THE GIFT OF INNOCENCE         ©Robin Serrano

A variation of the Teddy Bear story, which would not be here if not for Rory's unbelievably original The Innocence of Love. This one borrows some concepts from Eng's The Love, but this story has a twist. The Legos thing is a complete coincidence, btw. Thanks to Rory and Eng for their beautiful creations, setting a high standard for those of us who follow.

 
          No one paid particular attention to the hunched figure leaning against the cold brick of DeSalvo's. Just another wino mumbling incoherently. Or so they thought. In actuality he was neither drunk nor incoherent. He was a dejected,  lonely and irritable immortal. The world's oldest, and he was cursing himself in languages long forgotten to all but he alone.

          He'd come running to Seacouver on the off chance that the rumor about MacLeod being here was actually true. To his shameful dismay, the rumor was apparently false. The dojo's caretaker had assured Methos that the owner had  not been there in quite some time and was not expected.

          And hence, Methos was slouched against the wall, his ancient muttering growing in volume as his feelings boiled to the surface. Seven months since the debacle with Liam O'Rourke. Seven months for Mac to clear his head and get some perspective, as he put it.

          "Seven bloody months and not one damned word," Methos finally spoke English, albeit subconsciously. He slid down the wall, paying no mind to rough brick that scraped at his back, even through his duster. Get a grip, old man. Are you worried about MacLeod's head or are you still indulging yourself in that ridiculous fantasy of being lovers with him?

          Angrily, he leapt up and pushed away from the dojo. "All right! Enough already!" he shouted "I bloody well admit it… I love the son of a bitch and I want him… Okay? I want to be fucked so senseless and filled with so much of him that I don't know who the fuck I am anymore. Satisfied?" He ranted, waving his arms about as if making a grand confession to a captive audience. Except he'd long since scared away most passersby on this dark, moonless night. He glanced around, composed himself, then charged off to his rented 4 x 4, absently wiping the angry tears that  blurred his vision. "I need a beer," he announced to himself.

---

           The lone figure on the roof of the dojo shook his head and smiled. Now, was that so hard? Mac thought. He'd been waiting for Methos to admit his feelings, but he hadn't quite expected the level of drama he'd been privy to. Mac knew that being absent didn't exactly lend itself to Methos telling him how he felt, but for crying out loud, the man  had had a few years before that to tell him. And why didn't you just tell him? Because you are a coward too.

          Mac knew that to be true. He was not ready to declare his love to a man if he wasn't certain that the feelings were mutual. It was a risk he was too frightened to take, especially with Methos, their relationship being on such fragile  terms anyway. But having heard from Methos' own lips how he felt, even if the old immortal didn’t know Mac had heard, was heartening. And it emboldened the Scot enough to get ready to make his move.

---

           Methos' beer had turned into a binge. He knew it was risky for an immortal to get so intoxicated, but he had needed to let loose this night. He stumbled a bit as he reached the top of the stairs in his building. He fumbled with  the key to his flat, but finally gained entry… and felt his foot slip out from under him, sending him crashing into his entry hall table.

          Leaning over from his unintentional sprawl, he flipped the door shut. Looking down, he saw the cause of his crash, an envelope he'd slipped on. He picked it up and his heart began to pound. Even though all it said on the  outside was "Adam Pierson," it was enough. It was Mac's handwriting. Methos was sure because when you're as pathetically obsessed as I, you come to know these things.

          Damn! Oh Damn. Oh… no. He didn't hear. Tell me he didn't hear. Hesitantly, he opened the envelope. He's telling me to get lost and leave him alone. I just know it. Unfolding the paper inside, he squinted to read it, alcohol  still affecting his vision. After a moment he smiled. Then chuckled. Then giggled with glee.

          By the time he pulled the covers over himself to sleep, he had the note memorized.

          "Adam,

          We need to talk. Could you meet me at David Markam's store at 10am tomorrow? I hope to see you again.

          Duncan"

          It didn't say everything was alright, it didn't say Duncan loved him back. But Duncan had obviously heard his rampage and hadn't run away. It meant he was alive, and it meant they could at least be friends. Hope. The word  ‘hope’ in that note settled over Methos like a down comforter, cradling him with warmth. Oh, yes, he had hope.

---

           Methos couldn’t believe his damn luck. Late! Late for what he just knew deep down would be the most important meeting of his long life. A stupid jack-knifed truck was about to be the cause of him missing his chance to finally tell  the Highlander how he feels.

          And he’d spent the whole damn morning preparing that bit of verse he’d wanted to say to Duncan. Something that would express to the man that he loved him, no matter what, no matter in what form Duncan would expect that love,  and that he did so without shame. That he did so because the fates had decreed his love to be inevitable. Gods above he wanted Duncan to finally know!

          At last he saw the traffic begin to move and he breathed a sigh of relief as he whipped onto the street where the grocery was located. When he spotted the T-bird on the alley next to the store, Methos screeched "Yes!" and came  to a stop on the street in front of the store.

          Taking a deep breath, Methos wasted no time to calm his nerves; he wanted to get to Duncan quickly. The smile on his face could be removed by no force of nature, he knew, and so his own weak resolve wouldn’t remove it. So he didn’t even try. He strode at an even gait toward the door of the grocery. About twenty feet away, the door swung open and he felt the soothing song of Duncan’s familiar presence hum in his mind.

          With a chuckle of relief, Methos saw that his smile was returned. He would have his chance to explain to Duncan about the true depth of his love for him.

          Just a few feet in front of him, Duncan spoke first, "It’s been too long."

          "It most certainly has, I have so much to--" Methos stopped as he saw the scraggly haired youngster brandish the pistol he’d held at his side. In the next split second, he saw the door to the store open again and heard a man  shouting to stop that punk. Duncan was looking at him strangely, but he had turned when he heard David Markam’s voice, and all Methos had time to do was shout "no!" as Methos saw the look in the young man’s eyes that said he was about to fire.

          The next split second was agonizing for Methos. Not because of the physical pain, but because of the emotional. He would not lose Duncan! Not now! Not ever! The choice was simple because there was no choice; he shoved  Duncan down by the shoulder and threw himself over top of him.

          He felt a sharp, searing pain in his head. Then he heard strange voices, odd sounds. Wailing sirens, he thought idly. Duncan telling him to hold on. Then he felt dizzy and his vision began to narrow, blur, and dim...

---

           Mac held the bloodied head in his lap for a stunned moment, before he realized he had to get Methos out of there before the police arrived. He picked him up carefully, but quickly, and made a dash for the T-bird. Settling him in the back seat, he fumbled with his keys for a second before peeling out.

          Dear God, oh Dear god, let him be alright! Mac was stupefied. He’d taken that bullet for him. He’d jumped in front, literally over him, to keep him from harm. Mac hadn’t doubted that Methos loved him. But he hadn’t remembered until that moment that Methos had a history of throwing his own life on the line for him. And he’d done it again. All Mac could think of at that moment was that he couldn’t love Methos more if he tried. And that he would do anything and everything under the sun to be worthy of that love.

         Getting him someplace safe was the first order of business. Mac found his way to Joe’s, never a question of where to take his friend for the best help possible.

         Joe was less shocked than Mac had expected. Seems the old Watcher’s past in Vietnam made him quite the man to come to in a crisis. With a minimum of words, he had Mac settle Methos onto the bed, and had towels ready to  start cleaning the gore and blood.

         "It's okay, Methos, you'll be okay," Mac sputtered, trying to soothe the confused eldest immortal as he held the towels against the bloodied head.

         "The love… The love…" Methos muttered, trying desperately to say the words of the poem to his friend, afraid that he'd forget.

         "It's okay," Mac crooned as the ancient's voice got softer and his eyes got wider in panic. Then the eyes were still and the voice was gone. He was dead.

         "Oh, Christ." Mac groaned. "Joe, this is bad. I've never seen an immortal recover from this serious a head wound. We're all so damned vulnerable above the neck." Mac tried to squelch the fear he felt.

         "Oh, shit, Mac, you mean he may not come back?" Joe failed to hide his own panic. It hadn't occurred to him that Methos wouldn’t fully recover.

         "I just don't know. We'll just have to wait," Mac told him flatly, though the emotion was churning beneath the surface. "But for now, let's get him cleaned up, huh?" Mac decided the best course was to stay busy until they knew  something.

         They put fresh towels under Methos' head after pulling the blood soaked sweater over his head. While Joe worked the bloodied jeans off of him, Mac tended the matted hair as best as he could. At last, he was as cleaned as  they could get without physically moving him to the bath tub. He was tucked into the bed, still clad in his boxers, and his friends could then only wait.

         Hours of pacing and little in the way of words found the Watcher and the Highlander tense and wired. Mac went to the bed every couple of minutes to check on the wounded immortal, if only to run his fingers over the slowly  healing bullet hole in his forehead. Sometimes his visits to the bed would find him softly pleading for Methos to wake up.

         At last, the slender body took in a deep, gasping breath and began to shake. Finally the eyes opened, but didn’t seem to focus, and then he closed them again. The trembling eased, but the dark head rolled back and forth for a second, then went deathly still.

         "His eyes are so vacant," Mac noticed as Methos opened them again. "Methos? Can you hear me? Please talk to me, it's Mac. Methos?"

