Duncan Down on the Farm

 

 

Disclaimer:  The characters of Methos, Richie Ryan, Connor MacLeod, and Duncan MacLeod belong to DPP. This fan fiction is for entertainment only; there is no profit involved.

Duncan Down on the Farm

Pulling her robe together and tying it closed, Sheeza was startled when a knock on the bathroom door took her by surprise. Unlocking it to see who was there, cooler air from outside whooshed in the open door and let thick clouds of steam billow out into the hallway. "Lahoffy? What are you doing standing out here? Duncan? Is something wrong?"

Duncan stood off to the side, his hands on his hips. "I don't know," he replied, somewhat annoyed. "I was downstairs cleaning my sword when lahoffy grabbed me and dragged me up here with her." Looking pointedly at Sheeza, his eyes reminded her of exactly why his weapon needed cleaning.

Leaning casually against the wall opposite the bathroom door with her arms crossed over her chest, lahoffy glanced at him before turning to Sheeza. Holding out her hand, lahoffy handed her an envelope. "Here, this came for you while you were in town on that errand with Duncan here." She was dying to know what happened when they were in town, but she wasn't about to ask. She figured she'd find out eventually. She always did.

Trying to change the subject, Sheeza coughed and asked, "So? What is it?"

"I really wouldn't know. Guess you'll have to open it and find out, Sheeza."

Still annoyed, Duncan frowned at lahoffy. "If all you needed was to deliver a letter, then why did I have to come up here with you? How long does it take to drop off a letter?" He knew lahoffy was suspicious but he didn't want to get started on the telling when he knew he'd have to just repeat himself later. No, Duncan wanted to tell what happened only once. Better yet, let Sheeza.

"Few minutes. Why? What's up Duncan? Did you have something more pressing to do this very minute besides clean your sword? So what is it, Sheeza? Sheeza?" lahoffy asked.

Both of them turned to Sheeza, who was standing still as a statue, holding a single sheet of paper. The envelope had fallen to the floor unnoticed. Her face was a mask of surprise, excitement and fear all rolled into one.

Duncan, so concerned over her, grabbed her and shook her. "Sheeza! What's wrong?"

Distracted, she pulled herself from his grasp and headed down the hallway to her room. "Have to go home, Duncan. My uncle didn't die." Her hand dropped to her side and the letter drifted to the floor.

Duncan and lahoffy looked at each other at the same time. "What?!"

Snatching up the letter before lahoffy could get her hands on it, his eyes scanned the page. Lahoffy yanked on his wrist so she could read it too.


Dear Sheeza,

Hope you are well and everything is fine. Just wanted to let you know, we had a big scare around here the other day. It was really strange, but everything turned out all right.

Uncle Max, you know, the ass-hole? His tractor overturned and was supposed to have been killed. Sherry drove to the house screaming for Aunt Florence to call the ambulance. She was screaming and crying up a storm!

Anyway, just as Sherry was getting back out to the field to wait for the ambulance, she saw Uncle Max stumbling acrossed the rows he'd just tilled earlier. He was all bloody, but she said he seemed fine. Not a wound on him or so she says.

He's claiming there was a family of rabbits that got squashed up under there with him, but when they got the tractor turned back over, they didn't find 'em. Oh well, guess it's our good luck we didn't lose Uncle Max after all. Poor rabbits though.

All for now. Dad's good, still looking for arrowheads and watering his garden. He just loves being retired!

Love, Freda


"Oh...." was all lahoffy could manage.

Duncan balled his hands into tight fists, noisily crumpling the letter. He strode quickly down the hall to his bedroom, stiff legged and shoulders squared.

Lahoffy found herself alone, hair frizzing in the remaining humidity leftover from Sheeza's shower. "Where are you going, Duncan?"

"Going with Sheeza," he replied as he disappeared through the open door.

Lahoffy reread the letter in her mind and suddenly the details came clear to her. "Oh my... Oh God!!"

Racing down the stairs two at a time, lahoffy burst out through the front door and sped off to the oasis where she had earlier left Methos planting some new palms.

"Methos! Come quick!"


Duncan sat quietly, his arm propped up on the car door as he watched the countryside fly by. He wasn't thrilled letting Sheeza drive his car, but he had been the one to insist they take his car instead of hers. The journey had been a long one and they had taken turns driving.

Normally, he wasn't good at others being behind the wheel, especially one that was his. He didn't like being a passenger. But the situation had changed between Sheeza and himself. He had learned to trust her instincts and valued her as a good friend. It made it a little easier to accept her handling his vehicle, though not much. It didn't mean he wasn't going to worry about not being in control. Besides, she seemed to have a natural homing instinct, one that told her which way to go even without a map. He smiled, thinking that he sort of had one himself, daydreaming about his last trip home to Glenfinnan to find a certain grave.

Passing swiftly by a cornfield, all he saw was a blur of green with yellowish spikey tops. His thoughts traveled back a couple of days to an evening when he and Sheeza found themselves without the rest of the CDC'ers for the evening. They'd had a great time smoking cigars and drinking port. They had talked the night away and found they had some common interests. Duncan wondered if her family was really like how she described them.

He hoped that this trip would help him learn more about the Sheeza "outside" the CDC. That, and he was curious about her reaction to the letter. As yet, he'd been reluctant to talk to her about it. He wanted to wait and meet her family first. He was surprised at her non-reaction to him coming along. He expected something and got very little. It seemed to him as though she expected him to go or....

"Why didn't Sheeza seem more surprised, or act as if I'm intruding on her private business? Does she even care if I'm along or not? She's been so quiet, answering me, or chatting about nothing, but not really talking. I didn't even ask her if I could join her. I just packed up and told her we were taking my car."

Sheeza's hair riffled and fluttered from the wind. She had tied it back, but the constant wind had pulled out most of her ponytail. She'd fix it next time they stopped. She hated the snarls she'd have to brush out later, but that seemed only minor compared to getting home and seeing if her suspicion was true.

Truth be told, in his convertible, she didn't mind in the least that her hair was whipped back and forth. She loved his car, and she 'lived' for the wind blowing in her face.

"Sheeza?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you all right?"

Sheeza glanced at Duncan quickly before turning her eyes back to the road. "Huh? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine."

Leaning over a bit, Duncan rested his hand on her shoulder. "But you've been so quiet this whole trip. Is the accident with your uncle bothering you that much? I mean, I know you are driving home because of the letter. Were you and he...close?"

Sheeza snorted through her nose and blushed as she laughed out loud. It was the first good laugh she'd had in the past couple of days and was grateful for it. She was especially grateful Duncan was there to share it with her.

"Hell no! All my life I've only heard nasty things about him, that he was a crazy sum-bitch, that he was too mean to die and that he'd outlive everybody just out of spite."

Duncan was confused. Her response wasn't quite what he thought she would come up with.

"Well, then what's the matter Sheeza? And don't tell me that nothing's the matter because I know you better than that."

"You don't know me, Duncan."

Duncan scooted over till his thigh was touching hers. Leaning over, he lightly kissed her cheek.

"I know the parts that count," he whispered. "It's the rest I want to learn, if that's all right with you. Is it? Is it all right with you?"

Sheeza only nodded her head, her lips trembling as she attempted to smile. As far as she knew, she was the first CDC'er to ever 'take an immortal home.'

"Then let me ask you.... Were you at all surprised when I followed you down the stairs with my own bags packed?"

Shaking her head, she glanced at him and smiled, her eyes bright with tears. "I'd hoped you'd come, but I wasn't going to ask you."

"If you don't love this uncle, then why are you rushing home?"

Sheeza smiled and shook her head to clear stray hair that was tickling her nose. "Oh come now,Duncan, you read the letter."

"Yes, I did. And?"

Fast approaching them was a sign indicating the nearest town was a few miles ahead.

"It won't be long now, Duncan. Browning is the next town. Really small, but cute I guess. Dad's road is just before we hit town. But before heading to Dad's, I always like to swing through town, let everybody know a stranger has arrived. It's fun, seeing all heads turn my way, knowing that by nightfall, word will have spread like wildfire."

"How small is this town, Sheeza? This is where you come from?" "Uh-huh, my birthplace. Nice, isn't it? Browning has a population of less than 500. There isn't a bank; it burned down. Town only sports one traffic light and it's a yellow blinker."

"Oh, OK. Anyway, you were about to answer why you headed home?"

"Oh, that's right. OK, I may be new to the CDC, well not so much anymore, but you know what I mean. I know about immortality, about you, Connor and the others. I know how it works. I can't believe Freda fell for it. I can't believe anybody fell for it. It's so obvious!"

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Fell for what? What are you talking about? You lost me."

"Oh, sorry. Thinking in code again, am I?" She chuckled softly before continuing.

"Max lied. He has to be an immortal. But then, nobody around here probably knows about immortals, so that's not surprising, I guess, that they swallowed his story, even though if anybody even thought about it, they'd know he lied."

Thinking back to the letter and what her sister said, Duncan didn't see how she had come to her conclusion.

"How are you so sure that he lied," he asked, trying to understand her train of thought.

"Because he was using the tractor when it turned over. Freda said that he said there was a family of rabbits that got squashed and that's how he got the blood on him. There is just no way a bunch of rabbits would be scampering across a field he was tilling. The sounds and vibrations alone would have scared them off. Too damned convenient to have them all in a little group around him too." Sheeza sighed. "Farmers can be so gullible sometimes. Did I ever tell you about my uncle who put two deviled eggs together and choked trying to chew and swallow them?"

Duncan shook his head, all the while mulling over her theory.

"So stupid. Laughed right out loud when the idiot did it again!"

Unable to help himself, Duncan roared, picturing it in his mind.

Slowing down, Sheeza headed into town, cruising down past the new car lot with only two new cars in it. At the blinking light, she turned left and headed up Main Street.

"Well, this is it," she murmured as they slowly headed up the street.

Many of the buildings were dilapidated and some were boarded up. Life in this little town had obviously seen better days, a long time ago. People walked up and down the street on both sides, but not very many.

As Sheeza had predicted, when they caught sight of the black Thunderbird, people's head swivelled and they stopped dead in their tracks to watch them go by.

A couple of old ladies with blue hair pointed and Duncan heard them talking to each other, something about hippies and long hair which made him grin behind his hand.

"Bo,y Sheeza, you weren't kidding!"

At the next intersection, she turned right and then stopped at an ancient faded stop sign. "See this church here," she asked pointing to a tiny white chapel on her side. "This is the church the family goes to. And see that house right there?" Sheeza pointed to a house almost directly in front of them. "That's where the Alpachs live. We used to come visit them when we were kids. On Sundays, I'd wait inside and watch for my grandparents to come out and drive away."

"You hid inside that house and didn't come out?"

"Yes," Sheeza replied quietly.

"But why?"

Duncan hated that sad look on her face. Bet there is a story there.

"Long story, Duncan." Brightening, pushing the subject behind her, Sheeza turned to him. "Whelp, time to go home now. You ready to meet the family?"

He looked into her eyes, trying to read her. Seeing that she'd locked away the memory that had come close to the surface, he decided that maybe that story was best saved for another day, when she was ready to share it with him.

He reached up and gently brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go home." Smiling, his hand massaged her shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

Turning right again to head back to the highway that cut through town, Duncan spied a brightly painted building with a large sign in front. It read 'MAX'S' and seemed to be the only place that had more than one car parked in front.

"What's that over there?"

"That's Max's restaurant."

"Is he..."

"Yes."

Stopped at the stop sign and as Sheeza turned left to head back out of town, Duncan thought he felt something. It was faint, and he couldn't be sure. He knew that this was one place he'd be sure to visit . . .and soon.

About a mile back outside of town, Sheeza turned off onto a gravel road. On each side were narrow strips of cultivated land, backed by trees, lots of them...so dense you could hardly see past the first two or three deep.

In seconds, rocks freshly laid were kicking up and hitting the undercarriage of the car with assorted clunks and thuds. With each one, Duncan tried hard not to wince when in truth, he felt each and every one as if they were hitting him instead.

Crossing over a tiny wooden bridge, Sheeza slowed the car down going around a curve bringing a large stone house into view. "There it is, Duncan, home."

Pulling into the driveway, Sheeza honked the horn, announcing their arrival. Before she turned off the engine, a white haired man came out from the back of the house, putting on his glasses. When he saw them, he smiled great big and stopped. His smile faltered when Duncan got out of the car and began to approach him. When Sheeza joined him, Duncan put his arm around her and pulled her close.

When her Dad saw him do that, he relaxed and that big country smile graced him once again. "You made it. Good drive?"

"Good to see you again, too, Dad," Sheeza said, stepping up to hug the old man. He was stiff in her arms, but she knew that was just how he was. "Well, best get on up to the house," he mumbled, as he always did when strangers were about.

"Dad, this is Duncan MacLeod, my...."

"Fiancee," Duncan threw in quickly.

Sheeza's head snapped around and she gaped at him. Her Dad's eyes opened a bit more as he looked the Highlander up and down, appraising him.

"Well," he drawled, "guess you can come in, too."

Duncan was startled, but when he heard Sheeza laugh, he relaxed. So THAT's where she gets her sense of humor!,


Taking advantage of her dad's hearing loss, Sheeza hissed at Duncan. "Your fiancee? Why did you say that? You know he won't believe you."

Duncan pulled bags from the trunk and set them down. "Why not, Sheeza? If I said it, why wouldn't he believe me?"

Peeking up over the trunk, she observed the old man pulling a rogue dandelion up by it's roots. If there was one thing he couldn't abide, it was weeds in his lawn. Holes? Sure. But weeds? Never! It came from having four daughters who for their whole childhood, ran around with bare feet. After some nasty business with his youngest and stickers, he'd been really careful about keeping a good lawn.

"Because, all the men I've ever brought home have been gay," she whispered. "Besides, you're too good looking for me. It's just too unbelievable."

Putting his hand on her arm, Duncan stopped Sheeza from pulling another bag from the trunk. Quickly, he pulled her into his arms and gazed into her eyes. "Sheeza, you and I both know I'm not gay. Soon enough, he'll figure it out. Is there any harm to my saying it? Are my looks all that important to you?"

She looked down at his chest and silently shook her head.

"Are you sorry I came?"

Looking up quickly, Sheeza shook her head again. "No! Of course not! It's just...I...I don't want you to put yourself in a position of having to break off our engagement or whatever. I mean, why tell the lie in the first place?"

Growling close to her ear, he kissed her forehead before answering. "Well, who said I was lying?" Wrapping her up in a strong hug, he whispered into her ear. "Besides, if Max is who you...we think he is, it's a good cover."


"Just put some coffee on. Sheeza? Why don't you two go on up and pick out your rooms? Let me know which ones, and I'll get the power turned on for you. You too...uh..."

Sheeza slapped her forehead and rolled her eyes. "Just call him Duncan. Duncan? I guess you could call him Wayne," she said, gesturing toward her father.

The two men stepped closer and held out their hands. As they shook, each one noticed that the other was quietly appraising the man before him.

A little unnerved by the attention, Duncan picked up the suitcases and looked at Sheeza.

Shouldering the one bag that he'd allowed her to carry, she led Duncan up the stairs and into the front bedroom which ran the length of the house. On each side of the main door were other doors.

Duncan stepped back and looked at the wall. In all there were five doors, the middle one being the one that they came through. "What on earth is this?"

Pulling open the curtains to let in the afternoon light, Sheeza turned around and saw what he was talking about. "Strange house is all. Here, look."

Sheeza pulled on each door and left it ajar till all five were open. "This is...or was the master bedroom. His and hers closets, and these other two doors connect to the rooms next door."

Leaning sideways to peer into the next room, Duncan saw another door exactly opposite. "Is that another connecting door?"

"Yeah. All the rooms up here have connecting doors. If you open them all, you can circuit the entire second floor without ever entering the main hallway. Cool, huh?"

Shaking his head, Duncan admitted he'd never seen or heard of anything quite like that. "Beautiful wood floors, too. Must be a bear to heat in the winter."

