THE HUNT Title: The Hunt
Author: Rimau
Email address: rimaufic@yahoo.co.uk
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Highlander
Pairing: Duncan/Methos
Date: October 1999
Sequel: Yep. Actually it's a prequel/companion piece/sequel. To ‘The Matchmaker’. Read that first.
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue!
Summary: Methos joins Connor MacLeod on a hunt. Who's the prey?
Author's webpage: http://www.rimau.aeglos.org/

Here it is, the companion piece to 'The Matchmaker'. Sorry it took so long. Please note that I really did add some new things to it. I didn't just copy all the dialogue from Methos' POV. The story is also a sequel. It doesn't end at the airport. Yes, all the whining, critique and death threats I received made me work twice as hard as I had originally planned.

READ THIS FIRST!! It's NC-17 for explicit sex and explicit violence. There are some parts that are extremely disturbing and if you're squeamish about reading graphic descriptions of killing and torturing people, go away. I kid you not. Some of the stuff I wrote made even me lose my appetite. Not the sex part, though. But if the idea of two men having sex nauseates you, you should stop reading right now and then maybe contact a good doctor. If his name is Ben Adams, say hi from me...

Don't worry about the beginning. There's no D in the rating. And never will be in my stories!

I use a quote from Tom Clancy's 'Debt of Honor'. Good quote, wonderful book.

Arleen, you saved what's left of my sanity. I can never thank you enough for that! I will try, though. Olympia, thanks for all the good advice. And Raonaid. You really are the best.

The Hunt
by: Rimau


This time even I'm amazed to still be alive. Once again I'm the sole Survivor after a battle, but this time it's not because of my skill. Luck really was a Lady tonight. Well, for me anyway.

I can still feel the hard steel on my neck, and I raise my hand to wipe off the last traces of blood. I think Kemppain's sword just barely missed my vocal cords. Thank Gods for small miracles. I don't want to end up like Kalas, even though I'm not much of a singer.

It's damn cold here. I'm lying on my back in snow, staring at the dark sky that's dotted with flying snowflakes. I hate snow. It's not just a mild dislike, I'm talking about pure hate here. It's cold, it's wet and when it's falling from the sky, it blurs your vision, which is definitely a bad thing when you're fighting for your life.

Fortunately snow also means ice. The slippery cobblestones got Connor killed, but they probably saved my life. If Kemppain hadn't slipped, there could be four dead bodies in this alley instead of three.

I feel a bit better now and decide to get up. My private parts are freezing. I manage to sit up, but my legs refuse to co-operate with me. I rub them to restore the circulation, cursing under my breath. When I'm finally standing up, I brush off the snow from my clothes. It doesn't help much. Most of it has already melted and my backside is disgustingly damp.

I look around, wondering why no one's come to check out what caused all the noise. I'm glad that the Swedes have enough common sense to stay inside at night, especially when it's snowing, but this really is ridiculous. Kemppain had a gun and he used it. Half the street lamps exploded with his Quickening, a big display window is all around us in shards and there are broken roof tiles all over Connor.

And of course there's blood everywhere. It's actually quite beautiful, Crimson spots coloring the otherwise white ground. I might even enjoy watching it if a big part of it weren't Duncan's.

I don't go to his body. It's too heavy for me to move anyway. I stay away from Connor too. I don't want to even look at them, and I go to lean against an old well that's in the middle of the alleyway. For some reason people always see old wells and water pumps as something romantic, their ancestors meeting there, young men flirting with girls who were carrying water home. Rubbish, I say. There's nothing romantic about cholera.

And there's certainly nothing romantic in this alley, especially right now.

From the moment I started this journey, I feared that it would end with me standing next to my Highlander's body, feeling cold all over. I was right. I should have thought more happy thoughts, but even though I'll never grow 'old', I'm no Peter Pan. I'm just an aged guy, who's seen too much blood, too much death. Quite frankly, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of seeing my lovers die right in front of me.

Damn, it's cold here. I can see my breathing, a puff of steam hanging in front of me, and I have to wipe my face on my mittens. Stockholm in wintertime is definitely not a good place for crying. Tears will freeze on your cheeks. I don't dare to pace, fearing that I'll fall again, and so I just stomp my feet on the ground. It makes a surprisingly loud noise, but it also keeps my toes from turning blue.

It seems like it's been hours since Kemppain got his head cut off, even Though it can't be more than five minutes, and I don't understand why nothing's happened. I can't leave my friend and my lover like this, but every minute I spend standing here increases the risk of getting caught. I don't want to see the inside of a Swedish jail. Once you've seen one, you've seen them all. I want to get back to the hotel, back to my warm bed and get really drunk. And I don't ever want to see snow again in my life!

How the hell did I get myself into this mess anyway?

At the time, I had no idea why I followed MacLeod and Joe back to the States after Byron died. Or if I did, I didn't acknowledge it to myself. I'd planned on disappearing again, maybe spending a few centuries sitting under a palm tree on some tropical island. Warm climate, cold beer and a good book. That's what I'd call paradise. And this time I wouldn't come back. I might write or call Joe from time to time, but that's it. After all, I'm used to being alone. I like being alone.

But instead of leaving, I followed my friends like a dog on a leash and found myself back in the chilly town near the Canadian border.

I got myself a small apartment, not wanting to annoy the Highlander by Taking over his couch again. He looked a little offended when I told him where I'd be staying, but didn't say anything.

Joe and MacLeod went back to their businesses, but I didn't have anything important to do. I thought about that long vacation about a week after we had returned to Seacouver, and decided to leave after all. It was far more pleasurable to spend my days doing nothing some place warmer.

So I packed my bag and ordered a one way ticket to Sumatra. I even drove to the airport, almost boarding the plane.

Then I remembered that I hadn't even left a note for my friends. Before even realizing what I was doing, I was heading back to my apartment. That was a huge mistake. It's fascinating how my heart sometimes overrides millennia of survival instincts.

Somehow I never got to write that note. When I stepped out of the taxi, I saw Duncan walking towards the place I'd lived in. Somehow I managed to explain my old duffel bag without mentioning leaving the country, and after changing my clothes, I ended up going to Joe's with MacLeod. We had a wonderful time, it was almost like the months that we'd spent in Paris had been just a bad dream. When Joe played some of my favorite tunes and the Highlander smiled at me over the rim of his glass before downing the scotch, I forgot all about my plans of going away.

After that I decided to take a teaching job at the U and began my life as Professor Pierson. And I never even tried to leave again.

Maybe I had finally lost my mind. Or what was left of it anyway.

It was actually fun to work for a living again. I don't have to work for money, but if I just lived on my savings in a place like Seacouver, doing nothing, I'd get bored in no time. Teaching wasn't new to me and since I didn't have a class every day, it was actually quite fun to re- enter the academic world. All my classes were rolling and I'd gotten used to waking up early in the morning. Well, as much as I could ever get used to that.

Things were looking good.

I'd just had an argument with one of the professors of the History Department and was seething with anger as I left the campus. It's really annoying to fight with a pompous ass about something and then lose just because I can't prove my point. When I felt the urge to yell to that arrogant 'humanist' that I'd been there, I decided it was time to back off. To get into a better mood, I decided to go to see how MacLeod was doing. We hadn't seen each other for a few days. I'd been too busy with the classes.

I knew something was wrong the minute I stepped inside the dojo. Usually the place was packed with sweaty musclemen that time of day, but now there was no one working out there. After pacing around the little gym for a few minutes I climbed the stairs to the loft. Halfway up I felt the Presence. At least MacLeod was home.

The door to the loft was open. I guess my friend had opened it as soon as he felt me coming. That was very good. It was always best to have a clear view of the approaching enemy.

I stepped inside and smiled at the young man. "MacLeod. Are you going to use that?"

"Come on in, Methos." He put his sword down and gestured towards the fridge. "Grab yourself a beer."

"Thanks." I tossed my coat onto the couch and walked into the kitchen area.

The fridge was the first clue that something wasn't right up there either. There were a couple of bottles of beer, a tomato and a bottle of salad dressing. Nothing else. Considering the fact that the Scot loved to cook, that was a bit alarming. I grabbed a beer, opened it, and looked around me after taking a swig. There was nothing wrong in the place, but I had a nagging feeling that something...

My gaze swept over Mac's bed and then focused on the packed bags that were right next to it. Damn. Where was he going this time?

I turned slowly to my friend. "Going somewhere?"

"Yes." MacLeod sounded a little defensive. "I've been invited to be a judge in a martial arts tournament."

"I thought you didn't do competitions anymore."

He laughed. "I usually don't. But I thought that... Well, it sounded like a good idea."

He was definitely hiding something. "So, how long will you be gone?"

"About a week, I guess."

"Mm hmm." Not very convincing. "That tournament, is it held in Paris?"

"What? No, it's held here in the States, in a small town called Stoede. Why?"

I couldn't tell him that I was afraid that he was sneaking out on me. "I was just wondering. Why haven't you told me about it earlier?" Well, now. That was smooth.

Duncan looked away from me. "I... I needed some time to think, Methos."

"About what?"

"Everything." He sat down on the couch. "I need to get away from here for a little while. Take a little vacation of sorts and be by myself. It has nothing to do with Joe or you, I just want to get some distance from everything familiar."

If he hadn't moved his gaze to his shoes right after saying that, I might have even believed it. However, he had no obligation to bear his soul to me, and I just nodded. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. Don't worry, I'm still coming to Joe's tonight. You don't have to drink all alone."

"Great." I emptied the bottle. "Mind if I take another one?" I didn't even wait for his answer and turned back to the fridge, leaving the empty bottle on the counter.

Duncan scowled at me and went to put the bottle away. "At least I don't have to clean your mess for the next week."

I gave him a feeble smile. "I'm going to miss your hospitality."

"You'll get over it."

I wasn't all that sure about that.

I'd given my students a little project to work on, and myself a few days off, and decided I should spend some time with a friend. So there I was, sitting at Joe's, drinking beer. I was just there to chat with Joe. The fact that MacLeod had been out of town for over a week, and was supposed to be back in Seacouver by now, had nothing to do with me getting to the bar as soon as it opened. Maybe he wouldn't even come to see Joe that day. If we met, it would be purely coincidental. It wasn't like I missed him or anything.

After nursing a beer for over an hour I was getting a bit bored. Where was that annoying Scot anyway?

Joe sighed as he saw my expression. "You really should at least try to act like you're having fun. That frown is bad for business, you're scaring the other customers away."

"What other customers? You know as well as I do that the people who come here at this time of day don't care about anything else but the booze."

"You're probably right." He chuckled. "Do you fit that category too?"

"Who, me?" I faked an innocent look. "I'm here just to enjoy your wonderful company."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Should I be flattered or offended?"

I opened my mouth to answer and then felt the familiar tingling at the base of my skull. Joe glanced at the door, smiling a little and I didn't bother to turn around. If it had been anyone else but MacLeod, my friend would have warned me immediately. I raised the bottle to my lips. I had a reputation to maintain and didn't want to seem too eager to see my friend. "I meant it as a compliment."

Joe ignored me and smiled at Mac. "What can I get for you?"

I almost laughed. As if Joe didn't know.

"You're Joe Dawson?"

The accent was Scottish, but the voice was unfamiliar. I scrambled off the barstool and turned around, my hand reaching for the hilt of my sword instinctively.

The other man was also taking a defensive position.

He looked familiar somehow and it didn't take me long to get his name into my mind. What on earth was Connor MacLeod doing in Seacouver? It probably had nothing to do with me or my appearance, even though one might have thought otherwise from the way he was staring at my nose. What was it with these Scots and noses anyway? Was this beak-fetish universal or was it just my nose that drew their attention? At least I didn't have to worry about getting paint on mine with this Highlander. More likely he'd just cut it right off.

I moved my hands slowly away from my sword and then climbed back to my seat. It was good to see that I hadn't spilled my beer. I took a swig and let my body relax, knowing that I was safe with the Scot.

Connor MacLeod raised a questioning eyebrow. "You really should be more careful. I could be a headhunter."

A headhunter? Right. Like the cousin of my dear moralist would stoop so low. "Not with that accent." I grinned and then shook my head. "I was waiting for a friend." Throwing a dark look at Joe, I added, "Thanks for not warning, Joe."

That little bastard just laughed. "How was I supposed to know which MacLeod you were talking about?" He poured Connor a glass of whiskey. "Here. I believe this is something you enjoy as much as your cousin does."

Connor took the glass and stared at the pale brown liquid. It seemed he wasn't going to say anything and I took another swig of beer, thinking what to do next. I knew my Scot and if Connor was anything like his cousin, it wouldn't be wise to give him time to brood in a situation like this.

