Chapter XIV

Duncan spent most of his morning working out and fixing minoir repairs around the house. He was trying to keep busy and avoid thinking about his nightmare. Just before noon he felt the buzz of an Immortal's arival.

Methos parked next to MacLeod's T-Bird and gotr out of his car. Duncan appeared along the side of the house, probably coming from the back yard. He looked better than the last time Methos had seen him which had been a few days before. Methos was glad that his friend had kept his promise to not climb back into a bottle. And it showed. His complexion now had some color, his eyes were brighter and he walked with his shoulders back and his head up. He was beginning to look like the old Duncan...the Duncan that everyone knew and loved.

Methos knew that the transition had been rough on MacLeod, he had stood by him through the worst of it and he had never promised Mac that it would be easy, but he assured him the results would be more rewarding than the ones he would have if he chose to remain in drunken oblivian.

Methos walked toward MacLeod and raised his hand in a hap-hazard wave of greeting and said, "Ola compadre!"

Duncan grinned and shook his head. "Your Spanish accent needs some work."

"Everyone's a critic," Methos laughed.

"What brings you to my humnble abopde?" Duncan asked. "Avouiding work again?"

Methos pretended to look hurt. "You wound me, MacLeod," he said. "Have you ever known me to avoid my responsibilities?"

"I won't even go there," Duncan said. "Want a beer?" And he headed into the house.

"What do you think?" Methos answered and followed MacLeod into the house. "So what have you been doing this morning?" Methos asked noticing paint spatters in Mac's hair. He went into the kitchen and helped himself to a beer from Duncan's frig.

"Just some minor things that needed repaired," Mac answered.

"That sounds like stuff you'd do because you're getting bored," Methos said as he took a seat on a bar stool.

Duncan went into the kitchen, washed his hands and poured himxself some iced tea from a pitcher in the vfrig. "I couldn't possibly be making repairs because they need to be done, huh?" He asked and turned to face Methos and leaned against the sink.

"Of course. How could I have forgotten? The boiy Scout is so responsible," Metyhos sneered.

"What did you call me?" Duncan said pretending to be offended.

Methos held up one hand in surrender as he took a drink from his beer. "Not a thing, Mac," he said after swallowing.

"Didn't think so," Duncan chuckled. Methos thought how good it was to see his friend smile again. "So you just came out here to check up on me?" Duncan asked.

Metho shook his head. "Do you need to be checked up on?" Methos baited him.

"Typical," Duncan sneered. "Answer a question with a question. I think you spent too much time hanging around Jung."

"Boy, you sure are in a grouchy mood," Methos teased. "Who pissed in your Post Toastees?"

A serious exspression came across Dubncan's face. It was obvious to Methos that Duncan had takenm his comment seriously and that told Methos that, even though he had been joking, Mac was in a less than "good" mood and knew it. "Lucky guess," Methos thought to himself. "OK, Mac. What's up?" Methos asked.

Duncan shook his head and walked out on the front porch and sat on the porch swing. "Nothing, really," he said before walking out the door. Methos picked up his beer with a sigh and followed Mac outside.

"Come on MacLeod," Methos said as he perched on the porch railing in front of Duncan.

"Duncan looked at a knot in the wood grain of the porch railing next to Methos. When he spoke his voice was husky.

"It's a dream I had last night," he said. "Actually a nightmare."

"Let me guess," Methos said. "Either you got beheaded or someone you cared about did."

Duncan looked at Methos because he got the feeling that his friend was making a joke about it but the lloik on Methos' face was extremely serious.

"You think you'rte the oinly one who has dr4eam like that?" Methos asked. "Hell we all do."

Duncan shook his head. "Not like this," he said.

"Who got beheaded?" Methos asked.

"I did," Duncan said quietly.

"Let me guess," Mehtos said thoughtfully. "An unknown challenger...or you couldn't see his face."

"It was Caitlin," Duncan stated, his voice almost a whisper. His eyes glistened as tears threatened to come tumbling out.

Methos head jerked up when Dunbcan said her name and he stared at Duncan.

