Connor called.
     Duncan somehow knew who it was before he answered. Richie
had given him a funny look when he stood and smiled, reaching for
the cordless.
     "It must be Connor."
     And it was.

     Richie watched as his friend's face tightened and the
pleasure drained out of it.
     "Connor, you know I willna leave you alone now. Where are
you?"
     He listened and Richie wondered what had happened. Connor
had been traveling since his wife's death. They had never met
her, but he had sounded happy for the first time since Richie had
met him.
     "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll leave tonight." Duncan
listened for aminute more and smiled sadly. "Aye, Connor. I know.
I'll be there."
     He clicked the phone off and sat heavily on the leather
sofa. Richie was curious but didn't want to intrude, so he
waited.
     "Saraid died." Duncan said at last, shortly.
     "When?"
     Duncan rubbed a hand over his face roughly.
     "Three weeks ago."
     "He's just now calling you?"
     "Connor likes to deal with things on his own." Duncan leaned
back. Every line of his body said that he wasn't ready to deal
with this. "It's worse."
     "I'm ready." he leaned forward, watching Duncan's face. It
was blank, as if the emotions behind the next words were too
painful to even think about.
     Richie hadn't known her well, but he knew what she had meant
to Duncan and Connor. And her student Skylar had become one of
his best friends.
     "I need to call Sky." he said slowly.  Then, seeing Duncan's
face grow hard, he realized. "Did he kill her?"
     "At her request." he said the words steadily, but Richie
could see he didn't quite believe them.
     "Why?"
     Duncan stood, going to the closet and grabbing out a
suitcase, laying it open on the bed.
     "I don't know, Rich. I guess she just thought it was time to
move on. I know he wouldn't have killed her on his own." he
sounded like he was trying to convince himself, then he looked
back at the younger man over his shoulder. "Ever been to Hawaii?"
     "Should we call Joe?" Richie was pleased by the invitation.
They hadn't gone anywhere or done much together lately. He was
only here tonight by default -- he'd been stood up and dropped by
for a beer.
     "Do that." Duncan began pulling things out of his dresser,
frowning. "Tell him I'll pick up his ticket. He needs a
vacation."

     They met at the airport three hours later. Richie had gone
home and packed and found himself faced with the same problem
Duncan had. Where do you hide your sword in summer clothes? He
could wear his leather jacket, but it was going to be hot there.
     He hadn't figured it out by the time he got to the airport
and turned the spanish sword over to Duncan, well-wrapped for
shipping. He felt naked without it and wondered if he would ever
get used to that feeling. Duncan had the papers to ship antique
weapons, Richie should see about getting a set for himself.
Duncan would help.
     He waited while Duncan took care of that business, and
watched, and finally saw Joe, sitting at a table in a coffee shop
across the way. There was a young woman sitting with him and they
seemed to be talking seriously. She was pretty in a dark-and-
exotic way, so he went over.
     "Joe." he greeted him, pulling out a chair and sitting
across from both of them.
     She seemed nervous. With the urge that was becoming second
nature Richie glanced at her arm, but she was wearing a long-
sleeved blouse over jeans. He couldn't see her wrist, but she got
up almost as soon as he sat down, before Joe could even say Hi
back.
     "I've got to go or I'll miss my flight." she said hurriedly.
And she left, just like that.
     "Mine?" Richie asked, following her with his eyes.
     Joe cleared his throat and didn't answer.
     "You can tell me, Joe, I'm not going to hurt her. I might
hit on her, but..." he paused. "I'll keep an eye out and try to
keep her from getting hurt."
     Joe nodded.
     "She's really new, Richie. They wanted to assign you someone
who'll be with you for a while. I told them you were safe, you
wouldn't hurt her. But don't tell her you know or I'm sunk."
     "Deal. What's her name?"
     "You'll have to find that out for yourself." Joe picked up
his coffe and smiled over the rim.
     Richie saw Duncan coming down the crowded hall. He stood and
waved.
     "We've got to go." Duncan said. "Hey, Joe. Pack your G-
string?"
     "Ha, ha, very funny, Mac. It's not like I can swim, ya
know?"
     "We'll get you a jet ski." Duncan grinned at him. He hadn't
meant to be insensitive, but sometimes he forgot just how
different his friend was.
     "I've never tried that." Joe actually looked interested. "Is
it harder than riding a bike? Because I can't ride a bike."
     "It's easy, Joe." Duncan said. Reaching down, he grabbed the
older man's carry-on bag and hoisted it. "What've you got in
here? Bricks?"
     "Just some light reading." Joe smirked as Duncan's face lit
up with interest.
     "Anyone I know?" he asked as they walked toward the
slidewalk. Their gate was number 35. Of 46.
     "I think you know him pretty well." Joe allowed.
     Richie glanced form one to the other and wondered what that
was all about. Then he decided to think about the girl, his new
Watcher. If there was anyone he could have a relationship with
who would understand -- and never try to take his head -- it
would be her. He smiled, wondering if Joe had planned it that
way.
     Duncan was thinking. He'd been quietly bugging Joe to let
him read more of his chronicles. It didn't seem fair that people
could write about him for years and he couldn't know what they
said. Methos had read all of his chronicles, and probably
Duncan's as well.
     "It's not like I want to make corrections, Joe." he'd said
softly just a few weeks ago over a drink at the bar. "I just feel
like I have right to know."
     "I'll think about it." Joe had said. "I just don't want you
getting pissed."
     "I can understand that." Duncan had said, wondering what was
in those books that Joe thought would piss him off.
     Now he was wondering again, eyeing the bag speculatively.
     "So we're meeting Connor in Hawaii?" Joe asked nonchalantly.
     Duncan blinked. He hadn't told him why they were going.
     "I heard from his Watcher last week. He thought I should
know what was going on. We both figured he'd call you soon."
     "I feel like I'm on a damned soap opera." Duncan was mildly
angry. "Why didn't you tell me about Saraid?" they both knew he
wasn't supposed to, but he'd told him things before.
     "I thought that was Connor's place." Joe answered simply.
Duncan nodded, letting the anger flow out. It wasn't really
directed at Joe anyhow. He didn't want to think about who he was
really angry with. "Apparently her student is headed this way
too. You have anything to do with that?"
     "Did you call all the Watchers who would be going to
coordinate?"
     "Actually, some of them are taking a vacation. With all of
you in the same place for a while, it'll only take a couple of us
to keep track. Connor's Watcher and Skylar's won't be there."
     "Just mine and Richie's." that made sense. Jow knew them
best anyhow. And he would get a vacation out of it. Duncan was
tired of the circles under his eyes. The last few years had been
a huge strain on him and he wasn't a young man anymore.
     They flew first class. Duncan wanted the room to stretch his
legs. Joe and Richie didn't object.

     "Do you have to everything this way, Mac?" Richie asked when
they got to the hotel. It was an exclusive spot on the far tip of
the island, boasting private cottages, each with their own little
secluded section of beach. It had a kitchen, two huge bedrooms,
and a fireplace in the living room. And Richie had packhorse
duty.
     "What way, Rich?" his friend asked, coming out of the left-
hand bedroom, wearing cutoff jeans and carrying a t-shirt and
towel, barefot. His sword was nowhere in sight.
     "This way." Richie gestured. "It's so expensive...so out-of-
the-way. Why don't we stay at a normal hotel where I can meet
people?"
     "I like my privacy." Duncan pulled on the shirt. "Here I
might be able to relax a little without worrying about someone
being after my head, or yours. It'll take an act of God for
anyone to find us."
     "So no swords?" Richie asked, nervously.
     "You can bring it to the beach if you want to." Duncan
grinned. "It'll make a good digger for sandcastles. Besides -"
his smile grew broader. "This place comes with two jet skis, a
full refridgerator, room service and a car."
     "Room service?"
     "They bring it down from the main building." Joe came out of
the other room now. He was wearing sweatpants and a tie-dyed t-
shirt and beach shoes. "You're gonna be warm in those." Duncan
warned.
     "I imagine I'll be wet." Joe smiled and Duncan smiled back.
"Got all the luggage in, Rich?"
     Richie sat down the last item, Joe's folded wheelchair, by
the door, looking uncomfortable handling it. It was one thing to
know Joe was missing both lower legs, another to see tangible
proof of the obstacles it created in his life.
     "Yeah. Where do I put my stuff?"
     "You can share with Joe. Connor will bunk with me." There
was something in Duncan's voice that twigged Richie. He gave
Duncan a knowing grin and agreed, briefly remembering one long
day. It had been a good experience, but not one he wanted to
repeat.
     "Okay. Joe, you don't snore, do you?"
     "When Sky gets here he can have the couch." Duncan grabbed a
set of keys off the rack by the door and led Joe into the hot
sunshine.
     "When will Connor be here?" the older man asked as he
carefully navigated the steep stone steps to the beach and
beachhouse.
     "He should have left Oahu this afternoon. I expect him in
time for dinner."
     "Are you cooking?" Joe was teasing.
     "I thought I might." Duncan responded, catching his arm as
he missed a step, holding it until he'd steadied himself. "It's
safer than Amanda's."
     "Those jet skis better be worth this." Joe muttered as they
continued.

     The machines were safely stored and fueled up. Duncan got
them both into the water, bobbing gently, and turned to Joe.
     "Can you get on?" he asked casually.
     Joe studied the water. The sand beneath it was very soft,
Duncan had sunk in up to his ankles.
     "I could try." he said. "But maybe I better let you carry
me."
     Their eyes met. Duncan understood how hard this was for his
friend, to admit weakness. He tried to keep it casual.
     "Good choice." he stepped over to him. Joe dropped his cane
and held up his arms, grasping one arm firmly. Duncan put one arm
behind his back and swept low to scoop him up, settling his
weight in his arms. "You ain't no lightweight." he grunted a bit
with the effort. "The last time I carried someone this big was
Saraid. I carried her up the stairs at her place and almost threw
my back out trying to make it look easy."
     "She was a big girl, wasn't she." Joe commented as Duncan
arrived at the watercraft and shifted him to the seat. It was
contoured, that was good, it would help hold him in. "Big enough
for the Game."
     "She was a great fighter." Duncan agreed. "Gave both of us a
run for our money more than once." he was talking about the time
he and she and Connor had spent together. "But, you know, I
really don't want to talk about that now." he sat astride his own
toy and turned it on, explaining to Joe how it worked. "Just like
a motorcycle, but you don't need your feet to shift gears!" he
shouted over the noise.
     They tried it, going slow. Joe got dumped quickly, but held
onto the craft until Duncan swang around and helped him pull back
up. He actually could swim, just not for long.
     Pretty soon he had the hang of it. It was great. His hair
and clothes were soaked through, the sun beat down on him and he
felt ten years younger.
     Duncan came up beside him. They'd been racing over the
waves, crossing trails.
     "I'm gonna give Richie a turn!" he shouted. "Wanna come in?"
     "No, I'm having a great time." he called back. "I haven't
had this much fun in years."
     Duncan's grin was all the response he needed.
     Richie was lazing on the beach. Duncan slid onto the sand
and got off, offering him the keys.
     "You're gonna burn." he said, scolding. Richie was wearing a
pair of trunks and nothing else. "You should know better than
that."
     "It'll heal." Richie shrugged, taking the keys.
     "It'll hurt." Duncan tugged his own shirt off and held it
out. Richie frowned. "C'mon, Rich. No sense suffering when you
don't have to."
     "Okay." he took the wet shirt and pulled it on. It wasn't
even cold. "Joe looks like he's having a blast."
     "You better catch up with him or we'll lose him."
     Duncan was a little worried that Joe would fall without one
of them there to catch him. "You know how to ride one of these
things?"
     "Yeah, Mac." he sounded just like a teenager talking to his
father and Duncan grinned again.
     "I'm going to go up and start dinner." and wait for Connor.
     "See ya." Richie stepped onto to cycle, powered it up and
flew off across the waves. Joe saw him coming and turned back to
meet him.
     Duncan went up the steps faster than he'd come down, giving
himself a mild workout. He felt vaguely guilty for having fun
when by all rights he should have been in mourning. But there
would be time for that later. He and Connor would remember and
share their sorrow. That would make it easier for both of them.

     He was in the kitchen, sauteing mushrooms for the steaks
when he heard the cab pull up and felt the Buzz. Turning off the
fire, he set the skillet aside and went to the door, opening it
expectantly.
     Connor held out his bag wordlessly and Duncan took it,
leading him directly to the bedroom.
     He looked bad. Too thin, pale. Like he hadn't slept in a
week.
     Duncan knew that feeling. He pushed his clansman to the
nearest of the two king sized beds and began undressing him
gently as he lay back.
     "Duncan..." their eyes met and Duncan managed a small smile.
It was starting.
     "You need to sleep, Connor. Ye look awful."
     "I can't sleep." Connor's hands lay beside him on the bed,
listless. "I keep dreaming."
     "I know." he remembered some of Connor's nightmares about
Heather, about when the Kurgan had first come for him and killed
Ramirez. About what he later learned the man had done to his
beloved. What she had never told him.
     He had him down to his shirt and briefs and decided that was
good enough. He pulled the covers up and over him, but Connor was
still staring at him, his hazel eyes softening, pleading
silently.
     "Dinner can wait." Duncan said quietly. His shorts were
still wet so he peeled them off and slid in beside him. He wasn't
tired, but Connor wanted him to stay. He didn't want to be alone,
so Duncan wouldn't leave him alone.
     He settled himself and took Connor in his arms. Too tired to
cry, too tired to talk, the older Immortal lay against him and
closed his eyes with a sigh.
     "I missed you." Duncan whispered against his hair, pressing
a soft kiss in it. Connor sighed and fell instantly to sleep.
     Duncan held him, watching the sunset over the water,
wondering how he was going to keep this from Joe.

