A/N: OK, I'm going to post chapters 11 up now and chapter 12 tomorrow. Just so that the next one I post is the one people have been moaning for. :P Please review - I thrive on the reviews. :)

Chapter 15 is in the process of being finished. :)

Chapter 11

Duncan watched as Duo left the gym, staring after the boy's swinging braid long after the sound level had raised again. Lowering his hand from his head, he frowned, for a moment there he was almost certain he'd felt something. Nothing like the faint buzz he'd got from Richie, Claudia or any other pre-Immortal, but there was something about the child that rang in his mind. Shaking his head to dispell the faint ache, he turned his attention to putting the wooden weapons back in their bags before moving back to the mats to perform a few katas to try relax.

He couldn't believe what he'd just seen. While Duo had been a decent opponent with daggers the day before, when the Deathscythe pilot allowed the darkness within him to flow he was a formidable enemy and he could suddenly understand how the mortal had fought with Methos on an equal footing. If Chang hadn't stopped him when he did, he'd been debating stepping in himself, the bruises and lacerations on both their bodies becoming visible as they danced.

Casting his mind back, he tried to figure out what had set his partner off, groaning as he remembered Dree's little proposal. He wasn't blind, especially after the disaster with Methos he'd started noticing more appreciating looks from men and he was now well aware that he was attractive to certain male sectors of the populace. He'd not missed Duo's little seductive hints either, but he'd not realised quite how interested the man had been. He only hoped that the bout with Chang had released whatever frustration the revelation that he preferred women had caused.

Although he had to admit that the pilot wasn't bad looking for a guy.

Moving to the cycles, the Scot firmly plugged in the earphones and ignored the questioning looks, although he suspected that he'd be getting asked about his partner's performance for a few weeks to come. An hour or so later when the gym had emptied, he made his way to the changing rooms.

"So, what was that about?"

He turned to see Agent Zephyr stepping out the showers and sighed, "Night needed a bit of stress relief." He tried to keep his tone light as he dug in his bag for shower gel.

"That was stress relief? I mean, I heard he was a Gundam pilot in the war, but, that was intense!" The enthusiasm in the man's voice was obvious.

Duncan just shrugged, moving into the showers and turning the water on to drown out the other man. He was aware he was being rude, but he really didn't want to discuss his partner's skills and the reason for the sudden display. He was suddenly glad he'd resisted the urge to let his own anger out on the pilot - if they'd truly fought, he wasn't sure who would have won. Chang was just as good, but Duo had been fighting to hurt, whereas his opponent had, at least at first, been aiming only to spar.

If Methos had challenged him, as Duo's words had implied, for whatever reason, then the Immortal would have been fighting to kill and he had no illusions now that his partner would have met that challenge with equal fury and skill.

Suddenly he felt old. Methos had been the last quiet constant in his life, just knowing the man had been out there, somewhere, knowing that eventually time would bring them together again, had been a support he hadn't realised he'd relied on. The weight of his years pressed down on him in a way that they hadn't for centuries and he didn't know how Methos had coped for almost six millenia, except that for most of those years, change had been slow, careful and steady, not the sudden rush of the last thousand years. The world had changed so quickly, so fast. In under a thousand years man was in space, living where he'd once believed was unreachable, where God Himself lived. It was so different to the times of rock and stone, fire and iron, when travelling to another land took weeks of hard riding and anything you wanted had to be made by hand and patience. Now people flew through the air like birds, walked with the stars, messages shot across the world in seconds and fifteen year old boys who were trained with weapons far more deadly than a simple sword or bow piloted metal giants that would have towered above his mortal home in Glenfinnan. It had been so much simpler in the past.

He rested his head against the cool tiles for a moment, letting the water trickle down his back as he closed his eyes, the rhythm of the water taking him back to another memory.

They were in Scotland, just after the start of the 22nd century, the rain pouring over them in mid spring and Methos glaring at him as they took the footpath up to the stones where the old castle had once stood. "MacLeod, remind me, again, what we're doing here? I could be in Bora Bora at this time of year, drinking cocktails on the beach, surrounded by beautiful women, the sun shining..."