Duncan looked up to see why Methos was so quiet and saw the look on Methos' face.

Methos finally found his voice. "Why?" He asked. "Just out of the blue she wanted your head?" When Duncan didn't answer right away Methos added, "I supopoise you froze or lost your sword or something."

Duncan shook his jhhead and looked down as if studying his feet. "No," he said. "I fought like my life depended on it. I didn't even know it was her until the very end because it was so dark where ever we were. She was just better I guess. It wasn't until just before she took my head that I saw who it was." Duncan paused. "Only it wasn't her. Not the way I...we know her."

"What do you mean?" Methos asked leaning forward.

"She was..." Duncan paused trying to choose his words...trying to figure oiut how to explain it. "Different."

"OK," Methos said. "Define different. Did she look different, sound diffeerent? Or just act different? I mean for Caitlin to want your head...definatelly means she was acting different. Granted...you've pissed her off a few times but never enough for her to want to kill you. Not permanently at least."

"She looked diffeerent...sort of," Duncan attempted to explain. "Her hair was shorter and not as red and her face...I don't knoiiw, Methos. It was her but it wasn't." Mac swallowed against the lump in his throat. "It was as if she didn't know me. She looked at me like I was a stranger to her. An enemy."

Methos leaned back against the porch post and looked up at the trail of an airplane that slashed across the blue sky.

"It was something deep in her eyes," Methos spoke still looking up at the sky. "Wasbn't it?"

Duncan looked at Methos curiously. "Yes. Very deep."

"Did she speak to you?" Methos asked still looking up.

"Just at the end," Duncan answered sadly as he remembered the only words she spoke to him were the words of death.

"Was it her voice?"

Duncan nodded, "It was a little different, but it was her voice."

"If someone like me or Joe heard a recording of it or on the phone," Methos said. "Would we recognize it was her?"

Duncan had to think about the answer to that one. He wondered if, in all honesty, he'd only heard her voice on the phone, would he have recognized it.

Methos realized that Mac couldn't answer the question so he asked another one. "What did she say when she spoke?"

"'There can be onlkky one'," Duincxan said so softly that Methos barely heard him. He did hear, however, Mac's voice break at the end.

Methos thought about Mac's answer. In all the time he had known Caitlin he had only witnessed two of her battles and niether time had she said that just before the final blow. And she had only been recorded as havinbg said it two times in her life, according to the records on file with the Watchers. He remembered asking her about that one time and she had told him that she thought it was an egotistical assumption and, since she was a firm believer in Kharma, didn't think it was necessary. She had told him the the times she had said it...it was because she had hated the person she had battled so much.

"So what makes you so sure it was her?" Methos asked looking at Duncan.

Duncan shrugged and sat back in the swing. "I can't explain it, Methos," he said. "I just know. I'd know Caitlin if she'd had complete plastic surgery done. She's my wife, damn it. I know every inch of her...inside and out. It was my Caitlin." Tears began to run down his face and he lowered his head. "But she didn't know me."

"And she definately was going to successfully take your head? You didn't just wake up and assumed it happened?"

Duncan closed his eyes. "I saw her blade coming straight for me and I was powerless to stop her. She had already disarmed me and I was nearing ujnconsciousness from a fatal wound she'd already given me." Duncan stopped for a couple of minutes. "I woke up as I felt the cold steel against my neck."

Methos shuddered. To put the image out of his mind he thought about the female Immortal he saw at the rodeo trials the day before. As with Duncan he had been unable to pin point what made him think the girl on the horse was Caitlin, but he would have laid money on Duncan and saw him watching him.

"What is it, Methos?" Mac asked carefully watching his friend's face.

"Hmmm? Nothing," Methos shook his head.

"Bull shit, Methos," Duncan said sitting forward in the swing. "I know that look. What is it?"

Methos looked at Duncan and realized he hadn't done a very good job of hiding his thoughts and that only lie he told Mac now would be obvious. But how could he tell him the truth? What if it wasn't Caitlin? Mac would be crushed all over again.

"Methos, talk to me," Duncan said. "What is going through your mind?"

"Really, MacLeod, nothing."

