They covered the short distance to the quayside in silence. Duncan was busy trying to think how he was going to break the news to Tessa that they had an Immortal houseguest, without having to explain the intricacies of the Game. He had managed to keep it out of their lives for twelve years now and the few challenges that had come his way, she was, thankfully, unaware of. He hoped to keep it that way.

For his part, Richie didn't seem inclined to speak. At least, that is, not until he saw his proposed accommodations.

"Who would actually choose to live on a boat?" he protested.

"Actually, it's a barge." Duncan corrected mildly, as he led the way down the gangplank.

"It still floats on the water," Richie muttered. "dirty, smelly, water at that."

"Its not that bad," Duncan unlocked the door and let them in. "There are at least forty species of freshwater fish in there."

"So, that's what I can smell," Richie scowled. "Fish poop."

Duncan ignored him as he took a quick look around the living area of the barge, "Tessa?"

Thankfully, she seemed to be absent, so at least he would have time to get their 'guest' cleaned up before he had to worry about introductions. Heading up towards the bedroom area, he quickly tided a few embarrassing items out of sight under the bedclothes, before pulling a pair of sweat pants and a cable knit sweater out of blanket box.

"These might be a little big on you."

"That's alright. I hear sweaters are baggy this season."

"The bathroom's through here," Duncan indicated. "There are plenty of towels. If you just leave your dirty laundry on the floor when you're done, I'll put it in the wash."

"Right," Richie nodded. "Thanks."

As the bathroom door clicked shut, Duncan gave some thought as to what he could feed their unexpected guest. Judging from his accent, he didn't think that his extra ripe and rather smelly Camembert would pass muster. Instead, he found some homemade tomato sauce in the freezer and popped it in the microwave to thaw while he put on a pan of water to boil for pasta. He was just rummaging around in the refrigerator for the makings of a salad, when he felt the buzz.

At the same time the running water in the shower cut out, indicating that Richie had felt it too.

"Stay put." Duncan commanded.

Without waiting to see if Richie complied, he picked up the Katana and made for the door. The sight that met him on the gangplank was the last thing he expected.

"Connor, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, obviously," Connor looked around. "What's the point of a boat, if its not seaworthy?"

"It's a barge," Duncan corrected, for the second time that morning, as he stepped back to let his teacher in. "And it can move well enough. I just happen to like the view."

"So, I see."

Closing the door, Duncan looked round to see what has caused Connor's dry tone and felt the heat of embarrassment rise in his face. Tessa insisted that the nude self-portrait was purely art, but Duncan couldn't help but think what his mother would have said. Having his teacher see it was almost as bad.

"I meant, Notre Dame." He corrected, hastening over to turn the portrait to the wall.

"No, Duncan," Connor's light touch on his arm, staying his hand, surprised him. "Enjoy her while you can."

The sympathy in his teacher's voice caught Duncan unawares, causing a sudden well of sadness. It was true he would have Tessa for such a short time. And yet, he couldn't imagine his life without her.

The sudden hissing and pooping as the water on the stove boiled over broke the silence. Duncan quickly moved to the stove and pushed it to one side.

"Why are you here Connor?"

"What?" His teacher affected innocence. "Can't I make a social visit?"

Duncan turned his head to look at him in wry amusement. "Not in all the time I've known you. Planning on turning over a new leaf in your old age?"

"Not so much of the old, laddie," Connor walked over to the drinks table and started to pour them both a scotch. "And I can still take you, anytime."

Duncan ignored the jibe, concentrating instead on Connor's actions as he added just a splash of water and turned to hand him a glass. It was rather early in the day, even for his kinsman. He wondered if he was going to need it.

"No one's dead," Connor read his expression. "At least, I hope not."

"That's not very reassuring Connor."

"I know."

Studying his teacher, Duncan saw little outward change. The trademark white sneakers were as pristine as ever, his nails were neatly clipped and his face free of stubble. But the thin, angular planes of his features and his bloodshot eyes betrayed his physical and mental exhaustion.

"You're head-hunting." He accused.

"Its not what you think." Connor sighed tiredly as he settled into a chair and took a sip of his scotch, tipping his head back as its warmth trickled down his throat.

"Isn't it?" Duncan knew all too well how single minded his teacher could be. "When did you last have a full night's sleep? Stop for a proper meal? For Lord's sake Connor, you can't fight if you're dead on your feet."

"I'm looking for my student."

Duncan sank onto the couch in slack jawed surprise. Much as he had spent the last four hundred years proving to his teacher that he was his own man, well able to take care of himself and fight his own battles, he secretly liked the fact that the elder Macleod had never stopped taking an interest in his affairs.

"You didn't tell me you had a new student." He said, slightly peevishly.

In answer, Connor dug into his pocket and pulled out a photo. The picture showed Connor in a rare, unguarded moment, laughing uproariously at whatever it was the grinning fair-haired lad had said. God, no wonder his teacher was so worried. The lad couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen when he 'died'. It was extraordinarily rare to see one so young. They never survived for long.

"I had to go away on business. I thought he'd be safer at home, so I told him not to try and follow me. But something has happened. I haven't been able to reach him for days."

"What's his name?" Duncan passed the photo back.