"Methos, you burn if the sun even looks at you the wrong way," he replied, his feet almost finding the route from memory, even with the change of landscape over the last hundred years. "And what's wrong with good Scotch whisky?"

The older man just continued walking, shooting him baleful looks from under the hood of his bright red raincoat. "If the Watchers hadn't been so incredibly short handed there's no way they would have asked me to watch you, oh, and myself, on your little trip home. I could at be curled up in a blanket in a nice warm room, writing my journal, a bottle of, oh, I don't know, Chateau Petrus open on the side..."

"You didn't need to say yes! Just because you know how the Watchers work. And, believe me, I'm meant to be keeping an eye on you too."

"Oh, great, we're both honourary Watchers now? Did you want to visit a tattoo parlour when we get to civilization? Sorry, been there, done that. Not for another 500 years or so."

Duncan smiled to himself as his friend continued grumbling, well aware that the old man had jumped at the chance to escape from the States where the Watchers had been trying to keep tabs on the Famous Immortal Methos, sharing a keeper with Duncan and at least two others. Spending a month in the Highlands away from nosy annoying mortals who he had to spend far too much time hiding from had been too much to pass up.

He'd known for some time that Glenfinnan was falling apart, even with regular sizable donations to the charitable organisation that tried to keep it in one piece, time was catching up on his homeland. Swathes of land were being eaten up by housing, farmland and factories, and there was talk of a nuclear plant a couple of miles away from the loch which almost guaranteed the peaceful land would be overrun by the modern era.

The church still stood where he remembered, the gravestones falling over in the long grass and he brushed the moss from his parent's headstones with a steady hand. At least the family plot would remain protected as consecrated ground as long as the church stood, and he'd put enough money into the refurbishment of it to ensure that was a very long time.

Methos stayed at a distance for a few minutes, allowing him to remember his parents in private before he approached, carefully stepping around the burial plots to kneel next to him, his own long fingers reaching out to brush the carved letters damp with the rain. "So, these were the people who raised you?"

"My parents, yes," Duncan nodded, "Ian and Mary MacLeod."

For a moment, a flash of sadness flickered across the oldest man's face, gone before the Scot could be certain he'd seen it. "I can't remember the people who found me, MacLeod. You're lucky." His hand brushed over the stone once more, before he stood, moving away again to gaze out over the loch, hunching under his coat again.

Picking up the bundle of heather and thistle he'd collected on the way up, the other Immortal laid it gently on his mother's grave. "May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face; the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand." Standing, he joined his friend to look over the water.

They'd enjoyed the rest of the holiday, sparring on the rocky beaches in the morning mist, riding across the moors on horseback in the late afternoon, as Duncan shared his homeland with his friend and they abandoned the modern world for a short time.

When the memory faded, he found himself standing in his office, fully dressed with his hair still damp from the shower, in front of the photos he'd taken on that visit, the last time he'd been to Scotland.

The barge was an oasis of calm that night, and he settled down to reading - and correcting - Petor's novel, losing himself in the ancient history and the past. His dreams however were vivid as the white blonde hair and bright blue eyes of Dree Winner drifted across his thoughts, with flashes of violet interspersing the night time visions.

He'd hardly sat down the next morning and said a brief hello to a subdued Duo when Agent Water stormed through the door, slamming it behind her as she turned to the braided pilot, eyes furious.

"What the hell were you and Wufei playing at last night?" she hissed, leaning over the desk as wide surprised violet eyes looked up in surprise. "Have you any idea what a mess you caused with that little display? And I saw the marks you left on Wufei as well, which, I might add, are causing him no little pain this morning."

"And you think he held back much, Sally?" Duo winced as he lent back in his chair, "He's not exactly unskilled y'know."