I put the bottle down on the counter and held out my right hand. "I'm Adam Pierson. And yes, as you guessed, he's Dawson. It's a pleasure to meet another member of the Clan MacLeod." I knew Duncan had told his cousin about the Watchers, but I was certain that he hadn't mentioned me. Telling Connor about Adam Pierson would have been almost like lying and revealing my identity would have been a betrayal of trust. Two things the most honorable Duncan MacLeod would never do.

The Highlander nodded and took my hand. "It seems some things never change. Like my cousin's big mouth."

The resigned tone of his voice made me laugh. "Well, Duncan is such a sentimentalist sometimes and he is proud of his kinsman." He'd told me about his cousin and all the trouble they'd gotten into together a couple of times, and every time his eyes had gleamed like a child's when he's talking about his idol. I must say that I didn't wonder. Connor's reputation is almost as big as Duncan's.

"Sentimentalist, you say?" Connor tried to look annoyed, but couldn't keep the proud look off his face. "A stubborn fool would be more appropriate. Since he uses his real name all the time, it seems he's incapable of understanding that others might like to have a little anonymity. But then again, I don't believe discretion is part of his vocabulary."

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. He could say that again.

Joe looked at Connor. "The same can't be said of you, Mr. Nash."

The Scot looked impressed. He squinted his eyes and then laid his left hand on the counter, grabbing his glass with the right one. Not saying a word, he took a sip, smiling just a little as the whiskey burned its way down his throat. Apparently he had decided that it was safe to drink with us. What a nice gesture.

I looked at Joe and noticed that he was also trying very hard not to laugh. He saw me looking and winked.

Connor put down his glass. "I came here to see Duncan. He called me three days ago, telling me he had something urgent to discuss with me. He was supposed to be back yesterday from some tournament he was at, but when I went to his apartment an hour ago, there was no one home. He's never stood me up before and I thought he might be here."

Duncan being late didn't worry me. Maybe he'd found some woman at the tournament. No, I wasn't worried at all. Jealous, yes.

Joe frowned. "Haven't seen him since he left for that tournament in Stoede about a week ago." He glanced at me and I shook my head. I hadn't heard from him after that either. "I think I should call Timothy Kesti."

"Kesti? Why?"

"I assigned him to Watch Mac."

"What? You put a Watcher on him? Why?" I was glad I hadn't been drinking when he said that. A mouthful of beer would have been spat all over the counter and my friend's shirt. I couldn't believe Joe had done that.

He looked pained. "Adam. Kesti's new. Duncan's fairly easy to observe. Since we already knew where he was going, and why, I thought it would be a perfect assignment for Tim. You know he's into martial arts and he'll blend in perfectly at that kind of tournament."

"But still. If Mac finds out you did this to him..."

Connor coughed. "Excuse me, but is every Immortal here in Seacouver this familiar and friendly with the Watchers?"

Of course he had to ask. I looked at Joe, waiting for him to solve the situation. After all, he'd gotten us into this mess by playing his little spying games.

He nodded at me. "Adam used to be one of us. We knew each other long before..."

I knew he was going to say that we knew each other long before I ever became an Immortal, but I decided to act like I didn't want him to tell Connor about my 'age' and cut his sentence. "And we're still friends."

I saw the younger Immortal take the bait. There would be no more questions about my age. It was nice not to have to lie. Oh, I'm not squeamish about bending the truth a little every now and again, but if I'd given him some exact number, I'd have had to remember it later.

Joe went to call Kesti and I emptied my bottle. I began to peel off the label, waiting for Connor to start asking questions. I didn't have to wait for long.

"So you're Joe's old friend. What about my cousin? You obviously know him, but he's never mentioned you to me."

"I met Duncan in Paris three years ago. I guess you could call us friends." I wasn't sure if I could do the same. The mess with my former brothers, and then Byron, had changed our relationship. We still spent time together, but it wasn't the same anymore. Sometimes I saw this really strange look on Duncan's face when he thought I wasn't looking. It was almost like being with me was painful for him. I wondered if he wanted me to leave him alone.

Too bad. He'd have to live with my presence, or really work on driving me away. I didn't intend to go anywhere.

Well now. Wasn't that a revelation?

Connor seemed to have lost interest in me. That didn't exactly bother me. I didn't want to be the center of any Immortal's attention. A certain stubborn long-haired Scot excepted, of course.

We sat in silence, waiting for Joe to finish his call.

When he finally came back to us, he looked grave. I felt my heart rate double and prayed that he wouldn't now give us the name of the Immortal who had taken Duncan's head.

"I called Tim's cellular. He's in a hospital in Stoede." He grimaced and I felt like I'd faint. What the hell had happened? "He's been mugged. He told me he had seen some unknown people attack Mac outside his hotel and when the attackers noticed him, they manhandled him too and then left with Duncan."

Connor swore. "I think I'd better go find out what happened to him."

It was good he was going after Duncan. That way I didn't have to worry about my Highlander. I could just wait there and relax. The matter was taken care of.

I jumped to my feet. "Fine. Let's go."

"Look, lad. I can handle this by myself. He's my cousin."

Yes, but he was my... I decided to let Joe persuade him to let us go with him.

"You need us. You need to know exactly what happened with the muggers, and the only witness is Tim Kesti. And he won't talk to you. You might be less notorious than your cousin, but even if he doesn't know you by sight, your appearance is a dead giveaway that you're an Immortal."

Connor frowned. "What about my appearance?"

The fact that he didn't argue anymore made me feel relief. Apparently he'd realized that Joe was right.

Joe looked a little embarrassed. "Well, pardon me, but only an Immortal --or a flasher-- would use that kind of a coat."

I couldn't help laughing. It had been an inside joke with the Watchers for decades, but this was the first time I'd ever heard it used in the company of an Immortal. Another Immortal, that is.

"All right, Dawson. You can come with me." I could tell by the way he glared at me, that his 'you' wasn't a plural.

Joe went to call Dave, his newest employee, and ask him to take care of the bar now that he was taking a short vacation. After finishing the call, he didn't put the receiver down, but dialed again. Seeing that I was looking at him, he nodded towards Connor and then at me, obviously asking something.

I frowned, making him roll his eyes. After glancing at the Highlander, he pointed at him. Then he pointed at himself and raised two fingers. That hand made a gesture towards the door, and then moved to point at me. Even as his eyebrows raised, I nodded vigorously. Yes, I'd go with them.

After finally lowering the receiver, the Watcher walked back to us. "I got us tickets to the next plane heading near Stoede."

"Thanks." The Highlander grunted, and then seemed to sink back into his own somber thoughts. Typical.

Then we all just waited for the young bartender to appear, so we could get going. I didn't say anything to Connor. Talking about the trip would be useless. The Scot would only argue.

I'd just have to follow those two.

Joe exchanged a few words with Dave when the young man finally appeared. After handing him the keys, the Watcher took something from the safe behind the counter and then headed to the door. I followed right behind him.

Connor glared at me, and I could almost see the smoke coming from his ears. "Where do you think you're going, lad?"

"To find my friend."

"I think the last thing Duncan would want would be dragging you into this, too."

"I'm coming with you." Nothing could stop me from going.

"The hell you are!"

I climbed into the back seat of Joe's car, ignoring Connor's objections. The Highlander scowled at Joe, but threw his bag next to me, and then muttered some chosen profanities as he sat next to the driver's seat.

We stopped first at my friend's place, and after Joe returned to the car with a hastily packed duffel bag, we went to my apartment. Joe gave me the keys as I exited the car. That way the car would really be waiting when I got back down.

That show of mistrust definitely didn't make Connor feel any better about this trip. Even as I jogged up the stairs, I could hear him trying to convince Joe to make me stay behind.

I packed a few shirts and pants and grabbed my spare sword and a couple of other weapons I didn't bother to carry around when I was just going for a beer. I called the University, informing that there was a crisis in my family and I had to leave the town for a short period of time. The dean didn't sound too happy, but she wished everything would go well for me and my family. I promised I'd call her immediately when I returned.

Throwing one more look around the living room, I made a quick mental check that I hadn't forgotten anything essential. Then I jogged back down the stairs.

When I came back to the car, I noticed that whatever the two men had talked when I was gone hadn't improved Connor's mood. He glowered at me and then spent the rest of the trip to the airport trying to persuade me to stay in Seacouver.

His arguments didn't work. Yes, I was aware that there might be an Immortal behind all this. I knew that we'd be in danger. What did he think? That youth meant stupidity? I began to understand why young Ryan looked so pained sometimes around Duncan. The Highlander was damn irritating.

Deciding not to let him annoy me, I sat in the back seat, listening to his complaints and watched Joe's shoulders shake. Apparently he thought that Connor's tirade was hilarious.

I was relieved when the Scot finally rolled his eyes and said, "Fine. It's your head."

Yes, it was, and I had the right to risk it to save a friend if I wanted to. I turned my gaze to watch the scenery as we neared the airport, trying to keep the smug smile off my face.

I can't sleep on a plane and so I had to suffer Connor's questions while Joe snored next to me.

I told him a few things about Professor Pierson, acting like I was a bit shy. I couldn't really order him to back off. I was supposed to be in my mid-thirties and he was over ten times older than Adam Pierson was. I figured that the Scot would respect my privacy if I made it clear that I wasn't all that comfortable talking about myself with him.

He embraced the idea of me being a geeky scholar. He even called me Duncan's student a few times, forcing me to escape to the toilet in order to have some privacy while I laughed my ass off. I almost choked when he smiled at me patronizingly when I returned to my seat and saw that he'd gotten me a can of Coke as the stewardess had passed our seats with the drink cart.

It was good to see that Connor wasn't as protective as Duncan. I would have strangled the Highlander if he'd tried to treat me like a lost little child. His arrogance was far easier to deal with.

The older MacLeod was just like I'd always imagined him to be: Sarcastic, arrogant, intelligent. A bit more careful with unknown Immortals than his cousin, but basically the two Scots were so similar, I was certain I could handle this one, too.

There was strength in these Highlanders that I'd seldom met in other Immortals. They were both good men, honorable creatures who always defended the innocent even if it might cost them their heads.

We all have our flaws.

In the rental car it was my turn to take a little nap. Joe's a genius at organizing things and he'd managed to get us a car that had special equipment so he could drive. Even so, Connor was the one who climbed behind the wheel. It was fine by me. At least now I could have some peace and quiet.

The drive took hours. Apparently Stoede was a little backwoods town, right in the middle of nowhere. Wondering why on earth would someone bother to have a martial arts competition in a place like that, I opened my eyes slightly to see the place when we neared the town's outskirts.

It wasn't exactly a one horse town, but not far from it either. The sign that welcomed visitors to Stoede said that it was a place for a better tomorrow. I just hoped that there was a decent hotel there.

There was. Actually it was an astonishingly good place, and even though it was past midnight, the clerk at the front desk was very friendly. I noticed that there was also room service, which was available 24 hours a day. Not bad.

Joe got us a suite, paying for it with his 'official Watcher -credit card'. That's about the only thing I miss from the time I was a Watcher, having the organization covering all the expenses.

I threw my bag into the bedroom that had a door leading out into the corridor as well as one to the living room. The others went to their rooms and I took a little tour around the suite, checking the mini-bar and the main bathroom before going to my room. I didn't bother to unpack. What was the point anyway? The clothes I usually wore didn't get wrinkled. I lay on the bed with my clothes on and I stared at the ceiling. Waiting for the knock on the door.

"Adam? May I come in?"

"Sure, Joe."

The door opened and my friend stepped in. He smiled when he saw me. "So, how are you handling this?"

"Just fine. I wish the Highlander wouldn't call me 'lad' all the time, but that's about all." I could live with it. I'd been called worse.

"I know it can be pretty irritating to listen to a person who thinks he's wiser just because he's older call you 'kid' all the time, so I can relate." Joe smirked.

Round one to the Watcher.

"What are you going to do tomorrow?"

I sat up. "That depends on what Kesti'll tell us."

My friend shook his head. "You know what he'll tell us. He'll give us the descriptions of the people who attacked Mac. Then Connor will go after them. What will you do?"

"I'll go with him." If the Highlander tried to leave me behind, I'd go on my own.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? He might find out who you are."

I smiled a cold little smile. "Then he'll find out."

"You really do..." Joe blinked and cleared his throat. "Need to get some sleep now. See you in the morning."

He sounded like he'd intended to say something else. "Joe? Is there something..."

"Nah. Just go to sleep, old man."

I wished him sweet dreams and watched him leave the room. I waited for a few minutes and then quietly slipped out of the door to the corridor.

After checking at the front desk to see which room I should go to, I rode the elevator to the third floor and broke into Duncan's room. I'd deduced that since it was the only hotel in town, my Highlander had stayed there too. What can I say, I'm a genius.