         "Mac, something's definitely wrong, he's looking at us like he doesn't know us," Joe began to panic again. "Adam, Please! Say something…"

         At which Methos' eyes widened in fright, then he began to whimper, pulling himself into a ball and quickly popping his thumb in his mouth.

         "Easy Joe, I think we scared him. He can hear us, he just can't respond," Mac tried to speak softly.

         "He's like an infant, Mac! Look at him, he's sucking his thumb for Christ's Sake!"

         "I can see that Joe, but frightening him isn't going to make him well. We don't know yet how much of this is permanent, so we're just gonna have to take it as it comes. Meanwhile, try to stay calm, and he'll be calm." He told  Joe as softly as possible. "Right, Adam?" Mac cooed as he gently stroked the baby soft spikes of his friend's hair.

         "Since when do you call him Adam?" Joe suddenly asked.

         "Since I'm not sure how long he'll be this way. And since I'm very sure that I don't want any other immortal to get wind that this is the world's oldest immortal. You think the hunters would be after him before? What do you think they'd be like now? Hmm? Knowing he's utterly defenseless?" Strangely, Mac's voice did not waver from the soothing rhythm and timbre that was slowly putting Methos back to sleep.

         "Hadn't thought that far ahead… Till now anyway. I guess I'll head to the market and pick up a few things we may need. If he doesn't get better today, we'll be needing some supplies," Joe reasoned. He lay one soft caress on the  now sleeping man's cheek then left.

         Joe had been out for only about thirty minutes when Methos woke up. The first thing Mac had tried to do was get him to drink some juice. Like a typical infant, Methos ended up with more juice down his front that down his throat.  But Mac couldn't bring himself to get upset, Adam was giggling so sweetly. Mac saw a brightness and a twinkle in those hazel eyes that he could only describe as innocence. The mischief in that twinkle was familiar, but Mac couldn't help but be moved by the trust that shone from them along with that innocence. He wanted his friend to be whole and healthy again, but this child in front of him was too sweet to feel anything but tenderness toward.

         "Adam, come on now, you need a bath," Mac was chuckling, trying to get his charge to stop rolling and squirming away from him. For the moment, Mac finally gave up and pounced on the bed with him, pinning Methos down to the  mattress with merciless tickles. Out of breath at last, Mac smiled down at the open, happy face and let the feeling of warmth that radiated from his heart spread throughout his body to settle over his whole being. It was a decidedly wonderful feeling.

         "Seriously, now, bath time," Mac said firmly but gently and reached his hand to pull Methos up off the bed. Instead of taking the proffered hand, Methos lifted his arms up to Mac, who cocked his head and grinned wryly.  "What? You want me to hold you? And carry you into the bath?"

         "Hold you," Methos repeated in a small, shy voice.

         "You want me to hold you?" Mac repeated, a bit dumbfounded that Adam could apparently now talk.

         "Hold You!" Adam insisted, getting impatient that Mac wasn't complying.

         "Okay, Okay," Mac said apologetically as he bent to scoop the lanky immortal into his arms. Adam's arms went immediately around Mac's shoulders and his legs wrapped around Mac's waist. Mac was about to laugh at how ridiculous they must look, but at that moment Adam's head nuzzled into Mac's neck and he sighed, bringing one hand around to once again suck on his thumb. "What a charmer you are," Mac remarked softly as he carried Adam to the tub, suddenly feeling not at all ridiculous. He got the water running while Adam sat on the bath rug idly playing with a shampoo bottle.

         While the water ran Mac occupied himself with trying to get the boxers off of the otherwise occupied eldest immortal child.

         "Here we go, let's get these off… Okay now, let me help you" Mac chattered as they worked.

         "Help you," Adam repeated again, watching as Mac helped free him of his underwear. The softly spoken words that the injured immortal repeated kept Mac’s mind on his task. After having been so curious about what it would be  like to touch this beautiful body, now that it was here, before him, naked and under his touch, it was yet unattainable. The body, finely sculpted, skin soft as satin, was home now to a trusting child and not the friend who desired him. Hearing the innocent chatter reminded Mac every second that this child needed to be protected, and he would not allow himself to become one of the dangers. "Pull down," Adam had just repeated and Mac was torn between pride and pity. Pride for the child who was learning so fast, pity for the man who was reduced to such small successes. A glance into the sparkling hazel eyes, and pride won the race by a long shot.

         "Smart boy… you'll be talking up a storm soon, won't you? I bet you will. And we'll have plenty of time for grammar lessons later," Mac told him and ruffled the mussed hair. Adam smiled widely and leaned forward to lay a  sweet, but slightly wet kiss on Mac's cheek. Mac lovingly returned the kiss to Adam's cheek and went back to work on the underwear.

         Boxers finally discarded, Mac turned off the taps and checked the temperature of the bath. He glanced up when he heard a particularly wicked little giggle.

         Adam was on his knees, having found another toy; his semi-erect penis was bobbing up and down as Adam played a game of nudging it with his finger to watch it spring back up. Mac grinned and shook his head at the innocent  wonder of a child discovering his anatomy.

         "Adam? Time to get in the bath," Mac told him and reached down to pull him off the rug. He got him to stand, then led him into the tub. "Good boy. Now let's get some of this grime off of you, shall we?"

         "What? No bubbles?" Joe asked with a grin, having come back in without being heard. Mac chuckled but rolled his eyes. Seeing Mac laugh, Adam did the same. "He sure is a happy little guy, isn't he," Joe commented, still  grinning.

         "Happy, yes. Little, no. You try getting a six foot guy who's all arms and legs into a bath tub," Mac quipped.

         "Don't mind if I do," replied an insanely feminine voice. Mac's head snapped up and beheld Dr. Grimes, if her name tag was any indication. Mac was a little surprised he'd gotten past the legs, shapely in a mid-thigh gray skirt, and past the chest, filling out a cream chenille sweater very nicely. "And who have we here?" She cooed softly as she moved past Joe and toward the tub. "You must be Adam" she continued, showering the immortal child with baby talk and soothing caresses. "My, what a handsome devil," she chattered on and on.

         At last, she turned to Mac "I'm sorry. Ethyl Grimes. I'm a neurologist at Seacouver General. Joe here thought you fellows could use my help."

         "Duncan MacLeod. What do you…"

         "Duckin Loud," Adam repeated, interrupting.

         Joe and Ethyl laughed, Mac couldn't decide whether to be affronted at the name or proud that Adam's vocal skills were improving.

         Sensing he'd done something right, or funny, Adam proceeded with his happy tirade "Duckin Loud, Duckin Loud, Duckin Loud."

         "Okay Adam, Good boy. Let's try something else." Picking up the slippery bar of glycerin soap, the doctor got Adam's attention and said slowly, "Soap. Adam? You can say it. Soap." He watched her for a minute and then answered. "Soap." "Great job! So smart," she praised and made him giggle. Then she flipped off her shoes, pulled off her panty hose, and plunked her legs right in the tub with Adam as she continued her bath time games and  assessment.

         Turning to the flabbergasted duo of MacLeod and Dawson, Dr. Grimes told them politely "I am a doctor, you know, I can be trusted to be alone with the boy."

         "In other words, we should get out of your hair and let you do your stuff," Mac asked with a grin.

         "That about sums it up," she told him brightly.

         As Mac neared the door, Adam suddenly splashed in panic, twisting around to the door and began to cry.

         "It's okay, Adam, I'll be back," Mac soothed when he rushed back to the tub. "Sshh."

         "Keep going this time, and check back in about five minutes, so he'll know you were telling the truth about coming back," Ethyl told him. She smiled at his reluctance to leave his charge, knowing separation anxiety goes both ways.

         Mac finally tore himself away, hating that it was in Adam's best interest, but understanding. He returned in five minutes with a rubber duckie that Joe had gotten while he was out, then left again. He lengthened each time he was  gone by a couple of minutes and Adam's distress lessened with each departure. That freed Ethyl to properly examine her patient.

---

          "Well, fellas, we have quite a case on our hands," Ethyl began as she brought Adam into the living room and led him to the couch. "His motor skills seem to be okay, not 100 percent yet, but okay and improving. I believe that physically he will completely recover." She took a deep breath before she went on, "but mentally… guys I just can’t be sure. If things go how I think they will, he will continue to grow up, like any child, at a slightly faster rate than normal maturation. I don’t believe that would be possible at all if he weren’t immortal, given the extent of his wound. I think his immortal healing is gradually helping to heal his mind, but I can’t be sure that it will continue until he  reaches mental adulthood."

         "So, he might mature mentally, but only to a certain level then stop?" Mac asked, stunned that it didn’t occur to him that Methos could possibly never recover. Until that moment, he’d had the belief strongly lingering, that Methos  would eventually be himself again.

         Sensing Mac’s distress, Adam popped his thumb back in his mouth and sank into the couch, almost cowering. Mac saw the frightened gesture and immediately went to the couch to shush and soothe the trembling immortal, listening to Ethyl all the while.

         "I don’t know if it will stop or not, but I want you to be prepared if it does. You have to know what you’re getting into. You could have a permanently brain damaged immortal on your hands. You know how dangerous that could be,  for you and for him. You have some tough decisions to make, Duncan MacLeod, and I don’t envy you them.