     Joe and Richie came back up later. It had gotten dark and
they were hungry. Joe deliberately made a lot of noise coming in,
not wanting to disturb anything.
     "Mac? Where's the food?" Richie shouted exhuberantly. Duncan
came out of the bedroom, buttoning his still-damp shorts and
Richie frowned.
     "Can it, Rich. Connor's sleeping."
     "Uh, sorry." his face openly curious Richie waited to see if
he was going to say anything else but he just went into the
kitchen. After a minute he called back to him.
     "Richie, start the fire, wouldya? It gets cool up here at
night."
     Joe followed Mac into the kitchen and sat gratefully at the
table. His stumps were aching. It required a lot of pressure to
keep those ski things balanced and his thigh muscles were
knotted. He rubbed them gingerly.
     "Did I mention there's a hot tub?" Duncan grinned at him,
but the expression didn't last. "On the other side of the house,
in the rocks. They were suposed to start it up after I made the
reservation this morning."
     "You didn't, but you should have." Joe scolded.
     "The grill is out there, too. Why don't you get in and I'll
start the steaks."
     "Can I eat out there too?" Joe sounded childishly hopeful.
He loved hot tubs.
     "'Course." Duncan answered. "Maybe I'll join you."
     Richie had the fireplace blazing when they came out, Duncan
carrying a platter of meat and vegetables to grill. Joe grabbed a
clean towel. Curious, Richie followed them.
     He beat Joe into the hot tub.
     Joe sat on the edge and looked at Duncan, who was firing up
the grill, still rubbing his legs.
     "Mac." he said softly. Duncan looked over, curious. "I want
to take these things off, but I won't be able to put them back
on. I overdid it some, and I don't think the chair's gonna make
it over these rocks. Do you think you can get me back inside?"
     Duncan knew what it cost him to ask for help. He was
flattered that Joe trusted him enough to ask for it.
     "No problem." he said it lightly, not making a big deal of
it.
     Richie watched with interest as Joe pulled off the
sewatpants, exposing the swimsuit he was wearing underneath, and
began unstrapping the prothesis.
     "That must suck." he thought, then realized he'd said it out
loud.
     "Better than the alternative." Joe didn't look at him. "Life
in a chair doesn't suit me."
     Richie shut up, afraid he'd hurt his feelings. Joe set them
aside and sank into the hot water with a sigh. Then he splashed
Richie in the face.
     "Don't worry about it, hotshot. Some people never learn
tact."
     His grin was friendly and Richie grinned back, knowing he'd
been forgiven.
     Duncan slid in after putting the steaks on, but got right
back out.
     "I forgot the mushrooms." he said too-casually.
     "And the beer." Joe added, drawing a smile. Duncan nodded.
     "And the beer. And the plates and silver and napkins..." he
would have gone on but Joe splashed him until he closed his mouth
and glared down at him.
     "Check on Connor, Mac. Rich will watch the steaks and I'm
going to count stars, see how high I get this time before I give
up."
     Feeling a surge of affection, Duncan didn't answer, just
turned and walked around to the back porch, hearing fragments of
their conversation as he went.
     "What's the highest you've ever gotten?" Richie asked.
     "Seventeen thousand nine hundred and thirty-two." Joe
answered firmly. "I would have gone higher, but..."
     Duncan went into the house and missed the rest of the story.
     He put the pan of mushrooms over low heat and went to the
bedroom. Connor had curled over on his side, arms and legs tucked
tightly to his body, and Duncan felt guilty for having left him.
He debated waking him, but when Connor didn't react to his Buzz
he just pulled the kicked-away blanket tight around him again and
brushed a kiss on his forehead. Then, not wanting to wake him,
but wanting to reassure him in his sleep, he leaned to tenderly
kiss his lips.
     "Connor." he whispered into his ear. "Rest easy, my brother.
No dreams tonight."
     His words reached him even in the depths of exhaustion.
Connor's body relaxed, his position became less acute. Duncan
tucked a pillow to his front and Connor took it, snuggling his
face into it with a sigh.
     "I'll be back soon." Duncan gave him another sweet kiss,
then returned to the kitchen to gather what he needed for their
impromptu picnc.

     Richie was just turning the steaks over when he got back,
carying an armload of things. The redhead was shivering visibly
in the now cool breeze and hopped back into the hot water as soon
as Duncan appeared.
     Joe looked up at him curiously as he started assembling
plates of food. Richie reached for the sixpack he'd set down on
the rocks and passed one to Joe, who opened the bottle by
flipping the cap off on the sharp edge of a rock.
     "Connor's not joining us?"
     "He's still sleeping. I don't want to wake him." Duncan
squatted down and set Joe's plate on a flat expanse of the pourus
rock right beside him. "Here ya go. Medium rare, just like you
like it."
     "This is great, Mac." Joe had heard the worry in his voice
and wondered if he could help releive it. Was Duncan worried that
he would find out the true extent of his relationship with
Connor? Mac was so worried about Connor -- justifiably so, taking
Connor's generally depressive nature into account --  Joe didn't
want him to be worrying about hiding things from a Watcher as
well, especially as that Watcher was him.
     But how do you tell your super-macho best friend that you
know he's been making love with another man?
     There was no clever way to work that into a conversation. So
Joe ate his dinner and drank two beers and generally felt better
than he had in months. Years, maybe.
     Mac was quiet, but made a few teasing comments that brought
a smile to his face as Joe verbally sparred with Richie, who was
trying to weasel more information about his new Watcher. He was
persuasive enough that Joe finally relented and told him which
hotel she was staying at -- "So I can at least find her, Joe!" --
and then Duncan was getting out, reaching for a towel.
     "Can you clean up out here, Richie?" he asked, quietly
looking at Joe. Richie nodded, taking the cue and climbing out,
turning away to give them some privacy.
     "Ready?" he asked Joe, who nodded, restraining the urge to
be grumpy about this. He'd had a good life without his legs, but
sometimes it really bothered him. When he had to ask for help was
the worst.
     Duncan climbed back into the tub and lifted him the same way
he had that afternoon, and carried him out, the towel in Joe's
hands so he could dry himself a bit and not get too cold.
     The porch steps were an effort, Joe realized even Duncan got
physically tired sometimes. He smiled at Duncan's grunt as he
lowered him to the couch, then went to get the chair and unfold
it.
     "Should have thought of this before I came out." he
apologized to Joe, who shook his head.
     "Stop it, Mac, I'm having a great time." he scolded. Duncan
got the chair set up and brought it over, then hesitated. Joe
solved the problem for him by grabbing the chair and dragging it
into the correct position, then lifting himself over to it.
"Follow me, I've got something I want to loan you for the night."
     Curious, and hopeful, Duncan followed him to the bedroom. It
was just like the other one, only done in soft shades of cream
and rose instead of pale blues and white. The big picture window
showed a beautiful expanse of moon-dappled sea, and Duncan was
drawn to it, staring out.
     Joe rummaged in his bag, sat on the farther bed, and came up
with an old, battered-looking book.
     Duncan came over and took it, turning it over in his hands
curiously.
     It had the Watcher emblem burnt into the leather cover and
the spine was cracked, the leather brittle beneath his fingers.
     "You should oil this." he said softly, his glance at Joe
questioning.
     "I just had it sent to me from Paris. It's been in storage
for a long time." Joe said. "It's been sortof...lost."
     An eyebrow raised.
     "Lost? I didn't think your people lost things like this."
     "Not many. This was kindof accidentally-on-purpose."
     Now Duncan was really curious. Joe sighed and explained.
     "The man who wrote this one wasn't in the field long. From
all reports he was a good guy, just overzealous. He got carried
away and went from watching to out-and-out snooping. That's all
well and good to a point, but he pushed it once too often."
     "So what did you do with him?" Duncan's gut was tightening.
Something in Joe's face told him he wasn't going to like this.
     "We made him a researcher. We would never waste a good
snoop, MacLeod." Joe was smiling. "I don't think anyone had
touched it in a hundred years when I dug it up the first time,
not long after I was assigned to you. After I read it I buried it
again. Even after we had that talk a few weeks ago, I thought it
should stay hidden."
     "I'm glad you listened to my side." Duncan said quietly.
     "Well, it's going back with me." Joe yawned suddenly, then
shook his head. "I'm beat, Mac. You read that tonight and we'll
talk about it in the morning. If you want to." he stressed the
last sentence enough to make Duncan stare at him, but then he
yawned again. "Get out of here, Mac, or you'll see more than you
bargained for." Joe was reaching for the side of the bed to hoist
himself up. Duncan muttered a quick goodnight and left, oddly
embarrassed by seeing his friend like that.
     Richie was in the kitchen starting the dishes. Duncan
stepped in and grinned at him.
     "The maids will take care of that in the morning."
     Richie shrugged.
     "I hate to just leave them sitting here. It feels entirely
too lazy."
     Duncan chuckled.
     "I know. I'm going to crash. Leave a note if you go
anywhere, willya? The car's out front, and the keys are on the
rack." he pointed toward the door.
     "Should've gotten them to give us a bike, Mac." Richie
chided, drawing another sound of amusement.
     "Goodnight, Rich." Duncan was headed for his bedroom.
     "Night." Richie sank his hands into the soapy water. Mac's
display of trust made him feel hopeful about their rebuilt
relationship. He wouldn't blow it this time.
     And even if he did, Mac would give him another chance.
     Mac trusted him. Mac loved him. Knowing that made all the
difference. It made his life worth living.
     He grinned at himself, staring out over the black sea.
     He'd come a long way from a homeless street punk.

     Connor was awake when Duncan came in. Just lying there,
staring into the dark with wide eyes. Duncan turned on the
bedside lamp, to the lowest setting, and the dim glow let him see
Connor's chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, the faint
trembling in his muscular body
     He'd had a nightmare.
     Duncan shed his shorts and crawled into the bed in less time
than it took to think it, wrapping his arms around his friend and
pulling him close to his warmth. Despite the heavy chenille
spread Connor was chilled, his body covered with slick cold
sweat, almost clammy.
     There was no need for words. After a time Connor closed his
eyes again, sliding down Duncan's body to rest his head on his
chest, one arm still around him. Duncan lay back and shifted,
pulling one of Connor's legs over his, turning him so that he
recived as much contact as possible.
     Connor touched his face, eyes still closed. Duncan leaned
his head into that touch, turned to brush his lips across the
calloused palm. The hand slid to his shoulder and he smiled as
Connor's breathing slowed, evened and became steady, and he
slept.
     Duncan reached for the book he'd laid on the nightstand
and turned the lamp up a little so he could see, then opened it
and began to read.
     It was, as he'd surmised, one of his chronicles. Flipping to
the end, he saw that it covered about fifty years, from his
withdrawal to holy ground after the massacre in 1859 right up to
the turn of the century.
     He  spent a moment of remembrance for Little Deer and his
people there, wishing them peace.
     Then he began to read.

     It became obvious what Joe had meant about this guy. He made
Duncan think of a tabloid reporter, but in the least trashy
sense. He'd spent a lot of time describing Duncan's aborted
courtship of the pretty doctor Micheala Quinn. To get so many
details he must have been there. Duncan had probably seen him. It
was odd to think of it like that, that this man had been watching
and writing about him so long ago and he hadn't even noticed him.
     Perhaps he had been a romantic at heart. Duncan smiled,
stroking Connor's hair idly with his free hand. He hadn't thought
about Dr.Mike in years. He'd found out later, from Andrew, who
had settled there, that she'd married her wild man, Byron Sully,
and they'd had two daughters. He'd been happy for her.
     He thought about the Christmas after he'd left Colorado
Springs and smiled, his body stirring.
     Though they had made love to each other before, that had
been the first time he'd let Connor take him. It had been an
incredible experience. The ache in his groin grew more
pronounced, but he restrained himself. Connor needed to rest.
     Time for that later. He kissed the top of Connor's head and
began reading again, wanting to see what this man, long dead, had
made of that visit.
 

     Journal entry, December 20th, 1870
     Alex Smith reporting on Duncan MacLeod.

     Denver, Colorado -- I met up with Connor MacLeod's Watcher
yesterday, Sarah Anderson. We agreed that it's a waste of effort
for both of us to watch. When these two are together they seem to
do everything together. So I'm staying with them over Christmas
so she can go see her family for the holidays. She'll return the
favor next time they get together, or if they stay together a
long time this time. But, historically, they don't. They haven't
spent more than a couple of months with each other since they
split up after the relationship with Saraid  Manesdottir, in
1722. (refer to Duncan chronicle #205)

     The day:(Sarah will copy this section to her chronicle for
Connor)
     Duncan got into town yesterday and went directly to Connor's
hotel. They're staying at the Knight's Arms. What a dumb name.
     Since Duncan sent and recived several telegrams from
Colorado Springs I assume that at least some of them were to and
from Connor. Oddly enough, they remained closeted in the hotel
room for the rest of the day (the 19th.) and the night. I flirted
with the maid for this information. Pretty girl. I'm waiting
outside the hotel now, for them to come out.
     Okay, there they are. They've both returned to frontier
clothes, buckskins with long coats. It's hot, I wonder how they
stand it.
     Breakfast at a sidewalk cafe'. Duncan is laughing a lot,
Connor is smiling. Something odd - Duncan just reached over and
touched Connor's face. It looked like a caress. That's strange. I
don't remember any report of either of them being anything other
than exclusively attracted to women. There were some questions
during the time spent with Saraid (see previous reference) but no
visual confirmation was ever made, though intelligence gathered
from a maid said she was sleeping with both of them, usually at
the same time.
     A stop by the bank. No more unexpected gestures. It's not
very busy, so I'm not going to follow them in.
     Now they're going back to the hotel. I'm going to duck into
the dining room and grab something to eat. The front door is
clearly visible from there.

     Duncan rememebered what he and Connor had been doing, holed
up in the hotel that afternoon. Just lazing, they had ended up in
bed again, but Connor had cut it short when Duncan became nervous
about what they were doing.

     "Connor -!" Duncan warned as his friend's fingers slipped
again from his balls to his ass, prodding in places he didn't
want explored. "I don' like that!"
     "Why not?" Lying behind him on the bed, his arms wrapped
around Duncan, Connor pressed himself hard against Duncan's butt.
"I do."
     "It' just noh right, Connor." Duncan felt that fear for the
first time, that terror of giving himself up, being submissive.
     "What have I told you about 'right', Duncan?" Connor
scolded, one finger still teasing Duncan's ass. "There is no
'right' or 'wrong' between us."
     Duncan had been unable to answer, stiff and unwilling in
Connor's arms as Connor continued to pry. Frustrated, Connor had
rolled out of the bed and challenged him.
     "Come with me. Prove to me you're a man and I'll prove to
you that this won't change it."
     Connor's eyes had glowed with lust and love and something
fiercer. Duncan had gone with him, feeling like control of the
situation had been taken from his hands.

     Deliberately Duncan ended the memory there. It was getting
him worked up and he still didn't want to wake Connor. So he went
back to the book.

     After lunch I sat for a while and read the newspaper. They
spent at least two hours upstairs. I wish there was a balcony or
something so I could get a look into their room. Maybe that girl
will let me in later if I get her something nice...
     Here they come.
     They're heading out of town. Should I follow? Both of them
are excellent woodsmen, they might hear me or catch on...I can
always claim to be lost, since they haven't noticed me.
     Deep into the woods. I hope I don't really get lost going
back. They have their coats off and swords out. Sparring
practice. God, they're good. Duncan is almost as good as Connor
now.
     It's getting rough. Duncan punched Connor and Connor thumped
him good with the flat of his sword. I hope they aren't having a
falling out. I do't want to record the death of either of them.
     Connor's down, hard. Duncan's standing over him, talking. He
looks almost grim. I'm not close enough to hear, but now he's
offering a hand to pull him up. Connor took the hand but pulled
Duncan down beside him. Duncan didn't fight it. Connor's on his
knees, pushing Duncan down on his back  - what is going on here?

     In the deep quiet of the bedroom Duncan tensed. He knew what
had happened next. He'd let Connor show him that he could be on
the recieving end of sex and still feel like a man, overcoming
his fears with love.
     Was Joe trying to tell him something by giving him this?
     He continued to read with growing disbelief.