"That is beside the point, Maxwell." Her head whipped round to afix blazing blue eyes on his own brown for a moment, "This is confidential information, Cloud, I hope you can keep your mouth shut." Before the other man could reply, her eyes flew back to Duo's, "Have you any idea the hassle Une and I went through to get permission to hire you four pilots? It wasn't only your age that was a problem, a large portion of ESUN felt that you were dangerous and you should be watched and monitored in civilian jobs where you couldn't cause any trouble."

"So, Preventer's babysitting all of us?" the Deathscythe pilot shot back, his own eyes beginning to burn in anger. "Great, just great."

Sally shook her head, her curls flying as she continued to glare at the younger man. "That's not the case, Maxwell. Preventer wanted to hire you for your skills and abilities, and it was not easy to convince the stuffed up politicians that you were mentally stable enough for you to be safe to hire." She grimaced, "I suppose you could see it as Une making sure if you were going to be dangerous, you'd be dangerous in a useful manner, but I know for a fact that she honestly appreciates each of you for yourselves, not what you were."

Duo growled, collapsing back in his chair, "And what does this have to do with last night?"

"Losing your temper like that will not help the perception that you're sane members of society," Sally sighed, the anger fading out of her as she lent on the desk. "I'm aware and Une's aware that all of you pilots are more than what you seem, but we'd prefer for that not to be public knowledge, even within Preventer." She held a hand up, forestalling the next outburst, "I'm not saying you're mad, Duo, I'm just saying that most people won't understand you, or the others, even Wufei has a darkness within him that most people wouldn't understand. Now can you at least tell me what possessed you to beat the man until half his body was covered in bruises?"

The usually calm doctor blushed slightly and Duncan blinked as the realisation hit him. Well, well, it seemed that Dr Po quite liked the Chinese pilot as well. Not that he was surprised - from what he'd heard Water had approached Dragon about joining the organisation in the first place, and the Doctor was a very attractive young lady if you swung that way.

Duo on the other hand had turned to look out the window, a faint blush also tinging his cheeks as he obviously tried to come up with a response. "Well, um, you see..."

Feeling sorry for his partner, Mac coughed, "I don't thinking it'll be happening again, Water." He almost regretted his words as the woman twisted to look at him in puzzlement, but the unbridled thanks in the violet eyes behind her stopped him changing his mind. "I know what happened, and I assure you, he won't be losing his temper over that issue again."

He watched as she pursed her lips, glancing between the two of them as she wondered what was going on, before shrugging and taking her weight of the desk. "I'd prefer it if he didn't lose his temper over anything ever again. Une's not going to be happy when she finds out about this." For a moment, she looked as if she was going to say something else, but instead reached into her jacket and pulled out a sheaf of paper, handing them to the American. "Here, you're on medical leave until you leave for Paris tomorrow."

"But Sally..."

Before Duo could finish, or he could add anything, he found a similar sheaf of papers in his hands, "You too, Duncan. While I can't come up with something like Duo's condition for you, I think it's in everyone's interests if you disappear for the day and let this die down, hmmm?"

Glancing over the paperwork, he raised an eyebrow. Migraine. He'd have to look up the symptoms again - it had been centuries since he'd had to worry about headaches, but he suspected the reaction from sensing another Immortal would be close enough to mimic the effects if needed.

"Fine," he nodded beginning to gather his belonging again, "If you need me, I'll be on the barge."

"Aw, man, I have a driving test this afternoon, Sally, can't I at least go to that?" Duo's familiar whine made him pause and smile.

"Given that it'd be helpful if you can drive in Paris, I'll let you go - the aches from last night should be punishment enough. But if you could try and keep your head low for the rest of today?" Sally waved as she pushed past him as she opened the door to leave. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and ensure another certain stubborn ex-pilot isn't aggravating his own injuries."

Duncan waited for a moment before turning to his already irritated partner, pushing the door closed again and squaring his shoulders as he let out a deep breath. "Look, I think I need to clear something up, Duo. I'm flattered by your interest, but I'm not interested in men that way."