His room was clean, but that didn't mean anything. Even if someone had rummaged through his stuff, I was sure that the housekeeper would have cleared the mess. All his clothes were hanging neatly in the closet and there was a pile of books on the nightstand. There was nothing in the room to give me any clues about what had happened to him.

I stepped to the bed and raised the quilt.

The familiar black pajama pants were right under the pillow.

I sat on the bed, trying to calm myself. The receptionist had said that 'Mr. MacLeod' hadn't been in his room for two days. That sounded bad. Duncan wouldn't have called his cousin if whatever he'd found wasn't important, and it wasn't like my Highlander to leave on a quest without waiting for the man he'd invited here all the way from Scotland, or at least leaving him a message.

So he was most likely still held captive somewhere. I had to believe that. He was alive. I couldn't even think about the alternative.

I spent most of the night in Duncan's room. Somehow it seemed appropriate. After setting his alarm clock to wake me at six, so I could sneak back to my own room and maybe even grab a shower before my companions got up, I stripped. Wanting to feel the sheets with every inch of my skin, I threw my boxers on top of the pile of clothes on the floor.

The sheets hadn't been changed since my friend had last slept there, and a faint hint of Duncan's aftershave lingered on the pillowcase. I burrowed myself in the soft blankets and fell asleep in a few minutes.

The breakfast in the hotel restaurant was surprisingly tasty. After eating, we headed to the hospital. I waited with Connor outside Kesti's room, while Joe went in to find out just how badly the young Watcher was hurt. My friend had been worried sick ever since we woke up. He really cared for the people who worked with him. I respected that and wanted to give him a chance to get over the emotional stuff in private.

After about five minutes I decided that they'd had enough privacy and pushed the door open.

I'd met Tim Kesti a couple of times and he knew me as a Watcher and as a close friend of Joe's. He didn't look seriously injured and grinned at me when I entered the room.

"Hi, Adam. It's nice to see..." His face paled and he swallowed a few times. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Connor had followed in right behind me. The young mortal was now in shock at personally meeting an Immortal.

Joe calmed Kesti down and soon the young man was in shape to tell us what had happened to Duncan.

The Watcher's story made me nauseous. Apparently some maniacal cult had kidnapped Duncan and taken him somewhere in the vast forest due East of Stoede. As if that wasn't bad enough, the cultists apparently didn't just kill people that annoyed them. They also beheaded them. Kesti's hypothesis was that the cultists had taken Duncan to teach them martial arts and I prayed that he was right.

Better that than being the next human sacrifice.

For some strange reason I had a really bad feeling about all this. Why did these things always have to happen to my Highlander? The man's a trouble-magnet. How on earth had he ever managed to pass puberty?

Connor looked horrified when Kesti finished his story and he excused himself. I concentrated on the feeling of his Presence and was relieved to feel that he hadn't gone far. I really didn't want to rescue two Scots from the 'Sons of Odin'.

When the door closed behind the Scot, Kesti leaned back against the pillows and a big grin spread on his face. "So that's Connor MacLeod. This is really awesome! I never dreamed I'd actually meet him someday."

"Yes, it's quite a shock to meet a living legend." Joe didn't even glance at me. "We have to go now, but I'll come to see you either later today or early tomorrow."

The young man noticed immediately that Joe didn't say 'we'. Smart kid. He raised a questioning eyebrow. "What about you, Adam? Are you gonna go somewhere?"

Thanks, Joe. "I'm going after the Highlander. I'm Watching him." In a way I had been for a long time now. Depending on which Highlander we were talking about, of course.

"Oh, man. I wish I could go with you." The kid sounded wistful.

That's youth. As an older and... As an older guy I wished I was back in Seacouver with Duncan. I didn't need another adventure, I'd had more than my share of them centuries ago. Excitement usually lead to people getting killed. Compared to that, a little boredom wasn't all that bad.

Joe patted Kesti's hand . "You'll have your chances later. Just concentrate on getting better now."

"I will, Mr. Dawson." The boy waved his hand at me. "I want to hear all about it when you get back. Good luck."

When we got back to the hotel, we stopped at the front desk and Joe paid for both our room and Duncan's for another week. Then we took the elevator to the fourth floor to our suite.

I threw my coat onto the couch and went to get a glass of water. Connor just stood in the center of the room, looking like a thundercloud.

Joe looked from him to me and sighed. "Well, at least we know now that it's not about an Immortal. Even if the cult is lead by one, from the sound of Tim's story, the cultists really believe in something. That in a way makes their headquarters..."

"Holy ground!" Connor interrupted him. "You're right. And if they wanted to kill Duncan, why take him with them? Why not just kill him here?"

"That doesn't sound right. What Kesti said about the ritualistic murders, axes and beheadings, sounds familiar, like I've read about it somewhere." I hate it when I don't remember something that important.

I paced around the room, trying to remember why all this sounded so familiar and muttering dark things about people who use religion that way. 'Sons of Odin'? Please! Wouldn't a cult named after some local deity or spirit have been more original?

"I think you two should stay here. I'll go and get Duncan." The Scot suggested, his voice indicating that he was perfectly aware that the conversation wasn't over yet.

I didn't want to fight about it again. Instead of arguing with him, I just looked at him calmly. "Joe can stay. I'll come with you."

That damn child laughed in my face. "Look, lad. It's going to be a hard trip to the cultists' place. I don't need you to slow me down. Trust me, I can do this on my own."

"You can't stop me. If you try to go alone, I'll just follow you. Besides, you don't have the time to argue with me. Even if Kesti's right and the cultists took Duncan to use him as an instructor, we still don't have time to waste. If your cousin refuses to co-operate, they will kill him."

Connor just glared at me.

Joe headed towards the bathroom. "I think Adam's right. I'll stay here with Tim. You two go and find Duncan."

The Highlander looked like he could strangle us both. I think that if Joe weren't there, he would have killed me without hesitation. Then his eyes widened and he shivered. "Dawson! Is there someone Watching me now?"

I grinned. Hadn't he thought about that before? He looked so worried, I almost expected him to kneel and look under the bed. You never knew where a Watcher was hiding.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Oh, nothing." I was certain he wouldn't see it as funny as I did. "To answer your question, no, there's no one Watching you at the moment. Except for Joe, of course. You can be sure that there won't be anyone trailing us to the woods." I knew Joe had arranged it so that Connor's Watcher had remained in Seacouver, and hoped the Scot hadn't realized that in a way, I was still a member of the secret organization. That would make him start whining again.

Connor glared at me and then sighed. "How are you on a horse? Can you ride?"

Joe was just coming out of the bathroom and he froze as he heard Connor's words. I could hear him gasp.

I walked to him and touched his shoulder. "Relax, Joe. It's all right." What did he think? That I'd grab my sword and scream I was Death? I gave Joe my most Adam Pierson-ish smile and saw him answer it a bit hesitantly.

Connor was waiting for my answer with a really amusing glint of hope shining in his eyes. I nodded curtly. "I can ride."

"Then we should go now." He didn't sound all that enthusiastic.

I grabbed my sword and headed towards the door. The Highlander motioned me to go first, obviously not trusting me enough to turn his back on me. That didn't bode well for our little hunt.

Joe cleared his throat. "Gentlemen."

"What?"

He was chuckling. "Shouldn't you take some spare clothes with you?"

Damn. I felt heat rising to my face and was glad that I wasn't the only one who had acted before thinking. Connor and I grabbed our bags and then we all walked to the elevator.

Joe asked for advice from the hotel doorman and then we drove to the outskirts of Stoede to see a man about a horse. Well, horses actually.

Henderson, the man who ran the stable, looked happy to have paying customers. He scratched his beard when Joe explained him what we needed and for how long. Then the two men haggled over the price we'd pay for renting two horses and all the equipment needed. Henderson tucked the bills into his pocket and then escorted us to the long stable to see the mounts.

I looked around, breathing in the familiar scent of hay and manure. No perfume could ever match that.

The horses all looked fine. Not extraordinary, but fine. I was about to go to a brown mare, when I heard a snort coming from the far end of the stable. I looked at the creature who had made that arrogant sound and felt my eyes widen at the sight.

He was just perfect! It was quite obvious that he was by far the strongest one in the whole stable. His gray coat was in a magnificent shape and his mane was well trimmed. When he moved a little, I could see strong muscles flexing underneath his skin. Beautiful, just beautiful.

I walked closer to the horse and saw that his eyes were burning with contempt and intelligence. Oh, yes, that brought back memories. "I'll take this one!"

"That Ned is one mean bastard. He don't let people onto his back." Henderson's voice was doubtful.

That sounded interesting. "I can handle him."

Of course Connor tried to talk some sense to me. "Pierson. You should listen to the man."

I didn't pay any attention to him and turned to Henderson. "Could I have a saddle, please?" I didn't actually need one. In my time, we used only blankets, but I had to admit that a saddle and stirrups really made a difference.

The bearded man gestured towards a corner and I picked up a saddle.

Ned looked at me suspiciously as I laid the saddle on his back and fastened the saddle belt. I put the reins on him and then walked him out of the stable, keeping an eye on him all the time. I wasn't fooled for a moment by his suddenly calm mannerism. I knew that the horse was just conserving all his energy until I tried to mount him. He most definitely wasn't stupid.

The others followed us to the yard, but I ignored them. I stared into Ned's eyes for a moment and muttered softly, "Let's see what tricks you know, my friend." I smiled at the arrogant look in his eyes and walked to his side.

After thinking what would be the best way to mount him, I decided to use the element of surprise. Instead of giving him the chance to dance away from me as I tried to haul myself to the saddle, I just jumped to his back.

I took a good grip on the saddle horn and it didn't take long for me to slide my feet into the stirrups. Ned reacted as I expected and tried to get me off his back. I let him show off for a few minutes and then kicked him in the ribs. That stopped him from jumping. He tried another tactic, turning to look at me and baring his teeth. Then he tried to bite my leg.

Dear Gods, what a horse! I laughed and slapped Ned in the ears with the reins. Not hard, just to let him know that biting me would be a very bad idea.

So now he knew that I wouldn't be all that easy to get rid of and that I wouldn't tolerate any horseplay.

He went completely still. I lay a hand on his neck and could feel him trembling a little. This was it. Either he'd acknowledge me as a winner and start to behave, or I'd have to settle to that brown mare. I didn't have time to play with him.

He didn't disappoint me. I felt the trembling stop and nudged him with my feet. Ned began to walk towards the road. The wind blew the sound of Henderson's laughter towards me. I knew that if I glanced back, I'd see Connor MacLeod gaping at me with his mouth open. That thought brought a wide grin to my face.

I was exhilarated, and could sense something akin to it in Ned, too. With a reputation of a 'mean bastard', the horse didn't probably get the chance to really gallop through the forest all that often. I leaned forward a little and he added some speed immediately.

There were some wide paths in the forest near the stables and we followed them, going around Henderson's and then galloped back.

Ned seemed to enjoy the ride and so did I. It was wonderful to have a good horse for a mission like this. One less thing to worry about.

When we returned to the stable, I saw Connor step into the car and drive away. I jumped off Ned's back and glared at Joe. "Where's he going?"

"Relax. He'll be back." Joe gestured to the bag the Scot had left with him. "He went to buy you some supplies."

Good. There were some things I needed to talk with Joe about in private.

"I really meant it when I said that this whole thing sounds familiar. You might want to check the archives for cases where the ordinary people suddenly turned into head chopping savages." It had happened before and every time it had been the ploy of an Immortal who was either too much of a coward or too lazy to do his --or her-- own killing. Duncan wasn't the only person in Stoede who knew martial arts, but he was probably the only Immortal. It was too obvious to be a coincidence.

"You mean other than that thing with Larca?"

Larca who? I had a good memory, but even though I'd read my Highlander's chronicles more than once and I probably knew more about him than anyone, beside Joe of course, I wasn't exactly the walking Duncan MacLeod Encyclopedia. Just mentioning a name like that didn't really tell me anything. "Dazzle me with your memory, Joe. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"He convinced some people in Peru in the 1830's that he was their head taking God."

Oh, yes. That thing in Peru. But that was different. Those people had believed in their decapitating God for ages. "No. I'm talking about cases where people start taking heads without any good reason or cultural background."

My friend nodded. "Anything else?"

"Actually there is." I didn't know how to say it without sounding melodramatic, so I just blurted it out. "If I don't come back, I want you to finish the Methos-chronicles."

Joe's mouth fell open. "Are you sure?"

No, I wasn't. But the Watchers were right about one thing. Too much history had been lost. After all, that was the reason I kept my own journals, too. Maybe there was also a hint of selfishness in my gesture. If I died, I would be remembered anyway. Why not let them remember me the way I really was? And besides, if I was dead, it didn't really matter whether or not he wrote a chapter about me into Duncan's chronicle.