"Nope. First off, Dad shut down all the pipes up here to conserve, except for Freda's room. Don't worry though, she's at the other end of the house. Secondly, that stove in the kitchen? Burns wood. The heat flows up through a pipe and warms the floors as well as comes out the vents. Can almost go barefoot in the winter, even though I don't really remember that. We moved away when I was five."

"You left? Your father...Wayne was fortunate to get the house back then. Did he have a hard time getting the owner to part with it?"

Sheeza laughed. "No, the owner was quite happy to get him back here again. The owner is his mother."

Cracking a smile, he looked at her confused. "His mother? Is she here?"

"Oh no. She lives on the other side of town on a different farm."

"And she owns both houses?"

"No, she owns like five farms altogether." Sighing, Sheeza realized this story was going to take a while.

When she was finished explaining, Duncan raised his eyebrows and breathed deeply. "That's some tale, Sheeza. I'm not too sure I'd be very happy if my father bought the farm I wanted to buy just so he could tenant it to me. Clever idea though, and it obviously worked. Good business sense, bad for family."

"Oh, they all got used to it. Besides, they all worked together, bought equipment together and they all know the land is theirs, even if the name on the deed isn't. During those really bad farm years, our family did just fine."


"Dad? Where's Freda? She's not here?"

"No. Went up to Ma's fishing with Wanda. Decided she wanted some catfish for Sunday supper. Sit yourselves down. Got iced tea and coffee."

Duncan took the chair whose back was to the wall. It was a comfortable kitchen with fixtures and tile that were stylish a few decades ago. He could see that everything, while old, was kept in good shape and would last as many more years as they already had.

"Do you go fishing, too...uh, Wayne?"

"Yeah, but I saw Ma yesterday and somebody had to stay here to see you got in ok."

Duncan didn't know much else to say at the moment, so he played with his fingers and kept quiet.


Duncan and Sheeza sat stirring their ice tea, listening to the ice clink against the sides of the glass. He'd tried the coffee, but found it too weak to bother with. Being one who enjoyed a good, strong cup, he whispered to Sheeza asking what it was.

"Maxwell House. Too weak. We can get us some Folgers tomorrow, ok?"

Nodding his assent, Duncan sipped at the tea and found it more to his liking, though he wished he had a slice of lemon.

Wayne sat down with his cup and crossed his legs, relaxing back in his chair.

"So I got Freda's letter, Dad."

"Oh?"

"So what happened? Max is still all right?"

"Seems to be. Saw him over to Ma's, being his usual self."

"Oh? What was he doing there?"

"Dropped off Florence so's her and Ma could go do some shopping."

"Ah. Anybody figure out how the tractor just tipped over on him? Man, from what Freda told me, he's lucky to be alive. All that blood."

"Dunno. The ground gave way and the rear wheel was stuck in it. There was alot of blood, and he says it wasn't his."

Duncan joined in with a question of his own. "Anybody find the rabbits that Sheeza's sister mentioned in the letter?"

Wayne glanced sidelong at him before looking back down at the tabletop. "Naw. Probably a fox got'em and dragged 'em off or something." Then, under his breath he mumbled something.

Duncan couldn't be certain, but he thought he heard, "Too much blood for just rabbits." Guess we aren't the only skeptics around here after all.

"So what brings you home, Sheeza? You didn't even like Max."

"I've missed you, Dad, and the letter just brought it home," she replied after glancing at Duncan. Nodding towards the Scot, she went on. "And he was curious as to where I come from and I was happy he decided to come along."

"Oh? Where are you from uh, Duncan?"

"You can call me Mac if you want. I'm uh, from many places, but most recently from Seacouver."

"How'd you two meet?"

Neither Sheeza nor Duncan knew quite exactly how to respond, but Sheeza decided to give it a go.

"Remember, Dad? I told you I lived with roomates in a co-op. Well, Duncan and his cousin, along with a couple of close friends live there, too. Think commune, Dad."

The old man burst out laughing, humor catching him by surprise His eyes twinkled under wrinkled lids. "What?! You? A commune?"

Duncan fought to control a sudden feeling of panic that threatened to close off his windpipe. He looked to Sheeza to see how she would respond.

"No, no...I said think commune. I didn't say it was a commune. Big difference. It's a huge house, we all got our own rooms, and we all have our own money."

"Then why do you live there and not in town?"

Sheeza didn't have a good answer to that question. When she started chewing her lip and her eyes slid to the ceiling, Duncan helped her out.

"Common interests."

Wayne shifted in his chair and took a sip of his now-cooled coffee. "Oh? What kind of common interests?"

The two looked briefly at each other before Duncan turned back to the old man. "Living a good and long life."

As much as she tried, Sheeza couldn't stifle a fit of giggles. Standing up and moving to the sink, she looked out the window. She saw that since she had been home last, the barn had had some work done.

"What's for suppe,r Daddy?"

"Got some Elk stew going in the dutch oven."

Duncan's mouth started watering. He hadn't had elk in decades, and at that moment he breathed in and noticed the subtle aroma wafting through the kitchen.

"Come on, Duncan, let's go see the barn. I've not been out there since I was a little kid. It's ok Dad, isn't it?" "Go on. Nothing to do in here anyways. Got a Cards game on the radio pretty soon."

Duncan stood and nodded to the old man who in turn nodded back to him. He again felt eyes appraising him. "We'll be outside if you need us."

The sound of the back porch screen door slapping against the frame startled them.

"All right. You'd better go, Sheeza's waiting."

With a final nod, Duncan headed after her.


Duncan stepped out the back door, cursing under his breath for not remembering to catch it before hearing the pistol crack sound it made as it slammed against the jamb.

Breathing the air deep into his lungs, he realized he couldn't exactly call it clean or fresh but it was exhilarating and wonderful all the same. But then, that's the difference between the city and the farm. Cities smell of hot tar, car exhaust and people living sometimes too close together. Country smells of flowers, newly mown hay, farm animals and oftentimes, just of the earth itself.

For too long, he thought to himself, he'd been in the city. Wherever he went, Paris or Seacouver, he was still in a city. At the CDC, it was in the country, but somehow, it was still kind of city too what with all the conveniences they had there. He couldn't help but notice that while Sheeza's father lived on a modern farm, it still wasn't as modernized as most. Duncan relaxed his shoulders a bit, realizing at that moment that he'd been tense but unsure as to exactly why.

I know why. Sheeza's come home because she thinks her uncle is immortal. Her Dad is a nice man, but something tells me there is more to him than meets the eye. Guess I'll be needing to see what that might be...and soon.

Glancing quickly around, Duncan couldn't see where she had gotten off to. Behind him, he heard her father's chair as it scraped against the kitchen floor when he stood up. He peeked back inside.

A low groan escaped the old man as he walked to the coffee pot to refill his cup. Seeing Duncan standing on the back steps, he wondered really just how this man had come into his daughter's life.

Normally, Wayne didn't much care for young men who sported long hair, but try as he might, he couldn't find anything wrong with this one. Still though, he thought as he shook his head in mild wonderment, he would swear that there is more to this Duncan MacLeod than meets the eye. He supposed that he might see if there was anything he could find out about him. With a brief nod, he returned his attention to his coffee.

Shuffling off into the living room with his cup, the old man's thoughts turned towards the upcoming baseball game on the radio.

Sheeza stopped and plucked a dandelion, lifting it almost immediately to her nose. Inhaling its scent, she flashed on the memories of her sister's testing her liking for butter by rubbing them on her nose or under her chin. Smiling, she sniffed the weed again as she headed down the slope towards the old pond.

As a small child, she had been forbidden to go there unless she was with her sisters, as farm ponds can be worrisome to little ones. This pond had it's own dangers too.

Careful to mind her toes, Sheeza stepped to the edge of the water and sat down on a wide flat rock probably put there at some point by her Dad for fishing purposes.

Whenever fishing wasn't very good, the old man would bring in a batch of new fish to restock the pond. He favored catfish and perch, leaving bass for others who might like them better.

Closing her eyes, Sheeza leaned her head back and turned her face to the warm afternoon sun. Breathing in, she felt as though her heart was lifting and her stress level was draining away leaving her feeling warm and cozy inside and out.

Leaning over, she picked up a handful of pebbles that lined the shore of the pond. Wistful and with hope, Sheeza tried skipping stones acrossed the surface of the water. It was a talent that up to this point in her life, had eluded her. Much to her chagrin, it was immediately apparent that she was no better than the last time she had tried this little trick.

Just as Duncan was about to call out, he cocked his head and listened instead. There, off in the distance, he heard the tell-tale sounds of something dropping into water.

Walking out past the hog-house, Duncan saw that the land dipped down which isn't noticeable from the house. He saw her flinging stones and watching them land in the water with a hollow plunk, the sound he had heard. By the numerous ripples widening on the water's surface, he could tell she'd thrown a quite a few rocks already.

Sheeza thought back over her childhood, trying to remember what she could of it and this place. She was sad because the family had left when she was just five years old and her memories were worse than swiss cheese. Indeed, her memories of the house and the farm were mere photographs in her mind. The move had been tougher on her sisters because they were all older and felt more of the loss at being ripped away from all their friends and family when they had left the state to live elsewhere.

She smiled again as she looked around at the grasses and the trees. It was no wonder that two of her sisters had already come back and the third was making plans to do so as well.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Startled, Sheeza turned and looked up at Duncan. Scooting over, she made room for him and gestured for him to join her.

Arching his brow, he smiled and proceeded to pull off his boots and socks. After setting them back away from the waters edge, he sat down and stretched his legs, allowing his feet to slide into the water. His toes encountered soft mud mixed with little pebbles and sticks and he relished the cool squish of muck between his toes.

"I'd maybe want to rethink that Duncan," she said quietly.

"What? Why?"

"Well, when I was little, I remember my sister pulling a snapping turtle out of there. She was fishing and it took the bait. Could be others in there, or could be they're all gone."

With a splash, he pulled his feet out of the water. His eyes were wide as he scanned the shoreline for bubbles and whirls in the water's surface indicating possible turtles in the vicinity.

"This pond isn't for swimming then?"

"I have no idea. Could be, but I'm pretty sure Dad doesn't go, and I sincerely doubt Freda troops down here for that, either. But, I do remember once--I was probably four--the four of us and the Havens kids all went in. That was a very long time ago. I'll have to ask Dad if he knows if turtles are still here."

Convinced that he didn't want to challenge any possible snapping turtles, the Scot turned around and faced the other way on the rock. He wiped at his muddy feet on the soft grass.

"I thought you said you were going to the barn. How'd you end up down here?"

"Called to me, I guess. I don't really know. Only have a couple memories connected to this pond and that's a shame. It's so beautiful here, don't you think?"

"Well, with you here, it's only more so."

Sheeza glanced at him before giggling. "Jeez, Duncan, that's a bit over the top."

"I don't think so. Curious though, if you left when you were little, how did you find your way back here without so much as a single glance at a map Sheeza?"

Sighing and turning her face into the breeze, Sheeza grinned and faced him. "Because we came back every year to visit that family, remember? Told you about them? Just because we didn't see family, didn't mean we weren't here. It's always been clear that to our family, this area is home, no matter where we may choose to live in the mean time, Duncan."

Duncan gazed earnestly into her eyes. "I'm glad I came. Not just for Max, but for you." Pulling her close to him, he rested his chin on her shoulder and looked out across the pond toward the trees on the far side. He wondered what was in store for them in the near future.

Sheeza sat up. "Ready for another memory Duncan? Can you guess where that might be?"

"The barn," they said together.

Both laughing, they stood up. Duncan gathered his boots with the socks stuffed in them and together they walked arm and arm back up the slope.

"So Sheeza, when do I get to meet this Uncle Max of yours?"

"Tomorrow, at Sunday lunch. It's at his restaurant in town. Everybody goes there after church."

"In public?"

"No, just family will be there. He's closed on Sundays so that whoever wants to come can come. Sherry cooks for everybody."

"Who is Sherry?"

"My cousin. Uncle Max's and Aunt Florence's daughter."

With a gasp, Sheeza stopped dead in her tracks. Her hand tightened it's grip on Duncan's arm till he winced at the strength in her fingers. Shaking, Sheeza brought her other hand up to cover her mouth. "Sheeza? What's wrong?"

"Oh God, Duncan! I just realized! If Max really is immortal, than who is Sherry's father? Oh God!"

Pulling her to him, Duncan held her till she stopped trembling. He ran his fingers through her hair and whispered to her, telling her it would be all right, that it wasn't for sure yet that this Max is immortal, and that she was safe with him.

"But Duncan...."

"But nothing! It will wait till tomorrow. Until then Sheeza, we'll spend this day together, exploring, talking, being together and whatever else strikes us. No more talk of Max till tomorrow. Deal?"

"But...."

Duncan growled and made a face at her. "Deal," he announced in a voice that brooked no argument.

Shaking her head at his silliness, Sheeza pointed to the structure still some distance away. "Duncan, the barn."

Walking quickly, the two resumed course for the large out building just east of the house. Duncan poked and tickled Sheeza and she returned the favor in kind. Back and forth they went till both were laughing and almost running to reach their destination.

Sheeza ran ahead and through the large door. Duncan slowed to a stop at the entrance. Looking around, he saw no one. Quickly, he grabbed the barn door and pulled it closed after him. Seeing a board off to the side, he put it across the door to secure it.

With a low growl, Duncan whirled around looking for her. "Nice barn."


Sheeza peeked at him from behind a stack of baled hay. The sweet scent was heavenly, but a bit cloying inside the barn. Trying to be quiet, she was suddenly struck with the need to sneeze.

Duncan glanced around and saw that there were a number of places his lady could hide. Not feeling really much like playing, he chose instead to do what he knew would bring her out from where ever she had stashed herself. Tossing his boots down by the door, he turned and headed for the ladder leading up to the loft.

From a crack in the upper door in the barn loft, a wide shaft of sunlight lit the barn floor in a bright golden yellow bar. In it, dust drifted through the air looking very much like glitter that had lost its shine. When Duncan passed through it, Sheeza rose from her hiding place and followed in behind him.

Wasting no time, Duncan leaped to the ladder and climbed it two rungs at a time. When his head cleared the upper level, he hoisted himself nimbly up and over the ledge. Sheeza followed behind him, more slowly and with a great deal less confidence since she hadn't climbed that particular ladder in decades and feared for her safety. Once she got high enough, Duncan reached down and helped her up the rest of the way.

Sheeza stood up and moved over to the wall where an old burlap sack was hanging on a rusted and bent nail.

Grabbing it, she tossed it over her shoulder and set about moving some bales around to suit her purposes. Duncan pitched in and hauled bales, putting them where she directed. When they finished, she had fashioned a crude bench of sorts, complete with a back and sides. Smoothing the burlap over the hay, she gestured for Duncan to sit down.

Together, they sat down.

Sitting comfortably in their silence, the cool air inside the barn smelled of sweet alfalfa mixed with the acrid odor of old, rusted tools long out of use. From their vantage point, the shafts of gold played across the barn floor and they were entertained by dust motes and flies that flew in and out of the light.

"So, Sheeza, care to talk about that church now?"

Turning her head, she looked at Duncan and chewed at her lower lip. "You really want to hear it?"

"Yeah," he said, taking his hand in hers, "I really do."

Taking a deep breath, Sheeza began. "I never understood why we moved away but still kept the local dentist, but we did. Every year we'd travel back here, visit with the Alspachs and take a day to go to the dentist. Six people in our family, and we'd have to wait for our turn, and then wait till everybody was finished. Anyway...."


A car came down the gravel road going fast. Large rocks kicked up by its tires, hit the undercarriage making it sound somewhat like rifleshots, vibrating against the feet of the occupants in the sedan.

"I hope they're here already," Freda said, checking her watch for the third time in two minutes. "Told Dad I'd be home by now."

"Slow down," Wanda replied, her hands on the dashboard, bracing herself in case Freda went off the road, which she knew would happen someday and she hoped it wouldn't be when she was with her.

Coming around the last bend, the Kelly Place came into view. Freda saw the black Thunderbird Convertible and didn't recognize it. "Who's that?"

