THE BURDEN OF LOVE   ©Peg Bishop

07/8/98     Duncan MacLeod, Methos, and Joe Dawson  are character owned and operated by William Panzer, Peter Davis and Rysher Entertainment.  I have borrowed them without permission.  There is no intention of profit making.  This story is strictly rated nc-17 for violence and graphic description of rape, consensual and non-consensual sex between persons of the same sex.  If these subjects are offending to you, or if you are under legal age, be warned, and do not read further

 
CHAPTER 1


---

         Any citizen of Seacouver who would walk past the dark alley not too far from the decrepit building which housed  De Salvo's Martial Arts would think that the man who sat slumped  against the wall, head bowed low, was drunk.  The fact that the man was clad in a ratty fisherman's sweater and was weeping bitterly, mumbling pitifully to himself, would only lead the onlooker to conclude that he was indeed inebriated.

        However, the man was not drunk, at least not from indulging in too much of his favorite poison, namely beer.  Neither was he 'just a guy'.  He was an Immortal, supposedly the oldest living of his kind.  His name was Methos, and Methos was drunk on self-pity and grief, wallowing in a memory that was seven months old.

        Indeed, seven months had passed since that awful day in Paris -- the day when Duncan MacLeod came close -- so very damned close -- to losing his head to Liam O'Rourke.  O'Rourke had fatally shot MacLeod, and for that brief instant before the light in this eyes was temporarily extinguished, Methos had caught a glimpse of the Scot's soul.  Saw the weariness that had cut deep into his heart, the overpowering guilt, the intense desire to sink into the comforting oblivion of death, and such great relief that that particular desire was, at last, going to be fulfilled.  It had been that calm resignation that had terrified Methos totally.

        <NO!>  The oldest Immortal couldn't recall if he had spoken that single word out loud.  His mind had definitely been screaming it as he shook his head in disbelief at Duncan's seeming willingness to give it all up so easily.

        <Fight, you damned Scot!  I didn't teach you this!  Live!  Grow stronger!  Fight another day!  Don't choose death, Duncan!  CHOOSE LIFE!>

        Methos didn't know if the Highlander had heard his mental plea.  He was hoping against all hope that Duncan would feel it through the unmistakeable bond they shared, a bond whose existence was confirmed and strengthened when they were caught in a Double Quickening.  Methos wanted to believe it!  Chose to believe it when MacLeod had gotten to his feet  later and had dealt the final blow to the terrorist who was also Immortal.

        Duncan had chosen life that day - but he had also chosen to leave - - his friends, his life, everything.  Had chosen to disappear, to think, to brood, to start life anew.  Perhaps to find peace.

        As they had watched him walk away that day, their brave Highland warrior, all of them , Joe Dawson, Amanda and Methos had wanted to run after him.  Each knew in order for Duncan MacLeod to pick up the pieces of his life, the shattered bits as he saw them, they would have to allow him the time and solitude to gather himself together.  And so they watched him go.  And each of them had returned to their own existences.  Amanda off, the gods only knew where, perhaps back to her old tricks, after all 'a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.'  But Methos could have sworn there had been a special brightness, some indefinable spark in her eyes, remarkably similar to a gleam seen in certain deep brown Scottish eyes.

        Joe returned to his music and Blues Bar, retiring, at least temporarily, from the secret organization that had brought him into each of their lives.  He had even confided to Methos that the loss of the Highlander had been an inspiration, he had written some new songs, and thought them to be his best.

        Methos couldn't resist asking about Mac.  Joe's response was that he had kept his distance, respecting the Highlander's quest for privacy.  He had heard a few rumors, now and then, nothing definite, nothing that could be confirmed.

        Watcher rumor mills, being what they were, had Duncan leaving the city  after a month.  Just enough time to settle his many business dealings within his adopted home city.  His dojo, however, he could not part with for obvious sentimental reasons.  A manager had been hired, and the dojo went on.  Probably still losing money, Methos guessed.  And then, if this train of thought could be believed, the Scot had left the city for good.

        However, Methos' attention had been snagged by another rumor mill.  This one had MacLeod still in the city, still living in the loft, four stories above the dojo.  There had been unconfirmed reports of MacLeod being sighted casually strolling  in one of the city's parks, buying groceries.  Just glimpses, rumor said, but once pursuit was started, the Scot had quickly and easily disappeared.

        Joe had laughed.  "Guess my Watcher abilities have rubbed off on Mac, after all this time."

        Methos had laughed at that as well.  Secretly, however, he could hardly hide his joy that the Scot might still be in the city.  <If he's here, I could probably find him,> he concluded, confident in his  years of skill as hunter,  tracker, researcher.

        Suddenly, an inner voice, one he reserved for introspective reasoning and argumentation asked, <What if he doesn't want to be found?  After all, didn't you yourself give him a perfect example to emulate and learn the fine art of disappearing without a trace?>  The voice continued to nag him, long after he left Joe's,  haunting him in the days following, as he searched for the Scot.

        The search had ended abruptly with Methos deciding to go directly to the dojo.  There was no special  sense of the presence he could identify   uniquely with the younger Immortal.  Nothing.  Even the manager confirmed that  MacLeod was gone.  Gone from the city and from Methos' life forever.

        That was what had driven him, stumbling into the alley, eyes filling with tears.  His heart alternately hammering in triple time or slowing, slowing to allow  that piece of living machinery  the option of ceasing altogether.

        "Shut up, damn it!" he yelled at the internal voice that laughed and mocked him.  <What the bloody hell did you expect?>  People who saw his stumbling gait and heard the muttering steered clear of him, convinced he was just another of the city's homeless.  Although this one also appeared to be a little unhinged.

        "It's all unfair!" Methos complained.  "All so damned unfair!  Why is Duncan shutting everyone out?  He shouldn't be going through this alone!"

        <Well, look who's talking!> the internal voice declared sarcastically.  <And who was it who said, 'I didn't last 5000 years by worrying about anybody but myself'?   What makes you think MacLeod would appreciate your company, especially when you've let him down so many times in the past when he truly needed you?>

        Methos leaned against the wall and sank to the ground. <Why can't you just admit what you want?> the voice began again.  <Admit it, you selfish bastard, all you really want is to take that perfect body of that 100% straight Scot to your bed!  Admit it!>

        The alley became an echo chamber of sorts, Methos' voice echoing off the walls.  "All right!  ALL RIGHT!  I  ADMIT  IT!  I want to fuck Duncan MacLeod out of his mind!  I want to see and feel him beneath me, squirming and writhing in passion because of my touches, my kisses!"

        <Thought so!> taunted that annoying internal voice, the one he no longer wanted to listen to.

        Methos dropped his head to his knees, arms wrapping around his long legs, feeling forlorn, missing Duncan.  "And Duncan doesn't even know he's missed. . .not like I  miss him.  Why couldn't I have told him how I feel before that day in Paris.  What stopped me from telling him I loved him?"

        The unwanted voice returned.  <Because he is the consummate lover/worshipper of women.  How could he ever feel anything for you other than friendship? And what kind of friend have you been?  When the going got rough, Methos got going!>

        "And now what?  He's gone.  Out of my life.  How can I survive with out the light and love and warmth that are part of Duncan MacLeod?   How can I LIVE without the friendship and love of Duncan MacLeod?"    His head dropped once again to his knees, and the ancient Immortal released the flood of tears he had been fighting.

---

        Not far away from him, just on the edge of Methos' sensing range, a pair of sorrowful doe eyes watched the man crying in the alley.  Those eyes had watched Methos since he stumbled from the dojo.

        He thought he had settled everything in the city, ending this chapter of his life.  But this wasn't settled, and this might be the most important of all. He could hardly believe what he had heard this very unique and wonderful friend shout to the  alley.  It was only now that he could admit to himself how very precious this friend had become to him.  And Methos didn't know that Duncan had as many self doubts and misgivings.

        As Duncan left the mouth of the alley, he reflected on how little he had to offer Methos.  His entire upbringing, the beliefs he was raised with, his father and the Church hammering into his head made it terribly difficult to deal with the very idea that another man had fallen in love with him.  That the man who had fallen in love with him was Methos seemed to complicate things even more.   And what was most astounding of all, was that he had fallen in love with Methos!

        <He's been alive for 5000 years.  I know he's had all kinds of lovers.  What could he possibly  see in me?  I've never been with another man.  I wouldn't know what to do, how to act.  He's been with poets, philosophers, artists.  He probably thinks I'm just an inexperienced innocent, some kind of near-moron who doesn't know anything.  If I could just talk to him.  Maybe I could explain how I feel.  Maybe I could say what I have to tell him before he laughs in my face and walks away for good!>

        Duncan wasn't sure exactly how or when it had happened.  But he did know how he felt about Methos, and he was ready to come to terms with his feelings. Methos had somehow always been there for him in the last few years when his life looked like it was ready to fall apart.  Even when he had rejected the friendship, when he had learned about Methos being one of the Horsemen, Methos had still accepted him.  <Things just get so complicated between us!  Why have I never been able to tell him exactly how I feel?  Even before  I knew I loved him, was in love with him I couldn't tell him!>

        As Duncan watched the lone figure in the alley sitting and weeping, he knew that someone had to take some kind of action.  A plan formed, and with it was the acknowledgement that this would resolve  the stalemate between them.

---

        When there weren't any more tears to be shed, when his body was wracked by the sobbing, Methos finally stood and trudged wearily home.  <Duncan is lost to me, and he doesn't know how I feel about him!  I am such a coward I couldn't tell him.  But he wouldn't consider being with me.  Not Mr. Macho himself!>  With bitter recriminations, he unlocked  the door to his apartment.  He was at the door of the fridge, reaching for his consolation, when he noticed the paper on the floor.  He bent and retrieved it,  a rich looking beige envelope with distinctive printing on it, simply addressed to "Adam Pierson".  He turned it over a couple of times before carefully breaking the seal and removing the short note inside.
 

Adam,

             We need to talk.  Could you please meet me at  David Markum's
grocery store  tomorrow morning at 10?   Hope to see you again.

        ...................................................................................................Duncan

        Sure that he had misread it, Adam read the note a second, then a third time.  He rubbed his eyes, then read it yet again.  Duncan was still in Seacouver!  At least he could talk to him once more!  Maybe he would have the guts to tell the younger Immortal how he felt!