Or maybe he'd spend the rest of his life tracking down my journals. That was all right by me, too. It would give him a reason to go on. If I didn't come back, then Duncan probably wouldn't be alive anymore either. I'd seen too many Watchers lose interest in everything after their Immortals died. I didn't want that to happen to Joe.

"Yes."

"I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything. After all, this is just in case I don't come back."

Joe looked like he wanted to cry. "Methos..."

I grabbed his arm, a warriors' embrace. Then I stepped forward and really hugged him. "I didn't say it to worry you. I will come back." After patting his back, I let go of him.

"Thank you." He took a deep breath. "Thanks for trusting me."

This was getting too gloomy. I didn't want Connor to find the two of us bawling when he got back, and forced my usual cynical smile on my lips. "Let's go find out if Henderson could spare us a map. Riding around in circles for the next two months won't help Duncan."

The Highlander returned and we packed all the stuff he had bought into saddlebags. Then I showed Connor our map. Joe reached to his bag and then handed both me and the Scot a gun. I took it, even though I didn't really need another one.

Connor shook Henderson's hand and then grinned at Joe. "Wait for us at the hotel. If we're not back in two weeks, go back to Seacouver and finish our chronicles."

My friend paled. I guess that made him think about our earlier conversation. He grabbed my arm. "Take care of him, Adam. Don't lose your heads. And bring Duncan back with you."

"Survival is what I do best. Don't worry, Joe. We'll be back." I had no intention of getting killed by some idiot hillbillies.

Joe looked a little better and then he nodded. "See you in two weeks. I'll stay at the hotel." Then he turned away and walked to the car.

I waved at him and then turned to Connor. "Let's go."

I was glad Connor wasn't one of those people who need to talk all the time, especially when they have nothing to say, but some distraction would have made the journey much easier. I hadn't let myself dwell on the gravity of the situation before, but now that I had nothing else to focus on, I was beginning to really worry.

Duncan was a very good friend of mine, and I didn't want anything to happen to him.

I held that thought to keep the panic in check. Repeating that sentence dozens of times, making it something like a mantra. I was going to help a friend. There was no reason to feel cold inside. Duncan's just a friend.

We'd started the journey after noon, so we didn't get very far that day. Just before sunset Connor reined in and gestured towards a small clearing. It was a perfect place for a little camp. I took care of the horses, making sure they were all right, and then got us some firewood, letting the Highlander prepare us some food.

Soon we were sitting by a fire, eating a little overcooked --all right, burned-- dinner.

I laid my sleeping bag on the ground and sat on it with my sword in hand. Even though I hadn't used it the whole day, it needed polishing. It would have been a very bad idea to let the blade get rusty. If I'd known that we'd make a little riding trip into the forest, I would have brought a scabbard for it from Seacouver. Thank goodness I'd left my second sword at the hotel. Less cleaning.

I saw Connor looking at my Ivanhoe and offered it to him for closer scrutiny. He grabbed the hilt and then swung it a couple of times. He handed it back and then sighed. "Wonderful tool. You shouldn't trust another Immortal with it, though. I could have done something unpleasant with it."

Maybe it was time to teach him a little lesson. I was getting used to him calling me 'lad' and his occasional smugness just amused me, but I really didn't want him to think I was an idiot. That thought might cost him his life later on. He had to trust in my ability to take care of myself.

Besides, if he was anything like his cousin, he might start to lecture me, and I really hated that. "You mean, you could have tried to do something unpleasant."

Connor laughed. "Whatever. But you can't deny that you would've been quite helpless unarmed." He nodded at my saddlebag, where my gun was. Well, at least the one Joe had given me.

Grinning, I pulled a sharp little knife from under my coat. "Unarmed?"

He frowned. "You have any more of those?"

"You don't expect me to reveal all my secrets to you, do you?" I didn't think he'd like to see my whole armament. I didn't want him to start thinking I was a homicidal maniac. I wasn't. Not anymore.

He shook his head, not saying anything. I could see him looking troubled, though.

"You're worrying that I might do something stupid. Don't. You're Duncan's cousin, and that means that I couldn't take your head any more than I could take his." I looked him in the eye. "Unless you force me to." I hoped he would take it as a warning, not as a threat.

"I won't." I saw the solemn look on his face and knew he had understood.

After my sword was once again perfectly clean, I checked our position from the map. Henderson had marked an area where 'some foolish brats were makin' a damn mess', obviously the place we were looking for, and I estimated we'd reach the edge of that area by noon the next day. I shared that little information with the Scot, mumbling something about my Boy Scout days being useful when he wanted to know how I had gotten that timeframe.

He smiled a little patronizing smile and I almost expected him to pat my head. His arrogance was so amusing, I didn't even feel insulted. Some older Immortals were like that, acting like they were omniscient just because of their age.

I knew better than that.

I stretched out and lay down on my sleeping bag. Connor obviously wasn't the kind of man who was interested in small talk in a situation like this, so it was better just to go to sleep.

Or at least try to.

The next day it rained. I slouched in the saddle and was starting to feel miserable. The rain didn't seem to bother my companion very much, but that didn't surprise me. I knew what the weather was like in Scotland. Cold rain and mist. That's the main reason I don't spend that much time in the Highlands, even though it's breathtakingly beautiful up there.

We didn't talk very much and even when we did, Connor was just barely civil. I knew how he felt. Every mile we traveled brought us closer to Duncan and I was scared shitless of what we'd find.

I couldn't stop worrying. I tried not to think about Duncan and when I did think about him, I tried to think of him as a friend, just like the day before. That didn't work. Once I had let the terror surface in my consciousness, I had no chance of getting rid of it. I decided I liked that rain shower after all. Connor would probably think that I was just trying to squint my eyes in order to see better, when in reality I was grimacing in pain.

Him calling me 'lad' was also a relief. I could look as frightened as I felt, and he'd just think it was because of my 'youth'. To tell the truth, I didn't feel all that old at the moment.

The rain ended, making it easier to see what was ahead. I was still dribbling wet, feeling like a drowned rat, when I heard human voices coming from the direction we were going towards.

Connor had obviously heard them too. He reined in and I followed his example. We dismounted and I was glad that the ground was damp. Less chance to step on a dry twig and alert whoever was ahead. I tied Ned's reins to a tree, next to the Highlander's horse, and then we sneaked towards the sound.

Three men were standing in a small clearing. By the look of them, I knew they were members of that cult. These phony religious orders always have some kind of ridiculous uniform or color codes for their members. The black coats with really badly embroidered axes on the back didn't worry me, but the rifles they were holding did.

We couldn't just sneak around them and then continue on our journey. Even if we didn't need to get the exact location of the cult's headquarters, it would have been foolish to leave enemies behind us. They had to be eliminated quickly before they could make any noise to alert other cultists that might be near by.

I wasn't sure how Connor wanted to handle the situation and I didn't have time to ask. Slipping behind him, I circled to the left. I ran in the shadows of the trees until I reached my destination, a huge oak that was at the edge of the clearing. There were no bushes around it, so I could make my move when the time was right.

If the cultists were supposed to stand guard, they were doing an unbelievably bad job of it. I saw Connor's face peeking through the bush and couldn't believe that the cultists didn't notice him. The Highlander stared straight at me, looking furious. He began to move closer to the clearing and I raised my hand to my ear. I hoped he'd interpret it as a sign to listen. That would be the only thing he'd obey. We needed some information. And as soon as there was an opportunity, I'd get it.

Not by listening, though.

One of the men laid down his rifle and stretched. It was a perfect opportunity and I was moving before I could even think. In a few seconds I had killed two cultists and had neatly broken the remaining one's gun. The man pulled out a big knife and raised his eyebrows.

I heard Connor scrambling out of the bushes and warned him, "Stay right there, MacLeod. I'll handle this." I was amazed when he obeyed me.

The cultist sneered. "Yeah, Mac. You stay right there and maybe I won't kill you like I'll kill this little asshole."

He was really amusing! "Give me your best shot."

I stepped to the side as he lunged at me and then grabbed his hand. The one that was holding the knife. A swift yank, and his wrist snapped, the knife flying to the ground. I kicked his feet out from under him and made sure that he didn't catch the knife as he landed on his back. If every cultist was as 'good' a fighter as he was, we'd have no problem getting rid of them all.

The cultist froze as he felt his own blade at his throat.

Connor walked closer to us. "Now what?"

I answered the man lying beneath me. "Now, you will tell us just exactly where your camp is and how many people will be there."

He spat on me. I've always hated it when people do that. Disgusting! "I won't tell you nuthin'!"

"Oh, yes you will." Ignoring the spittle that was running down my cheek, I got a better hold on the knife. Then I remembered that we weren't alone. "MacLeod. Stay away from this."

I didn't turn to see if he watched or not. Probably not.

It was so easy to become the monster again. If I'd had the time to think about it, the transition would have scared the hell out of me. The veneer of Adam Pierson and those who had lived before him slid off me, and what was left knew no such thing as mercy.

Calmly calculating what would hurt the man most without killing him, I began to inflict on him as much pain as I could. The knife was very sharp and I didn't have to use much strength to cut him deep. I knew just the right places to slice, stab and carve. After all, I'd had centuries of practise. Even though I hadn't done it for a long, long time, I was still a master at it. Just like riding a bicycle.

Seeing all the blood didn't make me squeamish at all, but the cultist wasn't as unaffected. His eyes bulged as I held the knife up after every cut, letting the little crimson drops fall onto his face. Psychological terror was even more efficient than physical pain.

I made sure the man didn't make too much noise and when he finally decided to tell me what I wanted to hear, he had only the strength to whisper.

"Our house... it's a little over a day's ride from here. South-West."

"How many men?" My voice sounded odd in my ears.

He trembled. "Ten. About ten."

The knife sliced off his left ear. He took a deep breath and I squeezed his throat, preventing him from screaming. "You're lying. I know there are more."

"No! We all go there on the Sabbaths. Other times we stay at home." The cultist convulsed and wet himself.

By that I knew he was telling the truth. If his fear was greater than his control over his bodily functions, he wasn't in a condition to lie. "Any more guards between Stoede and your house?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Why? Why did you take my friend?"

"Me and a few others were sent to get us someone who knew karate and stuff. The guy refused to come with us, even when we offered him money. He had it coming."

He'd been one of the attackers? He had beaten an innocent young man into a condition to need a hospital stay, and then dared to touch my friend? He'd laid his filthy hands on Duncan? I squeezed the handle of the knife so hard my knuckles were white and growled something incomprehensible. I wanted to rip his head off with my bare hands, but was able to control my actions. Barely.

"Who gave you the orders? Who sent you to attack my friend?"

His eyes glazed over and I felt him shudder. "He got what he deserved! He and that brat who tried to intervene. No one messes with the Sons of Odin. After we're finished with that long haired muscleman, his head'll be on our altar."

The sweet scent of blood had already made me dizzy and the mental image of Duncan's severed head made me snap. I raised the knife and stabbed the cultist in the gut. My left hand crushed his windpipe, but I didn't even realize he was probably already dead. I just kept slashing at him, wallowing in blood and sending his entrails flying all around us. I stabbed and stabbed him and when I finally finished, I shivered.

I had just killed a man in cold blood. And I felt good!

Then I wasn't in the forest anymore. I was somewhere far away, both in miles and centuries, staring at a field full of bloody corpses in front of me. The screams of my victims still echoing in my head. Smelling blood, sweat, urine. The combination that meant only one thing. Death. I felt the warmth of the blood as I wiped my hand on my cheek, marking my face. It was the oldest victory sign in the world, telling everyone that I had won and that there were no enemies left alive.

Everything was quiet, there weren't even scavengers moving in the field. The air seemed to be still. No wind, no noises from the birds, nothing.

There was absolutely nothing.

Then the silence was broken by a voice. It was coming from the distance, but even if it had been yelled into my ear, I wouldn't have been concerned. Whoever was making that noise wasn't a threat. Just a person who had just been scared almost to death.

It was getting louder, and even though I tried to ignore it, my curiosity got the better of me and I concentrated on the voice.

Someone was calling a name, but it had no meaning to me. There was no Adam Pierson on that battlefield. And even if there had been, he was now dead. I was the only one alive there. But there was something familiar about that voice and it repeated that name over and over again until I finally remembered that it meant me.

"Adam?"

I shook my head, trying to focus on the present and looked at the body in front of me. "I'm fine." The need to run to the nearest bush and vomit came, and then passed as quickly as it had come. A few deep breaths later I was able to unclench my fist and let go of the knife. I didn't intend on taking it with me, but I still wiped it clean out of habit before climbing to my feet.

After recovering my weapons, I looked at my companion. His expression was a mix of horror and repulsion. Couldn't blame him.