         "What decisions?" Mac asked as he pulled his now sleepy friend into his lap, shushing the lingering whimpers that fell from the slack lips.

         Ethyl watched the scene before her unfold and knew that MacLeod would never take the option she was about to offer. But she owed it to them to put it on the table. "If he doesn’t recover his mental faculties, he will need to be cared for, for the rest of his life. And the brevity or longevity of that life will depend a lot on you. If you can not, or will not take that responsibility, then it would be better to end his life now, before tragedy strikes."

         Mac stiffened and instinctively drew Adam closer to him, tightening the embrace. "Nobody, but nobody will lay a finger on him while I’m alive," Mac said darkly. "And I believe he will improve. And I believe that one day he will be  himself again. And I will be there with him for it all," Mac promised, eyes still blazing at the suggestion that they kill Methos.

         Ethyl smiled at the natural protective streak the Highlander showed for his friend. "I’m glad you feel that way. It’s good to have hope. And I’m glad he has you to look out for him. Just remember to be realistic. If he doesn’t  recover, you have already adopted this child, and from the looks of it, he’s adopted you. You are his lifeline now, Duncan. Both for his survival and for his sense of family and well being. It’s a heady responsibility. Are you really ready to give up your life for that?"

         "He’s given me my life so many times. And I need him. Whether he’s my old friend or this child, I need him. It’s that simple."

         Ethyl nodded and Joe walked her to the door. She left a few instructions, hints, tips and her pager number in case she was needed, and then she was gone.

         Joe and Duncan roused Adam long enough to get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of milk into him, and then the lanky immortal was obviously about finished for the day.

         "Well, I think this fella's had quite a day. Don't you think we ought to get him to bed?" Joe asked quietly as he observed Adam curled up on Mac's lap, his head tucked under the Highlander's chin. Adam had been dosing off and  on for the last half hour, but like the typical child, fighting to stay awake.

         "I think that's a great idea. I'm exhausted myself," Mac said and as if to emphasize the point, promptly yawned.

         "Well, buddy, I've got the couch tonight. So that leaves you with either sharing the bed with Adam or sacking out on the floor with some extra blankets," Joe informed the Scot as he rose to get one last item for their immortal  charge. "He has learned how to use the bathroom, so I don’t think you have to worry about waking up soggy if you crash in the bed with him," Joe reminded Mac with a sly grin.

         "Floor's fine with me for tonight Joe. I want Adam to get a good night's sleep without me tossing and turning to wake him up." That said, he rose carefully, but with effort, and carried the immortal child to the bedroom.

         Joe shook his head, wondering if Mac was trying to fool him, or himself. Adam would sleep well enough at this point, already having slept pretty well, plastered to Mac's lap. He wondered just why Mac was reluctant to share the bed with Adam. Was he worried about their virtue? Or their reputation?

         Mac had just laid Adam on the bed when Joe walked in the bedroom. "Something else no little boy should have to do without," Joe murmured as he gently laid the soft, patchwork teddy bear down, next to Adam. He'd gotten it out of the storage closet after Ethyl had gone home. The bear had bright, button eyes, a pug nose and a big, stupid grin. Mac also noticed that the plaid of the patchwork was suspiciously similar to the MacLeod tartan.

         Mac couldn't help but laugh. Adam's eyes fluttered a moment, drowsily taking in the sight of the teddy in front of his face, and he smiled. He gathered the bear to his chest and was instantly asleep again.

         Mac released the breath he'd been holding since he accidentally woke the sleeping immortal. He looked at Joe, mouthed "Sorry," then they tip-toed out of the room.

         "We'll move back to the loft tomorrow, Joe," Mac told him when they were back in the living room. "I can start making a home for him there if he doesn't seem like he's recovering quickly."

         "You sure that's the right thing to do? Mac, Seacouver is like Immortal Central when you're around. How long can you keep him safe and locked up in the loft?" Joe asked.

         "I'm hoping it won't be that long. I'm hoping his healing will kick in and he'll get better. If it comes down to it, I'll take him to holy ground and take care of him myself for as long as we live." Mac didn't want to think about how long, or short, a time that would be. "But until that decision has to be made, I want him to have a home. I get the feeling he didn't really have that in his own childhood, with the time he was born to being what it was. Joe. He has a chance to have a happy childhood, although for his own good I hope it's a brief one. But no matter how long he has to relive his age of innocence, I want it to be special for him."

         Joe grinned and shook his head. "Okay. Play daddy and enjoy it. I do have to admit, he's awfully sweet as a child. Just remember to be realistic, Mac."

---

          Joe was a light sleeper, especially when he was stuck on the couch. So when he heard the bedroom door creek open, his eyes popped open as well. The lights from the street illuminated the living room enough for Joe to spot Adam, on all fours, crawling toward the sleeping MacLeod. Teddy was making the trip as well, Joe noted. He was being drug by the tattered but colorful green ribbon around his neck. Teddy was taking it in stride, though, and was still smiling.

         When Adam got to Mac, he looked at him closely. He cocked his head as he listened to the Highlander snoring lightly. Adam then laid down beside him, and climbed under the blanket with teddy in between them. He yawned, then  scooted closer to kiss Mac, very close to his lips. He yawned again then cuddled up to sleep.

---

          "I know you're proud of your clan colors, but to steal a kid's teddy bear to get the tartan?" Joe was teasing. Mac looked around, bleary eyed as wakefulness rudely intruded upon his senses. Finally, his glance ventured down. He  was holding Adam's teddy protectively to his chest.

         He sat up, his eyes a little wild "Where is he?"

         "Relax, he's taking a bath. We woke up early and I wanted to let him play in a real bubble bath before you took him home."

         "The teddy?" Mac asked cautiously.

         "Sleep a little more lightly from now on." Joe winked and went to the kitchen to start on breakfast.

---

          Their first night at home, the mystery of the wandering teddy was solved. Mac was stretched on the couch after having put Adam to sleep in the bed. Mac was just about to doze off himself when he heard Adam get out of bed. He closed his eyes and listened as Adam tried to tip-toe over. "Sshh, quiet, teddy," Adam softly warned. Adam knelt in front of the couch, and Mac wondered just what he was doing.

         Then Mac felt the bear's face touch his mouth softly. Adam was apparently letting the bear give him kisses. Next, Mac felt Adam's soft lips on his. Chaste and sweet, the kisses spoke volumes of the devotion Adam felt for his new  guardian. Mac was very still and let Adam finish his kisses. Mac finally opened his eyes when he heard Adam settle on the floor next to the couch. He let Adam pull some of the blanket down over him.

         He watched Adam fall back to sleep, fondness sweeping over his limbs like a flood of warmth. Adam had been affectionate, but this level of tenderness he showed while Mac was supposedly sleeping was beyond what Mac would  have expected from a child who'd just met him. Mac had to wonder if some of the feelings Methos had had for him were still somehow guiding Adam's emotional instincts.

         Before Mac allowed himself to drift off to sleep, he made a decision. Adam apparently had the desire to express his feelings physically and Mac knew that as a child, the need to have love expressed was critical. Even if he was  talking about Methos' body, in his mind, Adam was a child, with a child's needs. Mac knew he could never deny a child the security of feeling loved. Starting tomorrow, Mac was going to be sure that Adam got more than enough hugs, tickles and kisses to show him how much he was loved, and Mac would happily accept Adam's kisses in return when the boy wanted to express his love. He’d also move back into the bed. If Adam needed to have him close while they slept, they would both be more comfortable there.

---

          Two weeks went by quickly for the two immortals and the Watcher. Joe stopped in every day to check in on "the boys," as he called them. Almost every day he had a new toy for Adam. Mac felt like he should object, that Adam would get spoiled, but he couldn't make himself. He looked forward to those gifts as much as Adam did, and he relished the joy the immortal child displayed with each little gift. Adam's squeals of delight warmed Mac from the inside out, as did the grateful hugs he bestowed on 'Uncle Joe'.

         The totally uninhibited affection Adam lavished on them made Mac humble. Adam felt no shame in cuddling, hugging or kissing. To the contrary, he reveled in it, seeking out physical contact almost constantly. Mac loved it that  Adam was not the least bit embarrassed to demand his morning kisses and tickles. But it also made it a little difficult to get things done around the loft, chores not so easy with a six-foot immortal held on your hip.

         It also made the more adult forms of inevitable arousal difficult to handle, as Mac had found that morning. Like most males, Adam often woke with a morning erection. So far, leading him to the bathroom to relieve himself did the  trick. But a few times, he rubbed at himself irritably and was agitated until finally the erection had eased. It was difficult for Mac to know what to do about the occasional occurrence and it was made more confusing to deal with by Adam's lack of shame at displaying his distress to Mac. Sometimes he'd look at Mac with a pleading in his eyes, as if  he was begging Mac to take away an ordinary pain. And in fact, he referred to the condition as an 'owie' the same as other minor bumps and scrapes that causes temporary distress.

         They'd had anther morning erection incident just that morning, and both immortals were still cross over the incident when Joe pulled up the gate of the elevator. "Morning Joe, help yourself to some coffee. I just need to turn on the washer for this load of sheets," Mac called out.

         Joe looked around the loft for Adam. Usually he came running out to see what his present was. "Adam? Uncle Joe has something for you. You wanna see what it is?"