     I can't believe I'm seeing this. This is an incredible
moment. But I feel terribly guilty just being here, watching
this. They've kept it a secret for so long...
     !!Connor and Duncan MacLeod are lovers!!
     I should leave them their privacy, but this is *too*
interesting! Duncan has been observed having sex many times (see
cross-reference volume #436, Sexual Partners, Paris collection),
but *never* with another man. This requires a serious rethinking
of their relationship. We had previously thought that they were
friends, having progressed from the student-teacher bond of
earlier (reference Duncan #1, Connor #3), and they have been
heard to refer to each other interchangeably as 'kinsman'
'clansman' and 'brother', but this is completely unexpected. It
seems almost unreal. What are they to each other now?
     I'm not sure how to handle this. How do I record this with
dignity?
     Okay, brief impressions: This seems to be an equal
relationship, not a power play. Both of them seem to be actively
involved and enjoying it. As usual, Duncan is making a lot of
noise. They're kissing a lot, and touching each other intimately.
They've got each other's clothes off.
     I should probably leave now. What insight can we gain from
this?
     It has been suggested that the Immortal sex drive, which is
documented to be well above-average (reference Dante' Averron's
1790 essay, 'The Immortal Pursuit of Happiness'), is less
particular than that of normal humans, but I don't agree with
that theory. I think most of them are more particular for that
reason. Duncan is seldom wihout a woman in his bed, but he's
picky and only chooses the best, human or Immortal. Connor is
another story, since he seems inclined to monkishness. I don't
know why that would be, I'll have to ask Sarah. But perhaps is
does give them less inhibitions about this kind of activity,
(i.e. same-sex) since it seems to occur between them more
frequently than it does between humans. (my personal obervation
only - maybe I should write paper on it?) Is it a case of 'any
port in the storm', or something else? An expression of love
between men who feel things too deeply to show them any other
way? To demonstrate a level of trust they (Immortals) rarely
attain? It must be the ultimate trust for them...to make love to
someone who knows how to kill you -- someone you may someday try
to kill. Perhaps they *have* to get that close to each other to
show that trust. (Note: Must discuss this with Sarah; did Connor
do this with his mentor Ramirez? Is this common among student-
teacher pairs? I haven't studied it enough)
      I can't watch now. They have progressed to things I can't
even think about, much less write down. I suppose I should try,
but what does it matter? It's not like any of us really needs to
know exactly what they're doing. I don't even know a polite term
for what they're doing. But Duncan certainly seems to be enjoying
it. It doesn't seem to be hurting him. He's on his hands and
knees in front of Connor and Connor's holding his hair with one
hand, pulling his head back - it looks like it should hurt.  God,
Duncan is really loud. I hope there's no one else out here today.
A stray hunter would take one look at them and start shooting.
     Good, they're done. They're lying down together. I should go
back to the hotel and wait there. No, wait. Duncan is moving
again, pushing Connor back against a tree. He's wet his bandana
with water from a canteen and cleaned Connor's !*!...now he's
taking him in his mouth. Okay, that's enough. I can guess the
rest. I've really stayed too long.
     Sarah isn't going to believe this.

     Duncan sat up in the bed, disturbing Connor, who protested
sleepily. The hand on his shoulder tightened and tried to pull
him back down.
     Duncan resisted. There were so many emotions flowing through
him, he couldn't begin to sort them out, but he had to try.
     This was just such a shock. A tremendous blow to his self-
image.
     They knew.
     They'd known for a hundred years.
     Some stranger had watched him open himself to Connnor and
recorded it - absolutely the most private moment of his life.
He'd made Connor be rough, told him to do it even if he resisted,
and Connor'd had to. Just at the beginning Duncan had been
overwhelmed with fear and Connor had taken control harshly. It
had hurt, but then he'd experienced the most incredible sense of
relief and fulfillment...
     What right did they have to expose him like that?! The times
he spent with Connor were their secret, the most protected
moments of his life, and this man had spied upon them.
     It wasn't that he was ashamed of it, exactly...it was
something he only shared with Connor. And, just that one time,
Richie. There was no way they could know about that, was there?
     It was private. His private - vice? Shame? Pleasure? It
didn't matter what he called it - it was none of their business!
     He felt exposed. Violated. Why had Joe given him this? He
said it had been buried in the records for years. Why would he
dig it out now?
     Connor moved against him, and Duncan's body responded with a
shiver.
     Duncan would have smacked himself on the forehead, but he
still had the book in one hand and the other was wrapped around
Connor. Looking at his clansman, he understood.
     Joe had done it as a friend. A polite way of telling him,
Duncan, that he didn't have to hide his relationship with Connor
when Joe was around, which would have been awkward this week,
when Connor needed him so badly. Wouldn't have to hide it becaue
Joe already knew. He'd hidden the chronicle in an effort to
protect Duncan's privacy. He'd tried.
     It was going to be hard to face him in the morning, knowing
that he knew. But nothing had really changed. Because he'd known
all along.
     "He should have told me." Duncan spoke loudly in his anger
and woke Connor, who sat slowly, blinking in the soft light.
     "Duncan?" his rough whisper and soft accent cut through the
red haze that Duncan felt crowding his brain. It had been this
way ever since the dark quickening. It was a hundred times easier
to lose his temper now.
     He let the book fall to the floor beside the bed with a
thump and lay down, turning to his side, pulling Connor close.
     "I didn't mean ta wake yew." his accent thickened as he held
him. His body ached with wanting him.
     "I'm glad you did. Sleep has become a dark place for me."
     The words were whispered aginst his neck. Gently Duncan
pulled Connor's head from the warm hollow where he'd rested it
and met his eyes.
     "I canna tell ye how sorry I am, Connor. I would give my
head to take this pain for yew."
     Connor shook his head. His hair was longer, though not
nearly as long as Duncan's, and it brushed his fingers where they
met behind his neck. It hung heavy and limp.
     Duncan considered suggesting a shower, but then thought that
might wake him up too much. And he did need to sleep.
     "Have ye cried?" he asked, so gently.
     "Nay." Connor wouldn't look at him. "It would serve no
purpose."
     "It would help ye heal." Duncan chided, but only a bit. If
he wasn't ready to cry there was no pushing it. He himself hadn't
cried for weeks after Tessa's death, not until Richie had drug
him bodily out of the bottle he'd been hiding in. He was relieved
that Connor was sober, at least he hadn't gone that route. It did
nothing to honor the memory of the dead.
     "Some things don't heal." he sounded defeated and it tore at
Duncan's heart.
     "Everything heals with time." Duncan said with belief, for
Connor's benefit. He leaned forward, closing the distance between
them, and kissed him.
     Their eyes remained open, they watched each other as they
kissed. With a little persuasion from Duncan, Connor opened his
mouth and allowed his tongue in and began kissing him back.
Watching each other. Testing, measuring the distance between
them.
     It was always like this when they returned to each other.
That first level of intimacy was so hard to cross. The barriers
that kept them from other men could only be dropped here, between
them, taking a conscious effort.
     They made that effort simultaneously, and their eyes closed.
Convulsively Connor pulled Duncan harder against him and the kiss
deepened to a bonding.

     They had to come up for air long minutes later, and a small
smile was playing on the corner of Duncan's mouth.
     "Do ye thing I make too much noise?"
     Connor did a double-take, surprised by the question. In
answer he slid a hand down Duncan's sculpted stomach and closed
his fingers around the already straining shaft beneath it. Duncan
couldn't restrain a low groan of need.
     "I like to hear your pleasure." Connor whispered. "It lets
me know you like what I'm doing."
     "I hadn't realized I was so...vocal." this time Duncan bit
back a grunt as the hand began stroking; long, slow pressure.
     "Don't hold it in."
     "There're others here, y'know." Duncan tried to defend
himself, but now Connor was kissing his chest, tongue tickling
flat nipples, sucking, biting gently. "Ohhhh, Connor. I missed
ye."
     "I wish better news had brought us together." Connor raised
his head from Duncan's chest and Duncan had to kiss him again, so
he wouldn't have to look at the pain in his eyes.
     "We'll talk about it in the morning." he groaned against
Connor's mouth as the rythm picked up. "In the sunlight. Tonight
we'll help each other forget, for a little while."
     "Aye, Duncan." Connor pulled his mouth away from Duncan's
and licked a cool trail down his body as Duncan lay back and
spread himself, anticipating. "We will."
     They were both tired -- Connor was still exhausted,
physically and emotionally -- so it wasn't long before he was
urging Duncan to the end of the bed, to stand and lean over it, a
pillow clutched to his face to muffle the sounds he made as
Connor surrounded him, filled him.
     At the moment of ultimate satisfaction Duncan couldn't help
himself. He lunged upwards, as he always did, to force Connor
deep within him, and the pillow was forgotten as he screamed his
release.

     In the bedroom on the other side of this house, two sleeping
men, one older and tired, the other young and still new, were
both woken by that sound. It hung in the air long seconds before
fading to a vivid memory.
     Richie smiled sleepily to himself and turned over, knowing
that all was well with his friends. He'd heard Duncan make sounds
like that before, though it usually wasn't so evocative.
     In the other bed, Joe also smiled, but it was more a
concerned grimace. He hoped Duncan hadn't been offended by the
chronicle he'd given him to read. After this he had little doubt
that the report was accurate, no matter what he'd thought when he
first read it. He'd seriously doubted it, but time spent studying
Duncan's face, especially when Connor was mentioned, had made him
wonder.
     He was glad his presence hadn't kept the two Immortals from
loving each other. From everything he knew of them -- these two
men -- this was a big step on their road back to inner peace.
 

*****************************************************************
 

     Duncan woke slowly. Connor was wrapped around him, legs
draped over him, like a living blanket. Duncan studied his
sleeping face with concern.
     The circles were still under his eyes and he still looked
thin. It would take more than one night of lovemaking to ease his
pain. But Duncan had all the time in the world.
     He got up, shaking himself, feeling the residual soreness of
the night before. Some things didn't heal the way others did. It
seemed that this was one of them, like muscle cramps.
     A hot shower went a long way toward relieving it. When he
came out Connor was gone. He wandered into the living room to
find Joe setting out two plates of food.
     "Mac." Joe greeted him. He seemed worried.
     Duncan was suddenly embarassed. He sat at the table with a
quick grin, ducking his head and picking up a fork, began to eat.
     "This is good." it was, but he said it because he couldn't
think of anything else.
     "Connor said he was going for a walk." Joe supplied. "Richie
went on his Watcher hunt."
     Duncan nodded and kept eating, not looking at Joe, even when
he sat down across from him.
     "Are you mad at me, Macleod?" Joe said at last. He hadn't
eaten anything. "I'd appreciate it if you told me so I could make
arrangements to stay somewhere else."
     Now Duncan looked up, startled.
     "I'm not mad at you, Dawson."
     "Then why am I getting the cold shoulder?" Joe leaned on his
elbows on the table.
     Duncan set his fork down and leaned back, trying not to look
away. He shrugged.
     "I don't know what to say."
     "Do you think you need to say something?"
     "Don't I?"
     Joe smiled at the bewildered look on his face.
     "Look, MacLeod, I know why you didn't tell me about you and
Connor. It can't be easy for a guy like you to admit something
like that. And, besides, it's not any of my business what you do
behind closed doors."
     "Apparently some people don't agree with you." Duncan said
tartly.
     "Alex Smith was the exception, Mac, not the rule. I can't
say we weren't glad to get the information, it explained a lot
about your relationship with Connor, but we did regret the
invasion of your privacy."
     Duncan leaned forward, and now he sounded angry.
     "Not just my privacy, Dawson. That of every woman in your
records who's been recorded for posterity as a bedmate of mine."
He paused, leaned forward, forearms on the table, and fixed Joe
with a calm glare. "When was the first time I made love to
Tessa?"
     Joe leaned back now, like they were doing a strange, slow
dance over the top of the table. He put his hands in his lap and
met Duncan's eyes.
     "The records aren't clear. The Watcher assigned to you then,
Otto Lane, he'd been with you for almost fourty years. He knew
Tessa was someone special from the way you reacted to her. He
said you acted nervous and he'd never seen you flustered. So he
watched carefully. I know the first time you spent the night at
her apartment, but Otto concluded from your behavior the next day
that you hadn't slept in her bed. He guessed it at almost a month
later, though you spent the night with her several times and she
spent the night with you once in the interim."
     Duncan closed his eyes, remembering that time. It had been
joyous, and frustrating. He hadn't wanted to push her into
anything, had actually pushed her away more than once, but when
they'd come together at last he'd known he would love her
forever. It hadn't been that first time, or any of the others.
Otto Lane had gotten it wrong.
     "It was almost three weeks after that." he said softly. Joe
perked up. "I wanted to give her time...to let her really know
me. I told her about everything. Everything but the Game. And
when I found she still wanted me -- that she still loved me -- "
he couldn't say anything else, dropped his eyes, stared at the
table, seeing her face. "I'm glad you didn't know that." it was a
harsh whisper.
     Joe was quiet. He wanted to tell Duncan that he wouldn't put
that in, not now, but wasn't sure himself. It was a razor's edge
he walked, trying to sort what was worth reporting and what
wasn't. If Duncan won the Prize -- as Joe himself and many others
thought he should, hoped he would -- would the things he wrote
become history? Didn't he owe the whole truth to the future?
     But he had to balance that with what he owed his friend.
     Duncan stood abruptly. He was tense.
     "I'm not going to tell you what to do, Joe." he was still
speaking softly. "If you need to mention this, if you feel it
should be written down, then do it. I'm not ashamed of what I do
in love." he picked up his plate and took it to the sink. "I'm
gonna go find Connor now. I don't want to leave him alone too
long, he gets depressed. You want me to walk you down to the
beach?"
     "Thanks, Mac." Joe knew he was forgiven, but another brick
had been added to the wall that seperated them, mortal from
Immortal. How many more before their friendship was closed off
completely?

     The trek down was as awkward as the first time. Duncan
waited until Joe was settled in a beach chair, a cooler of beer
beside him and book in his hands.
     "What are you readng?" he had to ask, it didn't look like a
chronicle. Joe held it up so he could see the title of the thick
hardcover book.
     "Altered Fates: The Retooling of the Human Race Through
Genetic Therapy." Duncan grinned and shook his head. "A little
light reading, Joe?
     "It's research." Joe grinned back and they both felt the
tension between them lessen. It would be okay. This time.

     Duncan left him to hunt for Connor. He walked down the
beach, idly looking for shells, picking up a couple and
discarding them, and came to the place where the cliffs met the
water.
     He would have to swim around them to continue. If he knew
Connor, he was up in them somewhere.
     Taking off his shirt and leaving it and the towel behind in
a crack of rock, Duncan slid into the warm water, feeling the
bouyancy of the water. The deep ocean was never like this, the
warm oxygenated saltwater lifted him, caressed him.
     It turned him on.
     Maybe it was because Connor was here. Maybe it was the fact
tha he wouldn't have to hide his feelings from the others.
     It didn't matter why. It was good just to feel so strongly
again. He hadn't really felt since Tessa died. Not like this.
What he'd had with Anne was been a pale shadow of this feeling.
     He swam carefully around the rocks. The edges were sharp and
he didn't feel like getting hurt if he didn't have to.
     He stopped to to tread water when he reached the point,
looking up, squinting into the bright sun.
     There. It looked like a cave, a darker spot in the overall
redblackness of the ancient lava flow. He'd bet half his fortune
Connor had climbed up there to hide.
     And maybe spend the other half getting him down. He studied
the rocks, and found a path after long minutes. It was along a
vertical crack in the rock, where dirt had lodged and small
plants were growing stubbornly. Getting out of the water -- he
had to reach above his head and grab the lowest ledge and then
pull himself up by brute strength -- he saw that the dirt had
been recently disturbed, one or two of the little planst twisted
out of place.
     He looked up again, and sighed. It was obvious Connor was
going to make him work for this.

