Erik climbed into Steve's car and buckled his seat belt. The man gave him a brief smile, but didn't say anything. That was strange; Steve usually talked to Erik as much as he could. But today they drove in silence, not to Steve's apartment but to a deserted parking lot. Then Steve stopped the car and looked at Erik.

After a long silence, Erik took a deep breath and asked, "Who was that guy?"

Steve gave a slight smile. "He's Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod."

Erik looked at him in confusion. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Steve laughed and shook his head. "No, not really… It's a long, complicated story." He watched Erik for a few moments, as if judging something. Then he gave a slight nod and said, "I guess you should know, though MacLeod'll probably kill me for telling you. I'm immortal. Shh, just listen. I'm immortal. So is Duncan MacLeod. I'm 600 years old. The only way we can die is to be beheaded. That's why I carry a sword around… because there are always other immortals who want to take your head. Because when you take another immortal's head, you get stronger… you get all their power. That's why I killed those kids – because once they died, they would be immortal. They would have lived and lived and lived until it drove them insane. They would have fought and fought – to stay alive – until they hardened and couldn't care about anything anymore, or until they were too weak and someone took their head. It's so much better to die as a child… but it's hard, so hard just to kill yourself. Even when it would be in your best interest, humans have this need to live that overrides everything else. So we just keep going on and on and on, no matter how much we want to die." He stopped, looking at Erik's eyes.

Erik shook his head. "Is this some sort of joke?"

Steve laughed hollowly. "I wish. Would you like me to prove it to you?" Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Erik watched in horror as the man drove it into his own belly, grunting with the pain. He sat there for a long moment, twisting the knife until he fell forwards onto the steering wheel.

Erik sat there, stunned and confused. What did he do now? The man had just killed himself… oh God, what would he tell the police? Maybe he wasn't really dead yet. Maybe Erik should check, check for a pulse or something.

But for all Erik's time on the street, he had never been this close to a dead body before, especially not the body of someone he knew and loved as much as Steve, and he couldn't bring himself to touch the body.

He would have thought that this was a dream, a nightmare, but the smell of blood that filled the air was too real. The way Steve had grunted as the knife penetrated his flesh, the way he had looked at Erik for the few seconds before he fell forwards, the twisted, pained expression on his face… they were all to real, to detailed for Erik to be dreaming.

Steve was dead. How could Steve be dead? How could he have killed himself like that? Why? Oh God, what am I going to do?

Erik knew he should do something… call the police, the hospital, make a run for it, something, but he couldn't. He couldn't even move. He could only stare in horror at Steve's dead body, trying not to be sick from the stench of blood that filled the air.

Erik almost screamed when he saw Steve's eyes open. The man sat up slowly, stiffly. Erik stared at him, frozen with fear, his heart beating frantically in his chest.

Steve reached out, catching Erik's hand and looking into the boy's eyes.

"I told you. I can't die."

Erik didn't even notice he was crying until Steve gently brushed the tears off his cheek.

"This can't be real… you… you were dead…" Erik knew it sounded stupid, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. What do you say when the only person in the world who you can trust kills himself and revives right in front of your eyes?

Smiling, Steve leaned forwards and kissed Erik.

"Does that feel real?" he asked against the boy's lips.

Erik could feel the rough, hard lips against his, smell the man's scent under the lingering stench of blood, feel the warmth of his breath against the boy's lips… No, he couldn't be dreaming this. He could never dream the sweet, hot velvet of the man's tongue slipping between his parted lips or the firm, strong muscles as his arms slid around the man's waist.

Steve held him close, kissing him and stroking his hair. Erik had never felt as safe as he did in Steve's warm, strong, steady embrace.

"Erik… I'm leaving," Steve whispered into his ear. The boy turned his head to look at him.

"What?"

"I'm leaving. I can't stay here anymore."

"…but… but you promised… You promised that you'd never betray me. And now you're leaving me alone," Erik whispered.

"I have to go. I'm so sorry. But I'm not leaving you alone. MacLeod agreed take you in at least until he could find you a real family."

Erik's vision blurred with tears. "Why can't you take me with you?"

"Because I can't. MacLeod will be better for you anyway."