"Hey, don't worry 'bout it, Mac," the other man's voice was light, his eyes bright and clear, "You're an attractive guy and I got the wrong idea. No hard feelings, right?"

You're an attractive man... Methos's words echoed in his mind and he blinked to dispel the memory. "So I've been told, but that doesn't mean I go that way. Sorry." He forced a smile as he slipped his coat on, deciding to change the subject to something a bit more comfortable. "Anyway, how are you planning to avoid the curious hordes for the rest of the day?"

He could tell the Deathsycthe pilot was well aware that he'd changed the subject, the boy giving him a look that left him in no doubt of that, but to his relief he dropped it, "If I recall, there's a library on the 11th floor, right?" When Duncan nodded, the violet eyes brightened, "In which case, I'll go and hide there for a couple of hours. Might as well double check I've got the damn laws right 'fore I go for the test."

"Good luck with it," he nodded at his partner as he turned to leave, "If you need to contact me, I'll be picking up my work emails - or I'm sure you can find my phone number and address."

"Yeah, sure. I'll head up in a while, when the morning crowds have disappeared somewhat."

Duo's grin stayed in his mind as he made his way down the stairs.

The pilot managed to keep the cheerful expression on his face until the door shut before letting himself collapse bonelessly onto the desk. He'd expected that little discussion with Mac, but that didn't mean he had to like it one bit. Now Sally's revelations were harder to take - he wondered if Heero, Trowa and 'Fei were aware that there was more to their employ than the simple need for their skills. Suddenly he felt stupid - of course Yuy would've figured it out, Barton wasn't an idiot and if Po was as sweet on the Chinese as he thought, then it was unlikely she'd have kept his own position from him. And once again he came up last in the figuring it out stakes. Joy.

He waited, sipping the remains of his early morning coffee and forcing himself to push away his anger at Sally until the hubbub of the rest of the staff moving along the corridors had died down. Occasionally there was a knock that he ignored along with the incessant phonecalls, waiting for his colleagues to disappear with their questions unanswered. Eventually he couldn't hear anything outside, and he threw his jacket on, shutting his untouched computer down before slipping out of the door, allowing his stealth training to come to the fore.

Since when do I have to creep around my own damn work building? He dismissed the thought as he made his way to the mostly unused stairs, slowly ascending them as he listened out for the slightest echo that would signal someone else in the area. This is ridiculous.

He managed to reach the library without coming across more than a couple of people who he greeted with his usual cheerfulness once they'd waved at him without asking any pesky little queries. Apparently his screw up hadn't managed to reach the whole of the building quite yet.

The librarian at the desk looked up as he entered, and the American grinned with relief at her professionally calm expression, yep, not everyone knew yet. "Hey, if anyone asks where I am, I'm not here, OK?"

"And you are?"

And that was almost insulting. "Duo Maxwell, Agent Night." He gave her a wink, which promptly had no effect on the much older woman. "Now if you could tell me where I could find any books on driving laws, it'd be appreciated."

"Aisle C, shelves... 3 and 4. Assuming you want European law. If you want American or Asian laws, shelf 2, and..." she tailed off as the younger man grinned at her in thanks, his braid spinning around him as he dashed into the stacks.

Several hours later and Duo was starting to get fed up with trying to memorise what the different signs meant - why the hell would anyone create a sign warning about elderly people that looked like the old lady had her hand up her companion's arse anyway? At least he'd probably be able to remember that one. Closing the books with a thud, he pushed them away, booting up the terminal on the desk instead, hoping that Q would have answered the email he'd shot off in frustration last night.

Deleting the tens of emails from other agents, some impressed, some wary, all curious about his actions of the nigh before, he scanned down the list until he saw an email from the Arabian pilot, opening it eagerly. Dree is my 10th oldest sister... Always been very interested in men... Hasn't mentioned Duncan before so must be a new conquest... Aware that you like him... Sorry, can't suggest anything... The email continued with general chatter, with the occasional shy mention of Trowa which he could just imagine the blond blushing as he wrote.

