AN: I'm now looking for a new beta - any offers? :) Thank you to Holly who has had to step back from beta duties - you were great. :)

To my reviewers: Thank you so much. The two long detailed reviews from Aurora Musis Amica and Sakiku were extremely helpful and encouraging, and everyone else's reviews were also much, much loved. I was starting to doubt people wanted me to continue writing this. :)

A few notes: Eventually this should be Duo x Duncan x Methos. However I refuse to have Duncan just become bi because I want him to. There are historical precedents for 'shield mates' so I can see Duncan having had a few 'keeping warm' episodes in past wars... Therefore it'll be a slow and hopefully realistic process for him to realise that he can love men too... Sorry about Amanda - with the above hopefully pairing (it'll at least be Methos/Duo) I can't really do it with the only female Immortal Duncan's ever loved (well, there's Kate/Faith, but...) around...

I'm hoping this chapter clears up precisely what Duo is. :) Any questions on that, please let me know. :) I'm not 100% sure on the flow of this chapter either - so any constructive criticism is welcome.

Chapter 15

Duo managed to get to his new hotel without crashing, although it was a close run thing along the narrow streets when the dazed shock that had descended as he made his way to the car hadn't quite lifted enough for his brain to work.

The new hotel was far superior to the first, and he somehow asked for his dinner to be brought up to his room and made it to said room before falling backwards on the comfortable non-lumpy mattress to stare at the ceiling. It was a very nice ceiling. It was painted white, with an old fashioned ceiling rose in the center where the light bulb hung from. With an equally nice dark red lampshade that turned the ceiling above it a faint shade of pink. He was trying to figure out exactly what shade of pink it was, and had settled on blush when his mind finally stopped distracting itself and dumped the whole bloody issue in front of him.

In a distant part of his mind, he was aware he was freaking out, but there was definitely not a manual on discovering this kind of thing. He was actually rather proud he'd made it to the privacy of his room before having the mental breakdown.

Duncan, Mac, his partner, was immortal. Couldn't die. Would live forever. He hadn't killed Adam Pierson either because he was also immortal. Couldn't die. Would live forever. To top it all off, he would apparently become immortal, wouldn't die, etcetera, when he died. Not that that was an oxymoron. Great. Not that he was precisely complaining about that bit, living forever seemed a cool idea to him. It was more the fact that it was even possible. That the whole thing was real. Duncan had been dead in front of him, really dead, dead - he'd checked. And then, less than half an hour later had been standing in front of him, walking and talking like nothing had happened... Nope, still didn't seem possible.

Right. Logic. Logic usually worked. Damn. He was turning into Heero.

Mac had died. Mac was then alive. Therefore the fact that the man couldn't die was an established fact, as much as it pained him to admit it. He'd also been right about killing Pierson, temporarily at least. Who also was alive. So, again, Adam Pierson couldn't die. Assuming that that the impossible was true, then it was highly likely the rest of it was true. That Duncan MacLeod was over a thousand fricking years old. That Pierson, Adam, was even older. That, bloody hell, he wouldn't die either!

The whole cutting-heads-off-with-swords thing, however, seemed a bit icky though.

So. Immortality existed. Damn. You learnt something new every day. Although, did you still learn new stuff after a thousand years? For a moment, he allowed his mind to wander over that question, well aware that it was a distraction technique, before his battle-trained brain decided to return to the issue at hand. God, he hated when it did that.

What the hell was he going to do now? He had a sneaking feeling that there was more to the immortality lark than the two of them had let on. The fact that they'd both carried swords and that stuff about challenges for one. It also really buggered up the whole idea of turning Pierson in. If it was such a big secret, he didn't think that a lifetime of not ageing in prison was something that either of the two older men would let happen.

But even though he'd only known Duncan for a short time, he knew the man believed in the ideals of Preventer, and wouldn't allow the other man, friend or not, to damage the still fragile peace between the colonies and Earth.

So, he was screwed then, wasn't he? And not in the way he wanted to be. Shit.