Ned shied away when I approached him. I realized that my clothes were soaked in blood and pulled my coat off, folding it so that it didn't make a mess, and shoved it into the saddlebag. It helped a little and I was able to mount my horse. I glanced back over my shoulder to see that Connor was following me.

We rode off in silence.

It was chilly to ride without my coat, but I didn't really pay attention to the weather. I tried not to think about what had... No it hadn't just happened. What I had done. There was no point in worrying about it. It was already in the past.

Right before sunset, Connor noticed a small stream nearby and reined in. "I think we should set our camp here."

His words sounded a lot like a question and I nodded, feeling a little disappointed in myself. He wouldn't have asked my opinion on something like that before what had happened earlier today. Damn. It wasn't like me to let my fake identity slip off like that. There was no way in hell that he'd believe in the 'geeky little professor' -routine anymore.

I decided that I wouldn't offer any information to him. He'd have to ask. I waited for those questions while I washed my bloody clothes and then brushed the horses. When I finished those chores, I ate the beans he'd heated, not even tasting the food.

Connor was glancing at me from the corner of his eye, looking worried, but still he didn't open his mouth. By the time the first stars appeared in the sky I gave up. "Go ahead."

He looked confused. "What?"

What did he think? "Ask."

"Did he tell you anything?"

He asked that? I felt a little embarrassed that I hadn't already told him what the cultist had said, but mostly I felt relief. If the Scot had seen through my little disguise, his first words would have been a challenge. He was so like Duncan in that aspect. Brave, but impatient.

I laughed a little. "Oh, yes. He told me everything I wanted to know. The cultists have a house less than a day's ride from here, due South- West. There are about ten men there all the time. The others are there on and off. The only time they all gather there together is on their holy days."

"Anything else?" He sounded like a big burden had just been lift off his shoulders.

"He told me that the three of them were the only guards between Stoede and their house." That was really idiotic. "Sloppy work! He also said he was one of the men who took Mac and put Kesti to hospital." I thought we should have the argument about now. "He got what he deserved."

He didn't take the bait. "Did he say why they took Duncan?"

"Kesti was right. They needed someone to teach them martial arts. At least we know now this has nothing to do with his Immortality." I stretched, feeling exhausted. If I yawned like that again, I'd break my yaws.

Connor smiled at me. "It's been a rough day, I think we should get some sleep now. The next few days will be hard enough without one of us falling asleep in the saddle."

"What? No accusations? No judgmental attitude?" I couldn't believe it! Apparently the cousins weren't as similar as I'd always thought. "No brooding?"

"You've got the wrong MacLeod. As far as I'm concerned, you were right. They got exactly what they deserved." He sounded like he really meant it.

"So, being a Boy Scout doesn't run in the family? That's definitely good news." Even though 'family' was a relative concept with our kind, the two Highlanders had been raised in the same area around the same time. Both of them had been driven away from their homes and Connor had been Duncan's first teacher. Clansmen, a family.

He began to laugh. Then he patted my shoulder. "Go to sleep, lad. Tomorrow will be a rough day."

That night I had a little wrestling match with my old demons and almost managed to behead Connor MacLeod while I was fighting the ghosts of the past. Apparently he couldn't just stand by and listen to my screams and as a reward for waking me up, he got my sword on his neck. He looked at me in a strange way when he returned to his sleeping bag. I guess he was a little baffled by my actions. He wasn't the only one.

I waited for him to start breathing evenly and then sighed. I had some hard work to do. It had been months since my last nightmare, and I needed to sort out my thoughts. It wasn't very surprising to have a nightmare, but for something like this... I had thought I'd left those regrets behind.

A man without a conscience? Maybe. Maybe not.

I went through what I'd done in my mind, remembering every act, every thought. Yes. I had enjoyed killing that man. But for a very good reason, not just for the joy of killing. He'd hurt the most precious thing in my life and he had to pay for it. That made a difference. I didn't care what the philosophers said. Sometimes revenge was sweet. Wallowing in remorse was totally unnecessary. It wouldn't change what had happened or how I'd felt.

I slept the rest of the night peacefully.

Waking up at the break of dawn, the first thing I did was to check the horses. Ned and the other one --I never did get his name-- were vital to our mission. I inspected their hooves and then walked them to the stream to drink. After that I grabbed some breakfast. It didn't matter that the bread was a little stale. If I'd been able to eat Connor's cooking, I could eat anything.

Since I didn't want to shake the Highlander up, I made some extra noise while eating, fussing around and dropping a few logs on the ground next to the sleeping man. My strategy worked, and soon Connor got up, glaring at me. He looked nervous and paced around the camp while I finished eating. He shook his head when I offered him some of the bread.

I packed the food away and then got to my feet. "Let's get this over with."

He looked definitely annoyed.

We rode in silence for a while. I realized that we didn't even have a plan and asked Connor what he wanted us to do when we got to the cult's HQ. I didn't mind improvising, but it was always good to have some kind of a plan.

He looked a little embarrassed and then just shrugged. "We get in, find Duncan and get out."

I couldn't help laughing. There had been a time when I didn't go to the bathroom without a plan and now I was supposed to improvise on something as important as this? But then again, the best plan I could think of without knowing the area better was; 'secure the premises, locate our target and withdraw with it', which was exactly what Connor had said. "Well, the simple plans usually work best."

I didn't even notice that I'd added the 'now if only he's still alive' out loud before I saw the shocked look on his face. I'd tried very hard not to think of what would happen when we got to the cultists' place. I had to be calm in order to function and I'd just made sure that the fear of Duncan being already dead was now the only thing I could think about.

Berating myself silently, I continued following Connor.

The cultists' house was big and very expensive-looking. I wondered who really owned the place. By that time I was certain that all this cult- nonsense was organized by someone much older, but not necessarily wiser, than the cultists I'd killed. There were about half a dozen Immortals that were insane enough to make up something like this, but I wasn't exactly sure which one it was. That's why I didn't mention anything about it to Connor. He was nervous enough as things were.

I was also fairly certain that whoever was behind all this would not be at their HQ. Cowards like that never put themselves in the line of fire.

Unless of course the whole reason for the cult was to protect their leader. Well, we'd find that out soon.

After tying the horses securely to a tree, we sneaked closer to the house. I scanned the area, feeling calmer now that I could feel another Presence. It was the only one I could sense coming from the big house and because it was unnaturally faint, I guessed it was Duncan's. He was probably dying.

We had no time to waste.

My little knives came very handy again. There were two cultists leaning against a tree, talking to each other, and I didn't even have to put much energy in aiming at them. They were just holding the rifles loosely in their hands, so I didn't have to worry that the final muscle spasms would make the fingers squeeze the trigger. After pulling the knives off the 'guards', I ran towards the house.

Connor was already at the door, pulling it open. He stumbled back as four cultists charged towards him, but recovered quickly, gutting one of them just as my knife dropped another one. One of the remaining two ran towards me and I simply ran him through. A big clumsy ax isn't a good weapon when you're up against a swordsman who knows how to use his tool. The Highlander sent the last one's head flying and then we ran into the house.

I could only feel Connor's Presence now and prayed that Duncan's Quickening wouldn't hit one of us next.

It didn't. We got into a big living room just in time. The mortal in charge and three of his followers were staring at my Highlander's dead body, chanting something off-key.

All four of them looked shocked when we barged in.

I just glanced at Duncan. He was all bloody and his limbs were twisted into unnatural positions. The bastards had beaten him to death and had apparently continued beating and kicking him even when there was no life left in him. I moved my gaze off him quickly. I needed to focus on what I was doing.

The three of the cultists were trying to get up from the floor where they'd been kneeling, and I raised my gun. I wasn't as good with a gun as I was with the sword and those little knives, but definitely good enough to make each one of those little idiots crumple down with a round bullet-hole in the middle of his forehead.

Connor reached for his gun and then froze. I thought about shooting the cult leader too, but realized that it would also kill Duncan. The ax the man was holding would chop my Highlander's head off, if it slipped out of his fingers.

"Too late. You're too late, I'm too late, we're all too late..." The cultist drooled and began to cry. "We're all doomed. He'll come for us and we'll all go to hell."

I circled around the men, trying not to step on the bodies. Keeping an eye on the ax all the time.

For a second I thought that maybe I could talk us out of the situation. If the cult leader really was as insane as I thought, he could be persuaded to put the ax down. After all, I had been a 'God' before. Acting like a messenger of one wouldn't be a problem.

Then the idiot wearing the robe stopped crying. "No! Not too late! Not to me! Oh, Great One take..."

Blood was pounding in my ears. He didn't need to finish it. I had heard that sentence a thousand times in dozens of countries. Just a few seconds before the sacrificial knife drank blood. I didn't even have to look up. I knew that the ax was moving.

It was a moment of perfect clarity. In those few seconds I just stood there, staring at the ax, I realized exactly what would happen next.

Duncan was going to die. That was unavoidable. I knew Connor was too far away from him to change anything and I was in a wrong position to use any of my weapons safely. We'd have to see the man we had come all this way to rescue die right in front of us. We'd have to avenge his death and then ride back to Stoede to tell Joe that he'd have to be reassigned. The news would crush the man. He'd spent almost half of his life Watching my Highlander.

Then we'd go back... No, I would never go to Seacouver again. I'd never again contact any of the Watchers or the few Immortals Duncan had introduced me to. And I'd never befriend another Immortal again. It was too painful in the long run. I'd probably go to Sumatra or some other tropical island and go on living as I always had. Nothing else would matter but survival. There wouldn't be any more distractions, just the sand and the sea.

I'd have some peace and quiet and I'd spend the rest of my... miserable existence alone, hating Duncan for dying, hating Connor for being just as helpless as I had been, and most of all, hating myself for just standing there, watching my Highlander die.

My sword went flying to the floor as I jumped between Duncan and the ax. I felt the blade hit my left arm and screamed with pain. But it was also a scream of victory.

Even a severed arm would be a small price to pay for not losing what was left of my soul.

Something hit the floor next to me and then Connor was kneeling beside me. I looked up to see what had happened and was relieved to see that he'd managed to get rid of the cult leader.

"How's the hand?"

I couldn't move it, but as I shifted a little, I saw that it wasn't completely cut off. Thank Gods! I was amazed to still be conscious, though. The wound was bleeding hard and I was beginning to feel nauseous. "It's still with me." Thankfully the Scot didn't ask if it hurt. That question would have cost him his teeth.

Connor got up. I didn't bother to follow him with my gaze. It was hard enough to keep my breakfast down. He helped me to my feet and I bit through my lower lip as I jostled my left arm. The Scot ripped a piece of cloth from one of the ridiculous robes and then tied my arm to my side. I knew that keeping it immobile would diminish the pain and help the healing, but the actual bandaging hurt so damn much that I couldn't appreciate his gesture at the moment.

He moved around the room while I tried to stop sobbing. I wiped my face with my sleeve and then took the swords Connor was offering to me. I only realized that one of them was Duncan's katana when we were outside and I was clumsily tying them to my saddle with my good hand.

Connor carried his cousin outside. He staggered to his horse and lifted Duncan up, in front of the saddle. I looked at Ned and then lifted my leg to the stirrup. He seemed to realize that I was hurt and stood still, so I could mount him. I patted him when I reached for the reins and then winced. As the initial shock was wearing off, even breathing seemed to cause more pain.

My wound had just barely began to heal. Damn. It had to be more serious than I'd thought.

Even though I knew that something in the house might have given us more information about the cult and its leaders, I nudged Ned with my feet and we followed the Scots back into the forest. I didn't really care who was behind it all at the moment.

The only thing I could think of was that I had risked my head to save Duncan. I had voluntarily let that maniac hit me with a goddamn ax!

And I'd do it again. Even if the next time I wouldn't be able to raise my arm to protect my neck. But that was ridiculous! It went against everything I was.

I thought about it. If the situation had been less hectic, things might have happened quite differently. The shock of seeing the young man's life threatened had been a huge incentive to my actions. My act, that looked like the culmination of selflessness, was in reality one of the most selfish things I had ever done.

I could live without Duncan MacLeod. Of course I could. But I didn't want to. Didn't want to be the man I was without him.

Ned's gait changed and I realized that I had almost let go of the reins. I grabbed them more firmly and then shifted slightly in the saddle. It was a relief to be distracted from thinking about Duncan and my idiocy. Shoving all thoughts of my Highlander away from my mind, I concentrated on riding.

The main shock didn't hit me for a few hours. When it did, I was shivering in the saddle, biting my lip to hold the sobs inside. I couldn't stop thinking about how close I'd been to seeing Duncan die.

Worse yet, I would probably have gotten his Quickening since I'd been closer to him than his cousin had been. The idea of his whole being rushing through my mind in violent bursts of energy made me nauseous. That was definitely not the way I wanted him with me for the rest of my life.