         Joe spotted a dark head slowly peeking out from the far side of the bed. Adam had his thumb in his mouth and his eyes looked puffy from having been crying. "What's the matter, Adam? Can Uncle Joe make it better?"

         "Be careful what you offer the boy, Joe, it might not be what you have in mind," Mac snorted as he went for his cup of coffee.

         Upon hearing Mac's sarcastic tone, Adam's eyes welled up again and he dove behind the bed again.

         "What the hell did you do to him?" Joe accused.

         "It's not what you think. I haven't done anything, and that's the problem."

         "What are you talking about?" Joe was losing patience.

         "There's one particular problem I haven't found a solution to," Mac began. Seeing Joe would not help him with the usual prompting, he went on. "He wakes up with a morning erection that doesn't always go away after he urinates.  He climbed back into bed this morning and he was still sporting a bit of a hard-on. I know he didn’t mean anything by it, but when he cuddled back up with me, he kind of …"

         "Kinda what? Looked for a way to relieve the, umm, pressure?"

         "Yeah. It was just an innocent rubbing, but it was against my leg and I was still half asleep, hell, even he was almost back to sleep. But it kinda freaked me out. I told him good boys didn't do that and he's been a little upset with me since the whole thing."

         "Mac? What the hell is wrong with you?" Joe felt like slapping him.

         "What? What am I supposed to do? Mentally, he's a child," Mac insisted. "When I realized Adam needed an outlet to express his feelings, that's not what I had in mind. Children don't express themselves sexually, and I won't  subject his innocence to that kind of corruption."

         "You dufus! He may be a child emotionally, but he's a grown man physically. And with the hormones of a twenty something year old. Boys that age get a hard-on every time the wind blows. And let me remind you, in case you've  forgotten, and you apparently have, that leaving a hard-on completely unattended can be excruciating. You try it for awhile, why don't you!."

         "Joe, I just don't know what else to do."

         "Uh-uh. No, Mac. Letting him suffer because you don't know how to handle it, is not the way to handle it. At least just show him how to take care of that little dilemma himself. His mind wouldn't be showing him how to do that for another few years, even though physically he needs that now. He doesn't have any shame in his problem, Mac. Why should you?." Joe ended his lecture and turned to see Adam had crawled part of the way back from behind the bed. He was glaring at him with his bottom lip stuck out in a defiant pout.

         "Bad Joe! Bad!" he admonished, obviously upset that Joe appeared to be scolding Mac.

         "No, Adam. Joe isn't being bad. I just needed him to explain some things to me. It's alright now, sweetheart." Mac told him softly.

         He seemed unconvinced, but he also noticed the brightly wrapped present on the table, and he was visibly torn.

         Mac and Joe looked at each other and grinned at the capitulation warring within the child against his determination. The inevitable occurred and he wandered closer to the table, with teddy in a death grip, though he pretended he wasn't looking at the present. The two grown-ups tried not to laugh as Adam sneaked in for the grab and took off bounding for the bed with his booty in his left hand. Ripping into the paper, he got the gift unwrapped. "Legos," he shouted with glee. "Legos, Legos, Legos!."

         "Thanks, Joe." Mac said quietly. He was once again humbled by the simple joys and needs of this child who'd been his best friend. He realized that the only person it was at all complicated for was himself. And for Adam's sake,  he was going to have to get over it.

---

          By nap time that afternoon, Adam had completely forgotten his earlier anger at his guardian and was contentedly snuggled with Duncan on the bed. Duncan had found that if laid down with the affectionate immortal, he went to sleep much sooner. This afternoon, instead of quietly slipping away once Adam was asleep, Duncan stayed where he was and let himself luxuriate in the simple joy of having the slender body cuddled to his in utter comfort.

         Duncan relished the sensations and was motionless against the sleeping figure until Adam began to stir. Then Duncan couldn't help the soothing, lazy caresses against the bare back as Adam sighed his way into wakefulness.

         It was then that Duncan noticed Adam's hand snake around to rub at his sweats-clad groin. As Adam became more alert, he grew more agitated at the growing hardness that he couldn't relieve. And Duncan knew that it was time  he showed Adam how to take care of that particular glitch of physical adulthood that the child inside him didn't comprehend.

         Duncan planted a soft kiss on Adam's forehead and told him to wait there, that he'd be back to show him how to make it better. Coming back to the bed with a washcloth, Duncan took a deep breath before he began.

         Duncan sat on the bed and leaned back against the pillows laying under the tapestry. He pulled Adam to sit beside him and back as well.

         "Okay, Adam, I know it feels strange. What's happening to you happens to all big boys. I'll show you what to do. First let's get these sweatpants off, okay?" Duncan tried to remember that he was not doing anything wrong. That  Adam was physically an adult and he needed release. The priority of Adam's comforts kept Duncan on track as he slid the soft cotton off the long legs in what would in other circumstances be a sensual, erotic gesture.

         Adam was freed of the sweats and sat back again, leaning a bit against Duncan as well. The Highlander took yet another deep, cleansing breath, took Adam's hand, and brought to his erection. Duncan molded his hand over Adam's  and began a slow rhythm of firm stroking as Adam's legs slacked further open.

         A sharp intake of breath brought Duncan's gaze to Adam's face. The hazel eyes were wide and glazed, his expression one of wonder. Duncan couldn't help but smile when Adam's breath quickened as he held Duncan's eyes.

         Adam's cheeks flushed and little mewing sounds escaped his lips as he settled closer to Duncan, letting his trusted guardian guide the sensual stroking that brought him such bliss. And then those expressive eyes closed as he  let the sensations take him away.

         Duncan decided this would be a good time to remove his hand and teach Adam to set his own rhythm. He didn't want to confuse him by being the one to bring him release; Adam should do that for himself.

         As Duncan drew his hand away, Adam's eyes snapped open in panic, though his own grip on his leaking shaft didn't falter. With his free hand, Adam clutched at the sleeve of Duncan's shirt.

         Duncan didn't put his hand back to Adam's erection, but he sank back into the pillows and let Adam lean against his shoulder, one slender hand still clutching his shirt.

         The tenderness Duncan felt threatened to consume him as he watched the trim immortal pleasure himself unabashedly, with no shame whatsoever. Duncan softly stroked Adam’s soft dark hair when Adam’s eyes lifted again to capture Duncan’s gaze.

         And then Adam’s eyes grew even larger, his expression an amalgam of panic, passion and pleasure. The blessed, much longed for release followed, Adam crying out softly, "aaahhh." Breathing in ragged gasps, he tore his gaze from  Duncan’s to see the last of his pearly fluid splashing on his quivering belly. He glanced back up at Duncan, searching his face questioningly and whispered, "is wet."

         Duncan smiled and swallowed the lump in his throat to reply gently, "I know sweetheart. I’ll explain that to you. And some other things you need to know."

         And Adam watched, intrigued but groggy, as Duncan began to clean the strange fluid from his skin, explaining all the while some of the wonders of being a big boy.

          Two days later, Adam was pouting because Joe had forgotten his latest present. Mac made it up to him with a glorious round of tickles that left the immortal child breathless and ecstatic. Mac laid loud, smacking kisses all over the smooth, pale face as Adam caught his breath and giggled happily. "I love you, Adam," Mac crooned.

         "Wuv you, Duckin," Adam returned immediately as his giggles began anew.

         When Duncan let him up finally, Adam leapt from the bed and ran in circles. He stopped, got a wicked grin on his face, said "uh-oh" and skipped off to the bathroom singing "Private, Private, Private."

         Mac burst out laughing, leaving Joe looking puzzled. "You wanna let me in on the secret?"

         "Adam is, uh… Engaging in what I explained big boys only do in private. And don't give me that look, you're the one who told me I needed to do something about his not so little problem," Mac laughed.

         "You mean, he's going in there to masturbate?"

         "You're the one who reminded me that ‘boys’ his physical age get erections whenever the wind blows. It was awkward as hell, but I showed him how to take care of it and explained that big boys do that in private. Well, let's just say that he learned that little lesson rather quickly and is getting lots of practice." Mac was still grinning.

         Joe shook his head, chuckling. "Never a dull moment."

         "Heaven forbid," Mac replied with a pensive smile.

         "What's up?" Joe noticed the shift in the Highlander's mood.

         "I'm thinking I may take him back to Markam's to see if it sparks a memory. I'd hate for it to be a traumatic memory, but he's not progressing quickly enough to make me comfortable, Joe. He's making more headway than  normal children his mental age, but not nearly quickly enough to indicate immortal healing will keep it up. If I can't spark a memory to get his healing more in gear, I may have to take him to holy ground soon."

         "So soon? Is he getting restless to get out of here?" Joe asked.

         "Yeah. I took him on the roof to get to some fresh air and he could see the world out there, Joe. It broke my heart to have to bring him back in here. He has such a natural curiosity about what goes on out there, about people,  about life. I can't keep him cooped up in here much longer."

         "Any idea where you'd take him?"

         "The island. My cabin. It's the best place I can think of so far."

         "Just be careful taking him to the market, okay. Keep a damn close eye out for unwanted company, if you get my drift."

         "Absolutely," Mac agreed with a steely determination borne out of his fierce protective instinct toward Adam.

