?"

She continued to study Duncan's face, looking for even the smallest sign that he wasn't beig honest with her. What he was offering sounded too good to be true. She'd learned the hard way to be wary when made an offer that was that appealing – there was usually a catch.

"What's in it for you?" she asked, still suspicious.

"Nothing," Duncan responded immediately. He shrugged his shoulders. "I like to help people." Well, that wasn't exactly true, he thought. He wanted to protect her from being prey for the less scrupulous of his kind. Plus, he didn't think he could handle seeing another young person become immortal well before their time. But, none of this was something he could tell Amber – at least not yet. "I have a friend who calls me Boy Scout." That was true, but not for the reason he was implying.

Amber still wasn't completely convinced. Making up her mind, she stated, "okay, I'll try it out for a while and see how it works."

"That's all I'm asking."

TBC