I barely noticed it when Connor reined in and dismounted. It amazed me to see that we were back in our camp.

The Highlander laid his cousin down and looked around. "I'll gather some wood. You'd better sit here with Duncan, in case he wakes up."

I couldn't say anything. I couldn't even look at the young man, and turned to Ned instead. When I began to fumble the saddlebag open, I had no idea what I was looking for until my fingers touched a plastic bottle.

Connor left the camp just in time. My inner trembling changed into a full body shaking and I grabbed the water bottle and a handkerchief, hurrying to Duncan before my knees gave in.

I washed his face, thanking every single God I'd ever believed in, or even heard of, that he was alive. I felt tears starting to fall, but didn't care. All that mattered was that he was alive. I was alive. I leaned down to kiss his forehead, whispering something to him over and over again, without even recognizing the words. And the words didn't matter. The sentiment was the same, no matter the language.

When I had wiped the last trace of blood from Duncan's face, I sat there for a while, stroking his hair. I wasn't thinking about anything. I just enjoyed the rare chance of holding him close.

The faint feeling of his Presence made me move away from him and I walked to the edge of the clearing. I didn't know if I would be able to control myself while looking into those chocolate brown eyes.

I went to lean against a tree and tried to calm down. Now that everything was all right again, I could finally relax.

Connor walked into the clearing just as the younger Scot began to stir. I couldn't see the look on Duncan's face from where I was standing, but if it was anything like Connor's expression, I'd call it radiant.

My Highlander's voice was full of confusion and wonder as he sat up and saw his cousin. "Connor? What are you doing here? And where exactly is 'here'?"

"We got you away from the 'Sons of Odin'. They were just about to use a big ax on your neck when we arrived."

"Oh, yes. I remember. So you saved my life once again. Thank you, cousin."

"Don't thank just me." Connor nodded towards me and smiled. "I couldn't have done it without him."

Duncan followed his cousin's gaze and when he saw me he tensed. "What are you doing here?"

What did he think? 'I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by and see how you're doing.' "Nice to see you too, Highlander."

He turned back to Connor. "You didn't have to bring him with you."

So he was taking all his anger and frustration out on me for some reason. Wonderful. Why on earth had I ever expected some gratitude?

Squeezing my hands into fists, I forced myself to just breathe calmly instead of grabbing his throat and throttling him. Gods, he could be so irritating!

After the shock I'd just experienced, I wasn't exactly in the mood for being Duncan MacLeod's personal whipping boy. In a way his behavior was understandable, though. He'd been badly hurt and was now trying to deal with a myriad of emotions. Maybe he realized on some subconscious level that I could handle his anger and pain, unlike his hot headed cousin.

I could, and I would. After all, I'd done it before.

Duncan rubbed his hands together and then looked down at them. The sticky feeling must have alarmed him. I saw his whole body shudder and then he glanced back at me. His expression was full of disgust as he surveyed the mess that had once been a grey sweater.

Apparently the fact that I was literally covered with blood --his and my own-- didn't make the situation any better. He was about to say something when Connor cleared his throat.

"There's a small brook there, in case you want to go and wash. I could also get us something to eat..."

"I'll go and wash the blood off me. I'm not used to smelling like a walking slaughterhouse." My Highlander's voice indicated clearly that maybe some of us were.

I didn't have to fake the flinch. What had happened just yesterday was still too clear a memory. "Duncan..."

He turned his back on me and walked away. Connor followed him a few seconds later.

I went to my saddlebag and changed into a clean sweater. Flexing my hand, I grinned as it worked just as it was supposed to. At least something did.

Duncan's words hadn't hurt me. Not really. I knew that he'd been through hell these last few days and was now angry at the whole universe. I wasn't certain if Connor understood that though, and decided to go to the stream to see how they were doing.

I rolled up my bloody shirt and then squinted my eyes as my gaze met the first aid kit that Henderson had insisted we take with us. If Duncan felt hurt and humiliated, he might react well to the fact that someone else had also been injured at the hands of the cultists. I decided that it wouldn't do any harm, and pulled out some bandages.

The Scots probably wouldn't ask any questions about my arm. Duncan was too upset to think straight and Connor would probably just think that I was so young that my Quickening hadn't kicked in to heal it yet. That happened to some youngsters, who hadn't taken many heads. It was extremely rare, but it happened.

I hadn't been a doctor for decades, but I could still make a pretty good sling. I tied the ends of the white cloth behind my neck and then headed towards the stream.

I sneaked around a bush and then hid behind a tree. I had a wonderful view of the men talking, and I groaned as I saw how their discussion was proceeding.

Duncan lay on the ground, panting and looking at his angry cousin who still was clenching his fists. I heard Connor telling him about our search and then describing some of the details of the rescue. From this angle I could see Duncan quite clearly and the look on his face made me act. Letting one's emotions out was very good and healthy, but those damn Scots were both so far gone with their little fight that all they'd manage to do was to hurt each other.

And the last thing I wanted to see was Duncan getting hurt again.

"I hate to interrupt you two, but it's getting chilly here and I need some help with the firewood." I stepped out of the forest and stood still, staring at the two of them.

Connor turned around and grimaced. Then he took a few steps towards me. "You should take it easy, Adam. Let that hand heal."

"I'm fine. I don't need to rest." I didn't. I needed to make things better. I glanced at Duncan. "He needs it more than I do."

Duncan's reaction was predictable. He got to his feet and approached me. "I don't need you worrying about me, Adam. I'm a grown man, I don't need a knight in shining armor to rescue me. And even if I did..."

I wasn't sure what he was about to say, but whatever it was, it didn't matter. I saw that the only way to solve this damn mess was to goad him into a fight. A fight I could control. "I wouldn't qualify." I made my voice freezing. "I don't even know why I bother. Fine. You can't stand my presence? You get your wish. As soon as we get back in town, I'm out of your life!"

With that I turned around and walked back to the camp.

I hadn't planned it, but I realized now that only a physical fight would clear the air and since it was Duncan I was going to fight, I knew that a little wrestling match wouldn't be enough. However enjoyable it might be.

Duncan's katana was still tied to my saddle and I untied it and laid it on the ground. I was sure that he'd just grab it without any questions. Then I waited.

After a few minutes, he came storming out of the forest. "You're out of my life? What the hell did you mean by that?"

"Just what I said. If you don't want me around, I'm out of here."

"Don't be an idiot, Methos," he scoffed. "I never said I wanted you to leave!"

I just turned my back at him.

A hand grabbed my right shoulder. "I'm not finished yet!"

"Yes you are." I shrugged the hand off. "You're the most ungrateful son of a bitch and I'm through with you!"

"No, you're not! We'll never be through, Methos! Never!"

I froze for a moment, stunned by the vehemence in his voice, and then continued towards Ned, not even looking at Duncan.

As I had thought, that really got his attention. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"Away from you."

"No, you're not." He moved in between me and Ned. "You'll stay right here and listen to my apology. I was wrong. Most of the blood was yours, wasn't it?"

He called that an apology? "You can say and think whatever you want. I don't care. Have a nice life, MacLeod." I stepped to the side and he followed my move. I stepped back to the other way, and he mirrored it. It was almost like dancing.

Duncan snarled. "If you take one more step closer to that horse, I'll..."

Right on cue. "What? Kill me? Take my head? I don't think so! Now get the hell out of my way!"

He stepped away from me and I grabbed the reins. Then I felt the cold blade of his sword on my neck. I turned slowly back to Duncan. His expression was calm as he guided me farther from Ned. "You're not leaving!"

It was time to stop talking. "You'll have to kill me to make me stay."

"And the only way you're going to leave me is over my headless body." Always a gentleman. He grabbed my sword and handed it to me, obviously expecting me to decline it and forgive him.

I took the Ivanhoe and then jumped back, taking a swing at his blade. "Over your headless body it is."

He looked less shocked than I'd thought he would. I guess it was because of all the times we'd made a point by holding our blades at each other's neck. He lunged towards me and I parried his blade. Then I swung my sword, aiming at his belly. He jumped back, his eyes widening a little when he realized that I meant business. This wasn't an ordinary spat or a sparring match. I was fighting to win, using every single dirty trick I'd learned in five millennia.

Duncan was fighting with his heart, not his head, and I was able to win quite easily. It was amazing what regular exercise could do. I made it look like I had to work hard to defeat him, though. I wasn't trying to rip away the last shreds of his dignity.

Steel hit steel and sparks flew around us. My blade hit his again, and I swirled around, trying to get my sword on his neck. It sliced a small wound to his shoulder, making his hand jerk, and I cursed as his blade nicked my fingers. I didn't stop for a second, though, and pressed on hard, so he had to make a few quick steps backwards. I followed him, forcing him to just defend himself, knowing that sooner or later Duncan would stop retreating and start to fight back.

His sword made a perfect arch towards mine, and I smiled. That kind of a wide movement left his chest unprotected. Just the kind of opening I'd been waiting for.

I stabbed at him and he stepped to the side, grabbing my arm. Our bodies were pressed together for a second when he tried to twist the sword out of my hand. I could feel his chest heave when he gasped for breath. Then I pushed him away, twisting his left hand, and when I saw him move his sword into a position where his grip would slip with one pat of my sword, I knew it was over.

The mistake he made was a relatively small one, but it was enough for me to hit the katana out of his hand. Now my blade was on his neck.

Duncan looked me straight in the eyes and then sank to his knees, raising his chin slightly, so I'd have a better reach on his throat. I looked back into the brown depths, wanting him to understand what I was going to do. His gaze met mine calmly and then flickered to the left.

"It was a fair fight, cousin. You can't intervene."

Damn. There was no way Connor would understand what I was doing. If he tried something, things could get really ugly.

"You take his head, Pierson, and I'll take yours next."

Connor had called me 'Adam' ever since he'd woken me from the nightmare and I had taken it as a good sign. Like maybe he was even beginning to... well, not actually like me, but at least not to resent me anymore. Now I was 'Pierson' again. I had no doubts that he would challenge me.

Duncan sighed. "No you won't!"

"What?" The shock in Connor's voice almost made me shake with laughter. I had to fight that. Letting my hands tremble as I was holding a sword on my Highlander's neck wouldn't have been a good idea.

"If Adam takes my head, you will leave him alone. Just as he will leave you." He was asking two favors with that. "Promise me, Connor."

The older Scot didn't answer.

"Promise me! Let him walk away, kinsman." I had never heard him beg like that. I wasn't sure if it was for me, though. Even though Connor wasn't as chivalrous as his cousin was, I was pretty sure he wouldn't just take my head. If he challenged me after I killed my best friend, he wouldn't have a chance, and Duncan knew that.

Connor sighed. "If you wish. I will let him go. I won't even follow him." He sounded like he even believed it. The Scot walked to my range of vision, holding out his empty hands. He looked at my face and asked, "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

Didn't want to. Had to. I looked straight into Duncan's eyes and the unwavering trust that shone there made me speechless. Finally I managed to whisper, "Yes. This must be done." What had started as a simple 'let's manipulate Duncan for his own good', had become something much bigger. There was no anger in either of us now, just dozens of questions that had never been asked and never would be. My next actions would answer everything.

I took a deep breath. "There can be only one."

My palms were sweaty and I shifted my hands on the hilt so that they wouldn't slip. I raised the sword, keeping my eyes on Duncan's. He didn't even flinch when I swung the sword.

As my Ivanhoe sank to the soft turf, I briefly wondered if my Highlander Would ever understand all that I meant with that act. That I forgave him for acting like a total idiot. That past was really past now. That I would never, ever hurt him. And if some day we were the only two Immortals left in the world, the prize would never be won. I couldn't kill him, and I knew he'd never take my head. There had never been a doubt about that.

Duncan closed his eyes for a moment and then took my right hand into his. "I meant what I said. I'm sorry I've been an arsehole. And the only way you're going to leave me, is still over my headless body."

His voice was gentle and caring. I had to swallow hard to keep from saying something that we'd both regret later. "Apology accepted."

My eyes were burning and I could see that I wasn't the only one trying to hold back the tears. Duncan squeezed my hand between his. "You mean you won't leave?"

"I do." The most frightening promise I'd ever made and I even intended to keep it. After just three years of friendship I was making a vow to stand by him forever. For the first time in five millennia there was a slight chance that I'd be with someone for the rest of my life, even though my Highlander collected trouble just like my books collected dust. He'd faced every challenge, both external and internal, and he'd survived them all. Mad Immortals, his own inner demons, that damn Scottish pride and unbelievable altruism.

I might go away for a couple of years from time to time, but I'd always come back to him. I had never committed myself to anyone like that before. He probably didn't even realize that.