     It took over an hour of careful, laborious climbing. He was
only a few feet away from the cave when he felt the Buzz, and
Connor stepped out onto the ledge, kneeling to look down at him.
     "Duncan. You're late." he didn't move as Duncan swung
himself sideways to a handhold and then back and higher, reaching
with a foot. As Duncan got closer he leaned and offered a hand.
     "Stopped for a nap." Duncan grunted as Connor helped him
over the edge. He felt refreshed. Climbing took such
concentration -- he'd forgotten how good it felt when you
acheived the goal. He hadn't been rockclimbing since that one
camping trip with Charlie, and that hadn't been for fun.
     Thoughts of Charlie cause his grin to fade. He sat heavily
beside Connor, who just leaned back on his haunches and looked at
him.
     "Who?" he asked simply.
     "Charlie DeSalvo." Duncan shook his head. "You never met
him."
     "We've lost too many to speak of them all." Connor sounded
calm, but Duncan knew he was hiding from his grief.
     "Then we'll speak of those best loved." he said firmly,
turning and pulling Connor down beside him and into his arms.
     Connor came quietly, not protesting, and lay close to him,
feeling his warmth, turning his face into Duncan's chest.
     Duncan nuzzled his neck. His hair was dry and smelled of the
sea. Duncan closed his eyes, remembering that smell on him,
letting it bring back memories.
     Himself, Connor, and Saraid. The three of them naked in the
ocean in the middle of the night while the crew slept and the
boat drifted with sails furled. The sensation of being the only
things alive on the planet as they'd floated in the dark cold
water, the only warmth coming from their entwined bodies.
     Saraid's laughter had carried across the water like light as
she'd coaxed their bodies to a response in that cold.
     Convulsively he hugged Connor to him, wanting to feel that
warmth again.
     Connor hugged him back fiercely. They crushed to each other,
feeling the strength of the other as a measure of love, and it
warmed them.
     At last Connor raised his head from Duncan's chest and met
his eyes.
     Duncan smiled a little, sadly.
     "She was one of a kind." he said softly.
     "Aye." Connor matched his tone. "We'll noh' find another
like her."
     "What do'ye think happened?"
     "I talked to her a month ago." Connor sighed and turned them
both so they were lying face-to-face on the rock. It was
uncomfortable, but Duncan didn't care. "She sounded - tired. I
was worried, but she said that everyone felt that way sometimes.
Then she said that there should be a limit to a person's life
span so they could travel on when the time came."
     "So she was thinking about it then."
     They were both quiet. Then Duncan spoke again, not opening
his eyes.
     "Why didn't she come to us? To me, or you?"
     "I don't know." Duncan felt sudden warmth on his arm and
opened his eyes, watching Connor cry silently. He kissed the
tears from his face.
     "If it was what she wanted, Connor - we can't deny her that
peace."
     "I know." Connor pulled him even closer, seeking skin-to-
skin contact that Duncan gave willingly. "It's too much, Duncan.
I can't take this anymore. I want to follow her. Follow all of
them."
     Duncan stiffened, pulling away, pushing Connor from him
gently. He stared at him with wide eyes, fear flooding his mind.
     "Noh', Connor! Ye canna!" a forced whisper of shock.
     Connor met his stare and leaned in to kiss him, long and
hard. Duncan resisted briefly, but then opened to him, his body
relaxing and making clear what it wanted.
     "I know." Connor whispered against his throat as he began to
caress Duncan. "But it doesn't change the feeling."
     "Let me show ye something to live for, then." Duncan shifted
so their erections were aligned, hardness to hardness beneath
cloth barriers. His own leapt in response and Connor made a soft
sound. "Aye...this is life, Connor." Duncan whispered, rotating
his hips, setting a rythm between them. "For the living."
     Connor's hands were unbuttoning his cutoff jeans, delving
inside the tight denim and closing on him. Duncan groaned loudly.
     "Make as much noise as you like, brother." Connor teased
with hands and words. "There's no one here to hear you."
     Duncan groaned again, louder.
     "How can it feel this good, Connor?" he gasped, staging an
attack of his own, fingers inside Connor's waistband, stroking
tender skin. Connor sucked in his stomach, encouraging. "it isna
right..."
     "It doesna matter." Connor leaned to claim his mouth in
another fierce kiss and the time for talking passed.
     The rocks were too uncomfortable for anything vigorous, so
they rubbed and petted and stroked their way to a mutual climax
that left them panting, on their backs, arms thrown over the
other's chest, spread to the world.

     The feminine voice from above startled them badly.
     "That was great, guys! Let me get my video camera and you
can do it again!"
     "What?!" Duncan sat, reaching for his shorts.
     "Who -?" Connor was on his feet, hands on hips, unabashedly
nude, peering into the sun to see the figure on the top if the
cliff, leaning over the edge to look down at them.
     Duncan pulled on his shorts, feeling at a distinct
disadvantage without them, and stood beside Connor.
     "There are decency laws at this beach, you know!" the woman
yelled. The sun in their eyes prevented them from making out any
details, but she sounded young. Duncan groaned softly, glancing
at Connor, who was angry. What if they'd given a show to some
kid?
     "How long have you been there?" Connor shouted back.
     "Since the first kiss." she yelled back. Now she sounded
amused. "I was looking for a way down and didn't expect a
floorshow!"
     "You could have left!" Duncan was more angry than
embarrassed now. They'd been foolish, making out like teenagers.
In plain sight, apparently.
     "What, and miss that?!" she was definitely laughing at them.
"You guys look great together."
     The compliment did nothing to cool Duncan's temper.
     "That was noh' polite!" he roared. Connor caught his arm
when he would have started up the cliff.
     "Duncan. There's no harm done." he spoke in a normal tone.
     "Just my pride." Duncan agreed relucantly. He reached for
Connor and pulled him to his side, putting an arm around his
waist. Connor leaned into him with a sly grin, turning so his
cock rubbed on Duncan's hip. He was half-erect again already.
"This turn you on?" Duncan teased quietly.
     "Not as much as you do." Connor grinned back. "Still
embarrassed, Duncan?"
     "No, Connor. I'll noh' be ashamed of wha' I do with ye."
     "Are you gonna go again?" her voice sounded interested.
     "Na here!" Duncan called back up. "I think we've learned our
lesson!"
     "Too bad!" she waited while Connor pulled away from Duncan
and got his suit back on. "Maybe I'll see you later." she
dissapeared from the ledge.
     "Not if I see you first." Duncan muttered, then shook his
head. He didn't even know what she looked like.
     Connor pulled on his shorts and began the climb down. Duncan
followed, still muttering to himself. He had the distinct feeling
that Connor was laughing at him.
     There was an overhanging ledge about halfway down. Connor
stepped to the edge and grinned at him.
     "You didn't really want to climb all the way, did you?" he
asked as Duncan stepped up beside him, looking wary.
     "Connor - there might be rocks or -" he was cut off as
Connor jumped, throwing himself as far from the cliff face as he
could. "Connor!" he stared as Connor hit with a splash. He didn't
come up right away and Duncan waited, getting nervous and peeved.
     Finally Connor surface and waved, treading water.
     "No rocks, Duncan!" he shouted. "I checked!"
     "Dammit, Connor." Sometimes Duncan found his vocabulary,
advanced in most circumstances, woefully inadequate when Connor
was around.
     With a couple of deep breaths he followed Connor's example
and threw his body into the air.
     The water hit hard and he sank straight to the bottom. With
a grin he settled there, to wait.
     Connor came a few minutes later, swimming down, also
grinning. They couldn't talk, but Duncan grabbed him as soon as
he got close and kissed him. When their mouths opened seawater
rushed into them and air escaped and they laughed, wasting the
rest of it.
     They kissed again, growing lightheaded. Then they swam back
to the surface.
     "If she was watching she'll be confused as hell." Duncan
said when they surfaced. "I'm hungry. Did you eat breakfast?"
     Connor shook his head.
     "Joe - Dawson? - offered to fix me some, but I wanted to get
away by myself."
     "So I could find you." Duncan said knowingly.
     "I know you." Connor shrugged but smiled a small smile.
     "I'm starved." Duncan grinned. "Let's go make him cook."
     They got the beach and beagn walking back. Duncan spoke up,
his voice serious.
     "About Joe," he began, but Connor waved him off.
     "You don't want him to know." he nodded. "I understand,
Duncan."
     "He does know, Connor." Duncan sighed as his friend's face
tightened. "I didn't tell him. There was a Watcher there, that
tinme in Denver, in the woods with us...he wrote it all down,
Connor."
     "Everything?" Connor stopped and looked at him, his
expression inscrutable.
     "Everything." Duncan confirmed.
     "I'm sorry." Connor began walking again. Duncan reached for
his hand, held it loosely in his own.
     "I can't say I'm not. But it could been worse. Joe hid the
chronicle, so not too many people have been getting their jollies
reading about us."
     "That was good of him." Connor squeezed Duncan's hand. "And
it's convenient now."
     "Aye." Duncan agreed. Connor heard the reluctance in his
voice and turned again, embracing him this time, holding their
bodies close. Duncan's arms came around him, over his own.
     "Are ye sorry we are what we are, Duncan?"
     Dark brown met clear hazel and matched them. Duncan knew
Connor was thinking about their status as lovers, not about being
Immortals.
     "Na' at all, Connor." Duncan said it like he meant it. "I
just would have liked to keep it private."
     Connor stared at him for a long time. Duncan returned the
gaze serenely, knowing what Connor was looking for. Something
else to beat himself up about, something else to fee bad for. But
there was no ammunition here.
     When he thought he'd let him stare long enough Duncan leaned
and gave Connor a quick smack on the lips, loosing a wide smile
as he let him go.
     "I'm still hungry." he scolded. "Race ya back."
     Connor opened his mouth to protest, but Duncan took off
before he even got a word out.
     Connor waited until he got several yards ahead and looked
back at him, a surge of memory filling him. Ramirez, running,
calling to him...
     "Come on, Connor!" Duncan yelled. Connor smiled widely,
relishing the memory, a precious time, and took off after his
friend and lover.
     Duncan let him catch up to him and then started to pull
ahead. Connor threw himself into the challenge, pushing his
limits. He wasn't as athletic as Duncan, not gifted with a body
like his, but Connor's was made for running. Duncan howled a
protest as he passed him, arms and legs loose, running for the
joy of it, as he'd once run with Ramirez, just to feel it.
     Joe came into sight, looking up from his book with a curious
grin, and Connor was headed straight for him.
     "Hey!" Joe held up his hands in protest as it looked like
Connor was going to run him over.
     Connor cleared man and chair in a flying leap, to land
lightly on the other side and throw himself backwards, lying
spread-eagled in the sand, panting.
     Duncan went around Joe, who seemed torn between laughter and
curiousity, and joined Connor on the ground.
     "You're gonna kill me, Duncan." Connor panted. "I'm not a
young man, you know."
     "That why you beat me?" Duncan rolled onto his side and
propped himself up on an elbow, moving close enough that his body
touched Connor's and he could look down into his face.
     He glanced at Joe, who was apparently reading again,
politely ignoring them.
     Connor opened his eyes and blinked up at him.
     "Shades." he said, closing his eyes eyes again. "I forgot to
bring shades."
     "You weren't thinking clearly." Duncan said softly. His free
hand came to rest on Connor's stomach, still fluttering as he
caught his breath.
     "I know." Connor looked at him again, and there was pain in
the clear eyes. "I was wearing them...the ones Brenda bought for
me." he paused. Duncan rubbed his stomach, giving gentle
encouragement. "I was driving. I drive fast. We went around a
curve, and this lorry came out of nowhere. It was trying to stay
in the middle of the road and I couldn't get over far enough to
let it pass."
     Duncan moved closer, pressing himself to Connor, wrapping
his arm around him, hugging him, keeping eye contact. He spared a
glance for Joe while Connor was silent, and was relieved that he
didn't seem to be listening.
     "He hit the front on my side and we went spinning. I thought
we were going to go through the guardrail -- Brenda screamed. I
tried to cover her with my body, Duncan, tried to take the impact
for her...but it didn't work. We spun so many times I lost count,
and then we hit the truck again, with the back this time. Then we
hit the cliff."
     He delivered the whole story in a quiet monotone. Duncan
wondered what he was feeling beneath that dead sound.
     "Connor." he was close, speaking an inch from his face. "Ye
know it wasna your fault, do ye na?" sometimes he could only
express how deeply he felt in the brogue.
     Connor shook his head.
     "I was going too fast, Duncan. That's why we spun out. If we
had just hit the truck and then the wall...maybe..."
     Duncan covered his mouth with his hand before he could say
the words.
     "No maybes, Connor. It was her time, and she had to go. I
wish you'd had more time with her, but you have to remember the
time you did have, and not concentrate on maybes."
     "It took them two hours to get us out." Connor's eyes were
filling with tears, but he didn't let them fall. "I healed while
we waited, but I couldn't get out. I couldn't get her out. I
couldn't even hold her while she died, Duncan. All I could do was
hold her hand and talk to her..."
     Tenderly Duncan stroked his fingers beneath Connor's eyes.
His voice was thick when he spoke.
     "Ye had a chance to say goodbye, Connor. Ye got to tell her
that you loved her that last time..."
       "You love her still, brother." Connor understood his pain
was matched.
     "Aye." Duncan was choked up. "To change tha' one moment of
time...I would give anything. I wanted to hold her, to see the
light in her eyes...but she was already gone by the time I got to
her."
     He heard a sound behind him but didn't look up from Connor's
face. Connor watched something over his shoulder and then sighed,
still holding back the tears.
     "Your friend is polite." he whispered.
     "Connor..." Duncan breathed. Then he kissed him.
     Arms around each other again, Duncan's leg thrown over
Connor's, they kissed deeply, until the tears came.
     They kissed as they cried, their faces wet, their tears
mingling in shared sorrow. Duncan's body shook with restrained
sobs but Connor cried silently, too tired for anything more.
     At last the storm passed. Duncan buried his face at Connor's
neck and Connor stroked fingers through his hair while Duncan
hugged him closer.
     Joe's voice called quietly from down the beach.
     "Hey, MacLeod! Company!"
     They broke apart, sitting up, but Duncan kept Connor's hand.
The depths of his friend's pain frightened him. Was it enough to
make him follow Saraid's path? Would he want Duncan to do it?
     He couldn't. He'd kill himself first. Somehow.

     Richie was coming down the stone steps, a woman beside him.
As they stepped onto the beach and both older Immortals felt his
Buzz, they recognized her; though they'd only seen her from a
distance, silhouetted against the sun, this was the woman who had
watched them earlier.
     They both stood. Duncan was aware that he was frowning, but
Connor's face was studiously blank, an expression he'd perfected
over the years.
     "Hey." Richie greeted them, and held out the large bag he
was carrying. "I figured no one would want to cook, so I picked
up sandwiches..." he trailed off when he saw how they were
staring at the woman. "This is Angela Foster. She was looking for
a nice private place to sunbathe, I said she was welcome
here...did I screw up?" he looked directly at Duncan as he he
asked, suddenly worried.
     Duncan gave himself a mental shake, reached for the bag
Richie still held at arms' length. "S'okay, Rich. We've already
met. Sort of."
     "We didn't get a name." Connor added.
     The woman smiled. She was in her forties, which relieved one
of Duncan's fears, and pretty in a sedate way. Her dark hair was
liberaly sprinkled with grey but long and shining, braided back
from her face, her exposed limbs tanned and healthy. Duncan saw
Joe give her a discreet once-over and hid a grin. If she could
make Joe happy he'd forgive her almost anything.
     "I was bird-watching and saw a little more than I expected."
she smiled at them with a hint of mischief. "But the view was so
pretty I couldn't look away."
     Joe did a double-take, understanding, but Richie looked
blank.
     Duncan handed him a wrapped sandwhich and nudged Connor in
the ribs.
     "I think we've shocked him."
     Richie's eyes grew wider.
     "You guys? On the beach? I never would've believed
it...ol'stick-in-the-mud Duncan gettin' it on in public...!" he
was grinning now, obviously teasing, but Duncan was trying to
decide if he was offended by that 'stick-in-the-mud' line.
     "It wasn't that public." he protested, then realized that
he'd proven Richie's point. "Dammit." he really needed to swear
more creatively when Connor was around.
     Connor took the bag from his hand and took over the job of
passing out food.
     "Duncan." he said gently as Duncan watched, bemused. "Get
the beer."
     Duncan did.