        The next morning  Adam rose and showered, feeling alive for the first time since Paris and  the incident with Liam O'Rourke.  He dressed in snug black jeans and  grey henley that wasn't as loose as most of his shirts and sweaters.  He nervously drank two cups of coffee, burning his mouth on each one, but hardly aware of it.  He paced the living room of the small apartment.  All he could think about was seeing Duncan again!  He pulled on the trench coat that was his trademark, making sure the sword was secure inside and headed for Markum's grocery store.

        Traffic snarled and his cab got caught in the mess.  He glanced nervously at his watch once again.  Already 9:55.  <How much farther?  Why didn't the traffic move?  Would Mac wait if he was just a bit late?   Or would he accept the lack of Methos' presence as a sign that they were through? That  Methos couldn't be bothered with him?>  Another glance at the watch, 9:58.  <What the fucking hell was taking so long?>

        Reaching into his pocket he pulled out several bills, shoved them at the driver, and opened the door.  He hit the sidewalk and took off at a punishing pace, shoes pounding as his long legs propelled him to what would be either the most wonderful day of his life, or the most desperate.

        He could see  the grocery store in the middle of the block.  Two customers were just entering.  A quick glance along the street at the  non-moving  traffic told him he had made the right decision in abandoning the cab.  And there  was the T-bird at the curb.  MacLeod was still here or somewhere near.  As he approached the store, he felt the presence of the other Immortal.

        He was almost at the door.  The two customers he had just seen entering burst through the door, and nearly ran him down.  Then, the door opened and there stood Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.  The Scot's face suddenly lit with a smile, its source somewhere within, because he was glowing.  "Hey, Adam," he greeted.

        At  that moment Pierson noted the two who had just exited the store.  The shorter one had stopped and turned.  He saw the gun in the hand.  He knew, somehow just knew, that this guy didn't know how to use the weapon he held.  Duncan unknowingly stepped between them.  It probably happened in three seconds, but Adam would remember the aching slowness as it played out.  He saw the flash from the gun as he reached for Duncan and tried to scream a warning, "MacLeod"  Then Duncan's body was jerked forward and Adam reached out in time to be splattered by blood and brain tissue as the projectile  hit MacLeod.  Arms supporting the Highlander, Adam was vaguely aware of yelling again, "No, Mac!"  He lowered the dying body to the ground and saw the flow of red stream over the wounded forehead, down across Duncan's cheeks, and watched helplessly as crimson drops fell across the Highlander's lips.

        When Adam looked up again, that heartbeat of a hundred years, the shooter was gone, running away.  He scooped his arms beneath the body lying on the sidewalk and gently lifted him.   Stepping quickly  to the T-bird, Adam laid Duncan on the back seat.  Sliding beneath the wheel, he started the car and wasn't even conscious of what he was doing or where he was going.  In the back of his mind he heard sirens and knew he had to get  MacLeod out of here.  Traffic was clear, Adam hit the accelerator and sped away.

---

        The constant pounding brought Joe Dawson out of his office.  "What the hell!  I'm closed!"  he yelled as he stumbled to the door of the bar.  "I said I'm clo. . ." he yanked the door open and stepped back, mouth agape.

        Adam, carrying a bloody, dead MacLeod entered.  "Joe," his voice broke, "you've gotta help me!  I didn't know where else to take him!"

        "Upstairs," Joe directed and he accompanied Adam and his burden of love to the lift behind the office.  "My God, Adam, what happened?" Dawson asked as he pulled the door shut behind them.

        "I think we somehow interrupted a hold up," Adam panted.  "This kid just lifted a gun and Mac stepped into the line of fire.  He never knew what hit him."

        On the second floor, Dawson instructed Adam to lay the dead Scot on his bed.  Adam was in total shut down, watching as the older looking man adjusted pillows and the long limbs of the Highlander.  Taking charge, Dawson instructed, "Adam, get me some warm water and a couple of towels."  The ancient Immortal stood rooted beside the bed, eyes taking in the lifeless form before him.  "Adam!" Dawson said more sharply.

        "Right," and Pierson moved to the bathroom.  He returned moments later with two warm, wet towels and a couple of dry ones.  "I'll do that, Joe," and he knelt beside the Highlander.  Tenderly he bathed the blood from the now ashen skin of the dear face.  The wound was beginning to heal and he could trace small sparks and tiny blue-white streaks of lighting across the damaged forehead.

        Joe watched and his paramedic training told him Adam was verging on shock.  He watched as, with infinite gentleness and tenderness, the blood and gore were bathed from MacLeod's face.  He could barely make out the whispered, crooning words of encouragement Adam spoke to the Highlander. "Come on, Duncan.  Don't give up!  Remember, live, grow stronger, fight. . . fight now!  Come back!"

        Joe pulled Adam to his feet and the Immortal turned and threw his arms around Joe.  "My gods, Joe,  He should be coming around by now.  What if. . . ?" His voice faltered.

        Dawson held him for a few seconds, then pulled back, looking at the splatter patterns of blood covering Pierson.  "You, my friend, are a mess!  Why don't you go in and take a shower, get cleaned up?  I'll rustle up some thing for you to wear.  By the time you're done, Mac will probably be coming around."

        Adam shook his head and started for the bathroom.  Joe found a pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt and laid them on the dresser beside the bathroom door.  Dawson then turned his attention back to Mac.  Adam said the shooting occurred about 10 AM.  It was now after eleven thirty and the Scot still showed no signs of revival.  He left the room to see what information he could pull from his laptop and the Watcher's Database.  He was looking for anything specific on Immortals and head wounds.  As he waited for his requests to print out, he prepared two mugs of coffee.  He headed back to the bedroom.  Adam was seated the the foot of the bed.  He had removed Duncan's jacket and the ruined shirt.

        "What do you know about head wounds," Joe asked Adam.

        "They bleed a lot."  He looked into the blue-gray eyes of the Watcher.  "I don't know.  He should be showing some signs of coming back.  Is that what you mean?"

        "Yeah, something like that."  He turned and gazed at the still ashen face of Duncan MacLeod.  The clock beside the bed said  '1:05'.  Turning to Adam, Joe asked if there was anything he could get for his friend.  No, Adam would just sit and wait.  Dawson told him he had some things to take care of downstairs, but he would be back later.  In the office of the blues bar, Joe made several phone calls.  To Mike and the head waitress to tell them he wasn't  going to open this evening; to the band to give them the night off; and the last call to the Neuorlogy Unit of Seacouver Hospital.  He closed the books on last night's business and left the building.

        Several hours later, Joe opened the door to his own apartment above the bar.  "Honey, I'm home," he called out, joking and expecting two Immortals to greet him.    He was greeted instead by silence.  Laying his packages on the table, he wobbled to the bedroom door.  A light afghan had been tucked around Duncan's shoulders.  His face was  not quite as gray as before, but he showed no signs of reviving yet.  That was more than a trifle disconcerting.  Six and a half hours already, and no signs of life.  Adam was asleep, head resting on his knees as he sat balled into the stuffed chair beside the bed.  <Five thousand years old and he looks like a kid!  Is that part of the reason I always concede to his half-cocked ideas? Because it's like giving in to a kid?> Dawson contemplated.  Placing a hand on the bowed shoulders, he wakened Adam and coaxed him into the living room to get something to eat.    "You've been sitting here all afternoon.  If he moves, we'll hear him.  Come on, man, you've got to eat." Reluctantly Adam followed him, cautioning Joe to make sure the bedroom door stayed  open.

        They ate the burgers Dawson had carted home with him.  He offered the oldest Immortal a beer and Adam accepted it and slowly wandered back to keep his bedside vigil.  After clearing away the dinner mess, Dawson joined him.  At about ten o'clock Dawson jostled Adam.

        "I think he's coming around," he said and motioned to the bed.  Together they heard the painful sharp inhalation of air and silently watched the muscular chest move again in shallow breathing patterns.  As they watched, a whimper escaped MacLeod's lips and his lashes fluttered until his eyes opened to look back at them.

          Adam knelt beside the bed, his hands smoothing the dark hair back from the still-pale face.  "MacLeod," he whispered urgently.  The dark eyes looked at him but did not focus.

        Joe's hand clamped around his arm.    "Adam!  Adam, wait. . .!  Something's not quite right."  At his insistance, Pierson pulled back slightly.   Joe turned his attention to the Highlander and spoke sharply, "Mac, can you see me?  Can you hear me?"

        A slight moan came from the figure on the bed, but there was no focusing of the dark eyes.  Rather than speak, the Scot rolled to his side,  curling into a fetal position, pulling a pillow to his chest, and managing to get a thumb into his mouth.  In seconds he was asleep.

        The other two looked on in dismay and frustration.  "What the hell. . .?" Adam stammered, but Dawson pulled him from the bed and finally from the room.  A look of consternation still in the green eyes, Dawson forced him  to sit on the sofa.  "Joe, do you know what is going on?  Did you find out anything  from the database?"

        "Nothing concrete.  I did contact a friend, another Watcher, who works at the hospital in the Neurology Department.  Ethel sorta told me what to expect with MacLeod, things to look for when he woke up.  When I described his injury, her first thought was that he might be blind.  Right now, I don't think he can see us.  Can't be sure if that will be permanent or not."  He paused because of the expression on Adam's face, one of disbelief.  "Imagine that today has been like weeks or months of coma to a mortal.  Ethel says the damaged oprtion of the brain may take a long time to regenerate, it it ever does regenerate totally.  Other things we were to look for were deafness or paralysis," he stopped again, not sure if Adam was ready for this last bit of information.  "He may regress, mentally as far back as infancy.  If that happens, he may never 'grow up'.  We'll just have to wait and see. "

        Adam's mouth finally shut, only to open with his vehement denial, "No!  It can't be!  Not Mac!"

        Joe's arm came around his shoulders.  "Ethel will be here in the morning to make an assessment.  Then we'll kow more.  For now, you need to get some rest.   There's nothing more you can do, Adam. Come on, you can use the spare room."

        "No, Joe.  I'll take the couch.  Got a reputation as couch crasher to live up to.  Besides, I'll be closer out here, in case Mac wakes up."

        Conceding defeat, Joe handed out blankets and an extra pillow and bade the other man goodnight.  Adam slept restlessly.  At one point he heard whimpering noises coming from the bedroom and was at Duncan's bedside instantly.  The younger man was moving in agitation, making small mewling noises but still asleep, the pillow still clutched to him and the thumb was still in his mouth.