Our sentimental moment was interrupted by hysterical giggling. I turned to see Connor sitting on the ground, holding his stomach with both hands as he howled with laughter.

We waited for him to stop laughing and when he did, he shook his head, still grinning like an idiot. "I'm sorry. It just looked like I was going to get a new relative."

With Duncan still kneeling in front of me, it wasn't all that hard to figure out what he meant with that. I smiled, thinking that they'd both fall on their 'arses' if I let the 'I wish' that was echoing in my mind be vocalized.

Duncan went to punch his cousin on the shoulder and I picked up my sword. It needed some cleaning. Again.

I didn't have the chance to take care of my favorite tool that day. I helped Duncan clean his clothes and remove all traces of his captivity from his body, including the stubble on his cheeks. He seemed to be relieved to shave it away, it probably reminded him of the last time I'd seen him with facial hair. Not a happy memory for him.

It was a bit hard to concentrate on scrubbing my own shirt clean while he was sliding my sharpest knife over his face, removing all the beard and some skin. I would much rather have helped him, but I wasn't sure how he'd react if I offered to shave him. Not very well, I thought.

My Highlander looked ridiculous in Connor's pants and my extra sweater, but since we hadn't brought him any spare clothing, it was either that or running around naked while his own clothes were drying. He chose looking ridiculous. Too bad.

After we'd gotten the last traces of blood off our clothes, we sat down by the fire.

Duncan held his hands closer to the flames. "So, Adam. Tell me what's happened while I've been away from home. How's Joe? What about Richie? Has he returned from Brazil yet?" He sounded a bit desperate.

"Actually, Joe's waiting for us in Stoede." I saw him tense and decided not to continue on that. I knew exactly what was going on inside that hairy head of his, and the last thing he needed was me reminding him of what had happened. "He's fine. The business is doing well. There was some problem in his bar one night when some drunk thought it was a karaoke bar, but that's about all. Oh, and he also decided to make Dave a full time worker."

He nodded. "I thought you were supposed to be teaching young people old languages, but apparently you've just been hanging around at Joe's all the time."

His attempt to make a joke probably sounded strained even in his own ears, but I laughed anyway. "You know that teaching isn't a full time job, Mac. Since it's not time for exams, I really don't have anything to do in the evenings but go to Joe's. Don't worry, I haven't drank all the whiskey, though."

"Great." The smile was faint but genuine. "How about Richie?"

"Joe heard from Richie's Watcher that the kid's on his way back North. Apparently he's driving across the country instead of flying."

"It'll be good to see him again." Duncan stretched. "How about the University? What happened to that grad student who was robbed?"

"Joanne? Her bag was found in the park near the mall. She was so glad to see that the only thing missing was her purse. Her notes were all intact." I went on rambling about our mutual acquaintances, filling the silence with friendly talk. My Highlander seemed to get more relaxed as our conversation got farther away from our reason for being in the forest.

Connor seemed to be comfortable doing all the work, fussing around the little campsite, and Duncan and I just sat there talking all afternoon. It was good to just be, not needing to worry about anything or anyone.

Of course there was a price to pay for doing nothing. Connor served us Dinner when the sun was setting, but Duncan's expression, when he stared at his plate, was almost worth having to actually eat the stuff the Highlander had made.

I pushed the food around the plate, continuing to tell Duncan about all the things that had happened back in Seacouver. There wasn't anything all that interesting going on in that cold town, but it didn't seem to matter. My friend just needed to hear about normal life. Connor seemed to understand that too, and didn't say a word about the cult. Actually the older Scot didn't say much about anything that evening. He was apparently just glad to see his cousin alive.

Duncan gathered all the dishes and headed towards the stream. I went to take care of the horses as soon as Connor began to rummage through the saddlebags, preparing us a place to sleep. We both knew that the young Scot really needed some time alone now.

Ned threw a baleful glare at me when I approached him. I grinned and apologized for making him wait for his dinner. He just snorted and looked the other way. Fortunately no horse can stay angry at the person who rubs him between the ears, and by the time he finished eating, we were friends again. When I'd made sure that the horses were both all right, I returned to the fire.

Connor had laid the sleeping bags on the ground. We discussed our sleeping arrangements --about guarding the camp actually, the older Scot had unfortunately bought three sleeping bags-- and then the younger men lay down. I stood guard. We'd left the cultists' house in a hurry, and it was possible that there were people looking for us.

I leaned my back against a tree, waiting for Connor to gather his wits. I'd noticed how he had looked at me and Duncan during dinner and knew that we had some things to talk about. He lay unnaturally still, obviously waiting for his cousin to fall asleep before confronting me.

I started when Duncan began to snore and then smiled as Connor got up and walked to me.

"Couldn't sleep?" I gestured with my hand and he sat down next to me.

"No, I wanted to talk to you in private." He looked a little uncomfortable and I let him straighten his thoughts in peace. Finally he sighed. "I lied today. To Duncan."

I grinned. "I know. When did you admit it to yourself?"

"When we were eating. I didn't know it was a lie, when I said it, but now I do. There's no way I would have let you go if you had taken his head." He scratched his neck. "When did you know it was a lie?"

"The moment you said it." Give or take a second.

He squinted his eyes. "That's not the reason you didn't kill him, is it?"

Very good! "No."

"Actually, you never really even intended to kill him. And the things you said by the brook, you weren't really mad at him, were you? You just wanted Duncan to fight with you. Why?"

I thought he deserved an explanation. He'd been a very good companion and I'd enjoyed him treating me almost like a friend. "He needed to let off some steam. And he had to... feel in control of his life again. Fighting me was his decision, not something someone else told him to do. He wasn't mad at me. He was mad at being a victim. Someone who needed rescuing."

"And you knew just which buttons to push. But that's not the whole truth, is it, Adam?" There was laughter in his voice.

So, how much had he figured out? "If you know enough to ask, surely you have already guessed the rest."

Connor sounded even more amused. "There's more to you than meets the eye."

"No, MacLeod. I'm exactly what you see. Just a guy." I had to laugh at that familiar phrase.

He looked down, obviously trying to figure out what to say next. Then he started and muttered, "Bloody hell!" When he looked up at me again, I knew he had finally done some elementary math. "You're not Duncan's student."

"No, I'm not."

"You're not all that young either, are you?" It wasn't really a question.

Childish or not, I loved this part. "No."

He thought that over. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Nope. I've enjoyed it far too much!"

"You sure as hell act like a kid. At least now." That familiar tone of voice made me wonder if the sixteenth and seventeenth century Scots had some kind of a tradition of teaching all the children to use petulance as a weapon. It usually worked, too.

I wanted him to understand that I hadn't fooled him just so I could now enjoy watching his jaw hit his knees. "Tell me something, Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. If I hadn't recognized you at Joe's, would you have told me who you are? Or would I be talking to Russell Nash?"

He got my point. "Nash." He sighed. "Well, I don't care how old you are. What others call you, if Pierson's not your real name, doesn't matter either. I think I like you anyway."

For a moment I thought I'd heard him wrong. I had manipulated his cousin and lied to him, and he liked me? That was insane! The worst thing was that the feeling was mutual. "I think I like you too."

"What about you and Duncan?"

"I care for him very much. But so many things have happened these last few months, I'm not sure if we're still really friends." It was the first time I said that out loud. Even though we had spent a lot of time together in Seacouver, there was a new tension between us. And it wasn't just because of what I felt, I was very good at hiding my feelings.

"What things? Shit! You don't have to answer. I shouldn't have asked that." He sounded really embarrassed. He knew the importance of privacy just as well as I did.

"It's all right. If I didn't want to talk about it, I wouldn't have brought up the subject." I wasn't sure how much I should tell him. He wasn't ready to hear the whole truth and I wasn't ready to reveal it. "Let's just say that some... unfinished business from my past caught me unawares and Duncan was pulled into solving it. And then one of my students went mad and I resented Duncan killing him. I shouldn't have, he did the right thing, but..."

He nodded. Apparently he could imagine how that felt, considering the scare I'd given him earlier that day. He cocked his head and then asked quietly. "Does Duncan know? I mean, who you really are?"

Who was I? Even I didn't know the answer to that anymore. But Duncan knew more about me than anyone else in the whole world, more than I had ever wanted him to know. About the man, the myth, the monster. "Yes. He knows exactly who I am."

He nodded. "That's good enough for me. Wake me up in three hours. Duncan can take the last watch."

I watched him walk back to his sleeping bag and sighed. Now I had three hours to brood. At least I'd been taught by a master.

It had been a very rough week. Not just emotionally, but physically too. Even though I'd been practising more these last three years than the two centuries before them, a few hours a day swinging my sword didn't really prepare me to sit in a saddle all day. To be blunt, my behind was a bit sore. I really had gotten disgustingly soft.

But still I felt good. Duncan was safe, I'd made another friend and we were now heading back home.

Home? Since when did I call Seacouver home? It's a cold, gloomy town and the only reason I'd even think about going back there was... that my whole life was there. At least until it --he-- moved to Paris again. That was a really depressing thought and I spent the rest of my watch trying to banish it from my mind without much success.

I woke up with a start. I looked around and saw Duncan smiling a bit sheepishly at me. He was holding an armload of twigs, heading towards the remains of our little fire.

"Sorry. I stepped on a fallen branch. I didn't mean to wake you up."

I stretched. "I don't mind waking up early as long as Connor doesn't make breakfast." I'd rather eat boiled grass than his cooking. I can honestly say that in five thousand years, I've never met a worse cook.

Duncan chuckled as he squatted down. "I tried to teach him how to make edible food a few centuries ago and almost got my head cut off. He doesn't take constructive criticism very well."

"I've noticed. Damn, it's cold out here!" I shivered when I got up from my sleeping bag. "So, which one of us will have the honor of making breakfast?"

"You make the coffee, I'll do the rest." My Highlander grinned and began to build a fire. Apparently he didn't have much faith in my cooking skills either.

I rummaged through the contents of one of the saddlebags, trying to find where Connor kept the coffee, and sighed. "We have beans and ham." The last piece of bread there was looked so greenish, I didn't even consider it as food.

"I'd say Connor did the shopping." Duncan laughed when I nodded. "He has this odd sense of humor that no one else quite understands."

"You can say that again. At least we have enough coffee to last for a week." I grabbed the pot and then headed to the stream. I was glad to see my Highlander in such a good mood, but there was something bothering me in his demeanor. It was almost like he was too cheerful. I decided to watch him even more closely that day than usually. If that was physically possible, that is.

When I came back, Duncan was already frying thin slices of ham. As soon as the water boiled, I grabbed a tin mug and poured myself a cup of coffee. Even though Highlander had conveniently forgotten to buy any sugar, I sighed happily after taking a sip. The warmth of the dark liquid alone made me feel better.

It was nice to sit by the fire with my Highlander, not really talking, just enjoying the silence and edible food. Duncan didn't seem to be in mood for a talk and I didn't push him.

When we'd finished eating, Duncan stretched. "I think I'd better do some exercise. I'm too tense to spend the whole day in a saddle."

"Go ahead. I need to clean my sword and it seems like Connor's going to sleep for a bit longer."

He nodded and then put his utensils away.

I grabbed a piece of cloth and after checking my Ivanhoe for any dents I began to polish the blade. I was entertaining myself by watching Duncan.

He was going through some basic katas. His hands moved gracefully in perfectly controlled fluid movements. Sometimes looking like he was trying to fight someone, pushing the invisible opponent away. Sometimes his hands were almost flowing through the air, like he was doing some exotic dance. He wasn't wearing his shirt and I could clearly see all the muscles in his back rippling as he repeated the motions over and over again. It was almost hypnotic.

A rustling sound made me glance to the left and I saw Connor getting up. He disappeared into the forest for a moment and then walked close to the small fire to grab some breakfast. I turned back to enjoy the scenery.

Duncan was moving faster now, his skin glistening with sweat and I could see his chest heaving when he tried to control his breathing. His mouth was slightly open and after one particularly straining movement, the tip of his tongue flickered across his upper lip.

It was good I wasn't holding the blade at the moment. If I had, I would have cut my fingers off. I squeezed the hilt of my sword so hard that my hands hurt, but it didn't matter. I didn't care about anything but the gorgeous man in front of me.

He turned a little and began to stretch. I saw every single muscle of his chest twitching, and swallowed. I had a perfect view of all those places I had always wanted to explore with my hands and my mouth. I hadn't witnessed him doing his katas often, and I was now enthralled by it, but even if he had just stood there, doing nothing, I wouldn't have been able to take my eyes off him. That golden skin, slightly furred chest, tight, brown nipples... Gods, I'd even dreamt of those nipples!

I was almost drooling when I heard pathetic whimpers and coughing coming from Connor. Duncan rushed to pound his back, trying to prevent his cousin from choking on the moldy bread he'd been munching. Damn idiot.