Saving the email, he pulled up the personnel database, easily bypassing the security. "All's fair in war and love," he muttered, allowing himself a grin as he quickly typed in the search terms. "Hmmm... there we go... Dree Winner... Typical Heero..." Closing the box that had appeared on the screen, he ignored the 'Maxwell, stay out.' alert, and worked his way through the extra security. Perusing the file quickly before Yuy noticed the file had been accessed, no doubt his friend had put a tag on it, he briefly wondered if the Wing pilot had put similar notes on the pilots files. Shrugging, he finished scanning the file, making a few mental notes on the woman's background before logging out of the system, carefully rerouting his exit through several other servers to at least attempt to hide his passage.

Then it was into the twisted webs of the internet to do more research on Dree, purely under the excuse of know thine enemy of course. He was deep into the history of the Winner family when he glanced over at the time. Shit. A whole ten minutes until he was due at the garage.

"Thanks!" The librarian's glare was ignored as the Deathscythe pilot darted out of the room, letting the doors bang behind him.

He made it to the garage with moments to spare, having had to duck out of the way down several corridors when he'd seen people who he recognised and most definitely would ask annoying questions. Sally had been right though, damn her, the bruises were starting to ache. I've gotten soft. I broke bones when 'Scythe got hit in the war, I had no problem with crawling through those fecking tiny aircon vents which squashed me to pieces and now I'm practically paralysed from a little fight with 'Fei. Dammit.

Introducing himself to the guy on duty, he was shown to a small room with the explanation that Une had briefed them on the Gundam pilot's special circumstances and he had to undergo a theory test before they'd let him loose on the city's roads. Great. Couldn't they just let him out on the streets? Obviously not.

His memory didn't fail him though, and the computer analysed his results as an easy 94% pass, and printed out the answers to the parts he'd been wrong on, just in case, he supposed, he really wanted to memorise the corrections. Instead, he spent the next five minutes gazing around the Preventer garage, taking in the multitude of cars with a quiet sense of glee. The thrill of the speed and power from a car or lorry was a pale shadow of that of a Gundam or even a space shuttle, but it was probably the closest he'd get to the rush outside of missions.

When he was introduced to his examiner, instead of one of the glossy black sedans the man led him to a tiny blue compact car that he estimated had as much power as 'Scythe's little finger. Probably less. Climbing in, he was relieved to see the same extremely simple controls as the scrap yard's machines, with a few odd extras that he recognised from lorries. The other man took the passenger seat and they were away.

An hour later and they arrived back in the garage with Duo's eyes sparkling and the examiner looking somewhat bewildered at his tablet. Technically, the boy had performed every maneuver perfectly, with the deft and delicate touch that would be essential in a large shuttle or mobile suit, but he'd still managed to do it with a controlled style and speed that he was sure was pushing the boundaries of legal - three point turns should not be done at 40 miles per hour, even if it was an empty road and no wheels had even gone near the kerb.

"I passed?" Duo's grin almost split his face as he was handed the tablet to sign his name before the certificate was printed. "Great! So, does that mean I can take one of these babies for a spin now?" He gestured to the more powerful cars to a faint groan from the instructor.

"Well, we'll have to put the paperwork through, and there's a little matter of insurance," the man prevaricated, wincing at the idea of the pilot being let loose in his sparkling unscratched machines. "Preventer will cover the insurance on work cars for work purposes, however you'll have to arrange your own cover for your own vehicle, and I warn you, it won't be cheap for a seventeen year old with the history you have."

Duo nodded, pouting slightly as he lent over the desk. "So, how long will it take to get everything through? I mean, I'm off on a mission in a couple of days and it'd be useful to be able to drive myself around. And where's best to go get some wheels of my own anyway? Preventer sorts out hotels and stuff for people fresh in from the colonies, so don't tell me that you don't have a little arrangement with a car seller."

The examiner shrugged, glancing at the glossy black cars again, relief faint in his blue-grey eyes, "Well, you could try East Street Automobiles, they're who we usually recommend to new people in Brussels."