        Adam's whispered soothings calmed his friend.  As the Scot's slumber deepened once again,  Adam leaned over him  and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.  "Sweet dreams, my Celtic angel" he said softly, remembering the times he had tucked his own adopted children into their beds.  "Let no nightmares disturb your sleep tonight."   He rose and looked back at Duncan, and he could have sworn the corners of his mouth were curled in a small smile.   Sometime during the night, Duncan woke up.  Rubbing his eyes drowsily, he picked himself up from the bed and trudged outside the room.  The Scot saw Adam asleep on the couch.  Getting down on his hands and knees, Duncan crawled up to the side of the couch, easing himself close . . .very close to Adam.  Unconsciously, Adam turned, and his left arm went up and hugged the Highlander,  pulling the young man close to him.  Duncan peered at the  ancient through sleepy eyes.  Pursing his lips, he sweetly kissed Adam's thin lips.  The unwary Immortal let out a pleased sigh.  Duncan laid his head on the cushion beside Adam, snuggled as close as he could get, and fell into peaceful slumber.
 

CHAPTER  2


---

        The following morning, Dawson scrambled some eggs, made coffee and left Adam to tend the Highlander.  "If Ethel gets here before I get back, just let her in.  She knows her way around the place.  I'll be back soon, oh, and if Mac wakes up, see if  you can get him cleaned up, okay?'

        "You're his Watcher!  Besides I could use a little help here!"

        "You've raised kids, before, right?  Just consider him one  of the gang!"

        "You expect me to - what - bathe him?"

        "Yeah."

        "Alone?"

        "It's not a big deal!"

        "He's definitely bigger than any kid I've ever bathed before.  Besides in  my day, that sort of stuff was left to the mothers or servants!"

        "Good luck, 'Momma Adam'!" and  Joe disappeared.

        Adam returned to the bedroom.  Duncan was beginning to stir.  Adam sat on the foot of the bed and watched as the dark eyes opened.  This time the eyes focused on the face looking back,  Duncan's thumb left the confines of his mouth and a bright smile  tugged at the lips.  "Duncan?" Adam began.  "You can see me, yes?"

        A child's squeal of delight burst from Scottish lips as Duncan pushed himself to sit up.  "Duncan?" Adam began again, and he was greeted once more by a non-verbal baby laugh, a big smile, and bright shining eyes.  "Oh, gods," he moaned softly.   "Duncan?"   another chortle.  Regrouping quickly, Adam tried to sound more positive.  "Time for a bath."  He drew water and returned to collect his charge.  "Come with Uncle Adam.  Time for your bath."

        Two arms reached out to him and Adam realized the child who had replaced  the man might not be capable of walking.  He held his arms out in return and Duncan snuggled into him, rubbing his face against the ancient's chest.  One hand unconsciously moved to the long dark hair, and he dropped a kiss on Duncan's crown.  <Can't let him see my disappointment.  Can't let him know what this is doing to me!>

        Adam bent slightly and scooped the manchild from the bd.  In doing so he realized the bed was a bit soggy.  Depositing his burden on the bathroom floor, he unfastened and unzipped the jeans.  <I wish I were doing this for a reason other than bathing you!>  He pulled the younger man to his feet and tugged the damp jeans and briefs off.  Here before him, in his glorious nudity, stood the figure Adam had spent nights thinking and dreaming of.  And Duncan was glorious, with trim hips, long sculpted thighs and powerful calves.  Adam tried not to stare.  He turned Duncan toward the tub.  One foot hit the water  and jerked back.

        "What's the matter, Angel?  Too cold?"  He bent to add more hot water and in a flash, the golden skinned warrior laughed and disappeared out the door.  "Duncan!  Wait!"  Adam started after him.  The 'child' who had not seemed capable of walking a few moments ago was surprisingly quick on his feet.  He glanced back over his shoulder and opened the door of the apartment.  Before Adam could catch him, he was down the stairs, through the door at the back of the building and outside!  Pierson grabbed his trench coat on the way through the living room and hurried after the disappearing source of baby laughter.

        MacLeod had paused in the alley behind the bar, as if daring Adam to catch up to him.  "Duncan! Stop!"  Adam called.  "Wait right there for Uncle Adam!"

        Another yelp of laughter sounded and the nude man ran right into the arms of a stunning woman with red hair.  The woman, dressed casually, stopped Duncan with an easy laugh and the comment, "What's the hurry , Handsome?"     The playful dark eyes looked behind him and caught Adam's glare.  She held the Scot loosely in the circle of her arms as Adam approached.  He quickly tossed the trench coat over the naked man.  The woman addressed Adam, "I take it you are 'Uncle Adam' Pierson?"

        "Sorry.  I was trying to get him in the tub and he escaped."

        "So, this is Duncan?"  She positioned herself to look directly into the brown eyes, but Duncan tucked his chin to his chest and refused to meet her gaze.  She gently lifted his chin so she could see his eyes.  "Hi, Duncan, Honey.  I'm Ethel."  The Scot looked at her and slowly a smile returned to his face.  "That's better, Sweetie.  I like to see you smile!"  She offered her hand and spoke to him again.  "Let's go see about that bath, okay?  I brought you a present that I think you will like.  Let's go see, okay?" The broad hand slid into hers and he followed her.

        As they entered the building, Ethel directed her attention to Adam.  Offering her other hand to him, "Sorry for the abrupt intro.  I guess 'Uncle Joe' told you I'd be over this morning."

        "Y. . .yes." Adam stammered.  <Joe just neglected to mention that you were a beauty, Ethel!  And you know your way around Joe's apartment, huh?  Better have a talk with Dawson!>

        "I would guess he's not speaking yet?"

        "No.  Until he 'streaked' out of the bathroom, I didn't know he could walk."

        "How long after he was shot before he revived?"

        "About twelve hours."

        She thought for a moment.  "So, our recovery ratio is about one to twenty four."  At Adam's puzzled look, Ethel explained, "A normal revitalization takes somewhere between fifteen and thirty minutes.  This means his recovery, if he does recover, could be pretty slow."

        In the bathroom, Ethel asked, "Do you want to help,  Uncle Adam?  Or is this something I'd be better off handling alone?"

        "I'll help,  I guess."

        The woman released some of the water and added more warm, then sat on the edge of the tub and removed her sneakers.  "Oh, Duncan, come and play."  She wiggled her fingers at him and without hesitation, he stepped into the water.  "Sit down, Sweetie.  That's a good boy!  Look here's the present I promised you!"   From her tote bag appeared a small toy boat.  The boat  and the Scot hit the water at the same time.

        "Skin or hair?" she laughed, turning to Adam.

        "Skin," he responded, reflecting that the first time he touched Duncan was supposed to be intimate,  and in the role of lover not caregiver, and certainly without an audience, however helpful and cheerful said audience was turning out to be.

        As Ethel lathered shampoo into Duncan's hair, she questioned Adam about the head wound that had caused the regression in their charge.  Adam described the entry at the back of the  skull, and subsequent exit wound just above Duncan's hairline.  Ethel's trained fingers searched as the worked the suds through the long sable locks.  "Physically, I'd say the wound has healed."

        "But. . .?" Adam prompted.

        "There doesn't seem to be any information on Immortals with serious head wounds.  Let's assume, for argument's sake, Duncan is mortal.  This type of brain injury is difficult to prognose."  In the separate voice she used when speaking to Duncan, she told him to fill his boat with water and she would make  the 'bubbles in your hair go away."  He surrendered the toy without hesitation.  As she rinsed his hair, she again turned to Adam.  "Although he's non-lingual, at this point, he does understand what I've said to him."  The other voice started,  "You do understand, don't you, you little cutie?"

        Another gleeful baby chortle was her answer.

        "It seems he is cognizant to the level of sixteen to eighteen months.  So, let's say, one and a half years of development  for each twenty four hour period.  The problem is, he could become 'stuck' at any age level for an indeterminate amount of time.  For example, tomorrow morning his responses might equate to those of a three year old, or maybe he'll only be two.  There is really no way to tell."

        "TIme to get out now, Duncan."  Adam released the drain and the gurgling noise attracted the bather's attention.  "That's a good sign," Ethel told Adam.  "You get him dried and dressed and I'll see if I can fix some breakfast for our wee laddie."

        "I'm afraid there aren't any clean clothes for him,"  Adam began.

        "Check my bag," Ethel instructed as she headed down the hall.  "Start with a 'Depends'.  I don't think  Uncle Joe wants a wet home!" she laughed.

        "I never thought I'd be diapering you," Adam mumbled under his breath as he toweled dry the golden skin  before him.  It was all he could do not to cover every visible inch of skin with hundreds of kisses.  Looking up at Duncan, he shook his head for the state he had come to.  He pulled one of the undergarments from Ethel's bag.  "I remember old fashioned fabric triangles and one big pin," he mused, but the one he spoke to had no idea what he was saying.  Making no sense of the item he still held in his hand, Adam gave in and called, "Ethel!  Help!"

        She laughed all the way down the hall.  "Don't tell me!  An accident as soon as it was on?"  Her head popped around the corner of the doorframe.

        "I can't even figure out how to get  it on him!" he snapped in frustration.

        "Watch.  Learn," the patient voice instructed, taking the adult diaper from Adam's hand.  With a few brief  words of instruction to the 'wee laddie' she soon had the garment in place.

        "These go on first, Duncan.  Then the pants."  Somehow she produced a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt.  As she had him step into the sweat pants, she told him  at least three times what they were, then repeated the lesson as she pulled the tee-shirt over his head .  "Good boy!  That is very good, Duncan!"  She brushed the tangles from his long hair then offered her hand and they went to the table.

        As she sat him at the table, Ethel looked up at Adam.  "Coffee, Uncle Adam?"

        "Yeah."  He prepared a mug and sat beside Duncan.

        "See if he can feed himself," Ethel advised.

        Adam placed a spoon in Duncan's hand. helped him load it with oatmeal, but the coordination to get the spoon to his mouth was lacking.  The oatmeal ended up in Adam's coffee.  Trying not  to laugh out loud, Ethel retrieved the mug with it's floating isle of oats and Adam began the task of spooning some of the cereal into Duncan.

        Ethel poured him a fresh mugful and  asked, "Ever been a daddy before, Adam?"

        "No.  Does it show?"  <Well, I have acted as father to many children.> "I took care of some nieces and nephews once but that was a long time ago."  He held a juice glass to the lips he wanted to kiss.  Ethel watched as the juice dribbled down Duncan's chin.  She efficiently settled the mug of coffee beside Adam and mopped the chin in one smooth flowing movement.  Duncan joined the conversation with a jibberish giggle.