Duncan stood up and grabbed Methos by the lapels of his shirt and shoved him hard against the porch pillar. "You've seen her, haven't you?" Duncan said. The look in his eyes actually scared Methos. Mainly because he couldn't actually tell what he was seeing since it was a combination of anger, hurt, hope, fear and love. Duncan shook Methos. "Tell me, Methos. Have you seen Caitlin?"

Methos looked directly at Duncan and before he could think about how to answer his friend he blurted out, "I don't know, Mac. I don't know."

Duncan let go of Methos and stared at him, dumbfounded. Methos stepped aside and rolled his eyes wishing he hadn't said that.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Duncan asked. He remained standing as he was when he had shaken Methos but his eyes were now closed tightly.

Methos walked over to the chair next to the couch and plopped into it. He took a deep breath and began to explain to Duncan about his encounter with the cowgirl. By the time he finished Mac was sitting on the couch and staring at him intently. He finished saying, "That's why I said I don't know."

"Are you sure she didn't recognize you?" Duncan asked.

"Not a glimmer," Methos answered.

"And you said she looked different?"

Methos nodded. "Not anything I can put my finger on, but, yeah," he answered wishing he had a better answer.

"Then why do you think it was her?" Duncan asked.

"Just something in her eyes," Methos tried to explain. "The way she sat the horse." He shook his head. "I wish I could explain, but I can't. Like I said...I don't know if it was Caitlin or not."

"Would you bet money on this hunch of yours?" Duncan asked.

Methos had to think about that for a few minutes. Then he said, "If I had an extra fifty bucks to throw away? Yeah...I would. But if it was my last fifty and I was out of beer? No...I wouldn't." He saw the look of disappointment on Duncan's face. "Hery...you asked." He walked into the house and headed for the kitchen, discarded his empty beer bottle in the trash can and got another one out of the frig.

Duncan followed Methos into he house and sat on a bar stool at the kitchen bar. He placed his elbows on the counter and entertwined his fingers. He stared at his hands in silence.

As Methos removed the cap on the fresh beer bottle and tossed it in the trash can he glanced around the emaculate kitchen and a thought ran through his head. "Damn. I do miss Caitlin's cooking. Haven't had a home cooked meal in years now." He turned around and looked at Duncan as he took a couple of long swigs of beer.

Duncan was desparately tryiong to get his mind around what Methos had told him. "What if it was Caitlin," he thought to himself. "Whgat kind of terrible thing did she go through to cause her to have complete amnesia?" Then another thought overlapped the first one. "What if someone did this to her?" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Why would someone do this to her? What would be the purpose? What would be their pay off? And who could 'they' be?" He opened his eyes, got up and walked to the front door and stared outside.

"What are you thinking?" Methos asked as he took another drink of beer.

Duncan shoved his hands in his pockets but said nothing.

"Come on Mac. I know you've got to be thinking something," Methos pressed.

Duncan shrugged. "I'm thinking that the T-Bird needs an oil change," he said in a monotone.

"Right. Might as well time it and change the plug thingies, too, while you're atr it," Methos said sarcastically.

Duncan shot Methos a glance and shook his head, a smirk on his face. "Plug thingies?" He chuckled. "You lack of knowledge of automobile engines constantly amazes me."

Methos shrugged. "Never really neede to learn that stuff. That's why God in all His infinite wisdom created mechanics." Methos finished his beer and set the boittle on the bar. He looked at the clock on the mantle and took a couple of steps toward the front door.

Duncan turned to face him. "Going somewhere?" He asked.

"Yeah...before you expect me to get greasy helping you," Methos smirked.

"I'll remember that," Mac grinned and stepped aside.

Methos touched his finger tips to his forehead as if doffing an invisible hat and nodded at Duncan as he stepped pat him and out the door. He had a date with a brown and white Painted pony and its rider and he didn't want to be late.

Duncan watched Methos until his car disappeared from view then he went out the back door, got his tools from the tool shed in the back yard and went out to the T-Bird. He proceeded to do what he was thinking...without thinking.

TO BE CONTINUED