"Now how the hell should I know," Wanda retorted, exasperated at her sister's wild driving. "I was with you all day! Maybe it's our little sister?"

"Uh-uh, not that car. Wonder who that is?" With a turn of the wheel, Freda sped up the rocky drive, laying on the horn to let all know she'd arrived. Slamming on the brakes, she got her car stopped only inches from the Thunderbird's pristine bumper.

Wanda pulled her hands from the dashboard. Her grip had been so tight, her knuckles were white and her fingers were stiff. Working them loose, she glared at Freda. "Cut it a little close, didn't we. Out of state plates."

"Yeah, the same state as Sheeza lives in. Must be her. Come on, let's get in and say hi."

"Oh. Right. Probably is her then. Hey, why's the barn door closed? Thought Dad had it open to dry out the hay a little more so it didn't go musty."

Freda's head swiveled in the direction Wanda pointed. "He did. Wonder who closed it?"

The two women exited the car and headed up the drive in the direction of the barn.


The car horn blaring from nearby along with the sliding of a vehicle as it came to a stop made Duncan almost jump out of his skin. He was so engrossed in Sheeza's tale, he hadn't heard the car coming down the gravel road at all. Looking quickly in the direction of the sound, he could just make out the color blue in a crack of the barn wall.


Fists pounding on the barn doors caused them to squeal and groan on their hinges. "Who's in there?! Come out with your hands up!"

"Freda," Wanda hissed, "Why'd you say that?"

She shrugged and smiled crookedly. "Oh I dunno. For fun?" Raising her voice, she called out again.

"Sheeza? You in there? Why'd you bar the door?"

Duncan shrugged, grinning and making a face at Sheeza. "Don't you think you'd better answer her?"

Sheeza closed her eyes tight and then opened them again. "Aw, do I have to?" she asked, her voice in a childish whine.

Tilting his head, Duncan glared at her though his expression wasn't as fearsome as it could have been.

Sighing, Sheeza acquiesced with a grin. "Yeah, I'm here!"

She called out again. "I'm in the loft. Be right with you!"

Climbing down the ladder, Duncan went first and being true to his nature, helped her down, pinching her cheek and chuckling when she yelped. Sheeza stuck her tongue out at him and hissed he'd get his later, when he least expected it. Duncan grinned and whispered back, "Bring it on!"

Nodding to each other, Duncan lifted the board and let the barn door swing open. Pasting on his most charming smile, he stepped back, exposing Sheeza to her sisters. Putting his arm around her, he turned his smile up a notch.

"You must be Sheeza's sisters! Now don't tell me, you must be Wanda," he said, holding out his hand to shake hers. "She's told me almost nothing about you, but I'm pleased to meet you."

"And you must be Freda," he added, holding his hand out to her.

"Yes, I am, and thank you," she replied, promptly placing a string of catfish in it.

Holding the fish up, Duncan hid most of the look that sneaked across his face. Replastering on his smile, he grinned brightly at Freda. "Nice fish."

"Yeah, Gramma's is the best place for fishing. No luck with Old Granddad, but I'll get him."

Confused, Duncan turned to Sheeza, still holding the fish out at arm's length. "Old Granddad?"

Rolling her eyes, Sheeza put her hand to her mouth to stifle the snicker threatening to escape over Duncan holding the fish.

"Stuff legends are made of, Duncan."

Turning to her sisters, "Freda, Wanda, this is Duncan MacLeod. I brought him along with me."

Wanda, being the older sister, noticed the bits of hay sticking out of Duncan's ponytail and decided to say nothing. Keee-ute! Uh-mmmm....good lookin' man!

Sheeza crossed her arms over her chest. "We ought to get to the house, let Dad know you're home."

Freda spoke up first. "Oh, ok." Glancing down at Duncan's bare feet, she then pointed to his boots. "Them yours? Don't leave 'em out here, they might get dragged off or something. Rabbits and stuff get in and mess up stuff like that. Leave the doors open too, Dad's been drying hay in here."

Duncan smiled gently at Freda, not really believing that rabbits steal leather boots and drag them away. Still, being kind and really needing his boots anyway, he retrieved them and exited the barn, waiting for Sheeza.

"No, that would be Connor," Sheeza blurted out before laughing and turning away to half walk, half stagger back to the house. Just when she started to calm down, she started laughing all over again.

"Sometimes Freda, some times..." she said, over her shoulder.

"What? What did I say? And who is Connor?"


Mopping up the last bit of gravy off his plate, Duncan popped it into his mouth and chewed. He was mildly surprised at how good the stew had turned out. Looking at it, there had been nothing special or outstanding to note. But the taste and the tenderness of the meat, now that had been special.

"You do alot of hunting, Wayne?"

"Some."

"If you don't mind my asking, what do you go out with?"

Freda piped up before Wayne answered. "Oh? Do you go hunting, Duncan? Maybe you and Dad'll go while you're here."

Wanda, busily eating her own food, followed the conversation closely but not adding to it. She was sitting next to Duncan, with Sheeza on his other side. Out at the barn she'd noticed he was attractive. Cleaned up and sitting next to her was someone she could go for if her sister didn't mind. She wasn't exactly clear as to just what their relationship was.

"I've done some in my time."

Sheeza choked on her tea. Quickly putting her napkin over her mouth, she turned red and coughed as the tea went up her nose.

"Sheeza? You ok?" Duncan put his hand on her back and patted it comfortingly.

When she was able, Sheeza replied in a cracked voice. "Yeah. Sorry, went down the wrong way."

"What have you hunted Duncan?" Freda's curiosity knows no bounds when she is interested. Loving to listen to his voice, she found she wanted to ask him things just to keep him talking.

Silent for a moment, he glanced at Sheeza out of the corner of his eye. "I uh...have done alot of uh...camping over the years, the uh...back to nature way. I hunted for my food, lived off the land, that sort of thing."

Under the table, Duncan felt a hand on his leg.

"I like camping, too. Do it as often as I can," Wanda said smiling. Startled, the Scot's mouth opened and closed a couple of times. "This was uh...."

"I think what Duncan is trying to say, Wanda, is that when Duncan has gone camping, it's more like a survivalist. I've heard of him taking off into the woods with just a backpack. He is close to nature, closer than you can imagine."

Sheeza gave her sister a pointed look. She'd seen Wanda's arm move and Duncan's subsequent reaction. She didn't look away till she saw her sister's arm move again, making it clear that 'hands off' was the order of the day.

A hand landed on his other leg making Duncan look to Sheeza. He smiled. This hand was warm and kneading his thigh in just the right way. He covered her hand with his, grateful she was there next to him.

Wayne listened closely to what his daughter had said. He don't look like no survivalist. Wanda likes him. Shorty saw that pretty quick. Just a backpack, eh?

"So Wayne, I'm sorry, got sidetracked there. What is it you hunt with?" Engaging the older man, Duncan saw dark eyes boring into him, their intensity unmistakable.

"In season, I like to hunt with a long bow. Other times I use a rifle."

"In season?"

"Yeah, there are months when you can only use a bow," Freda added. "Dad's pretty good too. You ever use a bow and arrows Duncan?"

The hand on his thigh gripped him harder. Lowering his head, he again glanced at Sheeza.

Looking straight forward, no readable expression was on her face. Inside though, was another matter. It wasn't that it was dangerous conversation. Hell, people all over the world could use a bow and arrow, and live close to nature. So why was this bothering her? Because it was Duncan. Her Duncan to be exact and she loved him and wanted to protect him.

"A great many times Freda," he replied honestly. "I know how to fashion my own as well. At the time, it was all I had."

Clearing his throat, Wayne, fascinated by the conversation couldn't stop himself from asking, "What's the first weapon you ever hunted with?" Startled, he wondered inwardly why he asked such a question and what made him even think of it.

Looking back up at the old man, Duncan decided honesty, or as close to it as he could get, would still serve him well. "A spear."

Wayne's eyes widened. "Oh? And how did that work for you?"

A little smile graced Duncan's lips. "Not well. Had to learn stealth first," he answered with a chuckle. "Only the sheep would stand still for me."

After a long second, Wayne chuckled at the joke. Standing up with a small groan, he looked down at the man who his daughter had brought to his home. There was something niggling at him in the back of his mind, but he had decided. He liked this Duncan MacLeod.

"You want some coffee?"


It was early, but the morning sun had risen giving light on a new day. The air was chilly, the breeze blowing through the open windows made the home-made curtains flutter back and forth.

As quietly as she could, Sheeza got out of bed and tiptoed to the door and turned the knob silently. Grateful her Dad kept hinges oiled, the door opened just as quietly and she entered the room next to hers, the one Duncan had staked out for his own.

So beautiful he looked to her. She still was in awe that he paid any attention to her at all. Her only wish ever was to be his friend. His face was turned towards her, his breathing deep and regular. His normally controlled hair was wild about his face, framing his features and covering the pillow around him. His left arm was bent up and around his head, obscuring the bottom half of his face in shadow.

A strong breeze flowed through the room, the cold more noticeable with the connecting door open, pulling the draft through the two rooms.

Smiling, Sheeza remembered back to her earliest memories of her father and cold weather. She had always liked sleeping under warm blankets in a cold room. In the winter, Sheeza used to crack a window and let it freeze open. Her Dad would be angry as there was no way to close it once it was allowed to freeze. Finally, when she was a teenager and had her own room, he weather stripped her bedroom door and closed off the heater to her room. He told her that if she wanted it cold, he wasn't about to try and heat the great outdoors. He was surprised when his daughter wasn't upset. She only got more blankets for her bed and was happy about it.

Wicked thoughts sprang into her mind. Careful not to wake him, Sheeza tiptoed closer to his bed and pulled the blankets down off Duncan's chest, exposing sleep-warmed flesh to the morning chill.

In moments, his skin broke out in goosebumps. Duncan pulled his blankets back up and started moving his head up and down, like a baby searching for his mother's breast.

When she was sure he had settled down and his breathing grew regular, Sheeza again pulled down the blankets.

Fascinated, she watched the hair on his chest and stomach rise and look more full. She was just starting to see his skin tremble when he pulled the covers back up to his chin.

Sheeza couldn't help herself, so amused was she by her little game. For a third time, she carefully pulled the blankets down.

So intent in what she was doing, she missed Duncan opening his eyes. When her eyes flicked toward his to see that he was still asleep, she jumped and dropped the blanket she'd been so careful in pulling down.

"What are you doing," he asked in a sleep-cracked, but calm voice.

"Good morning Duncan," she replied, embarrassed now that she'd been caught.

Smiling up at her, a low rumble grew into a growl, which he knew she liked. "Good morning yourself, Sheeza. What were you doing?"

Coloring a faint pink, she cast her eyes to the side. "Uh...just checking to see if you were awake?"


Duncan was dressed and sitting on the bed watching Sheeza apply makeup that she very rarely wore when a knocking came at the door.

"You guys about ready? Almost time to go." Freda's voice was muffled from behind the heavy door. "Want to get there before church lets out. Only way to get the best table."

"We'll be right out Freda. Where's Dad and Wanda?"

"At church already. I stayed to make sure you got into town all right."

Sheeza sighed, grinning at Duncan.

"Freda, I know where the restaurant is, and we got Duncan's car, remember?"

A timid voice, unsure in it's tone replied. "Ummmmm....I know. Could I get a ride? Never rode in a car like that before."

Duncan grinned back at Sheeza. Pulling open the door, he smiled charmingly at her. "Of course, Freda, you can ride with us. It would be my pleasure."

She paled looking at him up and down. "Thanks. I'll be uh ...downstairs." Freda turned and quickly moved down the hall to the stairs and out of sight.

"She has no idea what to make of you, Duncan," Sheeza said. "You are just too good looking for us and it vexes her."

"No, I'm not," he giggled. "Do you think that way, too?"

Laughing when Sheeza agreed, he turned for the door. Offering his arm, he tilted his head and grinned back at her. "Shall we?"


Sheeza stifled a grin at how slow Duncan was driving. Going back down the gravel road to the highway, he went slowly to avoid kicking up rocks to hit his car.

Duncan sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. He could avoid major paint damage to his prized vehicle, but there was damned little he could do about the dust.

"You all right back there, Freda? It's not too much for you, is it?"

Freda sat in the back of the Thunderbird as though she were royalty. Her arm rested on the door and she reveled in being able to see everything with the top down. Wow! This is better than riding in the back of the pickup!

"I'm fine. This is great!"

Reaching the highway, Duncan turned left and headed for town. Being blacktop, he speeded up, safe in the knowledge that the gravel road was behind him for the time being.

"Sheeza? Did you want to go by the church before heading to the restaurant? Yesterday, it seemed like...."

"No, it's all right. I'd rather just go to the restaurant. We'll see everyone there."

Glancing quickly at her, Duncan caught the frown on Sheeza's face. He made a mental note to not mention the subject of the church again. Hearing the story of it reminded him how sad the whole thing was. He didn't want to rub more salt into that old wound.


Slowing down as they entered town, the Scot again noticed how quiet things were there. It occurred to him that Sheeza's hometown could make a great place to escape The Game for a little while. He knew it was impossible to leave that part of him behind, but a break would be nice. On the tail end of that thought came the memory of why he and Sheeza were there in the first place. Duncan gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter.

"Up there on the left Duncan. See? With the bright red Highlander parked out front. Plenty of room to park."

Duncan pulled in next to the SUV, noticing the rental sticker at the same moment the presence of another immortal buzzed his senses.

Caught with two women in his company, Duncan thought quickly as to the best way to proceed and keep his woman and her sister as safe from harm as possible.

Not seeing any other way without spilling the beans, Duncan quickly opened the door and held the seat while Freda got out. While she was occupied, he nodded toward the building, his face grim.

Sheeza understood immediately what he was trying to tell her. Nodding back at him, Sheeza got out and came around the car. As soon as Freda stood up straight, Sheeza wrapped her arms around her and hugged her. "I forgot to do this yesterday. Hope you don't mind."

Taking his opportunity, Duncan put himself between the women and the restaurant's front door.

"I love you too Sheeza," Freda replied, hugging her back. "Been too darned long since you've been home."

With another short nod, Duncan indicated to Sheeza that he was set. Releasing her sister, she took her hand and together they came up behind Duncan.

Hoping like hell things would turn out all right, Duncan had prepared for the worst if it should come to that. Tucked neatly inside his duster was his katana, the edge sharp and deadly like always.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he reached for the doorknob, turned it and pushed the door open. It swung on it's hinges freely, allowing it to hit the counter & stopping it with a clatter.

His eyes darted around the cluttered space, taking in decades of collected junk littering the walls, corners and counter space. Not seeing anyone, he took a step in the door and looked to his left.

There in the corner, sprawled comfortably in a chair and drumming his long fingers on the table, sat Methos. With a deadpan expression, he looked up at the Highlander.

"MacLeod," he said, dipping his head in greeting.

"Pierson," Duncan answered, a smile playing about his lips. "Is that yours?" Duncan pointed out the dirty, cracked window towards the shiny red car.

"Yeah, sort of appropriate, don't you think?"

An extraordinarily loud flushing sound came from behind a closed door on the other side of the place. The door opened and out stepped lahoffy, pulling her blouse down.

"Oh my god Adam, it's Duncan! See? And you said finding him would be like finding a needle in a haystack! Yeesh!"

Sheeza and Freda stepped inside. Dropping her sister's hand, Sheeza ran over to lahoffy and threw her in a bear hug.

When she finally let her friend go, Sheeza whirled around and grinned happily at Methos. "Adam! What brings you guys here?"

The four of them looked at each other, talking with eyes where words could not be used.

Drumming his fingers on the table again, Methos cocked his head and looked up at MacLeod.

"Can't let you all vacation alone now can we?"


The five of them sat around the table chatting, drinking their chosen beverages. Outside, cars, a whole string of them drove up and pulled in the front, filling the tiny lot.

Methos and Duncan started looking towards the windows as the buzz of a third immortal washed over them. Both men positioned themselves so that they faced the door and whoever walked through it.

The door opened and people of all ages, shapes and sizes began trundling in, claiming chairs for themselves before heading to the bathrooms or to get their own drinks.