---

          Mac hesitantly unbuckled Adam's seat belt in the T-bird. He was growing less sure that this was such a good idea. But Adam was so excited to be out in the world. He'd chattered on and on all morning about going shopping. He wanted to pick out his own candy and see all the cars and a fire truck. He'd seen a fire engine from the roof and the sirens had had him beeping and honking around the loft for the next two days. So Mac had no choice but to let him glimpse the world. And if he was going to risk brining him out in public, he may as well take the risk of the memories  of the shooting at the same time.

         "Adam, we need to leave teddy in the car," Duncan informed him gently.

         "Noooooo! Teddy has to come! Teddy go shopping too!" Adam informed Mac none too gently.

         Mac thought he'd feel embarrassed walking through the market holding a grown man's hand, with that other grown man clutching his teddy bear to his chest. But Mac felt anything but embarrassed. He felt like… a devoted father, taking his son on an adventure sure to make the child smile. And like most fathers, Duncan would do just about anything to see his child smile.

         Mrs. Markam helped Mac by picking out some produce while Mac let Adam lead him all over the store. As they neared the register, Adam's eyes got wide and he let out a joyous "Candyyyyyy!" Letting go of Mac's hand, he seized  the jar of Blow-Pops from the counter and sat on the floor in front of the register. His hands were filled with the suckers in seconds.

         "Adam! Please, don't be greedy, you can't have all those," Mac tried to admonish gently but firmly.

         "Candy…," Adam tried to explain logically, not understanding how Duckin could not want them to have all those luscious suckers.

         "Adam. You have to put some back. You can take three." Mac bargained.

         "One," Adam counted carefully and took two. "Two" he pocketed two more. "Three!" he pocketed a handful more and looked at Duncan with his most innocent grin. Mac tried very hard not to laugh, but Mrs. Markam was watching the whole scene and was ready to split a seam giggling.

         "Adam," Duncan tried to get serious.

         "Wuv you, Duckin," Adam told him with a sly smile.

         "That won't work," Duncan tried not to lie.

         "I wuv you, Duckin," Adam tried again, his grin getting more wicked.

         "Ach. You little devil. Okay fine! But no more," Duncan had to add the last to save his dignity.

         "Oh, no." Mrs. Markam interjected with a hearty chuckle. "That child is an angel, I tell you! Just as he was the day of the… well. I’m just so sorry that had to happen to him." She looked at Adam, sucking happily on a cherry Blow Pop, and gave a wistful smile.

         "Thank you, Mrs. Markam. He's been… a blessing to me, you could say." Duncan suddenly felt the need to get Adam home where he could just rock him and hold him. "Ready to go home?" Duncan asked, crouching down beside the slurping Adam.

         "Home!" He managed to answer around the big ball of cherry sucker.

         Walking to the car, Duncan looked at Adam over his armload of paper bags when he thought he heard a soft 'owie' sound. Suddenly, Adam stopped and one hand flew to his head. "Owie Owie Owie," he chanted.

         "Adam? Does it hurt?" Duncan asked, frightfully concerned.

         Adam started walking in circles. The images wouldn't go away. Mad faces teased at him, made fun of him, scared him. Duckin was there, trying to make them leave him alone but they wouldn't listen to him. There was another other  mean boy and he was walking toward them. He had a gun and was pointing it at Duckin. No! Leave him alone! The gun went off with a loud bang. Duckin was hurt! They hit him in the head! That means he won't wake up! He'll leave me alone. I'm alone!

         The whimpering ended with a shriek of terror and Adam flailed aimlessly, knocking Mac into the T-bird and sending the groceries flying. Then Adam was gone, around the corner at top speed. Mac took off after him after he got to his feet. Damn! He couldn't tell which alley he'd gone into.

         Adam rounded a corner a finally came to halt. The noise in his head made him cry out, albeit meekly because his throat hurt.

         "Well, well. What have we here?" The voice was as grimy as the person who owned it. "Must be some kinda 'tard, Cyrus. Look at him, holding his teddy."

         "My teddy," Adam spat defiantly.

         "Oooh, yours, huh? You gonna fight me for it?" the second man taunted, making a grab for teddy.

         "No! Mine!" Adam cried and tried to twist away when the second man got a hold of both Adam and the bear.

         "Aric, give the little moron his bear back," Cyrus chided.

         "No Moron! Adam good," he whimpered, gathering his bear back to his chest. "S'okay, teddy."

         "I didn't say to let the boy go, though," Cyrus added with a leer and Aric grabbed Adam by the arm.

         "No! Bad men! Duckin! Duckin," he panicked and cried out.

         "Naw, we ain't bad! We're good! Real good! You'll like us," Aric grated out, and squeezed Adam's denim clad buttocks.

         "No! No! No! DUCKIN," Adam screamed.

         Aric grabbed the teddy, and gave Adam a look of pure malevolence. Suddenly grinning, Aric gave a vicious rip and pulled the bear's head off, stuffing flying in front of Adam's horrified eyes. The bear was flung to the ground as the presence of an immortal made itself known. Aric and Cyrus dashed into the back door of the Chinese take-out joint just as Mac rounded the corner.

         Adam sunk to the ground and gathered the tattered remains of his stuffed friend. The tears built as he fought for breath. When he finally had enough air in lungs, the crying began in earnest. Duncan pulled him to his feet then gathered him in his arms.

         "Wanna" sniff "go home," Adam choked.

         "I know, sweetheart. I'm taking you home now," Mac told him, fighting his own tears as he cradled the slender, shaking body to his chest.

---

          Adam slept like a rock that afternoon while Mac sewed the teddy back together. Dawson sat on a stool at the kitchen island and listened as Mac went over the events involving the immortals who’d scared Adam. Mac told Joe  that in the morning he was taking Adam to the cabin. It was just too risky to keep him in town. At the cabin he could take Adam fishing and swimming, and Mac could do some serious thinking about their future. Most of all, he confided, he could just let Adam be the little boy he deserved to be.

         When Adam awoke, he sat up, looking bleary eyed. "Duckin?" he blurted, panicked for a moment when he didn’t see Mac at the kitchen island.

         "I’m here, sweetheart," Mac answered soothingly.

         Adam climbed off of the bed and padded to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes on the way with his fists. He found his favorite spot under the kitchen island and asked for apple juice. Handing him the cup, Mac stooped to gently stroke  the ruffled hair.

         "Duckin?" he whispered.

         "What is it?"

         "Bad men hurt you," he stated solemnly.

         "The bad men hurt you? What did they do? Can you tell me?" Mac tried to be calm.

         "No no no..." he was getting frustrated. "Bad men hurt Duckin. Bad men wif guns" he said, his lips quivering now.

         "Oh, no. Adam. The men with the guns didn’t hurt me. That was a bad dream. Aw, Adam. Come out from under there and let me hold you," he reached for the trembling immortal who’d never seemed as much a child as in that moment.

         "Hold you," Adam answered so softly Joe and Duncan almost missed it. He allowed Mac to pull him up, and Mac lifted him easily into his arms. He took him to the couch and settled him into his lap. Adam’s head nestled under  Mac’s chin, his favorite cuddling position.

         Looking at Joe, who seemed a bit baffled by the exchange, Mac explained softly "Adam still confuses the use of the words ‘you’ and ‘me’ sometimes. It’s often difficult to know who he’s talking about, myself or himself." Mac  gently rocked as Adam settled down. "I think he’s been having memory flashes of the shooter, except he’s confusing who got shot. Today, when he freaked, he must have envisioned that it was me who was hit instead of himself."

         "Bad men hurt you," Adam repeated, almost to himself and very softly.

         "It’s okay now, Adam. I won’t let anything else bad happen. I love you very much," he crooned and tenderly kissed his forehead.

         "Duh wuv ‘atween.... Duh love ‘atween..." Adam tried to speak, but was increasingly agitated.

         "Oh, shit, Mac..." Joe stammered.

         "It’s okay Adam. Slow down, and try again," Mac soothed.

         "Duh love ‘atween two..." Adam stopped and grabbed his head, sinking further into Mac’s lap, and began to cry.

         "Sshh. It’s okay. You can try later. It’s alright, sweetheart."

         Joe came to the couch, looking as awestruck as he’d ever been. He took out his wallet and handed a tattered slip of paper to Mac. "I found this in his jeans pocket that first day. I forgot to tell you, and I didn’t know what it was..." he trailed off as Mac began to read aloud.

         "The love between two souls knows neither gender nor shame. It is pure, complete, and always and ever, inevitable."

         "Duh love ‘atween two souls...," Adam whispered as he nestled closer to Duncan, sighing his relief at hearing the blessed words.

         Mac held on a little tighter, Adam nuzzled in contentment, and Joe smiled in wonder at the truth of those simple yet powerful words.

---

          The drive to the boathouse was Adam's greatest adventure yet. Mac put the top down on T-bird and Adam constantly had his head out the window or stood as high as the seatbelt would allow so he could feel the wind on his face. At one point Mac warned him he could accidentally swallow a bug that way. Adam laughed hysterically, but for the rest of the way he kept one hand over his mouth when his face was in the wind.

         Mac had to keep an eye on him on the way over in the boat, as he also had a tendency to hang over the side to look into the water. Adam's curiosity and enthusiasm for the world and its wonders made Mac feel young again  himself. He smiled broadly when they got the boat tied to the dock and Adam jumped out to scamper along the dock. He didn't argue when Mac asked him to help carry their things to the cabin. He just grabbed armloads of gear and ran them to the porch so he could get finished and go play.