     Lunch was cheerful. Connor even made a joke. Angela proved
to be wryly funny and it was easy to see that Joe was smitten.
     "So what do you do when you're not spying on amourous
idiots?" he asked her when they got to their second beer.
     "I'm an accountant. Nothing amusing, or exciting. I moved
here from the mainland last year, after a vacation. I figured if
I was going to cruise through my life I might as well do it
someplace beautiful."
     "I can understand that." Joe agreed. He was sitting in the
single beach chair, the others were in the sand, and it was
getting uncomfortably hot. She squirmed. "I'm not being much of a
gentleman. Why don't you join me up here?"
     "I will, if you don't mind." she climbed up as he scooted
over, using his cane to give him some leverage. She didn't stare,
Duncan thought that was a good sign.
     He finished his beer and glanced over at Connor, who was
laying back in the sand. His friend's eyes were closed and he
couldn't tell if he were sleeping or thinking.
     Unmindful of the audience he moved beside him, lying down to
lean over him again, casting a shadow on his face as he did.
     "Connor?" softly, not wanting to wake him if he were
sleeping. But he'd get a bad burn if he slept out here, and it
would hurt like hell while it healed. Duncan knew. He'd done it.
     "I'm awake." Connor sighed and suddenly no one else existed,
it seemed like it was just the two of them for miles. Duncan
leaned closer, brushed Connor's lips with his own.
     "Are ye tired?" he whispered.

     Joe was looking at Angela, who was trying not to look at the
two men, only a couple of feet away. Richie was eating, watching
seagull acrobats above him, seemingly oblivious.
     Angela felt Joe's eyes and glanced up, embarrassed.
     "I'm sorry." she whispered. "It's just such a strange thing
for me to see...I've never been around any gay men before..."
     Joe grinned.
     "Don't let appearances fool you. When they're not with each
other those two are as straight as I am."
     "Really? They seem so much in love..." she was honestly
curious, and Joe felt that he wouldn't be betraying any
confidences with a few words.
     "They're mourning someone they both lost. Sometimes that's
easier to do in someone's arms."
     Duncan was sitting back up, offering Conor his hand, which
the older Immortal clasped firmly.
     "Could have fooled me." she smiled at Joe.

     Duncan stood, pulling Connor to his feet.
     "We're gonna go up. Connor's still tired." he said, studying
them for any reaction. Seeing none, he looked at Joe. "You wanna
come up with us now?" he carefully didn't suggest that he needed
help, but Joe answered as if he had.
     "Yeah. I could use some air-conditioning." he pushed himself
up with his cane and struggled slightly for balance in the uneven
sand. "Would you like to come up and play some cards or
something?" he asked Angela.
     She watched him and he could see understanding hit her. But
she smiled and there was no artifice in it.
     "Poker? I could use some mad money." she suggested.
     "Oh, you think you're good, do you?" Joe began walking off,
slower in the sand, but on his own two feet.
     "You coming, Rich?" Duncan asked.
     "Nah. I'm going to take the jetski out." he grinned at him
but it quickly faded. He knew this was serious.
     "'Kay." Duncan slipped his arm around Connor's waist and
they went up the stairs behind Joe and Angela. Duncan had to
reach an arm to steady him occasionally and was glad that Angela
had the sensitivty not to, it would have been hard for Joe to
accept that from a woman he'd just met. Connor was silent,
leaning a little on Duncan, who was worried about him.
     When they got to the bungalow Joe led Angela to the kitchen.
Duncan got Connor into the bedroom and turned to him, stepping
away, giving himself room to think.
     "Wha' is it, Connor? What can I do?"
     His friend just shook his head, soft brown hair plastered to
his head with sweat and sand. Remembering his thought of the
night before Duncan made a suggestion.
     "Come take a shower with me. You're tired and it will make
you feel better." he didn't want to imply that Connor was dirty,
because they'd both been a lot filthier when they were younger
and accepted it as the norm.
     Connor shook his head and silently went to sit in the big
armchair in front of the window, hands loose in his lap.
     Duncan stared down at him, perplexed, then sighed.
     "If tha's what ye want, then." he said. Then he left the
room. He'd been friends with Connor long enough to know when he
wanted to be left alone, when he needed to brood. But that didn't
make it any easier.
     Duncan took a shower, put on slacks and a grey shirt of
watered silk that flowed over him like water. In the living room
Joe invited him to join their game but he smiled and declined,
instead picking up Joe's book from the beach and opening it, more
out of curiousity, but soon interested in spite of the worries
clouding his mind.
     It was getting dark and he was thinking about dinner when he
heard the car pull up and felt the Buzz. He got up slowly, that
look of particular concentration on his face, and went to the
door. Joe was watching, suddenly tense.
     Duncan opened the door.
     Holding a small suitcase, Sky flinched when he saw him.
     The albino loked awful. His eyes were puffy and red, his
nose swollen. He looked like he hadn't bathed or eaten in days.
     He looked a lot like Connor had the day before.
     His light eyes met Duncan's and the guilt in them washed
away whatever anger Duncan had felt toward him. Wordlessly, he
held out his arms.
     Sky threw himself into them, breaking into sobs, not even
trying to speak. Though they were still building a relationship,
he knew Duncan cared about him and he was someone else who had
loved her, so he was safe and comforted in his arms.

     Angela looked at Joe quizzically.
     "Interesting friends you got."
     "His - mother - is the one who died." Joe said slowly,
trying to think of a way to describe the relationships.
     "Is he Duncan's son, then?" whatever Angela was, shy she
wasn't. "Or Connor's? He looks more like Connor."
     "That's none of my business." Joe said gently, trying not to
sound rude but still point out that they'd known her less than a
day.
     "Oh. Oh!" she said, blushing faintly. "I guess I feel so
comfortable around you....like I can ask you anything."
     "You can." he smiled and dared to touch her hand on the
tabletop. "Just not about other people."
     "I'll remember that." she said.

     Sky was still crying and Duncan was holding him, whispering
soothing words.
     "Shhh, there, it's okay now, you're gonna be fine...don't
cry so, she wouldna have wanted this..."
     The younger man clung to him like an anchor in a storm. He
tried to speak but the words were garbled with sobs.
     "I didn't...hic...didn't...she told me...I - I -" he stopped
trying and Duncan just continued to hold him.
     "I know. I understand." he almost grinned. "She always got
what she wanted, didn't she?"
     Sky made a strangled sound, as if he were choking on
laughter. He gulped down the last sobs and Duncan held him away.
He looked even worse now.
     "Ye look like hell." he took the tail of his shirt and wiped
the pale man's nose with it like a child's. Sky managed a shaky
grin at the gesture. "There. D'ye want ta see Connor now?"
     With a vehement headshake Sky killed that idea.
     "He's gonna kill me, Duncan! I - I - " his eyes took in the
other people in the room for the first time, lingering on the
face he didn't recognize.
     "Shhh." Duncan laid a finger on his lips. "Connor will
forgive ye, as I have. It's what she wanted and there's noh' more
ta be said. Go and wash up -- I'll bring ye some clean clothes."
     Wearily Sky went the direction Duncan pointed -- Joe and
Richie's bathroom, not his and Connors' -- and Duncan took his
bag to the small wash room off the kitchen. Joe got to his feet
and followed him.
     "Should I ask her to leave?" he asked, sounding worried.
     Duncan smiled a little. "Why don't you take her to dinner?
That'll give me time to get Sky and Connor settled."
     "Connor won't hurt him, will he, MacLeod?"
     "Connor's in too much pain to hurt anyone but himself."
Duncan sounded tired. He turned away from Joe, rummaging in the
cabinet for clean clothes that would fit Sky, but Joe grabbed his
arm.
     "Who's going to take care of you, Mac? While you're taking
care of everyone else?"
     Duncan shrugged, not looking at him as he pulled out a pair
of Richie's jeans and a black turtleneck.
     "When it's their turn they'll take care of me." he answered.
The he smiled over his shoulder. "So it's your job until then."
     He heard Joe go back to the living room and speak quietly
with Angela. Apparently she agreed, because he called to Duncan.
     "I'm calling a cab and we'll wait outside for it. Don't wait
up!"
     Duncan smiled at that. The he went to give Sky the clothes.
     The young man was shy in front of him, carefully holding a
towel around himself, thanking him with his eyes down, bashful.
Seeing how tired he was Duncan sent him to Richie's bed, knowing
his student would understand,and saw him tucked up tight, feeling
oddly maternal, before going to check on Connor.
     He was sitting in the same position Duncan had left him in,
and that was a bad sign. But he hadn't started drinking, and that
was good, so everything was about even.
     "Is he here?" Connor asked quietly.
     "He's tired and miserable, Connor." Duncan stroked his
matted hair gently. "I put him to bed."
     "I don't think I can look at him." Connor let his head loll
back, feeling Duncan's strong fingers massage his scalp.
     "He did what she asked him to." Duncan chided. "As either of
us would have. Don't be angry because she chose him."
     Connor was silent. Duncan rubbed his head with both hands,
knowing he had a headache that healing wouldn't take care of. At
last Connor sighed and Duncan stopped. His hands were cramping.
     "I'm going to take that shower now." he stood and Duncan
grabbed him for a quick, hard hug, kissing his neck lightly.
     "I'll order some food."
     Connor took Duncan's head in his hads and kissed him back,
with some eagerness.
     "Good idea. I'm going to work up an appetite."
     He let go so suddenly Duncan staggered a bit, then recovered
and smiled sadly at his retreating back. If it made him feel
better...

     Richie came up when Connor came out of the shower. Duncan
was on the phone, ordering chinese take-out.
     "Hey." Richie never knew quite what to say to Connor. He
thought of their relationship as an uncle/nephew sort of thing,
but when Connor was sleeping with Duncan that didn't describe it.
Maybe it was stepfather/stepson? Or ex-boyfriend/new boyfriend?
"You know, we're going to have to come up with a whole new
vocabulary to describe Immortal relationships." he meant it as a
joke, but Connor was looking at him as if he were serious.
     "Perhaps we should use abbreviations." Connor sat on the
couch, still looking at Richie, that flat stare that was so hard
to read. "You'd be my ST-L-FS-ST."
     "Huh?" Richie collapsed into an armchair in front of the
fireplace.
     "My Student-Lover's Foster-Son Student."
     Richie grimaced when he realized that Connor was teasing
him, but felt relieved as well. He often wondered just what
Connor thought of him.
     "I was thinking something just like that." he admitted.
     "I could tell." Connor smiled that half-smile that made
Duncan want to kill him or kiss him. "A relationship doesn't have
to be named to work, Richie. Just go with it."
     Richie nodded, understanding. Connor was saying that he felt
that way about him too. Richie was glad.
     Duncan hung up the phone and sat by Connor, who promptly
leaned into him. Duncan shifted, putting an arm around his
shoulders, getting comfortable.
     Connor sighed and closed his eyes.
     "You're not going back to sleep now, are ye?" Duncan asked,
teasing.
     "You got anything better to do?" Connor looked up at him,
serious.
     "Poker." Duncan said, deadpan.
     "Get the cards." Connor called his bluff, sitting up.
     "Hey, I'm broke." Richie said, following them to the table.
"Stake me, Mac?"
     "I'll just win it back." Duncan smiled. It felt good to be
with both of them. This was his family now. The only person
missing was Amanda...and he didn't really want her here now
anyways, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking that. She
didn't know about him and Connor, and he wasn't planning on
telling her.
     Richie snorted.
     "As if."
     Beer at hand, they settled in to play cards.

     The food came and they ate. Connor was winning, as usual,
but Richie was a close second. Duncan was getting disgusted.
     "The two of ye are conspirin' against me." he accused with a
grin. He was glad to see them getting along so well. He knew
Connor made Richie nervous.
     "The way you play we don't have to." Connor raked in another
pot. They were using beans, a penny each. High stakes.
     Richie leaned back in his chair and stretched, tilting it
dangerously low.
     "Nature call." Duncan was just drunk enough to feel the need
to announce it. Connor laughed his soft staccato laugh.
     When Duncan was gone Richie stood, thinking it was a good
time to leave them alone. It was getting pretty late and he was
tired. Tomorrow he planned to make his first approach to his
Watcher. He'd scoped her hotel and needed to think of a game
plan.
     "I'm gonna crash." he told Connor. "Don't keep Mac up too
late." he was teasing, taking a chance.
     "I'll put him out quick." Connor said and Richie blinked,
wondering if it had been a joke. Then Connor smiled and he smiled
back. "Don't take it so seriously, Rich." Connor had begun using
the short version like Duncan did. "Goodnight."
     "'Night." Richie went into the bedroom to gather clothes,
planning to shower before going to bed, but the lump under his
covers startled him. He took a closer look and then came back
out. Duncan looked up expectantly.
     "Uh, Mac? There's somebody in my bed."
     Duncan did an exaggerated double-take.
     "Och, I forgot. Sky's here. I put him in yer bed because I
didn't think he'd get any sleep on the couch."
     "So I sleep on the couch?" Richie sounded put out.
     "He's too tired to touch you, Rich. Sleep in your bed."
Duncan yawned and didn't bother to cover it. "I'm a mite tired
meself."
     Connor was smiling. He stood and took Duncan's hand. "I
think you've had enough to drink, brother." he said softly.
     "Aye." Duncan agreed, standing and pulling Connor roughly to
him, using his greater strength to hold them there when he would
have pulled away, teasing.
     Richie knew they'd forgotten he was in the room. With a sigh
he went to the bathroom for his shower.
     He'd just gotten to soaping his hair when the sounds
started. Duncan's moans, low and thick, carried through the walls
like they were made of paper. Richie had to grin.

     "Connor...Connor..." Duncan gasped and moaned as his
friend's tongue delved into private places. "Just do it, man!" he
squirmed and begged, reaching for him, to tease him back. But
Connor evaded his grasping hands and adroitly turned him over,
not like Duncan was objecting. Still Connor teased, rubbing
against him, not entering, his hands cupping and twirling
Duncan's balls until the big man thought he would burst.
     "Slowly, Duncan, slowly..." Connor soothed as Duncan writhed
beneath him. "Turn back over, let me see your face..."
     With a lunge Duncan flipped himself and brought his feet up
to his butt, tucking them tight, tilting his pelvis, giving
Connor acess. The cold slick of lubricant almost brought him off
and he grabbed the headboard, gasping, lower lip caught in his
teeth, trying to be still long enough to let Connor finish.
     Connor held his hips firmly and entered him with a smooth
lunge. Duncan cried out and came instantly, but he was too far
gone to be embarrassed about it. Connor leaned to kiss him and he
clamped to his mouth, trying to drown in him. Connor's hands on
his shoulders kept them moving, gently rocking, until Duncan
could breathe again. Then Connor pushed himself up and smiled
down at his friend, Duncan's eyes dark pools devoid of rational
thought.
     "Again?"
     Duncan moved his hips in answer and they went on.

     Richie felt awkward climbing into the bed. He knew Sky liked
him, but he'd made it clear that he wasn't interested in that
kind of involvement. That one time with Duncan had been an
exception. Would Sky take this as an offer?
     He lay back gingerly, trying not to wake the younger
Immortal, who was curled on his side away from Richie. After a
few minutes, when Sky didn't move, Richie relaxed and took a deep
breath. This would be okay.
     He could still hear Connor and especially Duncan, and it lit
a small fire in his groin that he ignored. He'd never realized
that just listening to someone could be such a turn-on. Maybe it
was just because he'd made Duncan make those noises once. Or just
because it was Duncan. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to do
anything about it tonight.
 