The last man in stopped on the threshold. His eyes scanned the rest of the room before landing upon the Highlander and Methos.

Beady black eyes glittered and an evil smile settled upon his face. "I see I have company," he said, his voice dripping with malice.

Freda, oblivious to many things, stood up and went to Max. Smiling, she turned and faced the table. "Uncle Max? This is Duncan MacLeod, Sheeza's boyfriend. And the other one is Adam... uh, Pierson, right?" She chuckled when Methos nodded his head and smiled back. His eyes however, were glued to the man next to her.

"Duncan, Adam, this is our uncle, Max Gooch. You might hear him called Lavonn too."

On stiffened legs and with his back straight, Max stalked to the table. Duncan and Methos stood up, not wanting to be sitting as he approached them.

"Sie haben mich gefunden." (you have found me)

Duncan looked from Max to Methos. It was apparent to him that they had already met. Raising an eyebrow, the Scot looked to his friend for an answer to an unasked question.

His lip curled in distaste and his eyes narrowed. Standing here, after a very long time, was a man Methos did not relish ever seeing again. Nevertheless, he mentally shrugged and forced his hand out. A crooked and insincere smile was all he could manage.

"Why Maximillian Von Gauche! What a surprise!"

Max grasped the proffered hand, gripping it tight enough to make Methos wince. Biting his inner cheek to counter the pain in his hand, he squeezed back, beginning a silent battle between them.

"It's been a long time Me...Pierson. Never thought I'd see you again," he said through a clenched jaw.

Sheeza and lahoffy both gasped and turned to look at each other. He knows his real name!!!

Sliding her hand into her lahoffy's, Sheeza held on to it for comfort as well as solace, since she figured lahoffy was nervous as she was.

"Likewise...Max," Methos replied gritting his teeth, sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Adam," Duncan interjected, hoping to bring the two men back to the here and now before something could happen.

At once, the Methos and Max parted, each man shaking their injured hand a bit.

Duncan signaled for Methos to take his seat and the two of them sat down.

Leaning his large, hairy knuckles on the table, Max leaned down close enough to blow his fetid breath in the faces of those sitting there. "You are welcome at my table, welcome to my food. We'll talk when we are able, to catch up...would be good. My Sherry makes good chicken."

Cocking his head to the side, Methos spoke up before his better judgment could stop him. "Ever the poet Von Gauche. But was the chicken good to begin with?"

The greasy smile slid off his face and Max glared at Methos. "Sie fordern heraus mich aufzufordern?" (You dare to challenge me?)

Methos sat back and slid into an arrogant sprawl. "Not at all Max. I love a good chicken...when it's really good."

With a growl, Max turned away from the table and stormed off in the direction of the kitchen.

Duncan looked at Methos, his nostrils flared in the tell-tale sign of irritation. Glancing at the rest of the people at the table and around the restaurant, he saw all was well. Nobody seemed confused or too upset, so he resumed putting on his best glare.

Methos, always amused by Duncan glaring, laughed. "What? He started it, MacLeod! Damned near broke my hand, too," he quipped.

Lahoffy and Sheeza looked at Methos and Duncan, assured that they were safe. It helped to know what was going on there, and if not the reason for the dislike between Max and Methos, at least that there was an explanation. They would just have to wait till later to hear the rest of the story.

Freda looked confused. Gazing at each face, her eyes widened in question. "Uncle Max speaks German?"


After partaking of the Sunday family dinner at Max's Restaurant, all the while being watched by Max himself, Duncan pulled Sheeza away and the two stepped out into the afternoon sun. He hoped they would have a few moments of privacy before being interrupted.

"Sheeza, is there a hotel nearby for Methos and lahoffy?" Looking around, he was a bit skeptical that there would be anything available in the vicinity. He hadn't seen one and didn't recall Sheeza mentioning one either.

"No, Duncan, there really isn't. Not unless you head back to Milan or on to Brookfield. One is 22 miles and the other is 35. It's ok though. There is plenty of room at Dad's. Three open bedrooms to be exact. I'm sure if we asked him, he'd be willing to have them stay with us.

Duncan frowned. "Oh, not good, not good at all. Too far should something happen to either one of us or to one of the women. Let's hope Wayne is all right with more people in the house."

Leaning against the fender of his car, Duncan looked at Methos through the window, still picking at his food but not really eating it. "You really think he would? Methos knowing your uncle really puts a spin on things, and I'd feel a lot better knowing just what in the hell is going on. I want Methos nearby, and I don't want to see lahoffy hurt any more than I could stand it if something happened to you."

"Yes, Dad will be just fine with it. Methos seems to be getting along just fine with Freda and Wanda, so it's not like there is a problem there. It's getting time to go, too. We'll tell him when we get back to the house." Sheeza laughed softly. "That is, if he doesn't figure it out when they show up."


Methos and lahoffy followed Duncan and Sheeza back to the farm. Freda was once again ensconced in the back of the Thunderbird, her arms crossed over her chest with her head tilted back and her eyes closed.

"What is MacLeod's problem? Was there a 10 mph speed limit sign I missed somewhere?" Methos' lip curled and he pounded his fist against the steering wheel. "Come on MacLeod! Today would be good!"

Lahoffy cocked her head and looked at her man in mild surprise. "Gotta pee or something, 'Thos?"

Exasperated, he huffed and sighed, acting like one of the great 'put-upon'. Sighing once more for good measure, Methos' eyes narrowed and he glanced at her. "It's that goddamned cheap beer that Max served! Nothing but water!"


With Freda zoned out in the back, Sheeza and Duncan were left more or less to themselves. Duncan peered into the rear-view mirror for what must have been the tenth time when a hand closed on his arm.

"Duncan, Freda sleeps in the car all the time. It's ok."

Surprised, he smiled back at her. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"I know you want to talk. Depending on the subject matter, now is just fine."

"There is something I want to talk to you about, but I don't think we've much time for it. Right now I just want to get back to the house and talk to Adam."

Sheeza glanced back at Duncan. "I want to be there, too."

"I'm not sure...."

Scooting closer so that she could keep her voice down over the slight breeze stirred up by the barely moving car, Sheeza got on her knees and leaned against him. "I am sure. As long as things are the way they are, I have an interest in it. So does lahoffy for that matter. I'm sure of it. In for a penny, in for a pound Duncan."

Settling back down on the car seat, Sheeza again grasped his arm. "Besides, you can't push me, push us away. We can help, I know we can. And if need be, I can follow orders like a champion."

Risking another peek into the mirror, Duncan was relieved Freda still had her eyes closed. Although Sheeza was cryptic enough in her wording, he knew that if her sister was listening, what was said could raise questions from her, questions that might prove difficult to answer.


Pushing open the door, Sheeza entered the bedroom next to the ones she and Duncan were using. This one faced the west side of the house, overlooking the driveway.

Crossing the room, she pulled open the curtains to let the afternoon sunshine pour in. "Well here it is, hope you find it comfy enough. Sorry about the bed though. Dad is a firm believer that full-sized is plenty enough for anybody, anytime. But then, there aren't a whole lot of tall men in our family, so hope you aren't too inconvenienced, Methos. Lahoffy, you are in the next room over, through that connecting door," Sheeza said, pointing to it.

Lahoffy set her suitcase down and crossed to the window while Methos moved to stand at the foot of the bed.

Cocking his head to the side, he cast a critical eye on the bed he was being assigned for the duration of his stay. "Won't be easy to sprawl, but I guess it'll have to do."

Rubbing his hands over his head to massage his scalp, Methos turned and smiled at Sheeza. "It's fine...really. My feet usually do hang off the end of a regular bed. I'm used to it."

Sheeza crossed the room and stood next to him. "Just so you know, Duncan wants to have a pow-wow tonight, after everybody has gone to bed. I think the best place is out in the barn. It's away from everybody and we can talk clearly there."

Methos turned when he felt Duncan approaching before he was seen or heard.

Noticing the look on the old man's face, Sheeza turned and saw Duncan enter the room.

"Well, you two settled in all right? Sheeza? Wayne just pulled into the driveway. I guess we should head downstairs and let him know there are two more guests?"

"Good idea. That car Methos rented I'm sure got his attention. Come on guys. Wait till you meet my Dad. Duncan just loves him, don't you?" Smiling, Sheeza looked to the Scot for confirmation.

"Umm, yeah...your father...he's a good man."

The fleeting look on Duncan's face and the quick glance toward Methos told the old man that there was more to be said on that matter. With a dip of his head, he acknowledged the Highlander.

Rubbing his hands together and wiping them off on his jeans, Methos grinned. "Let's get this over with, shall we?


Sheeza and lahoffy laughed wildly at the boys. They sported identical shocked, dismayed and frightened expressions.

"Ho ho, now come on guys," Sheeza said snickering behind her hand. "It's not that bad! You should be proud! Dad wouldn't invite you to go arrowhead hunting if he didn't like you a little bit."

Methos snorted, his lips disappearing into a thin line. "What do we get if he hates us?"

The grin she wore disappeared and a serious look replaced it. "Shunned," Sheeza answered quietly.

Wayne was a quiet and less-than-sociable man by nature. He would never be confused with the guy who was the life of the party. He didn't avoid situations, he just ... well, for lack of a better term, side-stepped them. For him to invite Duncan and Methos both to accompany him on an activity he always did alone, it said something to Sheeza. To her, she equated her Dad's behavior on the same level as Duncan when he did his katas. It was a private thing, not a free-for-all.

Duncan's eyebrows shot up. "Shunned? That's a bit harsh, isn't it?"

Sighing, because she knew her words were misunderstood, Sheeza tried again. "No, not 'shunned', shunned. It's not like he would banish you or beat you or turn his back on you, either. It's more like...if you are in the kitchen, he's in the living room. If you are upstairs, he'll be downstairs. If you go outside, he'll find a reason to come inside. He won't initiate a conversation, but he will offer coffee or whatever because that's polite. But it won't go beyond that. If shunned isn't the correct word, what is? Methos is invited because of you, Duncan. And you were invited because of me, and because he likes you. For that I'm glad. If he hadn't liked you, he most certainly wouldn't have asked you along. If he didn't like Methos even a little bit, then he wouldn't ask you to come along so you could stay behind to keep Methos company, because that's polite. He would have taken the chance to get away from you."

Reflecting on it, there wasn't another term Duncan could think of that would more accurately describe what Sheeza said. Indeed, it reminded him of home in a way. That sort of shunning was done in villages of his time to people who had fallen into disfavor. It was an effective tool for those who are passive by nature, and not given to fighting, either physically or verbally. That is, to their own. Even bickering would go so far till both sides would just stop and leave the area. They would still fight when called upon to stand up to their enemies. His estimation of her father rose another notch.

The screen door banged against the jamb, heralding the arrival of Wayne, wearing rubber boots and carrying a bucket that had assorted handles sticking out the top. "Sun'll be down soon. Best to goin'. You boys ready?"

Methos' eyes went wide, his expression one of a man about to take that last walk down that lone corridor. "Lahoffy, I think I'll stay here. I don't need to go." Pulling her into his arms, it seemed more like he was using her for a shield than he was cuddling her.

"Nu-huh Adam," Sheeza chided. "This is our time now. You have to go play with the other boys." Chuckling, she pulled lahoffy from his grasp.

"Yeah, Adam! Go find me somethin' good," taunted lahoffy. "Saa-a-aayy..." she crowed, eyeing him with exaggerated suspicion, "you ever been in these parts?"

His eyes narrowed and his lip curled, Methos couldn't believe her cheekiness. "Yeah...a time or two. Must have been oh....uh.....180 years ago, give or take a year or two." Whirling around, the old man grinned at the Highlander. "What about you Duncan? You ever been in these parts?"

Wayne laughed. "Been fighting Indians much there, Adam?"

Deciding to play along even though it was closer to truth than he would have liked, Duncan laughed as well. "No, I liked to live with the Indians. Survivalist, close to nature and all that," he responded, grinning and winking at Wayne.

Methos looked quizzically from Wayne to Duncan. He'd missed something but wasn't quite sure what. Instead of putting MacLeod on the spot, it seemed as though he'd touched on a private joke or something. He wondered if it had something to do with the look Duncan had given him earlier about Sheeza's Dad.

"I suppose then, Duncan, that you got some good experience living with the Indians. They lived all over these parts way back when. Artifacts are plentiful if you know where to look."

A far-away look flashed in MacLeod's eyes and was gone almost before it could be noticed. "I know," he replied quietly, "good people, too." Realizing he'd spoken aloud, he looked around and grinned. "Lectured on them at Seacouver University a couple of semesters ago. Did you know they..."

Sheeza wrapped an arm around Duncan's waist and hugged him from the side. "Burnin' daylight, dear. You guys go on, you can talk all about Indians while you track their trail, OK? Lahoffy and I have other fun stuff to do."

With a quick peck on the cheek, Sheeza gave Duncan's butt a playful swat, she jumped back before he could touch her. "Now get going, or I'll have Dad leave you out there, lost and at the mercy of the fierce creatures that roam these parts."

Methos smirked, the image of Max coming instantly into his head. Little lady, you don't know the half of it!

Tilting his head towards his woman, Duncan lowered his voice an octave. "But darlin', you forget, I am the only fierce creature you need worry about."

Wayne rolled his eyes, but he smiled happily. He enjoyed the easy banter going on in his family. It had been too long since his house was filled with visitors, and too long since his baby girl had found her way home. He also found he couldn't help but like Duncan MacLeod and his friend Adam. Maybe, just maybe they were someone he could talk to, outsiders who would listen and not just discount him as a fool or a foolish old man. He'd not missed Duncan's interest in Max and privately wondered if that SOB really was what brought his wayward young daughter home. There was only one way to find out.

Kisses and hugs were passed around leaving lahoffy and Sheeza waving goodbye to the men as they trooped behind a white haired old man heading down the trail towards the pond.

They hadn't gotten far when Methos started hopping around on one foot and cursing up a storm. The sound of laughter drifted back to them as they watched Duncan stagger, clutching his stomach. About the same time as Methos looked down at his shoe, the Highlander wailed and fell to the ground, rolling back and forth.

Oblivious, the old man kept going, his pace steady and smooth.

Sheeza and lahoffy fell against each other giggling after they heard it.

"Now who put a god damned cow paddy here? Here! Right where I'm walking!"


Sitting around the living room, lahoffy, Sheeza, and her sisters talked about anything and everything that came to mind. Lemonade and sugar cookies still warm from the oven were shared amidst laughter and good company.

The subject of allergies came up since Freda suffered from so many and took several medications to alleviate the worst of her symptoms.

"...and reason I stay here at the Kelly Place is because the doctor told me that to move to a city to get away from the grass, tree, mold and insect allergies might just actually kick up new allergies to take their place. At least he can control the ones I already got. No, it's best to stay here and take my shots twice a week."

Wanda rolled her eyes and hooked a thumb towards Freda. "Can you believe it,lahoffy? Sister here is even allergic to onions and potatoes! Now I ask you...who ever heard of being allergic to onions and potatoes?"

Lahoffy shook her head and smiled. She had to admit those were unusual things to be allergic to since they were such common foods. "I have a couple myself, but my biggy is hay." Thinking ahead to the planned meeting in the barn that night, she cringed inwardly.

Freda's eyebrows rose in question. "You're allergic to hay? I didn't notice you sneezing or anything. What do you take?"

Flapping her hand as if to wave off an unseen nuisance, lahoffy laughed. "Naw, I don't take anything. It really only bothers me if I am in it, on it, or really close to it. Like rolling around in it or something. The picture that instantly popped into her mind made her drop her eyes to her lap and smile. She bit the inside of her cheek to squelch the giggle.

"Yeah, I'm allergic to hay too. Take a pill for it and I'm right as rain. Can go into the barn, sleep in it, wear it as clothing if I want to."

Sheeza perked up. "You have pills for hay? It's not in the shot? Why not?"

"It doesn't play nice with the mold part. Gives me a rash which causes a whole 'nother set of problems," Freda replied with a chuckle.