        At least half of the meal found its way into the Scot, and Ethel told him he could be excused from the table.  He stuck out his hand to Adam.  "You are being summoned.  Go with him and see what he wants."

        Duncan led the oldest Immortal back to the bath and retrieved the tiny toy boat.  As they reappeared in the hallway, Adam saw the elated look on the face of the redhead in the kitchen.

        "Short term memory is kicking in!"  She watched as Duncan sank to the floor and, with one thumb secure in his mouth, began another examination of his toy boat.  As she and Adam observed, she spoke seriously in that 'other voice'.  "Were you two. . .that is, I mean. . .are you lovers?"

        He wondered exactly what Dawson had told this remarkable woman.  "No."   He looked deeply into the eyes that saw so much.  "I do love him.  How did you know. . . ?"

        A soft hand covered his.  "Because I am also a Watcher.  It's what I do."  She took both of his hands in hers before she spoke again.  "It's good that you feel that way about him, because this 'wee laddie' is going to need a lot of that.  I have to warn you though, love alone may not be enough.   He may never make a complete recovery.  Can you deal with that?  He may be an adult body housing a child's mind. Duncan may never be 'Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod' again."  She noted the wave of sadness cross Adam's eyes, then the fire of determination.

        "Then he will be Duncan MacLeod of Clan Pierson!" he stated resolutely.

        They turned their attention back to the object of their discussion.  As they watched, the eyelids drooped over the playful brown eyes.  Adam walked across the room and knelt beside Duncan.  "Come on, Angel, I think it's time for a nap."  The younger Immortal rose to his knees without removing the thumb, and raised the other arm in an obvious plea to be carried.

        "Not this time, kiddo!  Up, that's it, now to the bedroom."  He settled Duncan on the bed and pulled the afghan over him again.  Slowly the dark eyes closed and Adam watched as slumber captured his 'boy' again.  In soft, velvety tones, he told Duncan, "I've walked away before when you needed me.  I swear I won't walk out on you now, 'Wee Duncan'."  He bent over the sleeping Immortal and placed a kiss on his forehead.  "I promise, Duncan."

        When Adam returned to the living room Dawson was entering.  "How's it going, guys?"  he asked as he deposited an armload of bags in the chair.

        "I'll let Adam fill you in."  Ethel rose and crossed the room, enveloping the Watcher in a huge hug and a more than friendly kiss.

        Dutifully, Pierson related carrying a Duncan who did not seem to be able to walk in for his bath, only to be left alone with a tub of cooling water when Duncan made a dash for the door;  the chase scene, complete with streaker; the rescue by Ethel, who then helped complete bathtime.

        Joe laughed so hard his sides hurt.  "And they all lived happily ever after," he choked out.  "And where is your 'little angel' now?"

        "Why, Uncle Joe, I'm surprised you don't remember!  It's nap time!"  and Adam collapsed on the sofa.

        Ethel brought them back to reality with her statement that she planned to spend the afternoon with Duncan to complete her evaluation  and then tell them what they might expect in terms of recovery.  They discussed what options might be possible, although the woman made it clear that her evaluation was not yet complete.

        After about an hour they heard the cooing jibberish from the other room.  Adam returned leading Duncan by the hand.  They sat together on the sofa, one bright eyed, the other looking completely done in.

        "Duncan," Joe began, "Uncle Joe has something for you!"  He reached into one of his packages and pulled out a small, well worn brown and green plaid teddy bear .  It had shiny black buttons for eyes, a pugnacious nose and a stupid grin on its face.   A rather sad looking green satin ribbon  was around his neck.

         Brown eyes widened even farther, and letting out a squeal of delight, the Highlander bolted out of the couch and grabbed the  bear Joe was waving enticingly in the air.  The wide smile that lit the face brought tears to the Watcher's eyes.  The two men grinned at the sight of Duncan whirling around and around like a top, the teddy bear raised in both hands.

        Adam noticed the tears in Joe's eyes and felt his own start to sting.  "I never figured you as a teddy bear kinda guy, Uncle Joe."

        Joe laughed but shook a finger in Adam's direction.  "Master T. Bear and I go way back.  Show him a little respect!"

        His admonishment earned him the laughter of both Adam and Ethel and Adam saluted first Joe, then Master Bear.  "Nothing gives an adult more  pleasure  than the sheer delight a child takes in the discovery of something simple, something adults have become jaded with," Ethel observed.  She looked fondly at the child that Duncan had become, but as she considered what his future might be, tears formed in her eyes as well.

        Looking back at Duncan, Joe noted the thumb back in his mouth and he grimaced.  "We should get him to stop that."

        Adam glanced pointedly at MacLeod.  "Oh, I don't know.  I think it's kind of cute.  I never thought Duncan could do 'cute'.  Exasperating, yes.  High-minded moralist, yes.  Exceptionally stubborn, a big yes.  But cute?"

        "Come on, Adam," Joe teased him.  "Women find him cute.  Right, Ethel?"

        She laughed her agreement with Joe's observation  but did not interrupt their 'discussion.'

        Joe pulled other items from his collection of bags - some of Duncan's own clothing he had brought from the loft.  Another bag from the grocery store revealed a number of squeeze bottles of Gatorade. Apologetically, he explained , "After last night I wasn't sure he'd even be able to eat solid food, or if we'd need bottles and start at ground zero."

        "Good thinking, Joe.  He had a little trouble with a cup this morning.  The Gatorade will be fine, he needs  to replenish fluids and  electrolytes and the bottles will be easy for him to handle.  Fewer spills for you guys to clean up."    She moved to the kitchen and suggested sandwiches for lunch, good ole' PB andJ for Duncan, and BLT's for the others.  The childlike Immortal was happy squishing his sandwich before eating, then squeezing the bottles of fruit flavored drink, and of course, holding tightly to the teddy bear.

        After the meal, Ethel read to Duncan, showing him the brightly colored pictures and naming all the items on each page.  As they worked together, he began trying to mimic the sounds she made, and by mid-afternoon was babbling in a baby-talk that was becoming somewhat understandable.

         While she played with Duncan, Joe made arrangements once again to keep the bar closed.  At one point, someone he talked with demanded to know why, and as he looked at the two seated on the sofa, he snapped, "It's a family emergency!  That's enough!"

        Adam took the opportunity to make a run back to his apartment to gather some fresh clothing and settle his own affairs for the next few weeks.  He also withdrew a large sum from one of his many  international accounts, enough for two people to live on comfortably  for several months.  When he returned to Joe's, the Watcher was out gathering Chinese for dinner.  Ethel was busy scribbling in a small notebook.

        "Here," she said as she handed it to him.  "All my numbers, home, work, cell phone, where and how to reach me, any time, night or day, any question, however trivial you think it might be."  She closed her hands over his again as he accepted the notebook.  "I mean it!" she admonished.  "Also, a list of foods most kids like.  Just remember, 'K.I.S.S.' - 'keep it simple, stupid!'.  Some music, games, books, just in case your memory of such 'fatherly pursuits' fades."

        "And where is our 'wee laddie' now?"

        A smug smile on her face, the woman Watcher told him that reading and looking at picture books had worn him out.  Duncan was tucked in once again with Teddy.

        Joe returned with a large number of paper containers filled with a variety of Chinese delights.  Duncan wandered out to join them just as plates were set and food containers opened.  Adam filled a plate and told him which things he could use his fingers with, Duncan listening attentively.  The remainder of dinner conversation was the evaluation Ethel had prepared after a day of observation of Duncan.

        She carefully explained that each injury was different, each recuperation on it's own time table. "He is a bright young man, even now.  He is eager to learn and willing to try.  As he matures mentally he may remember bits and pieces, and trying to fit those memories into his new life may become overwhelming and terribly frustrating.  If you two are going to be his caregivers, this may be very difficult for  you as well.  You'll see him as you remember him, physically.  Your frustrations will grow, your patience will wear thin.  But if you decide you are going to take care of him, you can't quit.   Can't send him somewhere to someone else, it will negate all that you have accomplished.     Because he is an Immortal, and a powerful one, someone will find out and many will come hunting him.  He isn't capable of defending himself, or at this point of caring for himself.  So the bottom line is one of two choices."

          She pulled a hypodermic syringe  and small vial of a cloudy liquid from her bag.  "Option one - inject a full syringe as quickly as possible into a large vein, without blowing the vein, and wait."

        "Wait for what?  How will this help him recover?" Joe asked.

        "Joe, this will put him under, and eventually cause his death.  Then one of you can take his head.  I assume you  know how."

        Adam glared at her.  "Not an option.  What's number two?"

        "Find a strong, powerful Immortal to 'adopt' him, making sure he realizes all that entails.  Someone who will accept this responsibility , 24-7, and know his or her life is pretty much on hold until or if Duncan recovers.  And I don't see Amanda giving up her life, no matter how she feels about him, to do this."

        Adam picked up the syringe and bottle, handing them back to the woman Watcher who had spent her day getting to know Duncan.  "I'm not busy for the next few weeks, or months, or years."

        Ethel took the items from him and packed them away. "I had hoped you would say that."  Leaning over, she  placed a quick kiss on Adam's cheek.  "I'm glad he has someone like you."  She placed items back in her tote bag and went to Duncan.

        "I have to go home now, Sweetie.  You be a good boy for Uncle Adam and Uncle Joe, all right?  Maybe I'll see you again some time."  She cupped her hands around the baby face and planted a kiss on Duncan's forehead.   As Ethel picked up her bag, she waved goodbye to Duncan, and he waved back, the young child wave of fingers folding across palm.

        The two Watchers spent the remainder of the evening doing just that - watching the younger man sitting with Teddy, showing him the books Ethel had left.

        Dawson watched.  He saw what he saw, that Adam was so in love with this wounded man, there had never been a question about whether to kill the Highlander or not.  "Do you know what you're up against, Buddy?"    "Doesn't matter, Joe.  This wasn't exactly the way I visualized being with him when he asked me to meet him yesterday, but he needs me again, and this time I'm not leaving!"  He looked at Joe and chuckled.  "I may be stuck with him, but it's a two way street.  He's stuck with me as well,"

         "Take this for what it's worth, Adam, but I think Duncan is more than a little fond of you.  I also think he was meeting you at Markum's to tell you so.  And I am fairly certain that a whisper of that affection has survived this terrible accident."

        "What are you trying to say, Old Man?"

        "I'm saying that the flesh remembers, even after the mind forgets,"  Joe leaned over and laid his hand on Adam's lean forearm.