The knock at the door startled him, and he rolled off the bed, his sharp reflexes allowing him to land cat-like on the floor before scrambling up. Opening the door, he plastered a bright smile on his face and accepted the tray from the waiting member of the hotel staff with a nod and a small tip. He didn't feel like eating, but old habits died hard, and he managed to choke down the delicious chicken in white wine sauce and chocolate tart without even really tasting it.

As his stomach filled up, he felt his tiredness start to overtake him, the stress of the day finally catching up with him and overwhelming the thousands of questions that still swirled in his mind. Placing the tray outside by the door, he grabbed the do not disturb sign off the back of the door and slung it over the door handle before stripping off and collapsing into the bed.

Duo was therefore most annoyed when there was a loud knocking at the door what seemed like only minutes later, but according to the clock was 8am in the morning. Fuck. He was late. For a moment he wondered what had happened to his wake-up call, before scrambling for a hotel robe and quickly tying it as he reached the door, unlocking it to look up into the cheerful brown eyes of his partner.

"Duncan?" He was aware that he didn't sound that intelligent, but, hey, he could be ready for combat as soon as he woke up, but speech was another matter.

"Good morning, Duo." The Scot's voice was almost bouncy and he winced. Obviously his partner was one of those evil morning people. "I've called us in as 'busy' this morning – I thought it'd be useful for us to have a talk about what happened yesterday." He paused for a moment, obviously watching the pilot for any sign that he was having a bad reaction to the revelations of the day before. "There's a few things that you need to know."

Stepping back, he gestured into his room, "You're welcome to come in, there's not much room, but..."

"Actually," came another dry voice, "I've booked us another room that will fit all us in." He looked back to see Adam, hair hidden under a cap and the glasses removed, moving round from behind the wall, a hotel card waving in one hand.

He turned accusing eyes onto Duncan. "What's he doing here?"

"Just come up to room..."

"702."

"And I'll..."

"We'll."

His friend shot a glare at Adam, "We'll explain what you need to know."

He raised an eyebrow, "How complicated can it be?" But then he shrugged, gesturing to his state of undress and suddenly feeling the hairs that always came loose from his braid while he was sleeping tickling the back of his neck. "Fine, can you give me, oh, half an hour to get ready?" He resisted the urge to loosen his robe slightly to try and tease the Scot, the presence of the other man there making it a lot easier.

"Sure. Can you meet us up there?" Duncan smiled, even as he ran a hand nervously through his hair. "I'll get some breakfast organised."

He nodded, waiting for them to turn and leave, Adam pulling the door shut after his partner. Then he made his way into the bathroom and the soothing patter of the shower over his frazzled hair.

Duo made it through his shower in record time, leaving his hair loose to dry as he dug through his suitcase for the few casual clothes he'd chucked in. In the end he opted for a light blue t-shirt that hugged his body, and faded jeans that he was well aware wrapped his legs and arse in all the right ways. If he didn't have to work today, he'd damn well enjoy it. Running a brush through his still damp hair, he braided it up quickly, practice meaning that it took only moments before he could secure it with a band. Then it was on with a pair of trainers and out of the room.

As he made his way up to the seventh floor, he realised that it was the floor with the more expensive suites and he wondered how the hell Adam had afforded one on a student salary. Except if he was really over a thousand, then he'd probably have accounts squirrelled away all over the world. Damn.

Knocking on the door of room 702, he was glad when Duncan opened it with a slice of toast in his hand and his mouth full, waving him inside. Moving into the suite, he saw Adam, his hair once again loose around his face, lounging on a sofa in front of a coffee table piled with everything from bacon to cereal, several kinds of juice and some pots of what he suspected were coffee and tea.

The brown haired man's lips twisted in a faint smile and he waved a fork with a half eaten sausage on it in his direction. "Tuck in."

"What the fuck is he doing here, Mac?" He knew his low voice was dangerous, but he couldn't help it. Even if the two men were friends, that didn't mean that he wanted to be friends with the man he'd once killed. And while he accepted that he needed filling in a little on the ins and out of the world he'd been thrown into, he didn't particularly want Pierson involved.