         When Mac called out to him to stay in front of the cabin where he could see him, Mac never felt more like a parent. He loved it. In between trips from the porch to the inside of the cabin, he watched Adam explore his little corner of the island. Just as Mac finished putting away the food, Adam came running in mostly out of breath, and with a healthy flush to his cheeks.

         "Wanna go swimming!" he announced, bouncing up and down.

         "Just give me a minute to put some trunks on, okay? You wait for me, Adam," Mac instructed as the excited immortal dashed back outside. He had no idea if Adam would be able to swim. He was getting his coordination back, gradually, but Mac had no idea if activities such as swimming would have to be relearned. It would be a good test for getting Adam into sword work. Mac knew he'd have to get him near a sword eventually, but he just wished he could  put it off a little longer. He couldn't, of course. It wasn't fair to Adam's survival to hold back on the one activity that could save his life should an immortal find Adam when Mac wasn't there.

         Mac came out of the cabin a few minutes later and thought his heart would swell, it was so full of love. Adam hadn't bothered with trunks, he'd stripped off every stitch of clothing. He was running in circles as a bright blue  butterfly swooped down again and again, as if to tease the carefree boy. Adam laughed and jumped, not really trying to catch his winged playmate, just urging it onward. They were two beautiful creatures of nature, reveling in the gift of innocent pleasures.

         Seeing Mac approach, the butterfly flew off. Adam wasn't upset. He just waved and called out "Bye-Bye butterfly" and grabbed Mac's hand to drag him in the water. Teddy sat safely on shore, perched on the woodpile where he could watch the two splashing immortals.

         Duncan discovered that Adam swam like a fish, or a six foot tadpole, rather, swirling at his feet in the cool, clean lake. Each time he came up for breath he made Duncan scoop him up in his arms and throw him back into the water so he could make lots of splashes and ripples. At last Adam grew tired but Duncan had to practically drag him out of the water.

         Bringing a big towel to the yawning immortal child, Duncan noticed Adam was contemplating his penis again. He looked at Mac with grave concern in his eyes and said "Small now!"

         Mac chuckled and explained "Because the water was chilly, Adam. It'll get back to normal soon. Trust me. Now let's get you dried off so we can have some lunch and a nap. Okay?"

         "'Kay," he agreed, though still concerned about his second favorite toy. He didn't forget his first favorite, teddy, who was quickly snatched from the woodpile as they went inside.

         "I'm going to take a quick shower, Adam, then I'll make lunch. Be good for me and color until I'm done, alright?" Duncan asked as Adam nodded and settled on the rug in front of the couch with his Lion King coloring book and  monster tin of crayons, all courtesy of Uncle Joe, of course. Mac decided he'd get Adam dressed when he was out of the shower. The boy wasn't cold and didn't feel at all modest about being naked. He actually liked being naked, and avoided clothes whenever Mac would let him.

         Adam turned the page for a new picture as Mac settled under the spray of the shower, having left the bathroom door open a crack to listen in case Adam needed him. Adam had a big decision to make. What would be the best color  for Simba? This one looked more like the pancakes Duckin made him that morning. That one looked more like juice he'd had with his pancakes. Should Simba look like pancakes or juice? Better ask Duckin, he decided. He took his two crayons and marched into the bathroom.

         Holding both crayons in one hand, Adam drew back the shower curtain and asked seriously "Duckin? What color?"

         Mac turned and looked and saw how thoughtful Adam's face was. Little perfectionist, he thought proudly. Suddenly, Adam's gaze dropped and he said with regret "Big boy owie, Duckin. I help." And Adam reached a soothing hand toward the erection Mac hadn't really noticed he was getting.

         His first instinct was to swat Adam's hand away and tell him that was bad. But he saw the innocence in the gesture, that Adam's instinct was to take away an owie Duncan had. Just as Methos had almost instinctively known  how to take away Duncan’s hurts. He let Adam give him a few gentle strokes and then he tenderly put his hand over Adam's, stopping his movement. "Thank you Adam, I feel better now," he told him softly and kissed his forehead.

         Adam smiled and held up the hand that gripped the crayons. "Duckin better now, so what color?"

         Mac choked back a laugh. "Is that for Simba or Nala?," he asked, trying to be serious.

         "Simba!" He answered excitedly.

         "How about trying that one then?"

         "'Kay." And he was bounding back to the living area.

         Mac's chuckles turned to sobs and he sank to the floor of the tub. The more he fell head over heals for that boy, the more he dreaded that he'd lose him. Either to a head hunter or to maturity. He missed Methos desperately, but  he was also growing almost painfully attached to Adam the child. Both Adam and Methos loved him unconditionally, he was certain, and it was one hundred percent mutual. Which made heartbreak unavoidable because he would lose one of them one day. Either he would lose Adam to Methos, or he would learn that Methos was already permanently lost to Adam. Either way, the ache in his chest hurt like nothing he'd experienced before.

         It was during that shower that Mac realized he'd have to start sword training as soon as possible. Losing Adam and Methos to the Game was one option he had the power to help stack the odds against. He would not let his child  go through life unable to protect himself.

---

          Adam's self-defense skills improved much more rapidly over the next weeks than did his communication skills. Probably due to the physical abilities he'd retained despite the injury to his head. Mac soon realized that Adam would be able to wield his sword well enough before long, but that he'd lack the understanding of when and how forcefully to use it. He was afraid of what would happen if someone came at him in earnest. Adam was so sensitive about people being angry with him, Mac was afraid that he'd get so upset that instead of fighting he'd break down and cry, letting his opponent take advantage. Adam understood the mechanics of the fight, but did he really understand what it meant to fight for your life?

         Mac had to test that. He wasn't sure how, but he needed to get the lesson across to Adam that if a stranger challenges him, he can't give up - no matter what.

         Lessons that afternoon had been particularly strenuous. Mac wanted to build Adam's stamina for fighting as much as possible, and also his attention span. Being a child mentally, he got bored with one game easily, and to keep Adam  interested in fighting, Mac had to mix up a lot of techniques and styles in one lesson.

         Interestingly, that turned out to give Adam quite an advantage. Mac realized, a little too late that day, that that particular style, of mixing styles, must have been like an instinct to Methos. Mac found himself suddenly impaled by the spare katana he'd brought for Adam. He dropped to the ground, stunned, with a thud.

         Adam stood over him, horrified, as Mac tried to explain that he'd wake up. He wasn't sure Adam could hear him though, he'd begun to cry. Adam sunk to the ground beside Mac, cradling his face with trembling fingers "I sorry, I sorry. Don't go sleep, Duckin, I sorry." And then Mac sank into blackness.

         Adam lifted Duncan's arm and watched it fall, lifeless, back to his chest. "Wake up… wake up… I promise be good… wake up, Duckin…," Adam whimpered, barely able to catch enough breath to speak. At a total loss, Adam lifted Duncan's arm again, but this time wrapped it over his own shoulders as he snuggled next to the Highlander's rapidly cooling corpse. "Hold you?" Adam pleaded in a halted whisper to his dead guardian.

---

          The Highlander returned with a great gulp of air, coughing a bit of the blood that remained in his lungs. Adam jolted awake at the wet, grating cough. His eyes grew wide and began to well up again, though they were still red, the tender tissue around then still swollen. "I sorry," he whispered again, barely audible.

         "It's not your fault, sweetheart. And I'm okay," Mac assured as he drew the distressed boy into his lap.

         "Adam bad," he choked.

         "No, you're not. Adam, you're a good boy, remember that! You didn't do anything wrong," Mac drew his face up from where the child had been staring at his hands in his lap. He looked into the hazel eyes and smiled all the  comforting he could muster into them "You are a good boy, and I love you no matter what. I love you so very much, and I want you to understand that." He then kissed each puffy eyelid tenderly before bathing the pale, tear stained face with even more soft kisses. He then pulled the dark head closer, to tuck under his chin. As he rocked the slim body, the whimpering and shaking subsided. "Let's go have a bubble bath, whatta ya say?" he asked him softly after several moments.

         With one last, large sniff, Adam nodded yes and they stood. Adam held Duncan's hand all the way to the bathroom though, not willing just yet to let go of his lifeline.

         Gradually Adam relaxed and after nearly an hour in the big bath together, he was finally splashing and playing in the bubbles. It broke Duncan's heart, though, that the brightness hadn't come back into his eyes yet. There was still something about the depths of his gaze that looked wounded. Duncan swore at that point that he'd sell his soul to be able to banish the hurt that still lurked in that innocent, beloved face.

         That night when Adam was settled into bed, Duncan told him a story about special people who couldn't be hurt for good unless a gruesome thing happened. Adam took the whole thing surprisingly well, though he snuggled even closer to Duncan than usual as he drifted to sleep.

---

          The next morning Mac woke to see a gloriously naked Adam bouncing around in front of the bed insisting they go swimming. Mac chuckled and remembered all those wise folk who'd told him that children were resilient. So in  this, as in so many other things, Adam was the typical child.