"He won't be using his own name," Connor dismissed that. "He knows that would make him too easy to find. I thought he might have come here. I suppose I could try Amanda .."

"Speaking of Amanda." Duncan hesitated as the dreadful possibility occurred to him that whoever was hunting Richie had already despatched Connor's youngster.

"Please don't tell me she's in Paris. That's all I need." Connor echoed Duncan's earlier sentiments.

"No, she's in Russia right now, at least according to her student."

Tilting his head slightly, Duncan realised that Richie had been absolutely silent since Connor had arrived. Since the initial buzz was not sufficiently fine tuned to enable them to detect the number of Immortals in the immediate area, Connor had no way of knowing that he was there.

"Amanda has a new student?" Connor's eyes narrowed.

"Yeah," Duncan stood up and headed towards the kitchen, oblivious of his teacher's change in mood, intent on getting some decent food into Connor before he decided to take off again. "About late twenties, blue eyes, dark hair .."

"Enormous nose." Connor added sourly.

"I prefer the term distinguished." Duncan turned to see Richie standing at the top of the stairs, wearing his sweater and sweats, looking at Connor with a scowl.

"What are you doing here?" Connor demanded.

"I could ask you the same question," Richie shrugged, as he came down the steps to join them. "You won't find that 500 year old Antique you've been looking for around here. Unless you're hoping for a matched pair."

"Actually," Connor swirled. "I was thinking that if our client has had as little luck as I have, he might tire of searching for the genuine item and settle for a replica vessel. They are much easier to obtain. Especially when the owner is ignorant of the true value."

"In other words," Richie flopped into a chair. "You haven't been able to find where our favourite boy scout has taken the boy, but then neither has Ares. Which means you think he might decide to come after Duncan here, who will be an easier target as he has no idea what is going on, so you've come to warn him."

"Who is this Ares?" Duncan demanded.

"He's evil." Richie said darkly. "And he has nothing to lose by killing you."

"Did you play hooky the day we learnt this was all Top Secret?" Connor protested.

"And how exactly were you going to warn him without telling him anything?"

"What did you tell him?"

Slightly peeved at so obviously being kept out of the loop, Duncan cut in. "He said his name was Richie Ryan and that he was Amanda's student."

"Amanda's student?" Connor smirked.

"I never actually said that. It is hardly my fault if your student puts two and two together and makes five. But just for the record, I am not, nor have I ever been Amanda's student."

"You're not Richie Ryan either." Connor added.

Despite Duncan's shocked expression the other didn't seem the least bit perturbed by the revelation.

"Yes I am. I can show you my passport if you like."

"Is this the same passport that also says you are twenty nine years old and were born in Basingstoke?"

"So, who are you exactly?" Duncan demanded before this could escalate. "And what is going on?"

He didn't miss the fact that 'Richie' and Connor exchanged a quick look before 'Richie' answered. "Can we leave the first one for now? I think you've had enough surprises today and I really don't want to lie to you."

"You mean, anymore than you already have?" Duncan asked sourly.

To his surprise the dark haired Immortal shook his head. "I haven't lied to you. Everything, I told you was the truth. It all happened at some time or another."

"But it happened to this Richie Ryan, didn't it?" Duncan countered. "Not to you."

"Duncan, you can trust him," Connor assured him. "We all have Richie's best interests at heart."

"So, Richie is the blonde lad in the photo?" Duncan realised. "And he really is your student?"

Connor nodded.

"And mine, and Amanda's," the other put in. "Among others."

"Talking of which," Duncan scowled at him. "What exactly am I supposed to call you?"

"You can call him Adam," Connor answered with a quelling look at the couch, when it seemed 'Adam' was about to come up with a range of creative suggestions.

"And this Richie really is missing?"

"Missing?" Adam looked over at Connor. "You couldn't have mentioned this earlier?"

"I did. I assumed you were eavesdropping."

"I had soap in my ears," Adam frowned. "He wouldn't have followed Ares without a good reason. Its too great a risk."

"Oh please," Duncan protested. "He's just a lad. At that age risk is their middle name."

"No. Adam's right," Connor mused. "Richie knows what's at stake, he wouldn't have come unless something had happened."

"Or was about to happen." Adam murmured.

"Is Amanda safe in Russia?" Connor asked.

"I would say so," Adam nodded. "She was working in a touring circus when they got snowed up in Siberia. There won't be any way in or out of there until the thaw comes."

"And we know we're both safe?" To his surprise Connor made that last a question and to his amazement Adam actually answered it.

"As far as the world is concerned, Russell Nash is attending a conference on Antique swords in Mexico. The place will be packed with Immortals. Ares won't dare try anything there and Pierson is safe on Holy Ground in Tibet."

"How did you manage that?"

"I sent myself an e-mail suggested that it would be a good idea to get out of Dodge for a while. I didn't realise I would take myself so quite seriously."

"Connor, please tell me you haven't gone and joined the CIA again." Duncan rolled his eyes.

"Not exactly," Connor murmured. "What about Rebecca?"

"She's safe."

"So, if its not you or me, Amanda and Rebecca are out of the way, and the boy is so well hidden that even we can't find him, who does that leave?" Connor frowned.

For a moment there was silence in the room as Duncan tried to work out just what the hell was going on. Then Adam's gaze locked on the portrait.

"Tessa."