Duncan's lips tightened as he looked between the pilot and Adam before he spoke. "Adam's here to help. I know there are... issues... between Preventer and Adam, but that's a separate problem. And I'll deal with it." The Scot ignored the snort from behind the other Immortal's coffee cup before continuing, "Look, just eat breakfast and we'll deal with that later."

The braided man growled, and reached for a slice of toast. "And how, may I ask, are you going to do that?"

Pierson sighed, rolling his eyes up to the heavens. "Given the circumstances, I may have to put some of my work on hold for a short while." He popped a tomato in his mouth as he spoke and shrugged. "I hate it when he asks for favours from me. It usually ends up with my head almost being removed by a jealous wife or something."

Duo frowned. While he could accept that mortal methods of long-term incarceration would be awkward for an Immortal to deal with, it didn't sit well with him that Mac was willing to just, well, brush it under the bloody carpet. There wasn't, however, much he could do about it at this moment.

They ate in silence for a while, except for the pilot's occasional comment about Duncan's coffee drinking habit and Adam's matching murmur about how he'd let himself go over the years. When the food was nothing more than a memory and a few breadcrumbs and spots of congealing fat, the Scot cleared the table off to a sideboard before sitting down again on the armchair and glancing at his friend.

"Do you want to start, or shall I?"

The man's accent was as deep as Duo had ever heard it, and he decided to just jump right in. It normally worked, right? "So, where are your swords?" He suddenly found himself caught under two piercing gazes, one brown, one more green, and met them firmly with his own violet, tilting his head on one side curiously.

"I believe mine in currently residing in your house, Maxwell. But, if you're really interested, both of them are in our coats by the door. Unless another Immortal comes by, we are not resorting to swords today."

This time he clearly heard the capital 'I' in Immortal, obviously it was a title as well as a state of being. Then it registered that there were possibly more Immortals around. "Er, so how many of you are there?"

The two other men exchanged glances again before Duncan spoke, "None of us know. There's always first deaths of people who will become Immortal, and final deaths of others."

Duo nodded slowly, "So, what... qualifies... someone to become Immortal?"

"Again, no one knows. All we know is that all Immortals are foundlings. There doesn't seem to be any particular quality other than that that links us. I've met Immortals who were brought up as slaves and ones who ruled nations. I've met those of us who are good and those who are bad."

"But, why me?" He heard his voice come out in a whisper, "Why not Father Maxwell? Or Sister Helen? Or any of the orphans in the church? Or anyone I killed in the war? What the fuck means I get the chance to live forever and they don't? What gives me the right to it?" His voice was rising as he finished.

Mac sighed, and the braided man could see the sadness in his eyes. "We can't choose what we're born as, Duo. I've lost many people over the years, mortals I've loved have aged in front of me and I could do nothing about it. I wish I could say you get used to it, but I never have. At least you get the opportunity to live your life and, if you choose, to die at your natural end. Only a violent death will bring out your Immortality."

He nodded again, taking the words in even as he closed his eyes to push back his own sadness. Dammit. He didn't deserve to even have the bloody option to live for thousands of years, millenia, when good people like Sister Helen were consigned to the grave in an early death. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It wasn't...

"Duo, look at me." The Scot's words were firm, interrupting his thoughts, and he forced his eyes open again to look into Duncan's brown. "This is not a gift, and it's not a curse. You can't choose it any more than you can choose your eye colour or your finger prints. It just is. And it may not happen to you at all."

"Unless someone kills me without chopping my head off. Great. And why the hell do you do that stuff anyway?"

"It's all part of the Game." Adam added, ignoring the Scot's glare at his words, "In the end, there can be only one."

Duo blinked, the almost formal words distracting him from his anger. "What's the game?"

"Game." the man replied, and this time the capital letter was clear. "It's what we live by, what we die by. And you need to learn the rules."

"But... I'm not..."

"Yet."