     Duncan came again. Connor's hoarse shout joined his scream -
- a rare occurence -- and collapsed on top of him, pulling free
as Duncan's legs dropped.
     They were sticky with fluids, sweaty and smelly, but Duncan
felt better than he had since getting that phone call. He stroked
Connor's hair, feeling his own lip heal where he'd bitten it,
then pressed a kiss to his neck, where he could reach him. Connor
didn't stir, his face buried in Duncan's neck, inhaling the scent
of him, of them.
     Connor stirred and would have moved but Duncan held him
tightly, keeping them together.
     "Stay." he whispered. "I like your weight against me."
     Connor shifted a tiny bit and then lay still.
     There was no need for words.

     Richie woke suddenly. Something was different.
     He felt the weight against his side, the warmth pressed
there and sighed. Sky had cuddled close to him in his sleep. His
face looked chalky in the moonlight, his hair a wash of silver.
     He frowned in his sleep, disturbed by dreams.
     Richie wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer,
stroking his silky-fine hair. The frown faded and Skylar sighed,
sinking into a deeper sleep. Then Richie slept again.

     The next morning brought a storm and Joe's return. He took
their teasing good-naturedly. Richie had woken to find Sky gone
and been rleieved to avoid an awkward conversation.
     "On the couch, guys. On the couch." Joe was insisting to
Connor and Duncan over breakfast.
     Duncan looked up when Richie came in.
     "Sky's in the shower again." he said. "We're going for a run
after we eat. You coming?"
     "In this?" Richie looked out the window at the rain. It
wasn't falling hard, but warm and soft.
     "It'll be invigorating."

     "I thought we were on vacation!" Richie yelled as they
started out a hour later. They were all in shorts, Duncan sans
shirt, Sky with his long hair braided back out of his eyes and
barefoot despite Duncan's scolding. Connor jogged on ahead,
ignoring them.
     "You wanna turn into a pudding?" Sky teased Richie, who
responded by speeding up to catch Connor. Soon they were all
running, not a pleasant jog like Duncan had imagined, but a race
through the rain, down the beach like a herd of horses.
     It became an endurance challenge. Duncan knew better than to
think he could best Connor at this, so he concentrated on making
the two younger men work, which they did. Richie envied Connor's
easy stride as his own became choppy, legs beginning to burn and
lungs to ache.
     "You're working too hard!" Duncan yelled at him for the
tenth time. "Loosen up!"
     With a grimace Richie reminded his muscles to do that again
and it was suddenly easier. Sky didn't seem to be having the same
problems he was.
     He had no idea how many miles they'd ran when they all felt
it. Though their proximity to each other made it harder to
detect, it was clearly the Buzz of a fifth Immortal.
     They pounded to a halt. Richie noticed that Connor was
barely breathing hard and shook his head.
     A man came from around behind a large boulder. A woman
peered over it, looking frightened.
     He looked to be in his mid-thirties, about Duncan's age, of
Asian descent and the Buzz was strong.
     "I am Takuri Lyn of the Matsumoto." he said formally, though
he held no sword. "I have no quarrel with you." he didn't look
particularly worried, probably because they were obviously
unarmed.
     "Nor we with you." Duncan answered. "I'm Duncan Macleod of
the clan MacLeod. This is my kinsman Connor and these are our
students." he didn't introduce them and Richie knew that was for
thier protection, though he had to quell the urge to remind
Duncan that he didn't need it.
     "A convention?" Takuri smiled slightly, showing his teeth in
an unfriendly way.
     "A vacation." Duncan answered, his voice hardening.
     "Unless you'd like to make it otherwise." Connor spoke up.
He stood still beside Duncan, the two of them presenting a united
front.
     Takuri shook his head.
     "Another day. When you aren't traveling in a pack."
     The MacLeods stared at him until he turned around and went
to the frightened woman, lifting her up and speaking to her. She
looked at them again and Connor turned to the others.
     "I say we swim back."
     Duncan agreed while Richie groaned. Then he heard himself
and thought how childish it sounded, so cut it off. He wasn't
going to whine anymore, he'd decided that. It was just a bad
habit...
     They waded into the surf and swam in the rain.
 

     Most of the day was spent inside, playing cards. Richie made
enough money to, as Duncan put it "pay for a college education"
as the stakes went up. Joe fussed cheerfully about playing with
high rollers, but Sky was the real surprise. He was good.
     "I'm taking you to Vegas!" Richie declared as he lost yet
another hand to a masterful bluff. "Who taught you to play?"
     "My father -- before he found out what I am." the younger
Immortal didn't seem bothered to talk about it. "Sometimes I wish
I'd been around in the old west days, when a cardshark could
travel from town to town and make a killing."
     "Or get killed." Connor smiled ironocally. "I tried it. It
wasn't as romantic as it seemed."
     "I don't know." Joe said slyly, giving Duncan a sideways
glance. "I hear the old west was really romantic."
     Duncan blinked, then glared at him, but Connor's chuckle
softened it into a grin.
     "I guess you could say that." he stroked his clanmsman's leg
under the table and Connor jumped, bumping his knee. The others
laughed.
     "I'm out." Joe said, throwing down his cards in disgust and
standing slowly. "I was thinking of calling Angela and seeing if
she wants to go to a movie. You guys want to come? I'm getting a
little stir-crazy."
     "It's only been one day of rain." Duncan commented, standing
and stretching. Richie noticed Sky watching surreptitiously and
caught his eye, causing him to look away with a blush. Duncan was
oblivious. "I can remember entire months trapped in the
weather..." he trailed off, looking at Richie looking at Sky.
"Something going on?" he asked cheerfully.
     "Nothing, Mac." Richie stood as well. "Joe, why don't you
call my Watcher and invite her along too? I haven't been able to
track her down..."
     Joe shook his head, picking up the local paper and flipping
through it. Duncan went to look over his shoulder.
     "What have we got to choose from?"
     "All the new stuff -- a foreign film festival -- a Godzilla
marathon -- the Freddie Kruger movies --" he sighed. "What do you
guys want?"
     "Godzilla." Connor spoke up, surprising them. Duncan's eyes
went wide and then he smiled broadly.
     "Yeah, we're on vacation. Godzilla."
     "No, no, no." Joe shook his head. "I am not taking a woman
to a Godzilla marathon. Not at my age. Maybe when I was fifteen."
     "Joe, if they can do it..." Richie teased.
     "I haven't seen any Godzilla movies." Sky said softly. "My
dad didn't aprove of horror films."
     "Godzilla isn't horror." Duncan said. "C'mn, Joe. You can
make out during the silly parts."
     "All they are is silly parts." Joe was still protesting.
"Besides, I don't even know if she's free tonight."
     "Did you sleep on her couch last night?"
     Joe answered Duncan with a smile.
     "Yeah, you know I did."
     "Then she's waiting for you to call. Trust me, I know
women."
     "That's not all he knows." Connor's soft comment caused a
blush that bloomed across Duncan's face. Every man in the room
saw his body react to those quiet words.
     "Connor -" he warned. Connor stood and went to stand behind
him, pressing lightly against him. His voice was a whisper meant
for Duncan's ears only.
     "Are we going to make out during the silly parts?"
     Duncan had to hold himself still, aware that the other men
in the room were finding other things to look at.
     He stepped away and turned, catching Connor's grin, a real
one. Duncan leaned close, his breath brushing Connor's neck as he
inhaled the salt sweat smell of him.
     "It'll all be silly parts." his whisper caused Connor to
shift and Duncan's own body reacted with hunger.

     "So, you'll call my Watcher?" Richie asked Joe as the older
man sat back down, phone in hand.
     "I will not."
     "I'm going to change into something warmer." Sky said
suddenly, standing. He left the room abruptly, his exit bringing
Duncan and Connor back to their senses.
     Duncan stepped away from his friend, looking after the
other.
     "He thinks you're angry with him."
     "That's probably because I am." Conor said shortly, his
customary sarcasm firmly back in place.
     "You're gonna have to talk to him."
     Connor didn't answer.

     They watched three - three! -- Godzilla movies. Taking up a
row in the middle of the half-full theatre, they had a popcorn
war and laughter rose as they taunted the monsters onscreeen
along with the other viewers.
     Duncan kept his hands off Connor, but Connor seemed to think
the whole thing was an excuse to tease him, and his hands kept
coming back to stroke Duncan's chest, rub his thigh, and drop
between his legs. Duncan caught his hands, pushed them away, time
and again, but Connor was enjoying himself.
     "Connor - don't." Duncan hissed at last, and Connor heard
real anger in his voice. He put his hands in his own lap, flat on
his thighs. "There are too many people here."
     "It's not like they don't know." Connor nodded toward Joe
and Angela, Sky and Richie.
     "Not them." Duncan was leaning away from him. Acutely
embarrasssed, he felt the eyes of people he didn't know on the
back of his head.
     "What do you care what they think?" Connor's voice dropped
and Duncan heard the hurt in it.
     But he didn't know what to say. Why did it matter to him
what people thought? He was who he was and it wasn't any of their
business.
     "Would you act like this with Amanda?" Connor's voice
dripped sarcasm.
     "Of course, I'm not an exhi-" Duncan stopped suddenly,
realizing that he was lying. He wouldn't have treated Amanda like
this. Or Tessa. He had loved to take Tessa to movies -- usually
the black-and-white french films with convoluted plots that she
enjoyed -- and try to distract her the way Connor was trying to
distract him. And he'd practically made love to Amanda on
sidewalks a few times when she got him really worked up. It
hadn't mattered then who was watching or what they thought.
     He was an exhibitionist, under the right circumstances. When
feelings of love and joy overflowed and he felt alive. And that
brought up a few new questions.
     He was deep in thought, unaware of the movie or Connor's
silence beside him.
     Didn't Connor make him feel joy? Didn't he make Duncan feel
loved and alive? Making love with Connor -- he had to call it
that, there was no way it was just sex -- was it an escape or
something more? Friendship? Or settling for what was available
instead of looking for something else and risking getting hurt?
     He hadn't found any answers by the time they left. Glancing
at Connor as they walked out he saw his kinsman's face was tight
and closed, his only expression that carefully crafted bland 'I'm
nobody important, don't notice me' one.
     The rain had stopped, leaving the night warm and smelling
fresh.
     "I feel like walking." Angela said when Richie raised his
hand to flag a cab.
     "Then we walk." Joe smiled at her. She smiled back and got
close to him so he could put an arm around her waist as they
went.
     "There's a garden on the next block that's lovely." she
said, leading them off. "It's lit at night because some of the
flowers only bloom after dark."
     "That sounds nice." Joe was besotted.
     They broke into pairs. Joe and Angela fell to the back,
Richie and Sky were in front, and Duncan and Connor filled the
middle, going between them in silence.
     The garden was beautiful, but the two MacLeods didn't see
it. They were each caught up in their own thoughts. When the two
younger Immortals caught up with them Duncan was startled.
     "We're going to run by the hotel bar and see if we can spot
anyone worth talking to." Richie said cheerfully. Sky was smiling
beside him, but still looked nervous. He didn't meet Duncan's
eyes.
     "Stay out of trouble." Duncan warned. "You're unarmed,
remember."
     "Gotcha."
     They were gone, and then Angela left, telling Joe she had to
be up early for work in the morning.
     "You could just not sleep." he suggested, and she laughed.
     "That works better over the weekend." she answered and that
brought a smile to his face that faded as he joined the
Immortals.
     "What's with you guys?"
     "Nothing." Duncan said. Connor was quiet.
     They caught a cab back to the beachhouse.

     Joe excused himself and went to bed as soon as they got in.
It was past midnight and he was tired from all the walking he'd
been doing.
     Duncan sat on the sofa, his eyes willing Connor to join him,
but he wouldn't look at him.
     "I'm going for a walk." he announced, and left so quickly
Duncan barely had time to register the words.
     "Connor!" Duncan called after him, coming off the couch.
Then he thought about it and rationalized to himself. Maybe he
needed to be alone. He'd been feeling much better, he was
probably safe...Duncan sat back down and leaned his head back,
summoning images of Tessa, torturing himself, trying to lose
himself in memory.
     He had told her about Connor one night, long ago. At the
cabin after he killed Slan and tried to leave her and Connor
brought her to him. She was the only one he'd ever told until
Richie.

     "I don't understand your realtionship with him." she
whispered. They were wrapped in each other's arms, the sweat
drying on their bodies, his head pillowed on her breasts as he
inhaled the scent of her and felt free, for that moment, on a
pile of furs in the living room.
     "He's my teacher. My mentor. My father and my brother."
Duncan had answered, not looking up at her. "He was my family
when I had no one."
     "He'll be your family when I'm gone."
     His arms tightened on her convulsively and his heart sped
up. The fire cracked behind him.
     "Sometimes I think there's more to it than that." she sat
up, pulling him with her, one hand tangled in his hair, her so-
blue eyes bright in the dimness.
     He released her, sat and moved a foot away, trying not to
look at her. She was so beautiful it hurt sometimes to look at
her, so he stared into the fire instead.
     Her hand on his back felt like it belonged. She could never
startle him, never frighten him. He was always aware of her,
whether they were in the same room or not. This close he knew she
could read every nuance of his body language.
     "Why do you act guilty?" a breath on the back of his neck,
her breasts flat against his broad back, warming him. He lay his
head back on her shoulder and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.
     "I'ave never told anyone this." he muttered.
     "That you and Connor have been lovers?" she asked in
delicate french.
     "How did you know?" he wasn't surprised she knew, sometimes
it seemed that she knew everything about him.
     "The way he looked at you sometimes. The pain in his eyes. I
saw him start to reach for you once, when he thought I wasn't
looking."
     "Connor's closer to me than anyone except you." he kissed
her neck, pressing his lips to the pulse that beat there. "He -
Connor - he's not happy. He hasn't been in all the years I've
known him, but briefly. Sometimes I - I help him forget."
     She was silent, wrapping her arms around him, her strong
hands molding his pectorals, caressing. He turned his head and
their lips met, and passion surged between them again.
     As he turned and drew her down with him she smiled, a little
sadly, and spoke as she opened to him.
     "Then you will have someone when I'm gone. I'm glad."
     "That will be a long time for him to wait." he'd answered.

     Not that long, as it turned out. Not nearly long enough.
     He roused from the near-doze and looked around. Connor had
not returned, he would have felt him. A low rumble of thunder
warned that the storm was returning.
     The boys would probably crash in town. Maybe Richie would
get lucky.
     Connor'd been out there alone long enough. Duncan got up to
go after him, walking slowly down the dark beach.
     He didn't know what he was going to say, but he would find
the words. Find a way to explain to his oldest friend that he
wasn't ashamed of him, didn't want to hide their feelings for
each other. No matter what those feelings might be.
     Something was changing. He walked on, thinking, waiting to
feel Connor, to find him.
     Something had changed. In the way they thought of each
other, the way they felt. What had before been a bonding, an
aside to their friendship, had become something more. More than
recreation, more than consolation, more than friendship. His
relationship with Connor wasn't what he had with Amanda, the
closest comparision he could think of. He and the ex-theif loved
each other dearly but aknowledged their differences, the reasons
they stayed apart more than they were together. Loving other
people would never change what they had. But Connor...
     Connor was more to him than Amanda had ever been. They came
together even less often, and it didn't always involve sex, which
was the primary aspect of Duncan-and-Amanda. He could count the
encounters with Connor where they'd ended up sleeping together on
one hand.
     First with Saraid. And it probably didn't count because they
hadn't really been sleeping with each other then, but sharing
her, though they had kissed and enjoyed touching each other. It
had lasted just over thirty years, but they had never really made
love to each other in all that time.
     So the first time had really been that week at the temple in
Thailand where he had tracked Connor down, worried because he
hadn't seen him in too long. The first time it had been just the
two of them in bed together to do more than sleep.
     Then the meeting in London, a drunken one-night stand
between ports of call as they went their seperate ways.
     After Little Deer's death Connor hadn't approached him and
he hadn't asked. He'd been in too much pain, holding it close to
himself, nurturing it, unwilling to let it go. It had taken him
ten years to let it go, a little at a time.
     And then he had met Connor in Denver and learned something
new about himself.
     There had been one other time, in Paris, right before he met
Tessa. Connor had come to him and he'd taken him in and soothed
his pain the way he knew best. It had seemed then that Connor
might stay for a while, they might spend a few decades together,
but Connor had left again with no explanation, only a letter sent
weeks later thanking Duncan and promising to find him again. The
postmark had been Egypt.
     Five times. Or four, depending on how he counted them. And
now. This time.
     Connor needed him now, and he was letting him down. Two
women he loved dead, Connor who found it so hard to love, he was
in more pain than Duncan could imagine. Losing Tessa had nearly
killed him, had made him want to lie down and wait for someone to
come by and put him out of his misery, but in the end he had
chosen to live. Had Connor?
     Sometimes Duncan thought not. That Connor never really had
and only the people he loved kept him here. Heather, then Duncan,
then Brenda. Connor had never loved freely as Duncan did. He'd
never formed a strong connection with another Immortal, like
Duncan and Amanda or Gina and Robert.
     When he wasn't with Duncan, Connor was alone.