         Mac rested on shore on a blanket, absorbing the warm rays of sun, while Adam played and splashed in the water. Mac had put trunks on, but just wanted to lie back and watch the boy who'd been the man he loved. It was only in times like these, when he was physically removed from Adam's body, that he allowed himself to admire his sleek beauty. It felt wrong, dirty, to allow himself to harbor such thoughts with Adam in close proximity. He may have a man's body, but he doesn't have a grown man's ability to make his own choices about giving it to another.

         Thus Mac found that in quiet, contemplative times as these, he could dream about what it would have been like to make love with Methos, to feel those firm muscles writhing against him… To cup those milky white buttocks with his  palms and kiss that tender mouth breathless. To take the proud erection in his hands and stroke him to glorious completion…

         Adam swam to the east side of the shore, and climbed onto the large rocks that served as jetty to their own private lagoon. Stretching out on the largest one, he moved to lie back and absorb the sun himself. He was close  enough to Mac for him to be able to see the gentle rise and fall of the lean chest as he breathed in and out. Yet he was far enough that Adam forgot there was anyone around at all. With Adam's elegant fingers splayed on his breast, Mac thought he heard a contented sigh. Then the hand made a lazy migration to the gentle ripples of his abdomen. And as Mac suspected, the hand only lingered before moving on to the hardened length of flesh that jutted from its nest of damp, dark curls.

         Mac felt the unconscious display was naturally, and wantonly sensual. His own hand had wandered to discover the firm erection of his own. His whole being was filled with a craving he couldn't name, but knew to be powerful.  Absently, he rubbed his own hard shaft through the fabric of his trunks while he watched Adam's unabashed self-pleasuring. When Adam's hips lifted from the rock, twisting a little as his orgasm took him, Mac felt his own loins spasm.

         He snapped out of his reverie feeling guilty, and very sticky. His only consolation was that he hadn't done that in Adam's presence, and that it wasn't Adam the child that he craved sexually, but Methos, his friend and very nearly, his lover.

         Mac swam over to the rocks where Adam was dozing lightly. He needed a little more distance, but didn’t want to go off without telling Adam where he’d be. Pulling himself up and out of the water just to his waist, he leaned over the  slender, dozing body. "Adam? Wake up a minute, sweetheart," he crooned.

         Adam sat up and focused sleepy eyes on Mac.

         "I need to go inside and take a shower. I’ll be back out in just a couple minutes, okay?"

         "’kay," he answered drowsily and laid back down.

         With his soiled trunks shoved in the hamper, Mac let the warm shower spray soothe him. His mind played over the scene that had had him so aroused moments before. He wanted Methos back so desperately, he wanted to cover the  beloved face with kisses that were as erotic as his kisses to Adam were chaste. But to have Methos back would mean losing Adam. To have Methos naked before him and beckoning him to make love to him, would mean losing the boy who liked to frolic naked with no concept of carnal hunger.

         Mac knew he had to accept whichever the fates decided he could have, and he knew he’d love that extraordinary person with all of his heart, but it didn’t lessen the sense of loss he felt pending. The best he could do in the  meantime would be to remember that Adam was not Methos, and that it would be dangerous to allow Adam to become an object of lust. Adam looked to him for safety, assurance and love, but not carnal love. He needed to be kissed and hugged and loved as much as any other child, and Mac resolved to give him that without letting his own libido taint the purity and innocence of that affection.

         Feeling better about his resolve, Mac turned off the taps and dressed in a pair of jeans and t-shirt to go out and check on Adam. Arriving on shore, he looked to the jetty where Adam had been dozing. Not there. He glanced around the little lagoon to see if he’d gone back in the water. He didn’t see him. "Adam?" Mac began to worry. He ran from one end of the shore to the other, looking for the boy. His eyes were drawn out further out on the lake.

         The glint of a reflection caught his eyes. Shading his brow, Mac narrowed his eyes. There was a boat, far off toward the mainland. Oh, Christ. Someone’s taken him. The craft was too far away to make out who was in it, but it  looked like three figures.

         In seconds Mac was in the punt, with his sword, rowing as fast as he could.

---

          Mac found their boat tied to the underside of the bridge near shore. He couldn’t feel presence, but their tracks were fresh and he knew he wasn’t far behind. He followed their trail back into the woods and soon slowed his pace. He was familiar with this terrain and knew there was a small clearing ahead. That was probably where they’d taken him.

         He cut a path around to the other side of the clearing and soon he could hear voices, though he was just outside of sensing range. He wandered a little closer, hoping to get a glimpse of them before they sensed him. He didn’t get his wish.

         He heard shouts coming from the clearing, "We know you’re there, MacLeod. Get you ass over here, or the little moron is gonna be a dead moron!"

         Resigned for the moment, Mac stepped into the clearing katana raised. "Which one of you is first. I’d like to get this over with," he grated with as little emotion as he could.

         "Neither of us is first, MacLeod. You’re gonna put that sword down or we kill the ‘tard. Got that?" Cyrus instructed with a sneer.

         "How do I know you’ll let him live if I do this?" Mac asked.

         "We ain’t got no use for him. It’s you we want. You’re the one with the power. You lay down your sword and the boy lives," Cyrus bargained.

         Mac glanced at Adam, who was held by the hair by Aric. His hazel eyes were wide with fright and tears ran freely down his face. He was still naked, having been taken right from the rocks of the jetty where he’d been taking his nap. Mac knew in that moment that he would make the same offer to these bastards that he’d made to O’Rourke all those months ago. And not because he doubted the good he brought to his loved ones. But because he knew and cherished the good that Methos had brought to him. And it was time to lay his life on the line the way his friend had done for  him, time and again.

         God, but he’d miss them both, Adam and Methos. The two people in the world who loved him without question for better and for worse. He prayed that Joe would find a way to get to Adam and find someone to care for him. He  deserved to live. He deserved the life and childhood that he’d failed to give him despite his promises.

         His sword went flying onto the grass and he locked eyes with the confused immortal child he loved more than life. He tried to send comfort and love to the wide, tear filled eyes. Please know that I love you, Mac tried to say without words.

         Cyrus immediately grabbed the Highlander and began to secure his hands. "Imagine our surprise when we ran into the ‘tard, here, and he started crying for ‘Duckin’. I thought, nah, couldn’t be you, but lo and fuckin’ behold. Told  ya Aric, we hung around Seacouver long enough, we’d find the Clan Man hisself," Cyrus gloated.

         "You said Adam would live, now let him go!" Mac seethed.

         "Yeah, well, we’ll let him go… eventually. We plan to have some fun first, don’t we Aric!" the grimy immortal snarled.

         "Bet his sweet ass, we do," Aric concurred as Mac was shoved against a tree.

         His hands tied behind his back, Mac could only fight the bonds uselessly and rage at the scene as it unfolded before him. Aric and Cyrus pushed Adam between them, taunting him with what they planned to do to him and  'Duckin'. Tears slid down Adam's cheeks as he repeatedly sought Mac's gaze, crying out "I sorry, Duckin, I sorry."

         Then Cyrus turned his lascivious grin to Mac, drawling "You think we didn't see what you two were up to this morning? Whacking off like that? We know what you really want. You wanna fuck this boy, don't you? Well, tell you  what. We're gonna let you have a little taste of what it would be like to sink your dick into this sweet piece of ass."

         Aric protested vehemently "What the fuck? Where's the fun in that? I thought we was gonna fuck him!"

         "We are, you numbskull! We're just gonna do it so the Highlander here knows what it might be like," Cyrus answered with a leer that showed the yellow of his teeth.

         Grabbing Adam by the hair, he shoved him into Mac, so that the lean chest was plastered to Mac's broader one. Mac heard one more quiet "I sorry," before Adam began to whimper softly. Mac tried to soothe him as best he could,  "Shh, it's going to be fine. Soon it'll be over. Soon, sweetheart. I love you, Adam."

         "Get that cooking oil, Aric," Cyrus ordered and began to ran his hands over Adam's back and over the curve of his ass. Adam shivered and his arms tightened around Mac's back.

         Adam rested his head on Mac's shoulder, giving Mac closer access to Adam's ear, where he continued his soft, gentling words, "Shh. Almost over. Just pretend it's a scary story and that it's not real. Okay, sweetheart? It's not  real."

         Adam quieted, but shivers wracked the lean frame as Cyrus came closer behind Adam with the plastic jug of cooking oil. "Oooh, you'll like this, little boy." Adam ignored him and just clung to Mac.

         Cyrus must have achieved penetration with his fingers, Mac realized, When he felt Adam stiffen and move against him. "Shh. Hang on, Adam. I love you and I'll make it better, I promise," Mac murmured though he was enraged,  especially knowing he may not be able to keep that promise.

         Adam hadn't said a word in long minutes and Mac wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Suddenly, he felt Adam's fingers wander over the bonds at his bloody wrists. "Owie?" Adam asked tentatively, breaking Mac's heart that he  was concerned for Mac as much as himself.

         "Yes, sweetheart, it's a little owie. But I'll be okay" Mac answered, his voice cracking in his whisper. Then he felt Adam's fingers working at the knot. He was a little clumsy at it, given his state of slight disorientation, but he seemed to be concentrating on that rather than Cyrus' none too gentle preparation for full penetration.

         Then Mac felt the rope loosen and he knew he was free. Now to get Adam to fight. Mac could see his katana about ten feet to his right. Aric's sword lay a few feet to his left. Quickly he made his mental preparations.