His partner lent forward again then, "Duo, I said yesterday there was a reason that Adam could sense you. There's a chance that there's others that can too. There's a chance others will come after you."

The pilot shrugged, "They haven't yet."

"Well, you've been on Earth for, what, less than a month?" Duncan asked, "If I'm, we're, right, it'll take a very specific type of Immortal to sense you, and it's unlikely you'll run across one very often."

"And why's that? And what's Earth got to do with it?"

Pierson sighed, "Why is irrelevant, and there's a truce on the Colonies due to a rather nasty incident with a Quickening taking out the whole life support system of one. If it hadn't been for the back-up system, there would have been millions of mortal lives lost."

He frowned, "L2 C-34129? That was something to do with Immortals? And what's a fricking Quickening?"

The Scot poured himself another coffee before answering. "Maybe we should start at the beginning. All Immortals, whether they like it or not, are in the Game."

"Why?"

"No one knows. All we know are the rules."

Duo snorted, he couldn't help himself. "Well, that sounds like a bloody stupid game to play. Can't you just opt out? What do you win anyway?" He expected his friend to answer and was surprised when his two companions exchanged looks again, before Duncan deferred to the other man, other Immortal, with a slight tilt of his head.

"The Prize. And before you ask, no we have no idea what that is either. And as long as even one person is in the Game, then every Immortal is. Opting out has been tried before, it doesn't work." Adam shrugged, a simple elegant lifting of slender shoulders.

"Right... That makes so much sense." He knew he was being just as dry as the older man. "So, you're stuck playing a Game for a Prize no one knows for eternity?"

"Not eternity. One of the rules is that there can be only one."

"You said that before. One what? One Immortal left? But, you and Mac are friends, right?"

The man's hair fell over his face as he nodded, and the pilot couldn't help notice the slender fingers that brushed the brown strands away with irritation. "MacLeod seems to think he can avoid the Game. He has a bad habit of making friends with other Immortals."

"And you, Adam, are one of the worst. Habits that is."

"Thank you for that, MacLeod. As I was saying, that's only one of the rules. The others are that we can't fight on holy ground, and all fights must be one on one." He smiled, almost a cold hunter's twist of his lips, that didn't suit the lecturing tone of voice. "And that is what will work to your advantage."

His mind was racing, even as he realised that he'd accepted this, this weird impossibility as fact. He felt his tactical instincts kick into gear and matched the smile as he thought through the Immortal's words. "But if I'm not an Immortal, don't those rules not apply to me."

He caught the amused look in the hazel eyes before they closed off again. "You know, I think I could get to like you, whelp. You're right, you can cheat in ways that we can't. MacLeod's got this bright idea that I can teach you those ways."

Wait, what the hell? Mac wanted Pierson to teach him? What the fuck? "Um..." was all that he could get out before Adam stood, calmly swinging long legs off the couch and walking over to the window, looking out on the city below.

"Adam..." The Scot sighed, watching his friend's retreating back before turning back to a scowling Duo. "Yes, I want him to teach you. You're going to need a teacher eventually and Adam's one of the best you can have."

"Are you nuts? Him? Why not you?"

Duncan looked away for a moment before looking back, "Adam's got some skills that I don't. I saw the way that you fought with those daggers - you can't take a head with daggers. I've learnt many sword skills over the years, but dual short swords would be the best for you, and that's not a style I've learnt. Adam has."

"Uh huh." He wasn't buying it. There was more going on here than either man was telling him. "And?"

Adam turned then, his body relaxing into the deadly snake-like grace that he'd seen a year ago in that base, and then yesterday in that abandoned house. His eyes had darkened with a shadow that he'd only seen when he looked in the mirror when he let Shinigami out and they suddenly showed the lifetimes the man had lived. "And MacLeod is far too noble and a fair fighter to teach someone to cheat, even when it's not cheating. I, however, am not." He stalked forward, his eyes fixed on Duo's violet. "He asked me to teach you, and I will."