        "I don't understand, Joe?"

        "I know you don't," Joe retrieved his hand and scratched his chin through the salt and pepper beard, "But you will.  Because the memory of the flesh is desire."

        Adam drew back in as much disgust as he could manage.  "You're saying Duncan -- or whatever this is that remains of him -- desires me?"

        "Believe me, Adam, it's not as far-fetched as it sounds."

        Still incredulous at Joe's statement, Adam argued, "He's little more than an infant!  What can he know of desire?"

        Joe shook his head.  "You haven't been around children very much if you don't think their desires are every bit the equal of our own, even  in their innocence."

        "What can innocence desire?" Adam asked, rubbing his temples, feeling a headache beginning to build.

        "What else but love?" was Joe's answer.  "And you're far too old not to have learned that by now."

        "Hah!  You're either getting senile, or you're every bit as crazy as I always expected."

        "Just hear me out," the Watcher said slowly.  "I know you didn't have much of a childhood -- or one you could remember, anyway.  But the innocence of love. . . it's being able to find happiness and joy in such simple things as a bud blossoming into a flower or a butterfly about to take flight or the delightful sound of bird song in the trees. . . "

        "Or the joy of receiving a beat up Teddy from a dear uncle," the Immortal added, lowering his head thoughtfully as a smile formed on his lips.

        "Yeah," Joe turned somber, "it's also trusting someone with your whole heart and soul, unquestioningly.  To love without expecting anything in return, except to be loved back."

        Adam breathed in deeply.  "That's a lot to expect, Joe.  That's a dangerous kind of love, the kind that gets you killed, or hurt badly enough to wish you'd been killed."

        "True, but it's also the kind of love that could readily forgive.  It's too sad that we lose that  innocence as we grow older, then we hunger for it until we die."

        The ancient watched Dawson amble to the kitchen and disappear around the corner, still thinking of all that the Watcher had just said.  Finally, shaking himself from his reverie, Adam herded his charge to the bedroom, readying them both for bed.  He pulled the tee-shirt off Duncan, replacing it with a pajama top.  The diaper-like garment  was traded for a new one.  They were working at the connection between wet and toilet, but the connection hadn't been made yet.  Adam decided the bottom half of the pajamas could be dispensed with, just another layer to get wet, if things didn't go well during the night.  As the dark head hit the pillow, Teddy was hugged tight and Adam leaned down for a good night kiss on the cheek.  "Good night, Angel.  Maybe tomorrow will be a better day."

        "Mmmm," was his sleepy reply.

        Adam rejoined Joe and they decided to move Duncan back to the loft - because it was familiar and also provided more room.  Besides, Joe ran a bar, bars were open at night, and he couldn't continually close down because Duncan was there.  The move would take place tomorrow after breakfast.  Plans completed, the two parted company for the night.

        Unable to fall asleep, Adam tiptoed back to check on his charge.  Duncan was still clutching Teddy, his hair in disarray across the pillow, and the long legs had escaped the blanket.  As Adam gazed at  the round buttock accidentally displayed, he had to remind himself that the hoped for relationship with his heart's desire would probably never be as he had dreamed.  His role had changed drastically - from dreamed-of-lover to probable-parent.  All because of being in the wrong place at exactly  the wrong time.  He wiped his tears away and pulled the blanket back in place before retreating to his bed.
 

CHAPTER  3


---

        The sunlight woke Adam early the following morning.  Joe was already showered, dressed and in the kitchen with a pot of coffee.  As Adam rolled to sit, he stared eye to eye with Master Teddy.

        "Thought you weren't a teddy bear kinda guy!   Why did you take it away from Mac?" Dawson accused.

        "I didn't!  Last I saw Teddy, he was in a death grip by our favorite Scot!"

        Joe just shook his head and nodded.  "Maybe you'd better sleep a little lighter tonight." he cautioned.

        The two 'uncles' decided it would probably be easier to do breakfast before bath.  Duncan soon  joined them at the table.  He was babbling more this morning.  Ethel had told them that would be a  good sign, but he was beginning to show his frustration at not being understood.

        As items were placed on the table, Adam  with uncharacteristic patience,  repeated the name over and over for the Highlander.  "Plate."  "Juice."  "Fork,"  "Teddy."  "Chair."   Arrangements were made for Joe to bring groceries to the loft later in the afternoon.  Adam's few belongings, Duncan's things, and Teddy and Gatorade were loaded in the car.  Adam seat-belted his passenger and they were off to the loft.

        As they entered the empty dojo, Duncan laughed and ran the length of the long room.  Fortunately, when he entered the lift, Adam was right behind  him, arms loaded with the few things they brought with them.  In moments, they were entering the home that had been Duncan's for several years.

        The Scot wandered throughout the large, single room, examining everything as he went, while Adam put clothing away.  Returning to the living roon, Adam watched the dear face for some sign, some flicker of recognition.  These things all belonged to the 'other Duncan', the one who had died on the street in fromt of Markum's grocery store.

        Adam tempted him to sit.  "Come, Duncan, let's look at the pictures."  Maybe things  would be easier once the Scot could talk.  Duncan folded his long legs under him as he sat beside Adam.   <First things first.>   He pointed to Duncan and repeated his name, then to himself, 'Adam', then to the bear, 'Teddy.'

        The younger man tried.  The bear seemed easiest.  "Teh-dee," he tried.

        "Right!  Good boy!  Try again!"

        "Teh-dee!"    The delighted look on Duncan's face made Adam want to cry.

        "Duncan," Adam repeated, pointing to his student.

        "Duh-can," he tried.

        "Good boy!  Say again," and Adam pointed to Duncan once more.

        "Duh-can!"  This time the smile was accompanied by a giggle.

        Adam hugged him tightly.  "That's very good, Duncan!  Now, can you say my name?"  He pointed to his own chest, "Adam."

        "Ahhh-mmm."  The Scot chewed on his lower lip, recongizing that the sound he made didn't quite match the one made by his teacher.  They repeated the process a second, then a third time with no better success.

        Finally, Adam looked at Duncan and said, "I don't suppose you could get 'Methos' out of there,could you?" and he playfully tapped on the younger man's lips.  "Methos?" he tried again.

        Duncan, so eager to please his teacher, made a valiant try.  "Mmmm-ee-fos."  The smile was back, "Meefos!"

        Adam laughed, "Bright boy!", and Duncan, pleased that his teacher was pleased, chattered.

        "Meefos, Meefos, Meefos!"  His reward was another big hug.

        They went through names again.  Duncan began wandering throughout the room once more, pointing to objects as Adam, or Meefos, repeated the names for him.  This was a game Duncan found fascinating, and they were still playing when Joe arrived.

        As the Watcher stepped off the elevator, Duncan ran to him and pointed.  Adam's voice said succinctly, "Uncle Joe."  There was a pause. and a puzzled look on the Highlander's face, so Adam repeated the name again.  The Scot  tried another time, "Unca Joe."  A bright grin on his face, he lifted his dear plaid friend, he told Joe, "bay-rrr."  Hugging the toy, he repeated, "Teh-dee."  He reached for Joe's hand and pulled him into the center of the room, pointing to Adam.  "Meefos!"

        "Good work, Duncan!  I can see you have been busy all morning!"

        "Good Duh-can," he repeated and gave the older looking man a hug and a childlike kiss of exuberance.

        Adam watched, musing that he would have enjoyed being the recipient of such affection.  Duncan moved beside the sofa, sank to the floor, and began a lively chat with Teddy.

        Joe snorted,  " 'Meefos', huh?  What if someone hears him calling you that?"

        "Who's to hear?  There is just you and me and Duncan."

        "You mean to tell me that you're going to keep him cooped up in here?"

        "Where else can I take him?  Right now the world is not user friendly for an Immortal who can't fend for himself!"

        Their voices had been getting louder and Duncan stopped to listen.  The conversation itself meant nothing to him. but he was sensitive to the shouted words and the tension in the room.  Relenting, at last, Adam  agreed, "You're right - at least about secluding him here.  He's just not ready for being with other people yet."

        Joe dropped the bags on the counter.  "Well, you're in charge.  I'm just 'Unca Joe'."  He brought a beer to Adam.  "Thought you might use some of this!"

        "Great," Adam accepted the bottle and took a long draw.  "Sorry about that, Joe.  He does have to be treated as a . . .normal child, I suppose.  We'll plan an outing when he's ready.  I just don't think  we've hit that point yet."

        They discussed the rapid progress made just in the morning, both of them hoping that Ethel's schedule for recovery would be quickly proven wrong.  After finishing his beer, Joe rose.  "Let me know if you need anything.  I brought some stuff for your dinner.  Boxed mac'n'cheese,  mm-mm-good!"  He laughed and headed for the grated elevator door.

        As he turned to lower the grate, Duncan was suddenly at his side.  "Bye, Unca Joe," and he gave the Watcher another kiss on the cheek.

        "Bye, Duncan.  See ya tomorrow!"

        Duncan started back toward the sofa but  paused and a grimace crossed his features.

        "What's wrong, Angel?" Adam queried as Duncan moved to stand beside the sofa.  The look of distress was still there.   "Tell Methos, Angel."

        "Wet," his voice quavered, and as Adam watched, the lower lip trembled and dark eyes filled with tears.

         Perhaps it was  the sudden realization that Duncan was totally dependent upon him that caused a sudden warm rush to flow through him.  What a responsibility this was!  He hadn't been anybody's 'everything' in millenia, perhaps he wouldn't remember how to  do it. "No problem," he grinned.  "Come on.  Let's fix that."  Once in the bathroom, he stripped the younger man.  As he pulled the undergarment from the lean hips, he tried not to stare, and raised his eyes to look into the still tear-filmed brown orbs.  "Don't like this, do you, Angel?"

        A forceful shake of the dark head to indicate 'no!'.  "Then we won't use these any more."  He returned from the bedroom with the briefs Mac usually wore.  "Here," and Adam helped him get them on.  "Now, so these don't get wet, you have to come in here.  Understand?"  He described how to use the toilet, including the flushing and washing of hands.  "You can do all of this by yourself, Duncan.  You're a big boy."

        A smile curled around the rosy lips and a vehement nod of Duncan's head were his reward.  Before Adam knew what was happening, Duncan had scampered out ot the bathroom.  Adam found him, sprawled on his belly on top of the bed.  His arms were bent at the elbows, hands cupping his chin.  The Scot's legs were raised behind him, teddy bear at  his side.  To Adam's amusement, it seemed both the Highlander and Teddy were intently contemplating the tapestry hanging above the bed.