Sheeza reflected on all the different times lahoffy suffered because she ran into the barn to escape the boys, or was chased there bythe boys, or at the very least...was entertained by one boy or another. "Hmmm....I wonder if those pills would work for you, lahoffy."


Methos was hunkered down by the edge of the water, poking at the mud with a stick. He was miserable and he wasn't real happy about the random wafts of manure that assailed his sensitive nose.

"Psst! 'Thos! You could at least look like you are enjoying yourself," hissed Duncan, who was searching around, possibly looking for remnants of times gone by but not really expecting to find anything he would recognize from the past.

Glancing around, Methos checked on Wayne before making his reply. "It's all the same, MacLeod," he muttered. "Mud, grass, trees, cow paddy's, mud...oh look! There goes yet another rabbit," he groaned, pointing after it with his stick.

"Well yeah, Wayne said there weren't many big predators around here, so rabbits would be plentiful, wouldn't they? Find anything yet?"

Feeling a snit building deep within him, Methos began poking at the creek-bank in earnest. "No, not a blasted thing! I don't suppose you could tell me where you lost your arrowheads when you played Indian, hmmm?"

Duncan turned, checking on Wayne who was crouched down several feet away with his back to them.

"I lost quite a few things over the years, Adam. This spot reminds me of where the tribe used to winter, but I can't be sure if it is or not. I feel something, but things change over the years, and back then there were no roads and no farmers settled here yet. Settlers were traveling through pretty regular, stirring up trouble now and again because of fear. I did lose something important to me, but what are the odds that it would have been here, in this very spot?"

"So what did you lose, MacLeod?" Methos was interested, if only to dispel his boredom however briefly.

Knees popping and an old man's groans drew their attention back to Wayne, who had at last stood up and turned around. His hands were muddy, and it was obvious he was holding something but it was caked with mud and unidentifiable.

"Find something there?" Methos stood up, his curiosity coming to life and walked over to the old man with Duncan following behind him.

"It's not Indian, at least I don't think it is. Don't know what it is for sure yet." Bending down, Wayne dipped his hands into the cold water of the little creek and washed off the mud, rinsing the object as well.

When he stood, he was holding something nearly black in color and very soft. "It's a pouch, half rotted through. Heavy though. Must be something in it."

Duncan felt his stomach clench. It's not possible! It couldn't be! Could it?


Freda re-entered the living room with pill bottles and a box. "See? My allergy stuff."

Setting the items on the side table, she sat back down and held up the case. "This is the shot stuff. The doctor makes it custom for me. Been giving myself my own shots since I didn't want to pay for doctor visits twice a week so he could do it."

Setting it back down, Freda picked up a large orangish-brown bottle with a white cap. "And this is the hay medicine. I know hay is for horses, but did they have to make the pill so big?" Plucking one from the bottle, she held up a pill that was indeed incredibly large.

Lahoffy gulped and glanced at Sheeza. "Geez, Freda, how do you take that?"

"I break it in two and take the halves. Either that or let Dad use one of those blow pipes the vets use on large animals. He was willing, but I wasn't."

After the snickers died down, Freda continued. "Anyway, I'll leave them here on the table. Give 'em a try. They won't hurt you or anything."

Wanda turned to Freda, her eyes fastened on her sister. "You mean to share your prescribed medicine with someone who it wasn't prescribed for? You've forgotten Mom and Sheeza?"

Lahoffy glanced at her friend before asking, "What about your Mom and Sheeza? Did something happen?"

Freda looked a bit contrite. "Yeah, Sheeza when she was little had the flu or something and Mom gave her one of her pills to make her feel better. She didn't know that the pill had penicillin in it and Sheeza's allergic. Got the hives almost immediately. Mom got real mad about that."

"And?" Wanda asked it softly...knowing there was more to Mom and pills.

Sheeza spoke up this time. "Mom used to offer and share her medicines with just about anybody. She had quite the supply store back then. The doctor gave her so many pills, she ended up having more problems because they didn't all play nice together. She used to trade drugs with her best friend Blanche. Almost put Blanche in the hospital once...mixing her medicines."

Lahoffy paled, considering what she'd heard. "But this pill, you'll offer it to me anyway?"

Freda shrugged. "Well...yeah, why not? You are allergic to hay. This is a hay pill. It's here if you want it. Your choice."

"Lahoffy, just know you can try it if you want to. If it works, you can copy the information from the label and maybe the doctor when we get home can prescribe it for you. You know how much better things can be if you had something for hay." Sheeza smiled at her friend.


Duncan was confused and nervous. He was trying really hard to convince himself that what Wayne had in his hands couldn't possibly be the very same pouch that he had lost when galloping away from those settlers guns that long ago day. As hard as he was trying, he couldn't shake the idea that the pouch was his and this was the place where he'd lost it.

They hadn't known he was a white man seeing as how he was dressed the same as the people he had summered with. His dark hair blew freely behind him just as the other men's did, and his skin had darkened from being in the sun every single day...all day.

"What will you do with it," Methos inquired. "Are you going to open it here?"

Turning it over in his hands, Wayne considered his options. The leather was rotted and liable to fall apart when he tried to open the flap so it might be best to do it on a table or bench. He could open it where they stood and not lose any hunting time if there ended up being nothing of worth inside.

He could see there was some tooled design worked into the leather but much of it was corrupted. All he could really make out was a circle shape.

Looking up to the sky, Wayne gauged how much daylight was left and decided that between the arrowhead that he'd found and the scraper that Duncan unearthed, it might be best to call it a day for hunting further. There was still time to open the pouch and see what there was to see though.

"I guess we'll open it here," the old man drawled. "No sense in carrying it back home if there ain't something to carry home."

Flipping the bucket over, Wayne sat down on it and laid the pouch in his lap.

"This is exciting, isn't it, MacLeod?" Methos' eyes were shiny at the thought of treasure being unearthed. Glancing at Duncan, he didn't see his friend feeling the same way as he did.

Duncan stood still, one hand on a hip and the other combing through his hair. He'd pulled the hair tie out unconsciously and without knowing it, looked much more like the man who'd lost the pouch than he might have liked. His eyes were wide and the muscles in his jaw worked. If it was his pouch, then there were things in there that could identify him if one were so inclined to believe it.

At that moment, Duncan would have given anything to be back at the house with Sheeza. It was one thing to come home with her to investigate an immortal, and it was another to have her father find something that he'd lost over a century ago.

Inside, Duncan was screaming, pleading and begging for this moment to change, for them to be somewhere else or doing something else other than what they were about to do. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and forced himself to accept that whatever happened, he was still Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.


"Oh shit! Sheeza! It works! It really works!" Lahoffy ran around the barn, breathing deeply of the hay stacked inside. "I can't believe it!"

Sheeza smiled as she watched her friend spin in circles with her arms outstretched and giggling like a carefree school-girl. "So you're not sorry you took the pill?"

Grinning from ear to ear, lahoffy ran over to a bale that had been pulled apart and was lying in a pile. Flopping down on it she rolled quickly from side to side. Sitting up, hay stuck out of her hair. "Does it look like I'm sorry? Hell, get me the name of that doctor!"

"Gonna tell Methos?"

Lahoffy squeaked at the name. "Tell Methos?! Hell, no, I'm not gonna tell him. And you don't tell him neither," she growled pointing Sheeza. "No telling Duncan either. I don't trust those two when they get together. No telling what secrets they tell out of school."

Sighing and smiling as sweet as an angel, lahoffy held a handful of hay up to her nose. Smelling the sweetness of the grass, she sighed happily. "I can't wait to see the look on his face when he figures it out, Sheeza."


"Here we go," Wayne whispered as his fingers slid under the flap. He'd tried loosening the knot of leather holding it down, but it was wet and solid so he cut it with his penknife. He was reluctant to pull on the cording as he'd sort of hoped there might be a way to save it. It was doubtful, but he'd seen enough shows on Discovery Channel to hope even if he didn't have all the fancy equipment those professionals had to preserve artifacts.

When he had pulled the flap back, the pressure was too much on the rotted leather and it broke where it had bent. Feeling a bit of guilt, Wayne dropped it to the ground beside him.

"What's inside?" Methos' excitement was filling him and he felt fit to burst. Coming a bit closer, Methos squatted down next to Wayne just inches from the old man's arm. "Feels like Christmas or something!"

"Patience, Adam. Rome wasn't built in a day."

Methos' head jerked up to peer at the old man. Laughter caught him by surprise. "Well, no, it wasn't Wayne. But they were impatient, too...or so I hear."

If Duncan wasn't so caught up in the pouch on Wayne's lap, he might have found it funny. Instead, a fine sweat broke out all over his body and suddenly his clothes felt too tight. A fleeting desire to run naked, and as far away as possible crossed his mind and was abruptly squelched.

Reaching into the pouch, Wayne's hand made a bulge under the leather causing it to crack and begin to split. Flinching, he closed his eyes and stayed his movement. After a few seconds, he opened them again and brought out the first object. It was a knife, all metal with an ornate looking handle.

"Wayne! You're bleeding!" Methos reached out and laid a hand on the older man's arm.

Blood dripped steadily from his hand but the old man paid it no attention. After decades of farming and working in a factory, he could tell when a wound was minor.

Duncan closed his eyes, dread spreading outward from the pit of his stomach. It was his. The knife was his. He'd recognized it instantly. There was no more hope except that Wayne wouldn't jump to any conclusions about what else the pouch contained.

"Here, hold this, Adam," Wayne said, handing him the knife.

Deciding to accept whatever would happen, Duncan stepped closed and knelt down, his knees sinking into the soft earth and wetting his jeans. "The leather broke so you might as well pull it apart."

Shaking some of the blood from his hand, Wayne wiped the wound on the grass to rid himself of as much blood as possible. The cut had slowed to a trickle. He'd always been a fast healer.

Using both hands he pulled at the cracked leather and laid open the rest of the contents of the pouch Duncan had lost so long ago.

Coins, tarnished almost black lay together in a clump, stuck together with bits of some unidentified goo. Pulling them out, Wayne hefted them in his hand appreciating their weight. Holding one up, he identified it as a gold $20 piece.

"Whoever lost this sure lost some money. Today these are worth...Well I don't know what they are worth, but I do know it's a fair sight more than just $20.

Adam looked at the money, wishing like hell he'd been the one to find the pouch. It wasn't like he really needed the money or more history to collect. It was jealousy just on principle. "So what else is in there?"

Duncan groaned inwardly when he saw what Wayne picked up next.

Pulling out a pocket watch from a crumbling leather case, Wayne held it up for all to see. It was plain and simple with a short chain still in place. Though it was water logged, it was still in good condition considering where it had lain all this time. In it's case, no dirt had gotten to it and it was still as shiny as the day it had fallen from Duncan's horse.

"Open it. Maybe there is something inside, an engraving or something." Adam was oblivious to Duncan, so caught up was he in the heat of the moment.

Duncan's head dropped down till his chin reached his chest. He knew full well that there was just such an engraving inside that watch. And it would seem quite a coincidence when Wayne made it out. There was no doubt in Duncan's mind that the engraving would be legible.

Wayne found the catch and popped open the cover. It didn't snap open, but he thought that could be improved with cleaning. This was a nice pocket watch, well worth the money to have it restored. Considering the amount of money to be gained from the coins alone, he figured he could sell one to restore the watch.

Carefully pulling back the cover, Wayne held up the watch to see the inscription better.

Duncan MacLeod
~*Our love is timeless*~
Sarah

Duncan held his breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. Methos looked on expectantly.

Wayne's brow furrowed in thought, but nothing made sense. It was too improbable that he would find a pouch containing a watch bearing the same name as the man his baby girl had brought home with her. Even more odd was that she would come home from some sense of whatever based upon news about Max in her letter. Time to do some fishing.

"So Duncan, who's Sarah?"

Methos' jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. His head snapped to the right and took in the Highlander with his head bowed. He'd finally connected the pouch to Duncan and it was a shock to him.

Wayne took it a step further. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Resigned, Duncan took a deep breath and let it out. "Not really, but I guess I'll have to now." Standing up on his feet, he looked down at Sheeza's father. "I don't suppose we can just let this go, forget that you ever found that?"

Wayne looked from the watch to Methos and then back to Duncan. "I've got an open mind."


Crouched in front of Sheeza's father, Duncan rested his arms on his legs and let his hands dangle between his knees. Trying to read the old man's expression, he wasn't sure if Wayne had believed his story or not. Man, this guy would be a killer at poker!

Methos, leaning against a nearby tree, had his hands in his pockets and had been listening quietly while Duncan talked. He was certainly glad he wasn't in MacLeod's shoes at this point. However, he did think what was being said was pretty unbelievable unless one really did have an open mind.

"Wayne? Do you believe me?"

Sitting still for a few moments, Wayne puckered his lips in thought and looked from the ground to Methos and then back to Duncan. "It's pretty far-fetched, but I guess no more than Gooch living through that tractor accident without a scratch."

Glancing over towards Methos, the old man nodded his head in the ancient's direction. "And him? I'd say yes, because you wouldn't be so open about it if he wasn't or at least didn't know about you."

Duncan looked to Methos and smiled.

Tilting his head to the side, Methos narrowed his eyes and gave a sly smile in return. "I guess you could say that MacLeod and I have that in common."

Wayne sighed and looked off into the distance. Tearing his eyes away from the treeline, he looked down again at the watch he held in his hands. "Does Sheeza know?"

"Yes, she does. She knows about us, about immortals."

"Is Gooch the reason why she came home? Is Gooch one of you?"

Duncan smiled, his eyes soft and warm. "You catch on pretty quick, don't you," he asked with a chuckle.

Wayne looked from the Scot to Methos, still lounging against a tree. "Been readin' Edgar Rice Burroughs for years and I've seen Star Trek," he replied, as though that explained it all.

Methos burst out laughing and stepped away from the tree. "I told Burroughs he was good. Glad to see somebody has been reading him. What a kook!"

Wayne looked up at him, his brow furrowed in mild surprise. "You knew Burroughs? Did he know about you too?"

Casting his gaze toward the distant treeline, Methos' eyes dimmed with remembrance. "No, but he came close one night," he whispered. Shaking his head to dispel the memory long gone, he turned back to them. "We should be heading back. No telling what sort of mischief lahoffy has been getting Sheeza into."

Duncan took the torn leather pouch from Wayne so that he could stand. He was relieved that the old man seemed to have taken things so well. Perhaps too well?

Leaning closer to him, Duncan whispered, "Can we talk later?"

Wayne cocked an eye toward him. "I think that'd be a good idea. I think there's still more to be said."


After supper, Wayne went into the living room to listen to his radio and watch the television with the sound turned down. The Cardinals were playing the Cubs, one of his all-time favorite matchups in baseball. He preferred the commentary on the radio, so whenever a game was on, he could be found as he was now. In one hand he was nibbling on his favorite after dinner treat, a bread and butter sandwich with sugar.

Sitting around the dining table, everyone was talking and laughing as they pushed dishes around and sipped at whatever each of them was drinking.

Freda stood up and stretched. "Supper was really good, Sheeza. Having such a good time, I almost hate to leave."

Wanda stood up as well, taking her dishes to the sink. "Me, too, but I promised to help out at bingo tonight."

Methos looked up at her. "Bingo? People still play bingo?"

Cocking her head to the side, Freda fixed him with a curious glance. "Still? What do you mean, still? People been playing bingo for as long as I can remember. I'm older than you, so...."

Duncan glared at Methos, who somehow managed to look contrite and confused at the same time.

"Uh...well...I...my mom played it sometimes when I was a kid. I didn't know people still played it. Haven't heard about it in years," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Lahoffy smirked behind her hand but was unable to cover the snort. She resorted to a coughing fit, pretending to choke.

Sheeza, fighting to cover her own smile, turned to her best friend and put on a concerned look. "Lahoffy? Are you okay?"

Downing the last of her Pepsi, she held up a hand and waved it a bit, assuring all that she would be fine. Still grinning but pretending it was her choking that was the cause, she batted her eyes and giggled. "Ah! Better," she breathed, fanning herself. "Choked on something."