Erik knew better than to argue further. If this was what Steve wanted… well, the man already done more for Erik than anyone else in his life. So Erik whipped his eyes, swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

Steve smiled. "You'll like MacLeod. I'm leaving later today, so we're going over to his place right now. Is there anything of yours you'd like to pick up first?"

Erik was about to say no when he suddenly remembered something. The teddy bear Steve had given him the day they'd met. If Steve was leaving him, at least he could have a reminder of him.

"Yeah."

After he had the teddy bear, along with a few other mementos from his past, Steve drove Erik to MacLeod's house. It turned out that MacLeod owned a dojo and lived in the rooms above it.

Erik followed Steve inside. There were several people there, most of whom Erik thought he recognized from Sherry's house. Sherry herself was being chased around the dojo by none other than MacLeod. The two other men Erik had seen were watching from the side along with another, much older man. Erik wondered suddenly if they were all immortal.

He hadn't really gotten a good look at either of the two other men when he had seen them at Sherry's house. They both looked to be in their twenties. Both had blond hair and light skin, though one's hair was longer than the other's. And the one with shorted hair was slightly shorter. Neither of them were really all that bad looking, really. Not that he'd dare tell them that. Not unless they wanted him…

Erik forcibly turned his mind away from that thought. He'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

MacLeod walked over to Steve and Erik. He gave Steve a tight, controlled glance and Erik could almost feel the tension between the two men.

"Here he is, MacLeod. And don't worry, I'm leaving today," Steve said shortly. His voice harsh, more firmly controlled than Erik had ever heard it before.

He looked between the two men, both firmly, desperately controlled, but even so he could feel the underlying mass of emotions – bitterness, anger, desperation, fear, helplessness…

But then Steve turned and was gone before Erik even had a chance to say good-bye, leaving Erik felling more empty and alone than he had… well, at least since he had first met Steve.

He stared after Steve for a long time, his eyes burning with tears. But he wasn't going to cry. Not here, in front of these strangers. He couldn't afford to loose control in front of them.

So instead he turned around and faced MacLeod.

"So you did decide to adopt him!" Sherry exclaimed.

"Steven asked me to make sure he was okay," MacLeod told her firmly. "And I never said I was adopting him permanently."

Sherry beamed. "I knew you'd come around! But who was that man?"

MacLeod gave her an odd look – closed and irritated. "An old acquaintance. Jerome, why don't you walk Sherry home?"

The taller of the two men nodded and left the dojo with Sherry.

"Mac?" asked the shorter man.

MacLeod sighed. "It's a long story. Suffice to say that Steven beat me, but didn't take my head. Because he had promised Erik, here, that he wouldn't. Instead, he agreed to leave and stop killing – children – if I would make sure that Erik was okay."

"And you let him? You just let him walk away and took his word for it that he'd stop?"

MacLeod nodded. "Richie, he beat me. He should have taken my head. He had his sword at my throat and he let me live." Then MacLeod turned back to Erik. "Come on, let's go upstairs and I can show you your room."





That night Erik lay in his new bed, staring at the ceiling. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks and he hugged the teddy bear closer. He could here MacLeod talking to Richie in the kitchen, though he couldn't make out what they were saying. He didn't really care anyway. Steve was gone. He would probably never see the man again. The thought made him feel empty, cold, alone. But at least Steve had left him with someone to take care of him.

It felt weird to be sleeping alone in a soft, clean bed. Strange to think of actually having someone to take care of him. Even Steve hadn't really taken care of him. Not like a parent.

He wondered if MacLeod would demand a similar price for the care. Probably, though he hoped not. He loved Steve, more than anyone else in the world, and he didn't want anyone taking Steve's place. But if, and when, MacLeod asked, Erik would be willing. And until then, he could enjoy the man's hospitality.

With that thought, Erik hugged the teddy bear closer and drifted into sleep, imagining that Steve was here again with him, holding him and making him safe.

A/N: Well, this is the end, but I am working on a sequal... at first they were supposed to be 1 story, but I think that this one is complete as it is. Orange and pHbalence: Thanks for your reviews. I'll get working on the sequal ASAP. Promise.