        As Adam came out of the bath, he plopped down beside the Highlander.  "No shoes on the bed," he cautioned, pulling off boots and socks.  Duncan rolled over, clutching Teddy and 'oohhed' and 'aahhed' as Adam worked fingers and thumbs across the instep and arch of each foot.  "Good?" he asked, smiling at the pleasure he was giving.

        A definite affirmative nod!  "Wha?"

        "Hmm," the oldest Immortal thought, "toe rubs." As he continued, a plan formed.  "Duncan, how about a kiss for me?  Just like the one you gave Uncle Joe."

        Suddenly shy, the brown eyes lowered and dark hair flew as Angel shook his head.   Adam was surprised at the sudden sharp hurt  the refusal caused him.  Not quite ready to give up, he asked, "Well, then, Angel, could I give you a kiss?"

        The smile returned chasing the clouds out of Adam's life, at least for the time being.  Angel sat up, moving close to his protector for the soft kiss that was placed on Duncan's cheek.  <Well, at least that was something!>  Adam mused as he continued the 'toe rub'.  <Young Duncan could be just as coy as the older version.  More playful though.>  He glanced down at the smiling face and now-closed eyes.  Another sharp feeling coursed through his body -  the heat of lust.  His jeans suddenly became very tight as he felt himself rising. Here he sat on a bed, giving physical pleasure to the one creature in the entire earth he would most like to - - - -.  <Enough!   Don't go there!  Drive yourself batty if you do!> he chided himself.  <Your role is now care giver, protector, father-figure.  Temporarily retired, or perhaps gone forever  were the roles of  companion, friend, and would-be lover!>

---


 

        The ensuing weeks wove their own order into the odd situation at the top of the old dojo.  Adam got over the notion that each new morning Duncan might awake hale and whole again, as if nothing had happened.  The elder Immortal learned to accept -- albeit with a certain sadness --each small gain of Duncan's slow recovery.  The world collapsed down around them, simplified and pared to the essentials, swaddled as they were in the demands of their unique relationship.

        By the end of the third week, Joe Dawson was beginning to think he was witnessing a miracle each afternoon when he arrived with groceries or toys or books to find the two men still together, Duncan still alive, Adam still not crazy, nor dead from exhaustion, nor run away.  Joe did not even attempt a guess at how long this could go on.  Every day surprised him, and now, nearly a full month since the accident, it almost seemed this whole impossible scheme might work after all.

        In most things, Duncan did improve gradually, as Ethel had said he would.  There were some days, however, when the Scot 'hit the brick wall', as it were.  Duncan would come to some task he simply could not do and then all hell would break loose.  Then the storm would pass, some connection would happen while he slept or ate or had conversation with Teddy.  As if nothing had happened he would return to the task and succeed -- in his inimitable and charming way -- partly from remembering, partly from learning, partly from sheer Scottish stubbornness.

        Like some complicated dance, Dawson thought, so fascinating to see the lead changing, the tempos coming into counterpoint or unison, the harmonies developing between the two entirely disparate songs.  How charmingly Adam had descended to a childhood he couldn't remember, just to be with the child that Duncan had become.  Equally amazing that Duncan, restricted as he was, had begun to take a gentle charge of things, simply by his acute awareness.  The empathy he had always displayed was  one of his few remaining strengths, now obscured by all the many other talents in the Scot's former armamentarium, now ruined.

        Joe set his bags down on the island in the kitchen.  "Hi Duncan, what are you and Teddy doing?"

        "Books," the innocent told him.  "Look at books, Unca Joe."

        "Where's Adam?" the Watcher wanted to know.

        A finger extended, pointing to the opposite end of the loft.  "Shh. . .", the voice hesitated,  struggling to find the word he wanted.  "Shh. . ." he began, still searching for that word that would answer Uncle Joe's question.  It wasn't working, whatever he was trying for, so he wiggled his fingers, as children do to imitate raindrops, and simply said, "Wet."

        Just as this lingual-visual conversation was concluding, Adam stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, hair still wet.  In annoyance, he noted Dawson was gawking at him.  "What, Dawson? When do you expect me to shower?  Or would you rather we showered together?"

        "Calm down!  Hope you haven't been grumping all day at this little angel," he smirked as he patted Duncan on the head.

        "Sorry, Joe.  Duncan is exhausted and so am I.  He gets so excited about something, then goes into overload, gets frustrated or does his maximum pout thing.   This remembering language is preoccupying him just now.  He'll be all right  in a while, either that or fast asleep.  Anyway, we'll both get over it."

        The two uncles unloaded the newly arrived groceries.  As casually as he could, Joe asked,  "Are you and he sleeping together?"

        Adam turned, straightening from the refrigerator.  "You've got to be kidding!  Why are you so interested in sleeping arrangements?"

        "Because I'm afraid, Adam,"   the Watcher said so evenly and bravely the tone seemed to belie the words.

        "Afraid of what?  I'm not going to molest him, for God's sake!  I'm not a pedophile!"

        "That's not what worries me, Adam.  I know you too well."

        "Meaning what, Joe?"

        Although Duncan could not understand what Unca Joe and Meefos were talking about, it sounded very important.  He stopped his play and he and Teddy moved to the floor, around the end of the sofa to watch and listen.

        "You weren't born to be 'Mommy' or 'Daddy' to a two hundred pound Highland toddler.  I keep hoping that maybe you and he will become lovers.  That way there would be some reason for you to stay with him, to continue to keep him safe.  You're all he has, Adam, and if you leave, Duncan will die.  "You are his only hope,  'Obi-Wan'."  And forgive me, but altruism has never been your strong suit!"

        Adam's eyes hardened to green agate.  "Think what you want, Joe!  Duncan is worth more to me than just a one-night stand or a convenient easy fuck!"  With that he stormed off and slammed the bathroom door, anything to put time and space between himself and the nosy old Watcher.  It was then that  Adam realized Joe had come over for dinner. <Well, he can fix it himself!>  As he sat behind the closed door, he admitted his behavior was only slightly a few years ahead of MacLeod's.  <No matter!  The old bastard can entertain the kid for a while!>

        Several minutes had passed with no sign of Adam relenting in his pout.  Dawson moved to the kitchen and decided dinner was going to be up to him.  A quick glance showed that Duncan was trying to hide, probably upset and eager to get away from the shouting match he and Adam had just had.  Their voices had escalated sharply in  a brief time.  To coax Duncan out of his fear, Dawson called to him, " Whaddya think, Buddy?  How about scrambled eggs for dinner?"

        The dark head cocked to one side.  "Meefos says ekks for bre-fast."

        "Well, they are good other times too.  What do you say?"

        "Duh-can like ekks."

        "So does Uncle Joe, so I guess it's a deal," and he rubbed his hands together before reaching for mixing bowl and eggs.

        A baby smile lit the earth brown eyes as Adam' Angel agreed, "Deal!"

        Appearing not quite so intimidated, he and Teddy crept from behind the sofa to sit on the floor between sofa and coffee table and watch Unca Joe prepare supper.

        When eggs and toast were ready, Joe called Duncan to come to the counter so he could eat.  The Scot came quickly, but gave a look over his shoulder to the still closed bathroom door.  "Unca Joe?"

        "Yes, Duncan?"

        "Meefos?"

        "He'll come out when he gets hungry."  He placed Teddy in an area where spills seemed unlikely, then told the child , "Methos will be okay.  You sit up here beside Uncle Joe and eat some eggs like a good boy.  Okay?"

        Duncan shook his head and then looked at Joe, "Duh-can bad, bad, bad?  Meefos mad?" he questioned in his baby lilt.

        Joe stood beside him and placed a reassuring arm around his shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze.  "No, Duncan," he chuckled.  "I think Uncle Joe is the one who was bad, bad, bad this time."

        The Highland child didn't understand, but Unca Joe and his guardian always got happy again, even when they yelled at each other.  Joe saw the bewilderment cross the eyes and gave him another hug.  "Methos will be glad when he comes out if you have eaten your supper."

        " 'kay," Duncan agreed and reached for his spoon.  He remembered Methos had told him spoon or fork were okay, but not his fingers.  He waited as Unca Joe poured juice for him and then continued to eat.

        Dawson had just told Duncan he could be excused, when the bathroom door opened and Adam reappeared.  Duncan couldn't get across the room fast enough, throwing his arms around Adam hard enough to cause the oldest Immortal to stumble.   A smile formed on Adam's lips at the unexpected display of affection.  His arms returned the quick embrace and his lips brushed Duncan's hair.  "Why, thank you, Angel!  Shall we see if Uncle Joe has some supper left for me?  I'm afraid I was the one who was bad, bad, bad."  Arms looped around each other, they approached the kitchen island where Joe still sat, finishing a cup of coffee.  "How about it, Uncle Joe?" Adam queried, "any more scrambled eggs for a bad boy who's sorry?"

        Joe raked his fingers through the bristly beard, but a smile was growing, much to Duncan's delight.  "Well,. . . I. . . guess. . . so," he pulled out his reponse as long as he could.

        The Scot was smiling widely by this time and clapped his hands in glee.  "Unca Joe no'  mad no more, Meefos."

        "Any more," Adam corrected, and pulled his frame into the other stool at the counter.  As he helped himself to the eggs, Adam  looked at Joe, but spoke to Duncan.  "Duncan, tell Uncle Joe where you sleep."

        "Couch.   Duh-can sleeps on couch."

        Adam looked at him, brows raised.

        "Sum," Duncan  amended, and pulled Teddy close, beginning to rock.  "Mornin' kisses," he whispered.

        Adam's eyes went from his young charge to Dawson, well aware that the conversation was making Duncan edgy.  "I slept lightly, as you suggested, after I found Teddy in bed with me.   Duncan waits until I fall asleep, then climbs in with me.  He gives me a goodnight kiss then snuggles in until early morning.  Before I'm awake, he goes back to his own bed and leaves Teddy to keep me company.  Satisfied?"

        Joe's eyes slid to Duncan.  His head was shyly tucked down, chin on his chest, but he was grinning and blushing, proud that Adam knew what little games he had been up to.

        "Do I ever kiss you back, Angel?" Adam asked again.

        "No.  Jes' mornin' kisses."

        Adam raised his brows in a very knowing, superior way at Dawson, and continued to eat the now cold eggs. "See, Joe, you had no reason to worry that I would take advantage of Duncan.  Still think you've left a dear, injured friend in the care of a pervert?"