Sliding his eyes toward Sheeza, Duncan let his hand rest on her arm. "Want to go for a walk?"

Up to this point, the men had not made mention about their find earlier in the day. Duncan wanted to tell Sheeza about it first and Wayne had agreed. Methos was subdued about their decision, but knew it was probably for the best.

Sheeza smiled back at him, her heart full of love for him. "Sure, sounds wonderful. Freda? Wanda? Have fun at bingo." Looking from her friend to Methos, "You two stay out of trouble."

Standing up, Duncan held out his hand and Sheeza slid her fingers across his palm before tightening her grasp. She still marveled at the strength in his grip. She loved the way he would slide his thumb almost absently across her skin.


"Methos! Whaddya mean her Dad knows?," lahoffy whispered, her voice loud yet quiet in the thundering silence of the barn. "How did he find out? What happened? Did one of you get hurt? Was it you? Was it Duncan? Oh God! What if...."

"Shh...." he whispered, holding his finger to his lips. "Take a breath, luv, you're turning positively blue!"

Setting her mouth in a frown, lahoffy balled her fists and pounded them against her thighs. "Methos, if you don't explain yourself here and now..." she threatened, her words low and menacing.

Holding his hands up, he stepped back, his eyes widened comically. "Whoa! Slow down!"

Taking her hand, Methos led lahoffy to a couple of hay bales stacked to the left of the milking stall and sat her down before sitting alongside her.

"We were looking for arrowheads and Wayne found a leather pouch. And guess who it belonged to?"

When Methos saw her eyes widen and her head tilt in question, he went on. "Yep, the boyscout lost it. Wayne opened up the pouch and found a pocketwatch with MacLeod's name engraved inside. He put two and two together."

"But, Methos," she asked, covering his hand with hers, "Does he know about you? I guess more importantly, does he believe?"

Considering his reply, he looked deep in thought. "Yes, and yes I think he does."

Mulling over this revelation, lahoffy was quiet for a moment. "Why didn't Duncan just tell him it wasn't his?"

"I don't know. I asked him that myself," he answered, scratching his head, looking perplexed. "Wayne assumed that either I was immortal, too, or I had to know. Odd thing though, after that, he jumped all the way over to Max. If I didn't know better...."

"Know what better," lahoffy asked, cuddling up next to Methos and feeling a little more relaxed than she had been.

"Well, it's just that he," he said, pausing and continuing on. "Saa-aayy...you aren't sneezing. What gives?"

Craning her neck to bring her lips closer to his ear, lahoffy hesitated before letting Methos in on her big secret. "The miracles of modern medicine."

Methos looked into her eyes, confusion giving way to understanding. "Oh! Oh? Does this mean...."

With a smile beaming as brightly as the near full-moon in the sky outside, she nodded her head. "Yep, it means!"

Methos stood up, his eyes glittering from the lamplight that flickered a few feet away. Gazing down upon her upturned face, Methos couldn't help but see the ramifications of lahoffy no longer sneezing when in the barn. Leaning down till he was eye level with her, he smiled with a touch of 'deviltry' showing through his amusement. "Race ya to the ladder," he croaked before turning and racing away.

A split second and one surprised yelp later, lahoffy was on her feet and tearing after him. If Methos hadn't tripped on the rake half hidden in the hay, he might have won.


"Are you serious?!? Dad was cool with it?" Sheeza was surprised beyond description after Duncan finally told her everything. "Well yeah, guess so," she answered herself, "he was at the table and talking to you. I'd have known if something was wrong."

"You would have? He still wants to talk to me, but it must not be too dire, or he would have found time or made time to talk to me this evening. After all, he did go in to watch that ballgame."

"Duncan, there is darn little in Dad's world that is more important than when the Cards play the Cubs. Any Cards game is important, but when those two teams play...lets just say that nothing else better happen 'till after the ninth inning is over."

They sat relaxed and slump-shouldered on the grassy incline leading down to the pond. Duncan opted to sit there instead of on the large, flat rock at the edge of the pond where that had been before. Sheeza had laughed so hard when he reminded her of snapping turtles and just how dark it was out there 'what with no lights expect the one at the side of the house.

"Sheeza," Duncan began, scooting closer till he could drape his arm around her shoulder, "there is something else."

Turning in and laying her head against him, she looked up at the star-filled night sky. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

Hesitating, he waited a bit before speaking. "Hon, I think he already knew."

Duncan was nervous. He was aware that since his arm had gone around her, he'd been doing that comforting "old Granny" patting thing on Sheeza's arm. Sheeza, who hadn't noticed the patting, suddenly noticed it when he stopped. "What?What do you mean, you think he already knew?"

Turning his head, his cheek nuzzled the top of her head while he thought out the best way to respond. "Sheeza, aside from not sensing him at all and the fact that he's your natural father...."

Sitting up quickly, Duncan and peered at her in the darkness. "He is your natural father, isn't he?" There was a catch in his voice that was unmistakable.

Sheeza blinked. "Yeah, he is. What are you getting at, Duncan?"

Pulling her back to where she had been and the two had settled in and comfortable once more, Duncan explained. "He wasn't really surprised because it explained Max to him. In fact, he didn't seem surprised at all. Did you know he was a fast healer? If I didn't know better, I'd guess that, one," he said, holding up a finger, "he's pre-immortal, and two," holding up a second finger, "he knew of immortals long before today. I suppose it's possible that he could have been pre-immortal and I didn't sense him, but, being your father, he just can't be. Not possible," he said, gently shaking his head.

"What does being a fast healer have to do with....oh." Sheeza stiffened a moment before settling back down against him. "Did he say anything about me?"

"He asked if you knew. He also told me he wants to talk to me and indicated he wanted to talk to me alone, so who knows what he has to say?"

"It's hard to say, Duncan. Don't confuse his gentle calmness for naivete or ignorance. He's a very intelligent man who happens to lead a very rural life. He would never be bothered with a cell phone and computers are what someone else uses. When he was younger, he completed his military obligation in the navy and traveled in Europe. I was always fascinated with how far he'd traveled, but he never talks of those days."

"What war did he fight in?"

"It was peacetime. I was always hurt because he would never tell us any stories and knew there had to be some just from the way remembering it would make him smile. I know he won some medals, but they are all at Grandma's house. I've only seen the yearbook from his time there. Just pictures. There was only one thing he said about it when I was a kid and I remember it as clear as the day he giggled when he said it. I didn't get it till I was grown up. And you should hear Dad giggle...."

"What was that?"

"A girl in every port and a port in every girl."

Duncan jerked as if he'd been punched. "What did you say?" He held on to Sheeza, stunned. "No, you couldn't have said what I thought you said."

"What's wrong?" Pushing against him till he released her, she sat up and looked at him. "WHAT??"

"By any chance, was your Dad ever in Italy?"

"Yeah...."

"Naples," they both said at the same time.

"Well....," he began, heaving a deep, troubled sigh, "you've heard of Amanda's penchant for circuses...."


Sheeza was silent, her mind awhirl with a whole lot of new information about her father. Some of it was so amazing, she could hardly believe it was about her father.

"Duncan, are you sure it was Dad? My Dad? Dad and Amanda?" Holding her close to him, patting her back and hugging her tight, Duncan grinned. "I wasn't there, but Amanda was pretty detailed about what happened to her in Italy that year. We had set a date to meet in Paris and she told me about it when she got to the barge. The young sailor she told me about must have been your father. How else could he have heard that? That line was something I made up one night when we were in bed together. I was a private joke between usI over something that happened over a century ago."

"Well, he was a sailor."

"True, though it sure is a hell of a coincidence, isn't it?"

"Well, Duncan, there is only one way to find out if he knows of Amanda. Mention her name to him."

"I just might do that," he whispered, "later." Pulling her chin up to meet his face, Duncan kissed Sheeza, the two of them settling back on the grass.


Morning dawned clear and bright. The sky was graced with only the merest of wispy clouds high up in the atmosphere. Curtains that had been drawn to keep the lamp light out were riffling in the breeze, allowing bars of sunlight to dance upon the bed.

Duncan was wide awake and had been for some time. Absently watching the sunlight, he allowed his mind to drift a little as was his usual early morning routine before getting up.

Coming in really late from their activities in the pasture, they hadn't seen her father, for he went to bed pretty early in keeping with his usual habits. So, the two of them had gone to their own rooms on the second floor.

"A girl in every port.... It's him. I know it is. He's much older than back then, but she described this man to a T. What does he want to talk to me about? Wonder what Wayne can tell us about Max? What if he's not willing to talk to us about Max? How can we get close to Max? He can't be up to any good. Well, I shouldn't pass judgment. Methos absolutely hates him and the feeling did seem mutual. Must remember to talk to Methos about this later. Need details."

Duncan stiffened and his eyes shifted from side to side quickly. Quickly, he leapt from the bed and dashed to the window. Being careful, he lifted back the edge of the curtain and looked outside.

Sheeza, passing by the open connecting door on her way to the bathroom, heard the bedsprings squeak and peeked in on Duncan. "What is it?" Sheeza knew the look. She knew Duncan and the others at the compound well enough to know when they sensed the presence of another immortal had entered their midst. "Oh! Is it Max?"

Slowly, he nodded his head. "Ummm...yeah. He's down there talking to your Dad."

Suddenly, he scowled angrily and beat on his thigh with a clenched fist. "He's headed for my car!" Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't left his katana under the seat as he usually did. Something told him it was better to bring it into the house and he was glad he'd listened. Still, he didn't want the likes of Max going anywhere near his car...not for any reason!

Sheeza joined him at the window and together, they watched as Max walked around the car talking the whole time and waving his arms animatedly about. Wayne on the other hand, stood stock still next to Max's truck, an old beat-up clunker that had more dings and dents than a truck ought to have. They could tell by his expression that Wayne wasn't pleased, that and his arms were folded tight across his chest.

A hurried pounding on the door was heard a split second before it was thrown open and allowed to smack against the wall. Methos stood there, in blue boxers, his chest heaving as though he'd been running the race of his life.

"He's here! I can't believe he'shere! What does he want?" Methos was agitated and it was obvious. "Why is he here?"

Sheeza turned to answer him when she caught sight of Methos in the doorway. Stifling a smile, she cleared her throat. "Well, either he's here to talk to Dad about business, which I doubt, or he's here fishing."

"Fishing? Fishing!? He comes here to fish!?" Methos' eyes widened, surprise heard in his voice.

Letting go of the curtain, Duncan turned to face his friend. "Methos, he is Sheeza's uncle, remember? And, I suspect that what Sheeza meant is that he's here fishing for information on you, and possibly me. He's probably checking to see what, if anything, her father knows. If you'd calm down a bit, maybe you'd see that. Why are you so out of breath anyway?"

At that moment lahoffy made her appearance. She had wrapped a blanket around herself and her hair was completely disheveled, twists and corkscrews going every which way. "Methos, what in the hell is going on? One minute you're...oh! Good morning guys! Are we having a meeting? Cause if we are, you sure picked one hell of a bad time to call one!"

Patting at her wayward curls, lahoffy hrumphed and hitched up her blanket.

Duncan bit his cheek to keep from snickering at the pink coloring blossoming on Methos' cheeks. Scratching the stubble on his own cheek, he grinned rather lopsidedly, wondering if his own hair looked as uniquely interesting as lahoffy's did.

"Max is outside talking to Sheeza's Dad."

"Oh. Guess that explains why Methos uh...," lahoffy mumbled, shrugging, "not much can pull him away once he...well, I guess I might as well get dressed." Turning, she shuffled off down the hallway, hitching up the blanket again.

"MacLeod," Methos drawled, a smirk blossoming slowly, "dontcha think it'd be a good idea to throw some drawers on?"

Duncan looked down at himself and it was his turn to grow pink. He hadn't realized he was nude. Mumbling apologies and grabbing his underwear, he stepped into them.

Chuckling, Methos turned to follow lahoffy. "Too late, MacLeod," he called over his shoulder, "everybody knows what's what."


Max was leaning over the car his hands clasped behind his back and peering into the back seat when Wayne spoke up, angry at his brother-in-law for far more than just showing up unannounced. "What are you here for, Gooch?" His tone was even, but inside he was seething over the treatment his sister had been getting and continued to get for years.

Max lost his balance and fell against the car when those words cut through him, much colder than the temperature of the morning air. He was in a bad place when that happened because when he stumbled, the door handle hit him squarely in the crotch. Knees almost buckling, he struggled to block out the white-hot pain exploding in his privates and was forced to use his hands to touch the dew-covered steel of the T-Bird in order to stand up straight. He held his breath so that Wayne wouldn't hear him whimper and he fought the urge to cup his wounded parts.

Feeling as though he'd been caught doing something wrong, Max's guts tightened and bile churned in his throat. He felt his wife's family always unfairly judged him and he was growing weary of having to hide who he really was. Wayne, with his smug superiority and being the oldest of Florence's brothers, was one he'd most like to see gone. In truth, he'd not trusted Wayne in years, ever since he'd laughed at him for his little run-in with the IRS. Yes, the day was coming when he'd knock Wayne and his precious girls down a peg or two. His Sherry didn't get even half the attention Wayne's girls always got from Ma, the matriarch and oldest living member of the family.

Pretending as if nothing happened, Max continued on around the car, acting as if he were only mildly interested in it, which was far from the truth. It was a fine, old car and he realized he would very much like to add it to the growing collection of vehicles he had stowed away in a barn some miles away. He was also trying to see anything that could be seen and so far, all he could see was that the damned car was so clean and devoid of personal things it could have easily been a rental. Why, a car as old as this one is, there wasn't a scratch or dent in her. The upholstery and carpeting looked almost mint, yet her odometer spoke another truth...this car was well taken care of. Maybe even had only one owner....

"Oh, nothing much. Got my chores done early this morning. Couldn't sleep so's I got up and got 'em out the way. Thought I'd be neighborly and come see how your guests are fairing in that drafty old house of yours." Looking up, he grinned widely, but any pleasant sounds in his voice were betrayed by the beadiness of his hate-filled black eyes. It was a well-known fact that Max was angry that Wayne had the nicest and biggest house of all. It didn't matter that Wayne's family was bigger and they had the house before Florence and Max married. He only saw it as one more thing on a long list of things that had gone against him and shown him disrespect when he deserved so much more.

"I heard no complaints," came the cool reply. "House isn't drafty and you know it, Gooch."

"So this Adam Pierson and that MacLeod fella are staying here, then? MacLeod and Sheeza hitched or are they in different rooms?"

"They're engaged and none of your business." Wayne turned and moved to the truck door, opening it and stood aside. "Sorry Gooch, I've still got my chores to do today, so if there isn't...."

"Wa-wa-wa-wait, wait, wait a second!" Putting on a mask of hurt and indignation, Max tilted his head and pooched out his lower lip. "You ain't gonna invite me in for coffee?"

"Hadn't planned on it, no. My guests are still sleeping. Have Florence make you some. Oh...that's right, her leg's still in that cast, isn't it," he countered thinly.

Locking his fingers together in front of him to avoid clenching them and showing his anger, Max looked down at the ground. "Been meaning to re-carpet them steps," he mumbled.

"Yeah, and we all know it was an accident, Gooch."

Max stiffened and hurridly looked around before his gaze finally settled on four figures coming around from the back of the house. His eyes narrowed and his thick, rubbery lips all but disappeared in his smile/grimace. "Well, there they are, the sleepy-heads," he called out with just a little too much cheer to be believed.

Duncan and Methos spared a glance at each other before facing back toward the two men standing at the edge of the drive. With slow, deliberate steps they came, coming to a halt 10 feet from Max and Wayne.

Wayne, still standing there with his arms crossed, gave a glimmer of a smile when he nodded a greeting to them. His eyes flicked toward Max and narrowed and the smile disappeared.

"WIth a curt bob of his head, Wayne spoke. "Gooch here wants to know how you two are finding my drafty old house," he asked, showing just a touch of anger at Max's insult.

Stepping to the side so as to put distance between himself and Duncan, Methos quickly glanced at Sheeza and lahoffy, seeing that they had hung back from them three or four more feet. Their interest was plain to see.