Duo growled, his hackles rising even though the man's words made a cold logical sense to him. "Don't I get a say in the matter?" He hated being told what he could and couldn't do.

"Not if you want to survive. The Game is not fun, it's deadly. I'm probably your best chance to survive long enough to get to your first death." The man paced round in front of the pilot, heading over to the side table and pulling out a wide flat case that looked as if it was covered by real dark red leather. "You're skilled with daggers, I'll give you that. You managed to kill me." He smiled coolly, "But you can't take heads like that. And if you get challenged, with a buzz like that, you won't convince anyone that you're not Immortal."

He laid the case on the table, Duncan moving the tea and coffee pots off before they got knocked off. Flicking open the catches, the Immortal pushed the lid back to reveal two slender sheathed short swords. Duo couldn't take his eyes off them as Adam lifted one of them out carefully. The hilts were black leather wrapped round with silver wire in a vaguely oriental traditional style, and as the sword was pulled from the matt black casing it revealed a blade made of dark steel that seemed to ripple and dance in the light.

When the sword was held out hilt first to him, he blinked up at the man for a moment before taking it. It was definitely heavier than his daggers and he stepped away from the table to make a few passes in the air, wincing inwardly when he felt clumsy and awkward with the weapon. Dammit. He felt rather than saw someone move behind him, the height and feel of the person alerting him that it was Pierson who carefully adjusted his grip, changing his stance slightly with a few clinical touches. "These swords were made in 1285AD, they are made of Damascus steel and are balanced perfectly for dual wielding." He stepped back, watching the pilot with a critical eye. "I had them shipped from one of my vaults over night. They suit you."

Duo almost dropped the weapon as he heard the age, but his training just about prevented him from spearing his foot. "You're serious. About training me." It wasn't a question. He moved back to the table and carefully placed the sword back into its scabbard before slipping it back into the case.

The relaxed mask slipped back over Adam's body, and he closed the box, pushing it towards the braided man who gingerly took it and placed it on the floor. "Deadly."

Duncan coughed then, bringing his companions' gazes back to him. "Adam will be coming back to Brussels with us when we leave. I'm still figuring out what we'll tell Nula."

"So, we're just bringing this terrorist, who openly admits that he wants to start a war, back to Preventer headquarters? Doesn't that seem a little counter productive?" He knew that he was slipping into sarcasm again, but, hey, it wasn't like Mac appeared to be thinking clearly.

"Actually, you're taking Adam Unas, an antiques dealer who is in Brussels to look for some new purchases. Keturi will be going to Egypt this afternoon to do some research and I'll then be flying to Brussels in a few days once the student has got lost in the crowds." Adam replied calmly. He caught Duncan's look and grinned, "MacLeod, you're not the only one that can have the same name for more than one identity. Did you really want me to confuse Maxwell with yet another name?" He raked his hand through his hair, looking at the long strands in his fingers. "I'll also be getting my hair cut while I'm gone. Back to short hair for me. I might pick up some contact lenses though. What do you think of blue? Or maybe grey?"

"You could get recognised. If a Watcher suspects you're Immortal..."

"Watcher?" Duo interrupted, sensing that there was yet more that the two Immortals hadn't told him. Great. "Didn't I mention I don't like not knowing stuff?"

The two men in question gave each other another one of those annoyingly inscrutable looks before Mac waved at Adam. "You're now his teacher. You get to explain."

"Thank you so much, MacLeod," the man muttered before looking back at his new student. "Watchers watch Immortals. They're mortals with this silly idea about observing, recording and not interfering. I've managed to avoid having one up for several years, and I have no intention of picking one up now."

"What's wrong with them?"

"Apart from the fact they're nosy, get into everything, and I don't like people knowing my business?" Pierson shot back with a glare, "MacLeod, didn't you say yours was in Preventer?"

Mac nodded, "You won't know him, Duo. His name is Des Storman, he works in the training department. If you meet him, check his wrist - all Watchers have a tattoo on their wrist that identify themselves to each other. Not that it can't be forged at all," he added dryly, sharing another glance with Adam.