     The bungalow was quiet and dark when the two young Immortals
returned. Richie opened the door and they came in silently.
     "I wonder where everyone is?" he looked around.
     "Sleeping?" Sky suggested with a straight face. "It's after
three."
     "Well, we would have gotten back sooner if you hadn't
spotted that redhead." Richie teased, heading for the bedroom.
     "Hey." the albino followed him. "I happen to be partial to
redheads."
     "That why you're following me?" His face carefully non-
confrontational, Richie turned back around.
     "I was just going to get my stuff." Sky said with a shrug. I
don't go where I'm not invited, Rich."
     The blue eyes looked him carefully up and down.
     "You were crying in your sleep last night."
     "You remember when you told me how it felt when Tessa died?"
Sky's voice was low and soft. "You said that you could have saved
her. Should have saved her. Richie, I killed her."
     "I know." Richie reached for him and pulled him into a hug.
"I know, Sky. I now it hurts and I know you hate yourself and I
know you're scared. But we're all here for you. Even Connor - he
has to love you because she did."
     "But I'm alone now." the words were whispered into Richie's
neck. Gently Richie pushed him away and gave him a grin.
     "You're not alone. C'mon, you can sleep in my bed tonight."
He turned and started back to the bedroom, but Sky didn't follow.
     "It's okay." Richie turned back. "I can hold you until you
fall asleep. It doesn't change who I am."
     Without a word Sky took his hand and followed him into the
room.
     Joe was snoring softly, getting a grin from both young men.
They stripped in the dark, both choosing sweats for sleeping -
Joe had the air conditioning set way low, it was actually almost
cold it there - and climbed into the bed.
     Sky lay back stiffly, uncomfortable. Richie leaned over,
turned him on his side, and gathered him close, spooning around
him.
     "Okay?" the single word was loud in the quiet. Joe snorted
and turned, but didn't wake.
     "Thanks, Rich." Sky heaved a sigh and closed his eyes.
"You're a good friend."
     "I know."
 

     On the beach Duncan finally felt him, after walking for more
than an hour. This far from the city the night was black, the
starlight hidden by the blanket of clouds.
     Connor was sitting at the edge of the ocean, the water
lapping at his toes with every wave, arms wrapped around drawn-up
knees, eyes staring blankly at the dark expanse of cold grey.
     Duncan sat silently beside him, matching his posture, but
laying his own head down on his crossed arms over his knees.
     No words were spoken for a very long time.

     "I remember the first time I kissed you." Connor's quiet
voice startled Duncan out of his memories. "You were so young. So
scared. She wanted both of us and you wanted her...but I never
knew if you really wanted me."
     Duncan was shocked. How could he...?
     "Would I let you do what we do if I didn't?" he said it in a
rush, worry evident in his tone.
     "If it felt good enough, yeah, you might." Connor's answer
was harsh. "You're a sensualist, Duncan. You seek physical
pleasure wherever you can find it."
     "There are easier ways to get it!" Duncan snapped, sitting
up straight and putting his hands down beside him. "Ways that
hurt a lot less." He couldn't believe Connor had said that.
     "Once you asked me to hurt you." there was no change in
Connor's voice, no inflection, no emotion. "Is that what you want
from me now?"
     "Connor..." Duncan leaned close to him, unable to see his
face in the darkness, touching his shoulder hesitantly. "I want
anything will make you feel better."
     "Even this?" Taken by surprise, Duncan found himself pushed
backwards, Connor's hands on his shoulders, his knees pinning
Duncan's arms at his sides, restraining him. Duncan looked up,
confused and a little frightened. He'd seen Connor's anger but it
had never been turned on him before.
     "What are yew doing?" he managed to ask evenly. Connor's
hands left his shoulders and he struggled breifly, just to show
that he could. When the hands went to his zipper he increased the
struggling, but not enough to hurt Connor. He didn't want to hurt
Connor.
     Connor got his jeans unzipped and his hand around Duncan's
dick, squeezing too tightly, making Duncan moan and shift with
the pain.
     "You said anything." Connor snarled.
     "Connor...I - you -" Duncan couldn't find any words. Connor
pinched the head of his penis and pain shot through Duncan.
     "Connor!" now he began to struggle in earnest, using his
size and strength to try and throw the other man off of him. But
Connor had leverage and he had Duncan's penis trapped in his
hand. He squeezed and pinched and Duncan was suddenly still,
willing him to stop, to let things go back to the way they were.
     "I meant it." he whispered, dropping his head back to the
sand. "Anything you want, Connor. Even this."
     Connor's hand hurt him again and he trembled but didn't
fight it.
     "Will this help you, Connor?" he whispered as his body
reacted again to the sudden sharp pain. He wanted to see Connor's
face so badly he was straining his eyes trying, but saw only
shadows and planes. "Is this what you want?"
     "I don't know what I want." Connor's whisper hung in the air
as he slid from Duncan, his hand releasing him, to lie still,
face-down in the packed wet sand.
     "Connor." Duncan leaned over him, stroking his back. "I know
I hurt your feelings at the movie...I'm sorry. I'm not used to
thinking of myself this way."
     Connor neither spoke nor moved. Duncan leaned over him,
gently kissing the back of his neck, nipping it.
     "We've always been alone before." Duncan tried to explain.
"It's strange for me to feel other people watching us. It's ...
it's not a part of how I think of myself."
     Connor's voice cracked. "We're beyond that, Duncan."
     "I know." Duncan whispered, kissing his neck, putting his
arms around him, turning him over to face him. "I like what you
do to me. I wouldn't let anyone else do it." he figured Richie
had been a special case. "It's okay if you hurt me, Connor,
because it's you. If that's what you need."
     "I don't want to hurt you." Connor's hand came up and traced
his face in the darkness. "It just seems ... sometimes ..."
     "You hurt too much to control it." Duncan understood. He'd
felt like that the night he'd taken Annie Devlin. It had been a
liasion not of love, but of pain, his and hers both. Afterwards
he'd felt dirty and ashamed that he had made love to another
woman so soon after Tessa's death. If he had gone to Connor then
Tessa might still be the last woman he'd made love to. "You feel
like all you can do is hurt someone else. I know. It's okay."
     "Is it, Duncan?" Connor's hand went behind his head and
urged him down. "Is this 'okay'?"
     "Aye, Connor." Duncan breathed as they kissed.
     It went quickly from kiss to seduction. Connor's pain was
too sharp to be denied and Duncan's need too great. When Connor
sat up and urged him to turn over Duncan did, but was surprised
when Connor pulled him up to his knees, hard against him,
stripped Duncan's jeans off and buried his hands in Duncan's
hair, pulling his head painfully back.
     "Like the first time, Duncan." he muttered. "Give yourself
to me like the first time."
     Not knowing why Connor wanted it this way, Duncan had his
doubts. But that memory burned clear in his mind and his body
reacted to it eagerly, so he went to his knees, feeling the yank
of pain as Connor got his head back and he braced himself for the
onslaught.
     Connor had been angry with him that day, angry that he'd
deny that part of himself when it was so evident to the older
Immortal. Accepting that he wanted it then and now, Duncan bucked
aginst him as he sought entry and Connor dug figers into his hips
to hold him, not gently, leaving deep bruises as he controlled
Duncan with the hand in his hair.
     "Aghhhhhh!" Duncan screamed into the night as Connor drove
into him ruthlessly, no preparation or warning to soften the
impact, the flesh tearing and bleeding as he surged forward only
to have his head snapped back to an impossible angle. He couldn't
find words as the pain engulfed him.
     Then it lessened suddenly and he was aware again. Of the
sand beneath his hands and knees, the weight against his back,
the presence within him.
     "okay?" Connor hissed. Duncan knew he'd been holding back,
waiting for this moment when the pain became secondary to the
pleasure.
     His body shivered with anticipation. Connor waited,
patiently, until Duncan could speak.
     "it's good, Connor..." his whisper could barely be heard
above the waves.
     And Connor began to move. Each thrust was met with a grunt
from Duncan, pain becoming pleasure as his body relaxed, adjusted
and he began to feel again. Duncan dropped his own hand to touch
himself, gasping as Connor yanked his head further back, and a
howl ripped from him as Connor increased the pace without
warning, taking him savagely, without care. The very violence of
it inflamed Duncan, who came all over himself, shaking with
aftershocks and dismay as Connor follwed him, wrenching his neck
painfully, longs strands of his hair coming free in the older
Immortal's clenched fist when Duncan snapped his head forward and
Connor released him, pulled away and let Duncan fall to the sand,
panting.
     "You like that?" Connor hissed, still on his knees, staring
down at him. Duncan couldn't see his face but the anger in the
words hit him like a blow.
     He didn't even try to get up, just lay there cataloguing his
hurts while they healed. This time he healed quickly, lending
credence to this theory that his emotional stae had soemthing to
do with it. If he was angry or fighting when he got hurt it
healed faster -- but if he was happy or relaxed they healed much
more slowly. That would also explain running injuries...
     He realized that he'd lost track of what Connor was
thinking. Defence mechanism...when he couldn't handle what was
happening his mind took a vacation, sought refuge in thought. He
was doing it again right now.
     Connor was still above him, silent now, but the line of his
body proved his anger was still alive. Seeing that made Duncan
want to hide, but he couldn't. Connor needed him more than ever
now, especially if he was this close to losing control.
     So Duncan looked up at him and said the only thing that
would help.
     "I love you, Connor."
     "Fuck you, Duncan." Connor fell back heavily, too tired to
move.
     "Ye just did." how he could find a joke in this, how he
could manage a weak laugh...Duncan didn't know, but he did. "I
will always love you, Connor. Ye canna change tha'."
     "Then you're crazier than I am." Connor sighed,
straightening his twisted body.
     "I 'ad a good teacher." Duncan's laugh grew stronger and he
felt suddenly powerful and giddily happy. He turned over and
crawled to Connor, wincing a little, and lay across him, a leg
and arm over him, his head on his clansman's chest, other hand
curled up by his neck. "Dammit, Connor." he said very softly.
"I'll announce it from rooftops, I'll go on TV, I'll tell Joe to
write it up in that Watcher newsletter he never lets me read. If
it would make you happy."
     Connor's arms came around him, warm and comforting.
     "Ye dinna 'ave to do that." he rolled the words out. "I know
ye love me, and ye love me well, brother."
     "And you love me." Duncan snuggled his head closer, rubbing
his cheek on Connor's chest, the sparse wiry hair so different
from his own.
     "Aye, Duncan. I do."
     It was late and they were exhausted by the emotional storm
they had passed through. Listening to the waves, feeling Connor's
arms around him, Duncan drifted to sleep, pleasant lethargy
infusing him.

*****************************************************************

"Mama! Mama! I think they're dead!"
     The sweet, high voice of a child yanked Duncan
uncerimoniously from sleep. He opened his eyes in horror as a
woman's voice crashed into his eardrums.
     "Oh my God! Sarah, come away from there! Get away from
them!"
     The little girl - four or five, Duncan judged groggily -
obediently turned and trotted to the older woman standing at the
edge of the beach, staring at them with open-mouthed horror.
     Duncan sat, realizing that he was still nude, shielding
Connor with his body as his friend stirred and groaned.
     "You - you perverts! get away from here! Get off my beach!!"
she was shrieking and Duncan fervently hoped she didn't have a
husband or brother following her, because he was in no condition
to fight.
     "Sorry!" he offered, hastily grabbing his discarded jeans
and trying to pull them on without showing anything more and
still cover Connor, two diametrically opposed goals. "We fell
asleep! Didn't mean to -" To what? "We didn't realize we'd come
so far from our place!" he substitued for other things he'd
thought.
     "I'm calling the police!" she screamed. "Do you have that
disease?! Are you going to hurt my baby?!" she was clutching the
child so tightly to her legs that Duncan thought if anyone hurt
the girl she would.
     He managed to get his jeans pulled up and zipped, then
Connor rolled out from behind him with another groan and stood,
staggering.
     "Are you on drugs?" her voice got even shriller, something
Duncan wouldn't have thought possible a minute ago.
     "Mama, he looks funny!" the child laughed as Connor got his
balance and looked around.
     Duncan stepped to Connor and offered him an arm to lean on -
- Connor never woke well -- and privately agreed with her. He
thought men in general looked funny naked. Connor blinked at him.
     "Wha' time iz it, Duncan?" he yawned.
     "Time we got home." Duncan smiled at him, his happiness of
the night before flooding back. Connor's jeans were around his
ankles, Duncan leaned to pull them up and the woman screamed
again.
     "WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!!!"
     He ignored her, got the jeans up and buttoned after a minute
of fumbling, and straightened, pulling Connor close. Connor
leaned on him with a small smile and Duncan turned his attention
to the screaming mama.
     "Ma'am. I said I was sorry. We're going to leave now, but I
want to tell you something first."
     She was shocked enough by this quiet speech to close her
mouth with a snap.
     "I love this man, and he loves me. Surely there's a place in
your world for that?"
     He turned, Connor with him, and began walking away before
she thought of a reply.
     They had gone several yards when she threw a threat after
them.
     "I'll have the police on you before the day is out!"
     "An' she probably will." Connor sighed. "I'm sorry, Duncan."
     "It's okay." Duncan tilted Connor's face to his and kissed
him lightly. "We can handle it."

*****************************************************************

     They had to. The police showed up just after Duncan got out
of the shower. He'd let Connor go first and come out to find
Connor and Joe fixing breakfast. They hadn't told Joe about their
nocturnal adventures, but he'd been awake when they dragged in
and Duncan figured he'd guessed.
     The knock on the door startled them.
     Duncan opened the door to two uniformed police officers who
looked very uncomfortable. Connor came to his side.
     "Yes?" he knew what this was about.
     "We've had a complaint." the tall one said.
     "About your activities on the beach last night." the short
one added.
     Connor came to Duncan's side.
     "If it was the two of you." tall.
     "You fit the description." short.
     "It was late." Duncan said quietly. "We didn't mean to fall
asleep."
     "If you're going to fool around, do it at home, okay?" short
sighed wearily.
     "Or at least in the water." tall nudged him.
     "We're sorry." Connor said contritely. "It won't happen
again."
     "Good."
     "See that it doesn't."
     They left after refusing the coffee Joe offered.