I watched those two with a little smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. When Connor was all right again, he thanked his cousin. My Highlander grinned at him and then asked me to spar with him. I was only happy to oblige. Anything to keep him from putting a shirt on.

It was fun to fence in a forest. The roots of the trees, the small holes on the ground and the low branches made the little exercise more challenging than it was in the dojo. Duncan seemed to enjoy it, too, and it was nice to hear genuine laughter coming from him. He grumbled every time he fell on his ass, and when I finally won our little match, he muttered something about me being a devious bastard. I took that as a good sign too.

I put my sword away with a little sigh and then helped the Scots pack our gear.

Connor looked at the sky as he mounted his horse. "I think this'll be a great day. Let's go. I want to get away from here as soon as I can. There might be still some cultists around here somewhere."

That certainly took care of Duncan's good mood. He looked around timidly and climbed quickly behind his cousin. I patted Ned and then followed the Scots into the forest.

After about an hour's ride Connor seemed to notice that something was wrong with Duncan. The young man hadn't said a word since we left the camp. The older Scot obviously decided it was time to break the silence and asked why his cousin had wanted to see him.

The path we were following was a narrow one, so I wasn't able to ride beside them, but I could still hear their conversation. My Highlander's voice floated towards me. "I heard about an old acquaintance of ours. Dmitri Kemppain."

It was good that I was paying attention to them. Otherwise someone could have gotten hurt when Connor abruptly yanked the reins. I was able to rein Ned in just in time, so we didn't crash into the Highlanders.

"Kemppain? Are you sure? Where?" Connor sounded shocked.

"I heard his name mentioned while I was at the tournament. I think he lives in Stoede. At least he did a week ago."

Connor was looking at Duncan over his shoulder and I could clearly see the hatred in his eyes. "Thank you for telling me."

"You're going after him?"

"Yes."

The older Scot mumbled something about Alicante in 1713, connecting the events to the 'Sons of Odin'.

I looked at Connor, wanting to know how much he hated Kemppain. If his chronicler in the eighteenth century had been right, we were in trouble. In all his life the Highlander had truly hated only three men. Kemppain was one of them.

"What happened?" As if I didn't know. Some things I've read are too disgusting to forget.

Connor shivered and let Duncan do the talking. My Highlander told me a short version of the grim tale I'd read about years ago. I'm not easily shaken, but this story made me a bit queasy.

Many people had died in a witch hunt when all the people in a little village near Alicante had declared a war against 'demons'. That meant mainly the MacLeods, Amanda and a couple of their friends. Dozens of people had been burned at stake and then dismembered. One of the victims had been Amanda's protégé, Marina de Vilán. A young woman who'd apparently been a very close friend of the Scots.

Dmitri Kemppain had been one of the leading members in Alicante's council at the time. When all the commotion had died, Connor MacLeod had spent months chasing the other Immortal. It was quite obvious that he'd had something to do with the matter.

There were other occasions when the Watchers had speculated that Kemppain had been using mortals against us, but they hadn't been able to prove it. It seemed I'd been right. Kemppain had been first on my list of probable cult leaders. Now that I saw Connor's reaction to the man, I was glad I hadn't said anything about it earlier.

Duncan didn't seem to be any fonder of Kemppain than his cousin was. He called the man sociopath and was probably right. I had never met Kemppain, but I'd heard a lot about him. None of it was good.

As soon as Duncan had finished his story, his cousin urged his horse to move on, obviously anxious to get to Stoede as soon as he could.

Damn. It seemed that our little hunt wasn't nearly over yet.

We hadn't ridden for long when I felt Ned tense and then heard a loud shout coming from the forest. I grabbed the saddle horn at the same moment as a group of black-coated men ran towards us, shaking various weapons. Ned jumped a few times, but I was able to stay on his back. It was easy to pull out my sword, and then I went charging at the cultists.

Remembering Duncan's reaction to my bloody clothes the day before, I made sure that I just hurt the idiots, smacking them with the flat of my sword or riding straight at them. It was very hard not to kill them, though. A few of them were frothing at the mouth and minor flesh wounds didn't stop them.

I saw the other horse run down the path with no one on the saddle and looked around frantically. The Scots were fighting on foot and I was shocked to see that both of them were using lethal force.

Discarding my sword, I pulled out my gun. After that our fight didn't last for long.

Ned was shaking, but he wasn't panicking when I dismounted. His conduct was exemplary for a horse who hadn't been trained to be a war-horse. I hugged his neck, soothing him, and when he calmed down, I tied the reins to a tree. I looked around to see what my friends were doing.

Duncan was standing by his cousin who was lying on the ground, and I went closer to see what was wrong. I heard Connor demanding Duncan to take something off him.

"I don't know what to do..."

I didn't like the sound of my Highlander's voice. He'd been trying to act like he wasn't at all upset about what had happened while he'd been with the cult ever since we rescued him, even though living in constant fear must have been hell even for the brave Scot. Now it seemed like he was ready to snap. Fighting those cultists had been hard for him, but also very therapeutic in a way.

When I saw what had happened to Connor, I sighed. I'd been ran through by a spear more often than I wanted to remember, and knew exactly how much that hurt. I pulled Duncan gently away from the wounded man. "It's all right, Duncan. I'll do it. I'm a doctor, remember?" I knelt down and asked Connor if he wanted me to shoot him before I pulled out the spear.

"Just pull it out. I can take it."

I nodded, realizing that he'd probably faint as soon as I touched the spear, anyway. Blood was gushing from the wound in Connor's side, indicating that the removing of the spear might even kill him. I looked at Duncan. I wanted to tell him to go away, but unfortunately I couldn't do this alone. "Duncan, I need your help. Move behind your cousin and hold him tight."

He complied without a word. I grabbed the spear and Connor screamed, going totally limp. I could still feel his Presence, and began to remove the piece of wood out of the Scot before he woke up. It was stuck somewhere inside him, and it took all my strength to pull it out. The sounds and the sights my efforts made were disgusting, but I didn't stop for a moment. After finally getting the spear out, I threw it over a nearby bush. The Scot didn't need to see that when he woke up.

Duncan got up and staggered a few steps away from us. I thought he was going to either faint or throw up, but instead he was trembling and making small, whimpering noises, like a hurt animal. It was almost a relief to see him react that way. Keeping everything inside would have been destructive in the long run. It was best to acknowledge the pain, let it wash over you and then let go. I'm saying this from experience.

I knew that I should let him try to get a grip on his emotions on his own. He wasn't actually the kind of person who liked to show his vulnerabilities to others. But I couldn't just watch him suffer. Before I could even think, I was standing behind him, reaching out for him. It was the easiest thing in the world to turn him around and pull him into an embrace.

He didn't resist at all. He sagged against me and I had to brace myself in order to keep us both standing. I stroked his hair and felt his trembling intensify.

"It's all right, Duncan. Let it all out." I murmured softly and then winced as he began to cry. It was so hard not to kiss him and tell him that I loved him. That I'd be there for him if he wanted me to be. I couldn't do anything for him, but just hold him tight.

He laid his head on my shoulder, gasping for breath. "My God, Methos. I've been so..." His voice broke.

"I know." I ran my hands up and down his back. "It's over now." It would have been impossible to resist the urge to plant a soft kiss on the top of his head, so I didn't even try.

Duncan's arms circled my waist and he seemed to melt to my embrace. Even though I felt his tears on my neck, I could have held him like that for hours. It was breathtaking to know that he trusted me this much. Not just with his head, with his soul, too.

I saw Connor move a little and then blink a few times. As soon as he realized that I was watching him, he closed his eyes again. I wasn't sure if he was fully conscious or still a little disorientated, but I was glad he didn't intervene. Duncan didn't have the strength to handle a worried kinsman on top of it all.

Finally Duncan stopped shaking. He squeezed me really tight and then let go. "Thanks, old man."

"You needed it." I didn't care if Connor heard him. He already knew I wasn't exactly a teenager.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand and I handed him a handkerchief. "No, I mean it, Adam. Thank you. For everything." He blew his nose. "I never thanked you for what you did for me."

felt heat rise to my cheeks. "You don't need to thank me. I know you would have done the same for me,Highlander." He really would have. It was something I could count on. He always took care of his friends, but it was a lot harder for him to accept that he needed some help from time to time.

He sniffed. "I'm not acting very much like a Highland warrior right now."

Thank Gods I had studied psychology! Even though Dr. Benjamin Adams had 'died' long before Freud was even born, I'd kept up the interest in health studies. Of course the fact that my own mental health was questionable at the best of times gave me a keen insight on different kinds of psychosis. Duncan right now needed something he could go through in his head on the intellectual level.

"You've been under a lot of stress for the last few days. It's completely understandable for you to react this way. I know that whatever happened when you were being held prisoner must have been horrible, but you survived it. There's nothing to be ashamed of." I emphasized that by touching his shoulder.

He smiled a little.

I knew that the older Scot was fully awake by now. "Let's go see Connor. I think he's waking up."

We went to the other Highlander and soon the Scots were laughing and bickering with each other. This time the sound of Duncan laughing didn't make my skin crawl. He still had things to go through in his head, but at least now he was processing them, not hiding from them.

The MacLeods went to find their horse while I went to check Ned out. I patted his neck and talked to him soothingly. I was glad I hadn't wallowed in blood this time and he wasn't disturbed by my presence.

Soon after that, the older Scot walked his wayward mount to where I was standing and handed me the reins. "Take care of it while I go to find my gear." He glared at the poor frightened horse and went back to the forest, muttering to himself. I saw that the saddlebags were empty and grinned. He should have packed them better.

I tethered the horse next to Ned and patted him gently. Ned snorted and I slapped his rump. "Behave!"

After calming the other horse, I put my empty gun into the saddlebag, not even bothering to reload it. It was far easier to use the other gun if there was an emergency. I rummaged through my things and took a swig of lukewarm water from the bottle. Fortunately I'd finished drinking and had managed to put the bottle back into the saddlebag before Connor's scream made me swirl around, so I didn't waste any time on choking before running to where he was standing.

What I saw made me groan. One of the cultists was still alive.

Duncan was already there, standing by his cousin and he looked at me imploringly. He wasn't in a condition to handle the cultist. I didn't want to intervene, but one look at Connor's face told me that he was too shocked to do anything.

The injured man was young, probably not even eighteen years old, and he was crying for his mother. Not exactly the kind of person one could really hate. I knelt beside the mortal and then quickly examined him. I tried not to listen to his broken pleas. As soon as I realized that he couldn't feel my touch, I knew that there was nothing we could do to save him. The boy was paralyzed from neck down, and by the feel of his stomach, I knew that wasn't his only serious injury.

No matter what I did, he'd be dead in a couple of hours. Probably even sooner.

I got up and walked away from the cultist, motioning Duncan and Connor to follow me. The Scots looked at me expectantly and I sighed, "His back is broken."

Duncan closed his eyes.

"And I think he's bleeding internally." I didn't really need to add anything to that. We all knew already that the cultist wouldn't survive, didn't we?

"What can we do?"

Connor's words made me almost groan. I really didn't want to tell them this. "There's nothing to do. We can't move him and I don't think he can survive waiting for help. It'll take us over 24 hours to reach Stoede and by the time the medics reach him, he'll be dead."

"So he'll die." Duncan was white as a sheet.

"He'll die. I've seen this thing happen before." I could have bitten my tongue off. I meant that I had seen patients with broken backs before, but I was afraid that Duncan would misinterpret my words. I looked at his face and was surprised to see only sorrow there. No disgust.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Connor's words were a desperate plea.

I focused my gaze on his and saw that he was on the brink of hysteria. Both of these Highlanders were fierce warriors, but they were completely helpless in a situation like this. Their code of honor made them protect the hurt and the innocent. The cultist was both, even though he'd tried to kill us. He was just stupid, not evil. I knew exactly what the Scot was asking. I would have to handle this, too.

And I knew there would be a price to pay for my actions. But Connor was right. The boy couldn't be left there dying. There was only one way to handle him, and even though the doctor in me screamed against it, I knew that it was the only humane thing to do.

We walked back to the cultist. He was praying silently. Once again I knelt down and then touched his cheek.

The youngster's eyes flew open. "Am I gonna die?"

I felt a twinge of pity and shook my head. The lie wouldn't cost me anything but it would mean a lot to the boy. "What's your name?" I needed some information from him too and I thought that the best way to get it was to act like a friendly doctor. I wasn't exactly proud of it.

"Paddy. It's short for Patrick."

I couldn't call him that. Knowing what I'd have to do to him, it was impossible to utter that affectionate nickname. "All right, Patrick. You're not going to die."

"Thank God! I was so afraid!" He swallowed. "But I can't feel my body. I can't move."

"That's be