This chapter is being submitted by Madigirl

"I'll be upstairs if anyone needs me." Duncan wiped the sweat from his body and wrapped the towel around his neck. "I need a shower."

Richie looked up from the books he'd been poring over all morning, and sniffed. "Yeah, good idea." He tapped some keys on the computer, looked closely at the monitor and groaned, dramatically. "Man, Duncan, who was doing your books while I was gone? These things are a mess."

Duncan moved, came around the desk and looked over Richie's shoulder. "Actually, it was me. Is it that bad?"

"That depends." Richie moved the monitor slightly so Duncan could get a better view, a little further down wind. "Did you intend to put towels and laundry under income?"

"I'm supposed to say no, right?"

"Go take your shower."

"Yeah." Duncan sighed. "Thanks."

A wave served as a response as Richie, pencil in mouth, continued to punch keyboard buttons, and making little sounds that could have been expressing anything from amusement, to concern, to disgust, to oh my god, what the hell is this? Duncan, for his part, took the freight elevator that led to his loft, and headed to the shower. Letting the water wash away the remains of a work out that didn't quite work, he wondered if the day could get any worse.

It started off so nicely. He woke to the sound of birds singing sweetly just outside his window, and really that almost never happened in this part of town. He got up, stretched and smiled as he threw open the curtains. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to close the window last night, and those birds were actually inside, and not at all happy about having choir practice interrupted. The scratches took almost twenty minutes to heal.

Still, he was determined to make this day work, despite the breakfast of burnt toast and orange pits he had just eaten, so he headed down to the dojo. His morning kata would center him, and he could then face the scheduled meeting with the auditor. This cheered him considerably until the elevator opened to the sounds of 15 falsetto voices all speaking at once about school, Yu-Gi-Oh and some hot model named Jenna that everyone agreed that they would "do". It was at this point that he remembered that, in a desperate attempt to make the dojo pay for itself, he had started selling lessons to Boy Scout troops. He pressed himself against the wall, and walked slowly around the children, lest he startle them and cause them to attack, and fairly ran to the front door.

Looking at his t-bird, parked as usual in front of the dojo, he became aware of two things, pretty much at the same time. Firstly, he had gotten a ticket, and secondly, the birds had not felt satisfied with attacking just his face. He got into his once beautiful car and drove to the IRS. Sitting behind the desk, wondering just why it was he felt like a criminal, he listened as a very severe woman, who was, apparently, impervious to his charms, told him that he had made mistakes on his last six quarterly reports and he now owed a sum of money that could feed a the entire nation of Belgium for at least three weeks.

Duncan stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around his waist. At least it couldn't get any worse. He'd just stay here, safe in his apartment, until it was time to go to that house warming thing that Methos had insisted he attend. Nothing bad could happen if he did that. With an incredible sense of security, Duncan put on his favorite white bathrobe, padded out to the living area, chose a book that he had read several times, and therefore knew he would like, and sat down in his favorite chair. At last, all was right with the world and all he had to do was maintain this rightness for a few more hours.

That very thought, however, was the kiss of doom and just to prove that fate was far more powerful than the thoughts of one immortal having a crappy day, the elevator's motor began to roar. A moment later, so did his head, as the buzz of another immortal hit. Duncan grabbed his katana and stood in front of the elevator door, waiting. Chances were it was only Richie, but chances had been against him all morning. As the door opened, Duncan brought his sword to a defensive position, ready for any attack.

"Now really, MacLeod. Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"Fitzcairn!" Duncan wasn't quite sure if this was a change in fortune or not. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't a fellow visit a friend?" Fitz gave the sword a meaningful look. "May I come in, or must I push the down button?"

Duncan let the katana fall to his side, and gestured into the room. "Be my guest." He walked over to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee, held the pot up in offering and replaced it at Fitz's slight head shake. "So, why are you here, Fitz? I thought you were in New York with that model. What was her name?"

"Jenna." Fitz said. "And we have decided to move on."

"She dumped you."

"Right." Fitz came into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and smiled when he found a left over bowl of pasta. Searching drawers, he, finally found a fork, and took a bite of cold, cheesy goodness. "But that does leave me free tonight to visit your local hot spots."

"You are welcome to stay, Fitz, but tonight I have to attend a party." Duncan regretted saying that almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "Just some house warming of a friend of a friend."

"Excellent." Fitz fairly beamed. "It's just the thing I need, a quiet evening with a few friends."

Duncan was about to beg off, thinking this was just the excuse he needed to get out of a party he was sure was doomed to be a bore, when he saw his friends face. Fitz did seem to have the knack of falling to quickly for the wrong women, and he did seem to need some kind of recuperation. Giving in to the inevitable, Duncan tried to stifle his sigh. "I have to make a call, but I'm sure it'll be fine."