The pilot waited impatiently for the few last bits of paperwork that he would need to prove that Preventer Night, also known as Duo Maxwell, was a qualified driver with a full military license and legally allowed out on the roads in something more powerful than a pedal car, although space shuttles weren't on the permitted list much to his disappointment. He half listened to the droned explanation that he'd need to get contact the Driving License Agency who would require an official Preventer photograph and the physical license would be sent to him within a few days, however it would be registered with the DLA within a few hours, before grabbing the presented folder and thanking the man as he almost bounced out the office.

Once he'd ordered yet another accursed cab, glaring at the receptionist before she had the chance to ask more than where he was going, he allowed himself to relax into a chair in a corner at the far end of the reception area, as the aches of his bruises really started to get on his nerves. Much to his relief the taxi didn't take long to appear and the few people who headed through the foyer didn't glance over at the small figure hunched behind a magazine. Collapsing onto the faux leather seats, he allowed himself to be whisked off back to the flat, and research on cars, insurance and the latest bruise soothing technology.

Duncan, on the other hand, was not having a good day. Almost as soon as he'd left the car park he'd felt the buzz of another Immortal, and he'd spent several hours chasing, and being chased by, a pair of headhunters around Brussels. If it had been only one there would have been no problem, but he was not about to lose his head when he was still out of it from a Quickening. Much to his annoyance, the pair seemed to be relatively good at tracking and he eventually went and sat in the old St. Michael and Gudula Cathedral, losing himself in the tourists in the hope that they'd give up for the day.

Making his way to a pew, he bowed his head towards the altar where preparations were being made for an afternoon mass. He knew he couldn't call himself Catholic, whether taking a head was for survival or not murder was murder and he was certain he'd committed many other mortal sins over the years. Not that that little fact had stopped Darius being a priest, but it didn't feel right to him. He still had faith that there was a God out there though, and the effects of taking a head on holy ground should be proof enough for any doubting Immortal in his opinion - although the fact that any ground which was holy was safe for their kind gave rise to more questions than it answered.

There was a flash on Duncan's senses and he glanced towards the entrance to see a tall dark haired man scowling towards him. The man stared at him for a long moment, handing something to a guide and gesturing towards him before turning and stalking out of the Cathedral, roughly pushing tourists out the way as he went.

The guide looked puzzled for a moment, before weaving through the crowd towards the Scot, holding out a folded piece of paper with a elegant golden wax seal, embossed with scales and an elaborate letter K. "A man asked me to give you this, sir?"

Studying the seal for a moment, he took it carefully, before glancing up at the other man. "Ah, yes, thank you." The guide hovered for a moment, obviously curious, but his duties pulled him away when an old woman approached him.

Ignoring the ensuring conversation, Duncan ran his fingers carefully over the seal, before prying the wax up with a fingernail. Unfolding the thick parchment, obviously real paper much to his surprise, he scanned the contents, feeling a frown begin to form. The handwriting was feminine, written in elegant black calligraphy, the signature a complex letter K that mirrored the one on the seal. But neither of the Immortals who'd been chasing him had been female, so did that mean they'd been sent to deliver the paper? Granted, he hadn't exactly waited to see what they wanted, but surely they could have just put it through the letterbox on the barge? Then there was the invitation itself, a very short missive that invited him by name to attend a very private and very exclusive club that he'd never even heard of, deep in the heart of the Brussels aristocratic neighbourhood. He glanced at the date on the invitation and sighed, not that his curiosity mattered anyway - he'd need to be in Paris at the time of the next meeting, and that was assuming he'd even want to walk into what could blatantly be a trap.

With a shrug, he folded up the paper neatly, tucking it into his pocket as the choir began to sing, their voices arching up towards the roof.

He stayed for Mass, the Latin flowing through his brain soothingly, washing away the thoughts about the odd letter. He forewent taking holy communion, preferring to just sit and listen to the ancient words. Although not as old as Methos... He shut the whisper out of his mind as the service came to an end.