        What could Joe say.  There was only Adam who could adequately provide the protection that Duncan needed.  He was satisfied that Adam would stay, that Duncan would be safe.  Well, as safe as could be expected, in his care.  What else happened between them was not really his affair.  Not his affair, but certainly his concern, and that seemed to be groundless at this point.  Perhaps, if Duncan did continue to recover, the relationship between the two Immortals would take a more physical turn.  He would have to rely on the judgement of a five thousand year old man to make that determination, and after all, it really wasn't any of Joe's business.

---

        By the fifth week Duncan stopped sneaking back out of bed before dawn.  Adam had started rolling over on either Teddy or Duncan and bolting awake.  This morning there was an excessive amount of fidgeting in the bed.  Adam tolerated the squirming as covers were pulled down, pulled up, rearranged again.  He was about to ask his Angel if he had to use the bathroom, when he came awake enough to hear the sweet, soft giggles of a little boy talking to his favorite Teddy.  He feigned sleep and listened closely.

        "Meefos gonna take us shoppin' t'day, Teddy!  We go wif him!  Duh-can can't wait!  You too, Teddy?"

        Hiding a smile, Adam flopped on his back.  With a sudden growl, he pushed himself up and gruffly demanded,  "Who is talking so loud they woke me up?"  He made a lunge for Duncan.  The younger man ducked his head under the covers, giggling louder as Adam caught him.  The noisy racket  of laughter as Adam tickled  Angel mercilessly was a great disturbance to Master Bear.  At last, the older man gave up on the tickles and held Duncan loosely in his arms, dropping a soft kiss to the top of the dark head.

        Duncan's face was flushed.  Rosy lips and cheeks were a testament  to his valiant efforts to escape the 'ogre' that Meefos had become.  "Mornin' kisses?" Duncan asked as he lifted  Teddy.  Adam placed the required kiss on the bear's nose.  "Mornin' kiss for Duh-can?"  Adam leaned forward to grace the same brief peck on the nose to Duncan as he had just given Teddy, but Duncan lifted his head.  Adam's kiss landed on the soft, warm, rosy lips he had often thought of kissing.  He moaned slightly, thinking of what could have been.

        Duncan pulled back quickly, "Hurt?"

        "No, no, Angel.   That isn't always an 'owie' sound."

        "Toe rubs?" Duncan asked innocently.

        "All right," Adam relented, chuckling.  "Get youself turned around."

        As he spoke, the Scot was in the process of flopping his back against the bed and pulling his feet into Adam's lap.  Adam's long fingers pushed and pulled until Duncan was grinning widely.  A soft moan escaped him and suddenly the bright eyes popped open.  Giggling he told his guardian, "Not owie."

        Adam laughed back at him,  "That's right.  Not owie,"  and started his magic on the other foot.  He was truly growing to love this Highland child who had once been his best friend, his only friend.  There were times, like this morning, when it was more than difficult not to think of  what might have been.  When all Adam wanted was to dream about waking up in the 'Other Duncan's' bed, and the morning play evolving into torrid embraces, firey kisses and sex so great that it would curl his toes.  He was brought back to reality by the lilting baritone child's voice.

        "Meefos?"

        "Yes, Angel?"

        "You sad?"

        "No.  Just thinking.  Why would I be sad?  I'm here with my favorite Angel!"  That brought a wide grin to the younger man's face as the glorious body moved to cuddle a little closer.  Not wanting this special time to end, but slightly fearing what he might do if they continued in this way, Adam broke the spell.  "I guess if we're all going shopping, you had better take your bath, then breakfast. . ."

        "An' shoppin'!" Duncan squealed as Adam nodded.

---

        Adam pulled the big black T-bird to the curb and turned to look at the Highlander.  "Now, do you remember the rules?" he questioned, having a moments hesitation about bringing Duncan back to the 'scene of the crime', as it were.  This was, after all, the boy's first trip from the loft.  Perhaps bringing him back to Markum's was bad judgement on Adam's part.  He watched closely, but Duncan showed no recognition of where he was.

        Duncan started the recitation of Adam's rules, "Doan talk to strangers.  Stay close to Meefos.  Doan  be loud or. . ., or. . ."  He looked at Adam for assistance.

        "Rude?"

        "Or rewd."

        "Very good.  But, you know, I think maybe Teddy should wait for us in the car."

        The arms tightened protectively around the small plaid creature and a hurt, disappointed face looked back at Pierson.  "Teddy will be good!  Not talk to strangers an' not be loud an' stay close to Meefos."

        Adam rolled his eyes.  He couldn't say 'no' to this child who had mastered soulful eyes and a matching pout.  "All right," he relented, "But Teddy will be safer if you keep him tucked into a coat pocket."  He helped squeeze the fabric bear into Duncan's pocket.  Swinging his long legs out the door, Adam walked to Duncan's door and unfastened the seat belt.  Before he let the young man out onto the sidewalk, he cautioned, "Remember the rules."

        "Yes.  Be good!"  As Duncan stepped away from the car, he lifted his eyes to Adam, "Promise!"

        He tried. Duncan truly tried, but there were so many things to see, so much he wanted to tell Teddy.  He was jabbering in whispered tones before Adam knew what was going on.  He did stay close to Adam, and fortunately, there were few other shoppers.  Adam paused to watch as the brown eyes opened wide in childish wonder at the wide array of fresh fruit and vegetables.

        "Ooh, Teddy, see the colors?"

        As he admired the colors, Adam smiled and asked, "Would you like some oranges, Angel?  How about some grapes?"

        "Oin-ges?" he tried the word.

        "Like your juice,"  and Adam placed a half dozen golden globes in a small paper sack.  He was enjoying this trip more than he expected.  It was refreshing to view the world through a child's eyes.

        They approached the check-out and Duncan saw a large glass barrel of lollipops.  He broke away from his guardian and reached for the jar.  The lid was off and he was reaching for the candy before Adam could rejoin him.   "Duncan," he admonished.

        The dark head turned to him quickly.  "Bad?" the Scot asked.

        "Not bad, but not very good, either.  You mustn't be greedy,"  and Adam started pulling the candy from Duncan's pockets.  "You can only eat one at a time," he advised.  "You may have one."

        The dark eyes filled with tears and the lower lip quivered.  "An'  Teddy?"

        Trying not to smile, the older man relented agin, "Yes, you may have one for Teddy."

        "For Unca Joe?"

        "Duncan!"

        "An' Meefos?" the dark eyes pleaded.

        David Markum, the store's owner, suddenly appeared.  "Doctor Pierson, that's okay.  Let him have all he wants."  He paused and then spoke softly to Adam, "After all that Mr. MacLeod has done to help my family, I owe him.  I feel partly responsible for this terrible accident.  If there's anything I can do. . . "

        Adam straightened.  "Thank you, Mr. Markum, but Duncan only needs one at a time."  As he looked, dark eyes glowered back at him.

        Duncan shifted his attention to the newcomer.  He looked at Markum and suddenly his mouth dropped open.  He  let loose a loud scream that would have been good competition for a police siren.   Duncan's hands flew to his head, which he was vehemently shaking from side to side.   As Adam turned from David Markum, Duncan bolted and was out the door faster that his protector could react.  Duncan paused on the sidewalk outside the store.  He could hear very loud, frightening noises.  There were bright flashes  of light and deep flashes of blackness.  There were pictures flashing before his eyes, so he closed them as he raced down the street.  He could see someone lying on the sidewalk, blood covering the long dark hair.  That one image was the most frightening of all.  He ran, wildly trying to escape the noise, the lights and the pictures still flashing inside his head.  Out of breath and panting with fear, the Highlander turned and ran into the dark shadows  of an alley.  He stopped, trying to catch his breath and looking at the refuse and clutter of the alley.  With a groan he put his hands to his head again.  He heard a loud buzzing noise, worse than the noise he heard and felt when Meefos came home if he had to go out.  Duncan heard another sound and looked.

        A huge man dressed in black leather with dirty long blond hair and a straggly mustache stepped out of the shadows almost beside him.  Duncan whimpered and told himself the rules, 'don't talk to strangers.'

        He must have spoken out loud because the big, dirty man laughed.  "That's right, Boy.  But if I tell you my name, and you tell me yours, we won't be strangers, will we?   Name's Aric.  Who're you?"

        "Duh-can," he stammered forgetting immediately Adam's rules.

        Another voice called from the stinking shadows.  "Whatcha got there, Aric?"

        "You won't believe it," the dirty man called as the second man appeared.  He was raggedly dressed, as well, with dark, unkempt hair and a dark stubble across his face.  Duncan decided they both looked mean.  Aric grabbed  for him  and the dirty hands closed around his coat but missed his arm.  "Where ya goin', Boy?"

        "Home," Duncan answered, the fear growing.

        "This is Cyrus," the blond man said as the dark haired fellow came closer.  "Now we are all friends, right, Cyrus?"

        "Yeah."  He moved in on Duncan's other side, the two of them sidling close, watching as the young man's  agitation increased.  "You lost?  Where's home?"

        "Lost," Duncan repeated, trying to keep his voice from shaking as much as the rest of him was.  It was when they started circling closer to him that he saw they both carried sticks.  The same kind of stick that he had found in Meefos' coat.  <Maybe, if they have the same kind of sticks, maybe they really were friends, like Meefos was.>

        "Where do you live, Boy?" Aric asked, not letting go of Duncan's coat.

        "Wif Meefos."

        Cyrus was close enough that Duncan could smell his unwashed body, the odor mixing with the rest of the refuse in the alley.  He swallowed hard.  He was so scared!  Where was home?  Where was Meefos?

        "Meefos, huh," Aric asked again.  "Where do you and this Meefos live, kid?"

        "Far away.  I doan 'member."

        "Does Meefos have one of these?" he sneered at the frightened childlike face, waving the sword close to Duncan.

        "Uh-huh.  I'm not as'posed to touch."

        "You don't have a stick like this of your own?"

        The Highlander shook his head.

        "You said you were lost.  Tell us where you live and we can take you home."

        "I doan 'member."  He was quaking with fear.  He wanted to go home!  He wanted Meefos!  Meefos would make him feel safe again.  Why had he run away?

        Cyrus edged closer and took hold of Duncan's arm.  He watched the dirt crusted hand tighten painfuly on his arm.  The laugh was raw as the rough man  grilled him again, 'What do you and Meefos do?"