     "I'm still tired." Connor slumped on the sofa. Concerned,
Duncan sat beside him.
     "Then rest." he took him in his arms and pulled him onto his
chest. Connor curled into him, his arms folded on his own chest,
his head heavy on Duncan's shoulder. He closed his eyes and
sighed.
     "It will never stop hurting, will it, Duncan." the words
tore at Duncan's heart and he help him tighter.
     "It will, Connor. It will."
     He looked at Joe helplessly. The bearded man stood and went
to the CD player, shuffling them and putting one on, then leaving
the room.
     Duncan held Connor close and listened to his selection,
recognizing the band, with a growing sense of gratitude.

     Why do we never get an answer
     when we're knocking at the door
     A thousand millions questions
     about hate and death and war

     'Cause when we stop and look around us
     there is nothing that we need
     In a world of persecution
     that is burning in it's greed

     Why do we never get an answer
     when we're knocking at the door
     Because the truth is hard to swallow
     that's what the wall of love is for
 

     Connor sighed again in his arms and Duncan held him,
thinking.
     The wall of love. It could protect or persecute. He could be
that for Connor.
     He would be that for Connor.
     Whatever it took.

*****************************************************************

     They got back late at night, after dropping Joe off at the
bar. He'd wanted to check on it before going home. Richie went to
his place and took Sky with him, leaving Duncan yo wonder what
kind of relationship they were developing.
     It had been a good week. Long, emotionally draining, but
rewarding.
     The dojo apartment was clean but smelled musty. It had been
closed up too tight in the heat.
     Duncan opened the windows and leaned out, breathing the
scent of the city -- hot tar, car exhaust.
     "Why did we come back?" he asked good-naturedly.
     "Because we have to live." Connor spoke from the couch. He
hadn't surfaced from his depression yet, but wasn't sinking,
either. Duncan hoped he would recover. He was willing to wait
until he did.
     "Want to get something to eat?" he sat beside the older
Immortal, taking his hand in his. Such displays of affection had
become like second nature. He knew he was the only thing standing
between Connor and the abyss, and he accepted that responsibility
gladly.
     "If you do." Connor's hand tightened on his. His nightmares
had returned the night before and neither of them had gotten much
sleep.
     "Let's go to bed." Duncan stood and pulled him up after him.
Connor came willingly, but balked when Duncan began to undress
him.
     "I'll do that." he covered Duncan's hands on his shirt with
his own.
     "And deprive me of the pleasure?" Duncan scolded, leaning to
kiss his neck, running his tongue along his jaw and feeling the
shiver that shook him. "It'll help you sleep, Connor." he
breathed against his skin. Conor had pushed him away since that
night on the beach. Duncan knew he was afraid of hurting him, but
he didn't care. Duncan went to his knees in front of him,
unfastening his fly.
     Connor's hands on his stopped him. He looked up, his eyes
dark.
     "I want you." Duncan said simply.
     "Not tonight, Duncan." Connor stepped away and went into the
bathroom, closing the door.
     Frustrated, Duncan stood again. He changed into silk pajama
bottoms and opened a bottle of brandy, warming a snifter by
rolling it between his palms before pouring.
     He sat on the bed and waited, sipping the potent luxury and
sighing inwardly. The last few days of their vacation had been
frustrating, to say the least.
     He'd offered Connor his love, his protection, his solace --
and Connor had turned him away. Sneak attacks at dawn, midnight
pettings, outright sexual assaults on the beach, Connor had
remained immuned to them all.
     Duncan didn't know what to do. He was losing Connor, he
could feel it, but to what? Was he simply choosing death, or was
it something more?
     He drank and Connor stayed in the bathroom.
     After almost an hour he decided to check on him.
     The door wasn't locked. He stepped in, surrounded by a
billowing cloud of steam, grateful he'd replaced the industrial
hot water heater downstairs when he bought the place.
     "Connor?" he pulled back a corner of the shower curtain.
Connor was leaning forward, his head on the tiles, his skin
bright red from the prolonged immersion in heat. "Come out now,
Connor. I'll leave you alone."
     "I don't want you to leave me alone, Duncan." Connor's voice
was raw and Duncan knew he'd been crying again.
     "Aye. You've been alone too long." Duncan agreed, reaching
to turn off the water, grabbing a large towel from the rack
behind him and holding it out. "Come, Connor."
     His friend stepped out and Duncan wrapped the towel around
him with care, then pulled him close as they walked out of the
bathroom and to the bed. Connor lay down but didn't close his
eyes or get under the covers.
     Duncan sat beside him and ran fingers through Connor's hair,
thicker and softer than his own. Connor continued staring up at
the tapestry behind the bed.
     "I thought you were feeling better." Duncan said, lying
beside him, the bed settling with his weight.
     "I thought I was too." his voice was so flat, so dead-
sounding that Duncan flinched. He opened his mouth to speak, but
Connor was rolling off the bed, pulling clothes out of his
suitcase and gettng dressed while Duncan watched.
     "Connor, where are you going?" he finally sat and asked.
     "Walk." When Duncan started to rise he held his arm out,
palm toward him, and wouldn't look at him. "Alone."
     He headed for the door while Duncan rose off the bed and
called after him, worried.
     "Connor! At least take your sword!"
     Connor didn't answer.
     Duncan didn't even pause to think. He grabbed his clothes,
threw them on, and followed his friend into the darkness. He
wasn't going to let Connor give himself to some punk with a hard-
on. The Immortal community did have communication, of a sort, and
many knew about Saraid. There were those who preyed on older
Immortals when they were vulnerable becuase of pain like this --
but they wouldn't get Connor. Not while Duncan was alive.
     Just one catch, he thought to himself as he jogged silently
down the empty alley. He had to see them first, before they
challenged Connor, to keep to the rules.
     Duncan was careful, following as just walked, apparently
aimlessly, through the night city. He didn't talk to anyone,
didn't go anywhere. He just walked.
     After several hours, just before dawn, Duncan saw that they
were close to the dojo. If Connor wasn't to know that he'd
followed him, he had to get back first. So he cut off from
Connor's meandering trail and snuck in, to change and drop into
the bed, sitting up, more worried now. What if someone had been
lying in wait for them?
     The footsteps on the stairs were sweet music. He got up and
went to open the door, to see Connor's face angrier than he'd
ever seen it before.
     "If you do that again I'll kill you." Connor hissed.
     Not attempting to dissemble, Duncan snarled at him instead.
     "What was I supposed to do? Let ye go out and get yourself
killed?!"
     "IF that's what I want!" Connor roared back. Duncan took a
hasty step backwards, but he was still yelling.
     "Iz tha' what you want, Connor? IS that what you want?!" he
reached for his katana where he had laid it on the table, his
hand actually closed around the hilt, but then he yanked it back
and shouted again. "I'll noh' do it! You can give your Quickening
to someone else, Connor, I will na take it!" he spread his arms
wide and they stood, both angry, taking fighting stances.
     "GOD DAMMIT, Duncan!" Connor shrieked, and threw himself at
his kinsman.
     Duncan blocked the first blow and then managed a grab,
throwing Connor to the floor, straddling him, pinning his arms at
his sides, holding his face in his hands brutally tight, forcing
Connor to look at him.
     "God dam you, Connor." he snarled. "Damn you for finding me
and making me live and damn you for making me feel again and then
trying to leave."
     Connor's eyes filled with tears, but his mouth was still
twisted in rage. He struggled desperately and Duncan was hard-
pressed to keep control of him.
     "I won't let you leave me, Connor." Duncan snarled, riding
out his thrashing, one hand still gripping his face, leaving dark
bruises. "I won't!"
     "It's not up to you." Connor stopped fighting and panted for
breath. "It's my life, Duncan, let me go!"
     "It is noh' just your life anymore." Duncan dropped his
voice to a whisper and lowered his face so his lips touched
Connor's. The man beneath him was very still, gathering his
energy for another round. "It's mine, Connor. I willna' live
without ye."
     He kissed him, his tenderness a stark contrast to their
situation. And Connor opened his mouth and kissed him back, with
wrenching desperation.
     Duncan rolled off him and pulled Connor to his side,
wrapping his arms around him, rubbing against him, wanting him to
feel alive, feel loved.
     Connor was passive for several long minutes, only kissing
him back, but then he growled, not a pleased growl, but dark and
angry. Duncan heard it and prepared himself for whatever came
next.
     Coonor got up on his knees and shoved Duncan ruthlessly
over, not caring that the hardwood floor was less than kind, and
yanked down his jeans, buttons popping left and right.
     "Connor..." Duncan wanted to cry, but instead he braced
himself. Whatever it took to make him feel better...he would do
whatever it took.
     It took a lot this time. Connor was brutal, hurting him
deliberately, fingers diggin ginto him, even hitting him on the
head, snapping it down, when Duncan instinctively moved to ease
the pain. Connor took him with unrestrained violence and Duncan
had to duck his head to his arm and bite down to hold back his
screams.
     The older Immortal didn't make any effort to bring Duncan's
release, just shoved him away, hard enough to knock him down,
banging his head, when he was through, then standing and going to
the bed silently.
     Duncan lay on the floor, waiting for the ease of healing
that was a long time coming. His vision was doubled from the last
blow to his head and he thought he might pass out. He could feel
the trickle of blood down his leg and thought how odd it was,
that he'd forgotten what that felt like...he closed his eyes and
passed into peaceful darkness.
     When he opened his eyes again it was morning and he was
alone, curled on the unforgiving floor.
     He sat and winced. The soreness was still evident. Looking
around, he saw that Connor's things were still there, so perhaps
he would return.
     Did he want him to come back? Standing, thinking over the
night, he had to answer that to himself before he could go on.
     "Yes. I want him here." he said it out loud to reinforce it,
and his body cringed.
     He heard the elevator and turned, expecting to feel Connor
or one of the boys, Richie and Sky, but instead saw Joe's silver
hair and then his drawn face.
     Looking down, he realized that he was only half-dressed, but
his shirt was long enough to cover most of him. Still, he felt
awkward standing like that, so he reached for his jeans as Joe
worked the elevator door, only to find them too badly ripped to
put on.
     "Hey, Joe." he said with a shrug. "I just got up. Start some
coffee and let me get some clothes on."
     He didn't wait for an answer, instead went to the dresser,
limping slightly, and pulled out clothes, turning his back to
pull them on.
     Joe took a few steps toward him, indecision on his face. He
looked at Duncan, wincing at the bruises still visible on his
legs and thighs, and then down at the floor, thinking, and his
eye was caught by a large dark stain that had soaked into the
wood in the bare space between the dining table and couch area.
     Dark maroon. A big spot that he'd never seen before. At
least a foot across, there was a clear handprint in it,and the
impression of - a body?
     He knew a bloodstain when he saw it.

     Duncan heard Joe making noises in the kitchen, and found him
at the table when he turned back around.
     He collapsed into a chair across from him, arms on the
table, hands pushing his hair back from his face. He gave Joe a
look that dared him to make a joke.
     Joe surprised him. He leaned forward and, his voice very
gentle, asked a question.
     "Are you okay, Mac?"
     Startled, Duncan stared.
     "Why wouldn't I be?"
     Joe seemed to be weighing something, considering options.
When he answered, he sounded worried and a little defensive.
     "I got a message this morning...from my relief guy, Frank.
He said that you and Connor had a fight..."  he trailed off
delicately.
     "It's worked out." Duncan said, and stood, limping into the
kitchen and beginning the calming ritual of pouring and doctoring
coffee.
     "Are you hurt?" Joe followed him and watched with narrowed
eyes. "Frank was worried. He said...he said it looked like Connor
hurt you."
     Duncan slammed his coffee cup on the counter hard, and it
shattered, sending shards in a shower.
     "I'm fine, Joe." he snarled.
     "Mac. Mac..." Joe's tone was soothing, his face concerned.
"Duncan. Frank...he was worried. He's one of those guys who
thinks our friendship is a good idea, so he called me...he said
that Connor...that he....did he rape you?"
     "You can't rape the willing." Duncn's weak attempt at a joke
fell flat and he dropped his head, letting his hair hang in his
face, hiding his eyes, suddenly wet, leaning on the counter,
forearms bulging. "I'm fine, Joe." he repeated. "I'll heal."
     Joe heard the admission beneath the words and had to grab
the counter to keep from staggering.
     "My god, Mac. How could he...how could you..."
     Duncan looked up, hair still in his face, eyes half-hidden,
dark and shadowed. He straightened, pushing himself away from the
counter, picking up another cup and pouring, his hand shaking
only slightly.
     "I told him he could do whatever he wanted, Joe. Whatever it
took to make him feel better."
     "This makes him feel better?!"
     "You don't understand." Duncan shook his head and walked to
the couch, Joe following.
     "I understand better than you think." Joe was angry now and
Duncan sighed. "I never told you about my mother, Mac. Never told
you why I signed up for 'Nam before I got drafted. My stepfather
thought that a woman was something he owned -- something he could
do whatever he wanted with. She wouldn't stop him and I couldn't
hang around and watch him hurt her."
     "It's not like that." Duncan shook his head. Then a thought
occurred to him and he looked up sharply. "This guy Frank -- did
he tape it?"
     "He gave it to me this morning." Joe said, suddenly gentle
again. "I'll burn it, Mac. I didn't watch it. No one will ever
see it. Frank's promised to be quiet about it. He likes you."
     "He doesn't know me." Duncan said with despair.
     "Mac, I'm not sure I know you." Joe sat beside him, but
Duncan felt a Buzz and stood, wanting to be on his feet when
Connor came in, knowing by the strength of it that it was Connor.
     "He came back." he said with such relief that Joe stared at
him, shocked. "I was afraid he wouldn't."
     The door opened and Connor stood there, staring at them.
Duncan couldn't meet his eyes.
     After a minute Joe stood, heading toward the elevator.
     "Call me, Mac." he said quietly. "You've got to talk to
someone about this."
     They just continued staring at each other as he left.
     "I thought I'd never see you again." Duncan said at last.
His hands were trembling and he gripped the cup between both of
them, tight, to hide it.
     "I didn't think you'd want to." Connor answered, and the
deadness was back in his voice.
     "It was my choice, Connor."
     "I'm the one who hurt you."
     They faced each other and the chasm between them seemed too
deep and wide to cross.
     "Only because I let you." Duncan said at last.
     "That doesn't make it right."
     Duncan shook his head and set the coffeee cup down on the
big square coffee table.
     "I'm too tired to think straight now. Can we talk about this
later?"
     "If you want to." Connor stepped through the door and closed
it as Duncan went to the bed and lay down on top of it, just now
noticing that Connor had made it neatly. He was still dressed but
too tired to care. Connor was here, he was alive, and for now
that was enough.
     He went to sleep, flat on his back, one arm over his chest.
     He didn't stir when Connor came over and spread a thick
blanket over him. Didn't see the tears running down the other
man's face.

     Duncan was alone when he woke, again. This time Connor's
things had gone with him. There was a note, in french, a single
sheet of stationary lying on the shining expanse of the coffee
table.

     Duncan -
          don't look for me. I promise to
     try to live if you promise to leave me
     alone. I'll be back someday - when I don't
     want to hurt anyone. Especially you.

     What I feel for you is too deep for words.
     My brother, my son, my student, my lover...
     you are all these things and more. The only
     person I have in the world.

     I can't lose you too. Give me some time.
                                   - Connor

     Duncan crumpled it and held it in his clenched fist for a
long moment. Then, with a sigh, he smoothed it out and placed it
in a small wooden box -- the same box that held the amulet Saraid
had given him so many years ago.
     There was a message from Joe on his machine, but he didn't
call him. Instead he took a long hot shower, and went back to
bed.
     This time he wouldn't follow him.
     He would go by the bar tonight and try to explain it to his
friend. Check on the boys.
     Get on with his life, until Connor came back.

                                             saraid@wf.net