Crossing his arms to match Wayne's, Methos stepped a little further to the side. Now Max could only see them both using peripheral vision. "Well, I didn't notice any drafts, but I'll go along with old. Though old seems to be a matter of perspective, wouldn't you agree, Mac?" Tilting his head, Methos threw the question to Duncan, a sardonic grin growing where there was no smile a moment earlier.

Duncan, taking Methos' cue, stepped a few more paces to the other side, till he and Methos were almost opposite each other. Now, Max couldn't see them both without turning his head. Crossing his arms as well, a bright and charming grin slid into place.

"Yes, a wonderful old house. I think it's a charming design by Frank Lloyd Wright. Wayne really has found a treasure in this house. But, you're quite right Adam, a matter of perspective."

Wayne's eyes twinkled with amusement. Looking at Max's stiffened back and squared shoulders told him that his level of aggravation was rising. That, and the red glow on his ears.

Max caught the references, and it didn't do a thing in helping him find out if Wayne or the girls knew of their little secret. Losing patience, he tried something else.

"Nice car you got there, MacLeod. Duncan. All right I call ya, Duncan?"

"MacLeod is fine," he replied, the smile as big as ever.

Turning to Pierson, "So you got hitched, huh? What's her name?"

"Oh, excuse me," Methos replied, exaggerating his tone a bit, "forgive me. Max? Meet the wife," he said smiling and gesturing toward lahoffy. "Her name is Laura, but we all her friends and loved ones call her lahoffy."

Looking her up and down like she was a carcass hanging on a hook and he was a starving man, Max looked back at Methos, his lip curling. "Why you call her that?"

The smile slid from his face, his tolerance for being this close to somebody he loathed was gone. "Because she's the Queen of Hot Dogs! What damned difference does it make to you!? Did you just come over here to find out how we liked the house? No? Then what do you want...Gooch," Methos demanded, his voice lowering an octave and clearly ominous.

Wayne, who was silently enjoying the conversation, stilted as it was, finally saw an opening. "Just being neighborly, visiting family visitors from out-of-town, weren't you Gooch? Just leaving, didn't you say?"

Max whirled around and fixed hate-filled beady eyes on his brother-in-law. He didn't hide the hatred and anger this time, didn't even bother to try. "I'm not done yet," he hissed. "I'll say when I'm leaving! Want to get to know these nice young folks, Sheeza's new man...."

Turning back, he fixed his malevolant gaze upon Sheeza. "When's the wedding dear? I guess my invitation will get lost in the mail," he said, his teeth clenched.

Not knowing what or how to answer him, Sheeza looked over to Duncan who immediately moved to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"We aren't married, not yet." Duncan's chin came up and he looked straight into Max's face. "You know as well as I that marriage does not make the couple. Love does. Love is older than the institution of marriage. And I can't say about an invitation. Not my department."

Duncan couldn't see her, but Sheeza looked squarely at Max too, her courage bolstered by the Scot. "Not that it's really any of your business," she began, her tone icy, "but I don't care if we ever get married." Her eyes moved to the face of her father. "I love Duncan and will be his for as long as we have together, be it just today, or for the rest of my life. Nobody knows how long people have together, do they? A piece of paper is meaningless anyway, especially when it doesn't protect loved ones from hurt, does it."

Methos moved behind lahoffy and put his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. After a soft kiss on her ear, he focused once more on Max and smiled. "Well said."

Lahoffy wrapped her arms over his and silently nodded in agreement.

Sheeza and her father just looked at each other, their eyes communicating the volumes that weren't spoken aloud. His eyes softened, he smiled gently, and he nodded a silent blessing to his youngest daughter and the man next to her, should marriage ever be in their future. And even if it wasn't, that was all right too.

Max was frustrated. He heard what Sheeza said and was trying to see if there was anything hidden between the lines. "She said 'her' life! Not 'their' lives! She knows! Does she know? What about Pierson? Does that lahoffy know about him too? What he is? AARGGHH! I must know what she knows! The other one too!"

"You two ain't married, maybe ain't gonna get married. Living together in sin! Well, what will you tell your children?" Max inwardly patted himself on the back for that one. It came out without thinking and it was perfect!

Sheeza was quick, too. "We won't be having any. I can't have kids. And," she added, knowing she was headed down a risky path, "is it any bigger sin than say...beating your wife?"

Startled, Max covered up by turning to lahoffy, hopeful that she wasn't as fast, or would give away what she knew or didn'tt know. Inside, however, he added Sheeza's name to his private hit list. Smiling a sickly sweet smile, "Well, what about you two? You got kids yet? Planning any?"

Lahoffy grinned and then looked sad, the actress in her coming to the fore. "No, Max. Second marriage. Got my tubes tied a long time ago. Besides," she said, peering up at Methos out of the corner of her eye, "got my hands full with this overgrown kid right here!" Grinning, lahoffy playfully pinched Methos' arms.

Wayne, having grown tired of the charade of being sociable with a man he hated, pulled the truck door all the way open and walked past the group.

He paused next to Duncan. Looking meaningfully into his eyes, Wayne, being a man of few words said, "I've got chores to do." With that, he headed for the house.

Duncan grinned and watched Wayne disappear around the back of the house before he stepped closer and stood directly in front of Max. "I guess it's time for you to leave."

Max, struggling the desire to let go with a right cross, swallowed his gorge and smiled, showing his clenched teeth. "When I'm ready," he whispered gruffly.

Methos stepped up, shoulder-to-shoulder with Duncan. "Oh, you're more than ready," he crooned, nodding vigorously. "...Oh yes!"

Max stepped back, fully aware he was unarmed and quite rusty in hand-to-hand combat. Backing away till he reached the open door, he let loose with the venom that had built up inside him.

"You'll die slowly, Pierson, slowly and painfully. You, too, MacLeod. Watch out or I'll kill them, too!" Max's dirty, stained finger jabbed the air in the direction of lahoffy and Sheeza.

Getting in and slamming the door, Max ground the ignition till the old beast coughed to life. "Mark my words! There can be only one!" Backing down the driveway, Max slammed the old truck into gear and roared off, gravel and rocks flying and clunking against his poor battered vehicle.

Duncan looked at Methos. The two men turned and faced their women. Hearty laughter, full throated and full of amusement, came to an old man's ears as he drank coffee at the kitchen table. He smiled.


Max's truck careened around the sharp curves on the way back to the highway. A non-stop string of curses could have been heard quite clearly if there had been anyone along the road to listen.

He's dead! They're all dead! Not gonna get away with this! Nobody puts one over on Maximillian Von Gouche, Master General of the Marauding armies of Northern Germania! Glory would have been mine if it hadn't been for him, that bastard!

Gnashing his teeth in seething anger, Max didn't even look in either direction before roaring through the stop sign and onto the road. Fortunately for him, traffic was always light or there would have been another accident for him to explain.

"MacLeod, MacLeod...name sounds familiar. Have to think on it. Headache. Damnit!"

Slamming on his brakes, Max slid into the corner parking spot outside his restaurant. Fuming, he was too angry to even cough as the dust from the lot rose up and covered him in a fine powdery layer of dirt. It clung to him where sweat had popped out on his skin. He angrily wiped his forehead as he exited the truck and stomped his way to the door.

The broads! That's it. Ahhhh...yes! That'll draw them two out. Put their meat in the pot, turn on the heat...give it a stir and watch the scum rise to the top! Shit floats, so it does..."

Roy Ortwig, long time neighbor and resident of these parts, was just coming out of Max's Place and stopped dead in his tracks. He'd known Max for decades and this wasn't the first time he'd seen the man making that face. He called it "the look of pure evil," and it was a long time ago that he'd learned to stay away from Max when he got like that. Touching the brim of his hat, Roy smiled uncertainly and sprinted for his truck. He got the engine started and slammed it into reverse even before he closed the door.

Max looked up as a sizeable chunk of rock hit the wall narrowly missing him. Looking after the swiftly receding truck, he grinned absently before turning his attention back to the beginnings of his plan.

A low, evil giggle escaped him as his hand turned the knob.


"Come on, lahoffy, lets go to Brookfield. I want to show you the sights, maybe do a bit of shopping. Want to?" Sheeza had grabbed her purse already, confident she wouldn't be going out alone.

Peering out the kitchen window in the direction of the barn, she watched Methos and Duncan both lugging hay bales out of the barn and helping her Dad load them onto a flatbed trailer. "Looks like the guys will be busy for a while."

Joining her at the window, lahoffy couldn't help but appreciate the scenery. Even from a distance, the sight of Methos' bare torso made her mouth quirk upward in an appreciative grin. Tearing her gaze away from all that bare skin, albeit reluctantly, lahoffy slowly nodded and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, all right."

A few quick words, hugs and kisses all around and the girls were headed to the car. Methos was very generous for a change and willingly turned over the keys to the Highlander... after a little arm-twisting from lahoffy. OK, a lot of arm-twisting and a certain glance that had more than a mere hint of threat in it.

Wayne stood quietly, leaning on a bale and thumping his bale hook against the side. He was pleased that the work was going so well and that he hadn't had to call on his brothers for help. On top of that, he found the company pleasurable and was glad that Duncan and Adam had been willing to engage in such hot, dirty work. Knowing of their immortality actually made Wayne feel better, because he knew deep down that their trusting him helped him to trust them as well.

Watching Duncan with his daughter, Wayne could see they were good friends though he wasn't really sure about them being engaged. But, if Duncan said they were, well.... He found he liked MacLeod and hoped that he would prove to be as honorable as he seemed to be and either marry her eventually, or at least not break her heart.

Looking over toward the other two, he saw also affection between them. Good friends with good friends, such a thing is hard to find.

As the girls walked to the Highlander and got in, Wayne kept his attention to the two men standing below him. Both of them kept their attention on the women as they walked away, only looking back up at him when he could no longer quell the chuckle he'd been battling.

Duncan looked up at Wayne, his expression contrite. Methos smirked and looked back at the truck as it headed out of the driveway. Wayne grinned at Duncan. "We're only young once," said the old man.

Grinning back up at the older man on the flatbed, Duncan nodded in agreement. "Aye, only once."


Max sat nursing a beer while sitting by the front window of his restaurant. Still fuming from his visit to Wayne's place, his headache had not abated. His intense anger kept the throbbing going full tilt. Popping aspirin from a large bottle in his jacket pocket, he chased them down with another swig from his glass. He knew he didn't really need the medicine, but Max liked being angry, liked the swell of evil blackness that nested behind his eyes and the churning acid that roiled in his stomach. The pain was a point of pleasure for him and when his moods were blackest, he cultivated the pain to make it last as long as he could, before his immortality 'cured' him.

The sight of a red Toyota Highlander speeding by his window got his attention. He was fortunate to be looking at the right place at the right time and caught the profile of Sheeza driving as she passed the restaurant.

Max stood so quickly, his chair slid back and crashed into the wall. Rushing for the door, he clipped the table with his hip and the beer bottle fell to the floor, bouncing a couple of times before landing on an edge and shattering into pieces.

Sherry looked up at the sound and saw her father's coat as he dashed out the door, letting it slam closed behind him. "Wonder where he's going in such a fast-assed hurry?"

Not wanting to lose his niece, Max jumped into his truck and got it moving in seconds. A few minutes later, he spotted the red SUV far ahead of him on the road almost to the Purdin townline. "If she turns, she's heading for M. M! Well now, I can use a little bit of luck! Come'on bitchy bitchy, make the turn for your dear ... old ... unc ... yes!"

The look on his face spoke pure evil even with the smile Max now sported as we watched the Highlander turn left toward a county road only known as "M".


The men sat down on a couple of bales left over from loading the trailer. Freda had thoughtfully brought out a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade and glasses for them. After standing around chatting a few minutes, she announced she had to go back inside to finish playing the computer game she had recently purchased. Thank you's and happy grins were payment enough and Freda returned to the house, proud of having done her good deed for the day.

Minutes slid by with nobody saying much of anything. It was comfortable sitting there, just keeping company and sipping lemonade while feeling muscles relax and sweat dry in the early afternoon breeze.

Wayne slipped a pack of cigarettes from his t-shirt pocket and fished matches from his jeans. Glancing over towards Duncan, Wayne thought again that the man Sheeza brought home was a good one and he was glad to have met him and their friends.

Duncan had been watching Wayne since Sheeza had talked to him about her father and his time in the military. Since his immortality was no longer a secret to her father, he was really curious about whether or not he really was the young mortal sailor who Amanda had encountered in Naples. With a deep breath, the Scot decided that it was no time like the present to ask a question or two.

"Wayne? Sheeza tells me you served in the navy, is that right?"

Methos glanced over toward the old man before returning his attention to the treeline across the road and past the narrow strip of tilled soil. Looking to get more comfortable, he slid off the hay bale and onto the ground, resting his back against the still soft grasses.

Wayne's eyes took on a far-away look and the barest hint of a smile crossed over him. "I did."

Duncan nodded non-committally. "Good. One step closer...."

"She also said that she didn't know much about that time of your life, but that you had once mentioned being in Italy."

Sheeza's father stiffened a bit before relaxing back into his comfortable slouch. "I was."

"You landed in Naples?"

Eyes the color of faded blue denim slid over toward the Highlander, gauging the dark haired man, searching his face for some kind of indication as to where this conversation was likely to head. "I did."

Not missing anything, Duncan smiled. "Hmmm...interesting. A reaction."

Duncan broke off and turned to Methos. "You ever been to Naples, Adam?"

Methos chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Which time, MacLeod?" Looking up at his friend, he saw it was more than just a casual question though on the surface that was what it appeared to be. "Oh, let me see," he replied, "I guess the last time would be late 1956. I was there to...well, never mind...yeah, late 1956 or early 1957."

Wayne was taken by surprise. So much so, he jerked involuntarily, lemonade spilling from his glass onto his hand and down his leg. "Really? That's the year I was there, too."

Both immortals looked at the old man in surprise. Duncan saw his chance.

"Wayne, did you ever meet a woman by the name of Amanda Devereaux?"

This time, it was Methos' turn to jump. "Amanda?! Amanda? MacLeod...."

Methos was interrupted by a low voice, clearly heard nevertheless. "I take it you know Amanda." Their heads turned as one toward the old man who was looking back and forth at them with intensity.

Duncan relaxed. The hard part was over. With an inward sigh of relief, he felt better about bringing up this subject. "Yes, we both know Amanda. You met her in Naples, didn't you." Certain now, he didn't feel the need to ask the question, but state it more as a fact.

"Does Sheeza know Amanda, too? Does she know what she is, that she is like you are?"

Duncan grinned. It was plain to see that his daughter rarely strayed far from his thoughts. "She knows of Amanda, but hasn't met her. And yes, she knows about her immortality. I have no secrets from Sheeza. Anything she doesn't know about me or my history, just hasn't come up yet. I've known Amanda for centuries and she's a part of my life. It's only fitting that Sheeza know of her. Everybody is like that where we live."

This time, it was Wayne nodding. "Hmmm...good answer."

"OK, so why do you ask about Amanda?" Curiosity was catching and Wayne wanted to know why Duncan seemed so interested in the past, in his past to be exact.

His face darkened momentarily. Duncan cleared his throat before speaking. "Well, I guess I jumped to a conclusion last night when Sheeza said to me, "A girl in every port and a port in every girl." This was something Amanda would have known because she and I were together one night when I made it up."

Wayne's eyes widened in surprise. He and his buddies had had great fun with that phrase for a long time after he'd heard it. "You? You made it up? But ... why ... uh ... Sheeza ... I can't believe she remembered that. She was little when I told her that one day to get her to stopping asking me questions." His expression darkened a little and he frowned. "Regarding Sheeza...."

"I'm sure that particular phrase doesn't apply to your daughter, sir," Methos interjected, "Duncan is many things, but topping the list is honorable. Why, he's a regular boy scout."

A few seconds behind, Duncan caught up to the conversation and started shaking his head vehemently. "No, no, no, no...not Sheeza! I would never...." Turning to glare at Methos, Duncan's eyebrows knitted together. "And stop calling me boy scout," he hissed.