"Which looks like?" Duo felt like he was pulling teeth. He got that Immortals were secretive. He even vaguely understood why - the idea of science getting hold of the guys was scary . But it seemed like every little bit of information had to be drawn from the Immortals slowly and painfully.

Adam shrugged, standing to grab a hotel branded pen and pad from by the table, sketching a few lines on the paper before turning it to show him. The upside down stylised 'W' within two circles containing thirteen dots was unfamiliar to him, but he stored the image in his memory, making a mental note to keep an eye on this Des Storman. "Any time you see that, it's something to do with the Watchers." He placed the pad on the table in front of him. "I'd recommend staying away from them. If Des realises you're training to take heads, you'll end up with a Watcher of your own before you need one. I've only known one Watcher who was worth knowing, and he died a long time ago." He raised his cup, nodding at Duncan as he did so. "I've never met one like him since."

"Oh, I've known one or two." Mac nodded back with a smile. "Now, have you got any more questions before we start figuring out how we're going to explain this to Nula?"

The pilot started to shake his head before pausing. "You still haven't told me what a damn Quickening is."

His new teacher relaxed back against the couch, "Do you remember how I asked you about any freak lightning storms? That's a Quickening. When an Immortal takes another's head, all their power, all that they are and have been is released in a violent storm which manifests as lightning before being absorbed into the winner. It generally knocks out all the cameras in the area as a bonus."

"Now that just sounds freaky. Absorbing lightning? How the hell does that work? Don't tell me... No one knows?" Immortals he could just about cope with, living forever was a surreal idea but, hey, living proof in front of him. But absorbing someone's power, soul, whatever, just seemed beyond weird. There could possibly be a scientific reason, yeah right, for Immortality, but the whole Quickening thing just sounded out of the pages of a fantasy novel.

Adam lent his head back, letting a breath out before answering, his tone once again reminding the pilot of a lecturer rather than a student. "You're right, we don't know why. We're not even sure what a Quickening is. From evidence they are the experience of the Immortal, as once you take one you gain ability, skills, knowledge. It's not always clear what you gain, but there's always something. You can also gain their passion, and in very rare cases," and there was yet another look over at Mac, "their darkness."

"Or their light," the other man replied. "Remember Darius."

"Of course."

Sensing that the pair were once again talking about a past that was so far back that it pretty much counted as ancient history, Duo coughed, "Right... That one's going to take some getting used to."

"It won't matter to you yet," Duncan moved to reassure him, "If an Immortal looses their head somehow with no other Immortal near by then their Quickening just disperses into the air, no light show or anything. Mortals don't get them. It will, however, mean that you won't have the security of the cameras being blown out."

He knew his face was relieved, and decided to change the subject again. "So, the oldest Immortal must be one hell of a powerful guy."

Adam smiled coolly, "Only if he's taken many heads. Just because someone is old, doesn't mean they're strong."

That made sense and he nodded, deciding that he'd had plenty of revelations for the day. "What do we do now then? If Adam's meant to be teaching me in Brussels then I assume that talk about him giving up his organisation is true?"

"I'll be stepping back from my role as a strategist, if that's what you mean," the hazel-eyed man replied, "I'm pretty sure it can cope without me for a few months."

"Great. So, I get taught by the prime person to question over the organisation we're still going to be trying to stop? Unless you want to get the Commander to reassign the case, which I'd love to hear your excuse for."

He watched as his partner grimaced, looking at their companion who just smiled blandly. Obviously that point was still not sitting right with Mac either. "We'll talk about it later. In private. For now, we need to figure out what we've officially been doing this morning."

"I believe that's my cue to leave," Adam said calmly, rising to collect his coat and settle it over his wiry frame. "Just drop the key back at reception, it's booked for the rest of the day and overnight."

The Scot nodded, smiling at his friend as he opened the door. "Thank you, Adam. We'll see you in Brussels then."

The other man nodded, a ghost of a smile over his mouth. "Watch your head, Highlander." Then he was gone.