        "Teach Teddy."  Duncan's eyes shifted from Cyrus to Aric, "An' toe rubs, an',  an' mornin' kisses."

        This brought a loud guffaw from Cyrus.  "Sounds like our Methos!  Back to playin' around with pretty boys."   As the two men chuckled, Duncan broke and started to run for the mouth of the alley.

        "Hey," Cyrus yelled after him, 'Boy, you forgot somethin'!"

        Duncan stopped abruptly and turned to see Cyrus tossing Teddy into the air and catching him.  "Nooo!" he cried.  "My Teddy!"  His hands reached out to rescue the bear as he started reluctantly back into the dark shadows of the alley.  A little whimper of fear caught in his dry throat.  He walked slowly, very slowly, back from the light of the street into the deep, frightening  penumbra of the alley.  He put out his hands again reaching to bring Teddy to safety in his arms.

        Adam had only seen that Duncan took off running and turned to his left as he hit the sidewalk.  His heart in his throat, he ran in the same direction praying for the safety of Duncan, the child, his Highlander.  He approached the alleyway and sensed another presence.  A quick glance at the street, no other pedestrians, and Adam slipped his sword from its hiding place in his trench coat.  He stepped around the corner and into the shadows of the byway.  There stood his Angel, about halfway down the darkened tunnel.

        "Duncan," he called firmly.

        At the sound of his voice the young man whirled to face him.  "Meefos!" he cried and ran toward his guardian and savior.  Adam quickly replaced his sword and opened his arms.  Duncan propelled his body into Adam's.  The older Immortal held him, feeling the trembling and hearing the sobbing.

        "Thank the gods you are all right, Angel!" he said, brushing the dark hair from the pale tear-streaked face.  "Why did you run away like that, Duncan?"

        "I heard noises an' there were bright lights an' then it was dark, dark, so dark, an', an' Meefos, I got so scared!"  The words came tumbling out between deep sobs.  But within the circle of Adam's arms, his trembling eased a bit.  "An' then I saw the men an' they had sticks too an' they took Teddy an' I was lost an' I coun-nent  find you.  The men made me be scared."

        Adam looked more closely down the alley.  "How many men, Angel"

        Duncan held up two fingers, his hand still shaking.  "Bad men,  They hurted Teddy."

        Adam framed the younger face in his hands.  "Teddy will be okay.  You were brave and took care of him.  Did the men hurt you, Duncan?  Did they touch you?"

        "My. . . my. . .coat," he breathed, some of the adrenalin tension leaving his body.  "Home, Meefos?  I doan wan'  shoppin'!"

        "Home," Adam agreed, looping one arm around the other's shoulders and heading for the car.

        The ride back to the dojo was silent.  Duncan rode looking intently at Teddy who sat in his lap.  As  the long black car rolled to a halt, he looked through his lashes at Adam.  "Meefos, you mad at Duh-can?"

         Adam turned the key in the ignition, he faced Duncan, a light frown creasing his forehead.  "No, Angel, I'm not mad.  Only scared because I couldn't find you."  Adam opened the car door and strode to the other door and opened it for his Angel.  "I'm glad I found you and very glad you weren't hurt," he explained.  They entered the dojo's back door, and Adam mused aloud, "We could call Joe and leave this afternoon for the cabin.  It's isolated and it's on Holy ground."  In the loft he noted Duncan looking at him strangely.  "Would you like to go camping, Angel?  Just  you and me and Teddy.  There are woods to play in and we could swim, take hikes."

        "Yes!  Swim!"  Duncan couldn't understand anything that Meefos was talking about, but the more Meefos talked, the happier he looked.

        Adam sat Duncan on the foot of the bed as he pulled out two duffel bags and filled them with his and Duncan's clothes. A separate bag for 'Teddy's stuff', and a call to Joe to explain where they were headed and why.  Adam wrapped the katana and slipped in into his own bag, then picked up the duffels.  Duncan gathered Teddy and his paraphenalia and caught Adam's extended hand.

        "We're history!" Adam declared as the lift dropped to ground level.

        "Hits-try," Angel agreed with the first semblance of a smile since he had discovered the lollipops in Markum's grocery store earlier in the day.
 

CHAPTER  4


---

         The black Thunderbird left the city and headed toward the north and MacLeod's mountain cabin.  It had served as a retreat from The Game before.  Now it was their game, their place to hide, and hiding was one thing at which  Adam Pierson/Methos excelled.  The green eyes glanced at the passenger, no, make that passengers.  Teddy was seated in a prominent place on the dash.  Both pairs of dark, shiny eyes took in the passing sights.  At one point they had to wait for a train at a crossing.  Adam had forgotten how wonderful a locomotive and it's long chain of cars could be!  Duncan asked question after question.  Where was it going?  What was it carrying?  When would it reach it's destination?  Until at last, Adam, laughing, simply said "I don't know, kiddo.  Just watch!"

        They stopped at the last town before reaching the lake and bought provisions for at  least a couple of weeks.  Adam had made the mistake of  telling Duncan the stop was to finish their shopping.  The mere word had caused the Scot to clutch Teddy in a death grip, his lower lip trembling, and eyes suddenly awash with tears.  The oldest Immortal had soothed him, but it wasn't until they stopped in front of the old-fashioned general store that Duncan's fears eased a bit.  Adam didn't know how else to comfort him as he remembered the morning and the terror that  'shopping' had brought with it.  As he got out of the car, he told Duncan he could wait right there and protect Teddy, but he must not get out of the car.  The terrified youngster quickly agreed, but a glance back at the car over his shoulder made Adam wonder which one was protecting the other.

        It was almost sundown by the time they reached the boathouse where the car would be kept. The park Ranger told them he had gotten a call from a Mr. Dawson, and had already been to the island to bring over the boat they had loaded and to make sure the cabin was secure.  Adam loaded supplies into the row boat, then the duffel bags, and finally holding Duncan's hand, helped him step off the dock and into the small craft.  There were strict warnings for both Angel and Teddy to make sure they sat still and a list of the consequences if they did not.   Adam thanked the ranger and  pushed off, keeping an eye on Duncan,  who in turn was busy talking to Teddy.

        A soft plop to one side caught the younger Immortal's attention, and as they looked, a fish broke the surface and splashed  down out of sight.  Duncan's mouth dropped open, and it was Adam's turn tor a gleeful chuckle at all the wonders he had seen today through Duncan's young eyes.

        They hit the shore and Adam took the duffels and laid them on the bank.  Duncan clambered out and they proceeded up the slight grade to the cabin.  As they approached the structure, he watched for some flicker  of recognition.  The earth brown eyes were wide with wonder, taking it all in and not showing a flicker, an iota, a trace of recognition.  Adam was tempted to shake him and scream "Don't you remember any of this, MacLeod?  This is yours!"  <What good would it do?  It would only serve to frighten the youngster again, and heaven's knew, Adam himself was hardly recovered from the scare.>  Instead, he smiled and listened to the 'oohs' and 'aahs' as Duncan saw birds, rabbits, squirrels.

        He had Duncan remove the sheets covering the furniture and gather kindling while he returned to the boat for the last of the supplies.  He paid no attention the the trolling motor and the two fishermen as they slipped by at a distance.  Adam didn't notice the glint of dying sunlight as it hit the binocular lens that was trained on him.

        His charge was sitting on the top step of the porch, waiting his return.  "What do you think, Angel, do you like camping so far?"

        "Yeah!  There's animals an' rocks an' lots of stuff!"

        "Come on!  Let's get a fire started and warm you up.  Are you hungry?"

        "Lots!  Teddy, too!"

        Duncan's new assignment was to help put groceries away while Adam laid a fire.  As the blaze took hold, Adam went outside and returned with two long sticks.  As he anticipated, hot dogs over the open fire were better than the finest gourmet meal, especially with the excitement this created for Duncan.  They toasted marshmallows for dessert then he topped his meal with a beer, and Duncan guzzled Gatorade.

        They decided to watch a movie -'long as it's not too scary' the younger qualified.  "Men in Black" seemed a mix the could both live with, but it didn't matter after all.  Within five minutes of the start of the film, Duncan was sound asleep, head pillowed on his guardian's lap.  Adam removed the clasp from the sable mass and combed through the silken locks with gentle fingers.

        <This protector thing had started out as a moral responsibility to care for a dear, injured friend.  It was now,> Adam realized, <a burden of love. An experience he would treasure for the rest of his days.  There was still the question of Duncan's full recovery. That would, of course, gladden his heart enormously.  But if Duncan stayed as he was now, or perhaps aged a little mentally, I can live with that as well.>  Adam reflected over his past five thousand years and could not recall when he had felt so alive, so aware of the world around him, so replete with caring for and loving another being.  He could not remember any other person who had trusted and loved him as completely as this Highland angel did.  This burden of love was one he would gladly accept  for as long as he was needed to shoulder this care.  "Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, you are truly well-loved."

        Gently he woke the sleeping Scot and got both of them  into the large bed in the other room.  For the first time, as he settled to sleep, Duncan slipped his arm across Adam's waist, pillowing his head on the wide chest.  A gentle sigh escaped the soft  lips, and an equally gentle kiss was placed upon them.  As Adam closed his eyes, the body beside him snuggled closer, and he thought he heard a whispered, "Love you, Meefos."

---

         Duncan loved their island life.  They went fishing and Adam taught him to gut and clean the catch.  They made a new rule - 'If you caught it, you have to cook it."  Breakfast was often on Duncan.

        Adam found a cove behind the cabin, overhung by willows and surrounded by large flat rocks.   It was perfect for swimming.  His Highland child's memory might be deficient in some areas, but Joe was right in one respect.  The flesh did indeed remember.  After ten minutes in the water, Duncan remembered how to swim.  The two men played and swam like dolphins.  Teddy, afraid of getting wet, observed the fish-like play from the safety of the rocks.

        One afternoon they packed sandwiches and fruit, and the preferred beverages of choice, and followed a trail up the hill beyond the cabin.  In a small clearing they  settled for lunch.  Adam began to unload the pack and spoke to his charge.  There was no answer.  He glanced around the clearing.  There was no answer because there was no Duncan.  "Angel!"  he called to the silence.  "Angel!" and again the silence answered.  Controlling his rising panic, and realizing he could no longer sense the younger Immortal, Adam pulled a machete from it's sheath on the pack and started looking for signs of which way Duncan might have gone.

        He found a trail through the low brush at the edge of  their clearing.  It wandered  toward the