         "Adam? Are you listening to me?" He felt a short nod at his shoulder. "Remember about the bad people we have to do icky things to if they try to hurt us?" Again he felt the nod. "We have to do that this time, sweetheart. I want  you to do exactly what I tell you. Can you do that for me?"

         "’kay," he answered as they heard Cyrus unzipped his jeans and leer "almost time, boy."

         "Adam? When I push you away, I want you to pick up my sword and fight Cyrus. Can you see my sword, sweetheart?" Again he felt a nod and saw Adam’s gaze move unerringly to the katana. "Fight very hard, even if you're scared. You have to kill him for good, the way to kill special people. Do you understand?"

         "Yes," he whimpered as he was suddenly shoved into Mac as Cyrus moved against Adam’s back, getting ready to mount him.

         "Good boy. Here we go, Adam, be ready," he told him quietly but firmly.

         With a giant shove, Mac pushed forward, knocking Cyrus from Adam. He held on to Adam though as Cyrus tumbled backwards, then shoved Adam towards the katana. Aric lunged for his own sword, but Mac rolled and beat him to it.

         Sparing a glance at Adam, he saw fury in the young face and knew Adam would fight. "Now, Adam. Kill him," he instructed.

         "You can't do this," Cyrus roared as he took a weaponless defensive stance, "it's against the rules!"

         "Oh, don't throw the rules at us now. The rules weren't important to you when you kidnapped Adam and tried to rape him. You were planning to take both our heads without a fair fight. You asked for this. Adam! Attack now!" he barked out.

         As he saw Adam begin to strike minor blows and circle the bigger man, Mac began to circle Aric, who had spotted Cyrus' sword near the fire. "Pick it up, asshole," Mac allowed. It was his last allowance. He had Aric  disarmed in seconds and Aric's sword was at his own throat. Mac looked up to see that Adam had Cryus on his knees in the same position. "Adam, you know what to do. Take his head," he said calmly.

         Adam nodded and swung, just as Mac had taught him. Mac swung at the same moment, sending Aric's head in a spinning arc.

         The dark heavy clouds that further blackened the night sky came crashing towards one another to settle over the two standing immortals. Adam’s eyes grew wide as the gray mist of quickening energy swirled around them. Mac staggered over to the bewildered, frightened boy immortal. "This part may be scary. Adam, but it'll be over soon, I promise. Just hang on, sweetheart." Mac had no more time for words.

         Bolts of energy and lightening from the clouds hit them both as thunderous claps nearly drowned the sounds of their screams. The energy levitated them and sent them crashing towards one another. Instinctively, they clasped  their arms together to ride out the storm. Groaning, writhing to the intimate invasion of the souls of the defeated, they clung. In the turmoil of their minds, Mac saw glimpses of a healing energy fervently permeating Adam's mind.

         He was just barely lucid enough to realize this may be the cure for Methos. And the death of Adam. He was joyous and horrified all at once and in turns as the quickenings continued to batter them mid-air. At last the arcs of  lightening faded and they were slowly dropped back to earth. A thought, an emotion really, traveled through the last quickening sparks to MacLeod. "I love you." Was it Adam? Or Methos?

         More coherent thought hit Mac in seconds. They were lying on the ground, Adam plastered to him in a tight embrace. Mac struggled to sit. His pale friend was unconscious. But very much alive. Tears streaked Mac's face as  he lifted the slender body and carried him towards the boathouse and the T-bird parked there.

         Adam didn't wake the whole ride back to the dojo, nor when Mac carried him upstairs. Joe was waiting, having gotten a call from Mac on their way. Duncan got Adam settled in the bed and gently cleaned him, trying to remove  every trace of Cyrus' intended invasion. Then all Mac could do was stand there next to Joe and watch the slim body, resting, seemingly at peace.

         Mac suddenly turned on his heal and strode for the steps. "Stay here in case he wakes up, will you? I have to go back to the island."

         "Mac?" Joe questioned, puzzled by Mac's need to run away.

         "I have to get his teddy. If he's still Adam when he wakes up, he'll want his teddy," Mac answered without turning around then was gone.

         And Joe finally understood. As much as Mac wanted his friend back, it would mean losing his son.

---

          Adam barely stirred while Mac was away, let alone woke up. Joe heard the whir of the elevator just as Adam began to toss a little more. Reaching the loft, the elevator stopped and Mac stepped off, stopping just a few feet from the gate. He stared at the bed, teddy hanging from a shaking hand, as Adam struggled sit up.

         His eyes looked unfocused and he had a drowsy expression on his face. "MacLeod?" he asked tentatively, searching for Mac in the room.

         "Right here," Duncan croaked.

         Methos smiled gently. As his eyes adjusted to the light, his gazed fixed on the tattered teddy. His grin broadened. "He's still mine, you know," he warned with a mischievous twitch of his lips.

         Confused for a second, Mac finally held up the teddy and took a few hesitant steps to the bed, then stopped.

         Joe ruffled Methos' head and told him quietly "I'll leave you two to talk. I'm glad to have you back."

         "Thanks, Joe," he answered solemnly, taking his hand for a moment before Joe headed for the lift.

         Mac slowly resumed his walk to the bed. He risked a quick glance at his friend and saw a gentleness he rarely saw on the old man's face. It was still too much emotion, so once again his gaze dropped. He sat on the edge of the bed. The warm hand that touched his shoulder made the damn finally break and Mac began to sob. Methos then pulled him into his arms and held him tightly, and rocked.

         "Shh, it's okay. We'll be okay," he whispered as he lay a gentle kiss on Duncan's temple.

         After several minutes Mac pulled away slightly, embarrassed for his display. "God, I'm sorry, Methos," he choked.

         "Nothing to be sorry about. I know, Duncan. You miss him."

         Mac's head snapped up, guilt deepening the lines on his face. "Methos, I…" he didn’t know what to say.

         "It's okay, Duncan. Really. Let me explain, love. It's not like you think it is. It's not like you have to one or the other of us. We're the same person. Adam is still here," he pointed to his chest, "he's the child I never had the chance to be, till now. And he loves you, so very much. As do I, because we are one soul."

         Mac was a little dazed that Methos would know what was tearing him apart. "How? How did you know?," he asked in a small voice.

         "It was a hell of a quickening, Mac. While it wasn't of the magnitude of the first double quickening we took, but it had an intensity the first lacked. Think hard, Duncan. You saw my mind and my heart the same way I saw yours. You saw my love for you, both as your child and as your friend." Methos smiled as Mac remembered the exchange of emotions they had during the quickening.

         "You told me you love me," he whispered.

         "Yes I did. And I do," Methos pulled some stray strands of Mac's hair from his face and he absently continued the gentle rocking.

         Mac finally looked into the twinkling hazel eyes. "I love you too. So much."

         "Oh, Duncan. I know you do…" Methos cooed as embraced the Scot again. When he loosened his grip placed one hand lightly on Mac's cheek. Slowly, he lifted his lips to kiss Mac tenderly, chastely, as Adam might have done.  "Let's get some rest, shall we? You've got to be as exhausted as I am," Methos suggested.

         Wordlessly Mac nodded, toed off his shoes, and allowed Methos to pull him under the covers with him. Mac laid there looking speculatively at the teddy bear still in his grip. Methos urged Mac on his side to face him. Methos  placed one hand on the teddy, not to take him, but to share him. And then the eldest immortal did what he'd wanted since Mac returned to the loft; he snuggled as close to the Highlander as he could, resting his head on the Scot's bicep, with teddy crushed between them. Mac's free arm came around Methos' waist. Sleep claimed both immortals quickly.

---

          Wakefulness came to Mac slowly, languidly. His mind registered the pleasant warmth of a body pressed to his. Ah. Adam. No, Methos. His eyes opened and he looked down at the dark head resting quietly in his arms, and he  smiled. He'd miss the child Methos had been, but it was wonderful to have his friend, a rational, willing adult, comfortably snuggled against him. The innocent intimacy was almost the same; nothing shameful about two souls who found solace and peace in one another's arms.

         Methos stirred, gradually coming awake. His head lifted and he met Mac's gaze. "Thank you, Duncan," he whispered with a smile.

         "For what?" Mac asked.

         "For giving me the childhood I could never had had when I grew up. For giving me the gift of innocence," Methos told him with a soulful expression. Mac smiled, not knowing how to respond, he was so humbled by his friend's gratitude. "You know, I still feel some of that wonder at life that I felt when I was returned to childhood," Methos confessed.

         "Really? How do you mean?" Mac was intrigued.

         "I remember what it was like to see everything as exciting and new. To have optimism. And best of all, to know without a doubt that someone loves me unconditionally, no matter what. That couldn't have happened without you. I love you, Duncan." Methos was filled with more emotion than he remembered he was able to feel. It humbled him, it enthralled him, scared him witless, but most of all it filled him with hope.

         "And I love you. Unconditionally. No matter what. And I always will," Mac promised.

         Methos felt like his heart was soaring as he began to quote "The love between two souls…" and Mac put a finger to Methos' tender lips so he could finish for him.

         "…knows neither gender nor shame. It is pure, complete, and always and ever, inevitable."

         And their lips met to seal the promise.

---

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