"I believe you," Wayne responded, his composure returning after that reassurance. "Uh, you won't tell Sheeza that Amanda and I...I was still single at the time. I didn't marry her mother until...."

"She knows. Or at least she assumes as much. I'm afraid when she said that line to me, it was a bit of a shock. Don't worry. Sheeza is a good woman. You should be proud of her. She's very special. Everyone at the CDC counts her as a friend, and I...I...do, too."

Wayne nodded his head slowly, understanding and agreeing. He was proud of Sheeza. She had chosen her friends well.

"So Duncan, why are you asking me about this? Just that one line connected me to Amanda? I don't understand."


Methos sat quietly, interested but not having much to say. This was all new to him and it was amazing to think how small the world could feel sometimes...even how the passage of time could bring old events back into one's thoughts.

Back when he'd been in Naples, he had gone there to flee from the one and only Maximillian Von Gauche who had encountered him in Florence. Methos had been living there, dating a young painter's model at the time. Von Gauche happened upon them late one evening in a little restaurant having a late supper. One thing led to another and Methos ran after his girlfriend had her throat slit from ear to ear because he'd not been willing to drop his sword. One of a thousand regrets....


"...told me of a young sailor who'd rescued her after he'd found her down on the docks bound and gagged. She said that she had revived in front of him so she had told him what she was and that he'd helped her escape before her captor returned."

"Captor? Who was it?" Methos' ears perked up. The story was getting really interesting now. He doubted many immortals could get the best of Amanda, but to tie her up and gag her too?

"She didn't know, but said he had greasy black hair, was fat, and she referred to him as an evil son-of-a-bitch. Said he would mumble to himself in another language. Said she couldn't be sure, but thought it might have been Ger....oh no! No, it can't be! Could it?"

All three men's jaws dropped at the same time. "Max?" echoed three voices.

Methos ducked his head, memories almost a half a century ago came flooding back to him as though it were only yesterday. "It could have been, MacLeod." Peering gravely up at them through his lashes, he let out breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "It very well could have been."

Looking back and forth between Methos and Wayne, Duncan nodded his head slowly. Downing the last of the lemonade, he picked up the pitcher and topped filled it again. "I guess we need to talk, and this is too open," he said gravely, looking back toward the house.

Since Freda was in the house, the men headed for the barn. The last thing any of them wanted was to answer questions and since Freda seemed to know nothing about what was going on, they saw no reason to drag her into it.

Walking together, three men in a line shoulder to shoulder, they headed into the barn, Methos staying behind to close the door.

When all were once again seated on hay bales, Wayne lit up another cigarette, making sure the match was out under the heel of his boot so fire wouldn't be a worry.

Taking a deep pull off the tobacco, he let it out in a stream of blue-white smoke that drifted up around his head in a halo. "I guess I'll go first."

As Wayne talked, Duncan and Methos sat silently, listening to everything the old man said.


"Who knew that Wal-mart would have a Twofer sale? Got me some great deals! Thanks for suggesting we go out, Sheeza!" Lahoffy rummaged through the giant bag on her lap, her top half obscured by white plastic. "Look at this! Matching 'his and hers' thongs!"

Doing seventy up "M" heading back to the farm, Sheeza glanced at the leopard-print bits of material clamped to tiny hangers. "Thongs, huh? Wonder how Dunc....AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!"

There, directly in their path and just over the rise of a steep hill was the rusted out body of a burned out car. Cresting the hill, Sheeza had little time to avoid the junk but she managed to swerve around it. The SUV, traveling that fast, was unable to compensate for it and careened toward the shoulder on two wheels.

Both women screamed and threw their arms up in front of them as the Highlander hit the ditch and rolled twice before coming to a stop on it's roof.

The last thing Sheeza saw before she lost consciousness was the visage of Max as he crawled to the window and met her eyes.

"No...." Sheeza whispered as everything went black.


Both Methos and Duncan sat in rapt attention while Wayne told his story. Hearing about Naples, that era and the old man's life brought back memories for the both of them, both good and bad.

"I was headed for the ship when I noticed a kind of hollow clunking sound coming from a warehouse I was walking past. I don't know why I stopped; I was already late meeting a couple of buddies. We were gonna go to a saloon we'd heard was sailor friendly, if you know what I mean." Wayne glanced at his companions and continued, his hands loosely clasped together and hanging between his knees.

"I don't make it a habit to go snooping around, especially in a foreign country, but something made me want to see what was making that noise. So, when I got up close, I looked in a window but didn't see anything at first. I had to wipe dirt from the glass, it was pretty caked on. Must have come from the storm that blew through the night we made port."

"Do you mean that storm that ended up knocking out the power for two days and the storm surges that brought out the military?" Methos' eyes glowed with remembrance.

Wayne's brows furrowed in thought. "I think so. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was. It was really bad and the commander wouldn't let us come ashore till after he received permission for us to begin shore leave. Said that we didn't need to add to the problems and the Italians didn't want our help. Anyway, I heard whatever it was again, so I tried another window. That's when I saw her, in there... on the floor." The old man's hand came up and sort of pointed in a vague sort of way.

"I could see her really well because she had scooted her way to a spot where sunlight came through from the sky light, up top I guess." She was chewing on her gag and her hands were behind her. Her face was flushed with bright red spots on her cheeks. Her legs had been tied at the ankles too. Amanda's coat spread was out behind her and I could see a clear swath in the floor where she had worked her way to that spot of light. Her nylons were shredded but I'm wasn't surprised. That floor was wood and it wasn't like the lumber we get today. It was rough hewn. Poor woman," he whispered, his eyes cast down upon his hands. "I couldn't leave her like that."

Duncan, caught up in the story, also remembered the storm Wayne spoke of. It had wreaked havoc in a number of coastal cities around Europe before finally moving on. "So what did you do?"

Glancing over toward his companions, Wayne smiled. "What did I do? I went around to the door and let myself in. It wasn't locked. I stayed in the shadows a bit just watching her. She was a comely woman, wasn't she?"

Smiling, his eyes crinkling, Duncan chuckled. "She still is."

"Her hair was shoulder length and a bit dusty. Her hat lay on the floor off to my right, I guess near to where she had been put. Her skirt had rucked up some, I could see her legs pretty high up. There was blood on the floor, so I knew she had been splintered up from her scootching. I guess the clunking was from her shoe heels hitting the deck as she inched her way along. While I watched, she managed to get the gag out of her mouth using her chin to move it down. Her face sure was elastic. Never saw anybody move their mouth like that before."

Duncan grinned. "I have."

Wayne glanced at Duncan noting to himself that it was twice the young man had responded and had an affectionate look about him.

Duncan caught the look. "Wayne, I've known Amanda for centuries. She is counted as one of my closest friends and confidantes. I love her but I'm not in love with her."

Wayne thought on that for a moment before speaking again. "So Amanda and you...."

"Off and on for centuries. But it's finished now. We both have found others with whom our need for love is fulfilled and with whom we can love unconditionally. You realize Wayne, love between two immortals always comes with conditions, good or bad."

Methos and Wayne nodded their heads to that, both men finding the wisdom and the torment of it at the same time.

"Amanda is living in Paris with Nick, someone she can love and who loves her. There is much ahead of them...just hope they don't lose their heads over it." Duncan closed his eyes, cutting off that distant look in them. "Go on with the story," he said.

"OK, now where was I?" Wayne scratched his head and sipped at his lemonade. "Oh. She must have sensed somebody was around then because she stopped and looked around. ' E qualcuno 'la? (Is somebody there?)' she whispered, and I remember thinking I liked the sound of her voice. I didn't want to scare her, so I called out in English that I wouldn't hurt her not knowing if she would understand me or not. I was lucky I guess, she switched to English right away."

"What did she say?" Methos, always enjoying a good story, was almost like a little kid unable to wait for the story, only wanting more and fast.

"I'll never forget it," the old man said grinning. "She said, 'I doubt you could hurt me any more than what I'm dealing with right now. Would you untie me?' Well, I went right over to her to help.

"She got up pretty fast after I untied her, but she staggered and almost fell down. Said she'd been tied up for a couple of days. The bastard that had done this to her had used wet rope to tie her up and her wrists were a bloody mess. A few minutes later, I was helping her out of the warehouse and back to her hotel."

"When did you find out about her immortality Wayne?" Duncan's curiosity was piqued. What he was hearing wasn't quite the tale he'd heard from Amanda. He thought it was a lot simpler from what she had told him. And he certainly was surprised to hear that Methos might have been around, let alone this Max character.

"Well, by the time we got back to her rooms, she wasn't bleeding from her wrists or ankles anymore and her limp was gone. Nobody can go from a mess like that to walking on their own in that short a time. I said something about it. She stood there, her mouth gaping like a fish and finally she shrugged, throwing up her hands. Said something to the effect that she didn't think I'd buy that she's a fast healer. She was right."

"She told you...just like that," Methos intoned.

"I guess she felt she had too, since she was about to ask me to help her out again," Wayne answered.

"Help her out again? How?" Curiosity filled Duncan who was unable to figure how a mortal man could be of help to one the likes of Amanda, unless it was as an accomplice. To him, Wayne didn't fit the description.

Wayne blushed, a nice rosy pink, his eyes once again dropping to his nervously wringing hands.

"Well...uh...she might be immortal and a fast healer and all, but not all of her wounds had healed yet. She asked me for help where she couldn't really help herself."

"You mean..." Duncan began, leaving the question unasked.

"Yeah, I mean exactly that. Little lady had picked up some nasty splinters on her trip across the floor. So, we gathered up all the lamps and candles in her room and placed them around the bed so's I could see as best I could. We didn't have tweezers between the two of us, but I had my pocketknife and she had a sewing kit. I spent the best part of a couple of hours picking splinters out of her more than lovely backside. Some of them were pretty big and liked to have hurt!"

Methos whooped with laughter and Duncan soon joined him, the picture of Amanda and her sailor hero was just too much for them.

"Ha ha ha...j-ju-just wait till I see that little vixen again, " Methos blurted when he was able to contain himself. "I'll bet she left that part out, didn't she, MacLeod?"

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Duncan could only nod.

Wayne, though smiling, hadn't joined in the laughter. He remembered the jagged splinters he'd pulled from her flesh and the subsequent little blue bolts of energy that danced about the wounds as they healed before his very eyes. It was the most fascinating thing to watch and yet was frightening at the same time.

After they calmed down, Methos and Duncan looked expectantly at Wayne, ready for him to continue with his tale.

"I left her in a bubblebath to go get some food for us and some wine. She was completely healed, but she was hungry and exhausted from her ordeal. When I returned, she was lying on the bed in a robe. Amanda smiled at me and joined me at the little table in the corner where we ate and talked some. Told her of my family and life here, why I joined the navy and such. She wasn't much for telling me about herself, except for her name and that she procured special hard-to-find items as her business."

Duncan rolled his eyes. "She said that? She said she was a professional procurer of hard-to-find items? Hmmm ... I guess that about sums it up."

Tilting his head, Wayne looked like the RCA Victrola Dog listening to music. "What?"

Methos and Duncan shared a knowing glance before the Scot answered. "Nothing. That is what she does, whenever she gets the chance."

Changing the subject, Duncan just had to know, even though it wasn't his business to hear it. "So did you and she ever...."

Blushing again, this time an even deeper pink, Duncan noticed where Sheeza got it from. Wayne half-smiled and nodded his head before dipping it lower to hide his embarrassment.

"Did she talk about how she came to be in that warehouse?" Methos wasn't surprised to hear that Amanda had been with the old man. In fact, he alone knew that all three of them had been with her. Duncan might suspect or assume, but he didn't really know, unless of course, Amanda told him.

"She said she had been kidnapped and was left there to get her out of the way. She said she was meeting somebody and that her captor was out to kill him. Told her he was gonna come back to kill her too."

"Well," began Duncan, "if she was there to meet someone and this kidnapper was Max and he wanted to kill the guy wanted to kill that someone, then...."

Methos felt his privates shrink and icy-cold fingers travel up his spine when two sets of eyes turned to look at him in wonder ... one set of hazel and one set of blue.

His mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out till he at last croaked "MacLeod...."

Stunned at this revelation, Duncan's jaw dropped. "Methos? You??"

A silent Methos did nothing but nod his head slowly, sighing deeply and finishing off his lemonade. "I think I need a drink."


Waking to being harshly slapped across the face, Sheeza's eyes fluttered open, not even hearing her own pained moans.

"Wake up, you sorry bitch! I have questions so you'd best get to answerin' 'em!"

Her arms ached and when she tried to move them to relieve the cramps, she discovered she was tied to a chair. Looking around her, she saw lahoffy sitting a few feet away in a similar predicament and still unconscious.

"Wha? What ques...."

CR-A-ACK!

"Listen up! Answer when I tell you to and you might get to live. Got me? You probably won't live anyways, but you can sure as hell try!"

Max leaned in close to Sheeza, close enough that she gagged on his fetid breath. He grabbed her hair in his fist and gave it a good yank bringing from her a pained yelp. "Your Daddy ain't gonna save you. Mayhap that MacLeod feller will, mayhap he won't. Personally, I think y'all gonna die and I'm gonna have me a real good day!"

Moaning off to the side meant lahoffy was coming round. Sheeza hoped she'd stay out of it for as long as she could. After a few brief, yet tense seconds, she breathed a sigh of relief as lahoffy didn't continue to stir. She was still out.

With a final yank, Max released Sheeza and stepped back. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked down at her. "Guess your friend here is gonna let you go first. How nice of her," he growled, sarcasm dripping like venom as he spoke.

"How did you meet this Pierson feller?"

Sheeza looked up at the man she had always known as her Uncle Max. Knowing now that he was immortal and a -- gag -- k'immie to boot made him as distasteful to her as a bucket of maggots. "I met him at the compound where we live," she replied, her tone cool and distant.

"And MacLeod?"

"Same place."

"How well you know 'em?"

Unable to hold her tongue, Sheeza spoke the first words that came to her. "You mean in the biblical sense?"

WH-A-ACK!

"Don't give me lip, girl, or I'll split it for ya! Now, I asked ya, how well you know 'em?"

Taking a deep breath to fight off the dizzyness of being hit on the ear, Sheeza closed her eyes to gather her resolve. "I know them well enough."

"Does she?" Max pointed to lahoffy, taking a step toward her.

"She does."

"You said compound. You all live at this compound?"

"Yes."

"Who else?"

"There are other women and then there is Richie and Connor."

"Connor?"

"Yes."

"Uh...Connor MacLeod?" His question took on a menacing tone that seemed to make his already evil eyes seem to glitter like black ice.

"Yes. You've heard of him?"

Max turned his back and strode across the room. "Son of a bitch!" He drew back his fist and punched the wall, making dust float down from above and the wood to groan. When he turned back around, Sheeza could see he'd busted his knuckles open but the blue sparks were already doing their work on his injuries.

"Them two MacLeods...they related?"

"Yes."

"All them boys, they got a secret they share. You know what it is?"

Lahoffy, who had been awake and listening, opened her eyes and fixed her most hateful stare upon Max. "Yeah, Max. And do you want to know what it is?"

Grinning, Max turned to lahoffy, his hands going to his hips, his feet planted wide. "Yeah, tell me."

"Those men are honorable, loyal and true friends. Things that they are, you aren't and will never hope to be. Scum of the earth, baby, and with Adam gets ahold of you, you'll rue the day you ever thought to tie me to this dad-blasted chair!"

When Max raised his hand to hit her, lahoffy craned her neck out to show him more of her face. "Yeah asshole, we know the secret. Gonna let you in on another one you piece of shit... When Methos and Duncan mount a rescue, and rescue us they surely will, you'll regret the day you ever laid a hand against us!"

Lahoffy smiled viciously and lowered her voice an octave. "See, I been awake for a while. You made a mistake hitting Sheeza. Duncan MacLeod is now gonna tear you apart for that and I'm gonna sell tickets!" Looking him up and down, her lip curled back. After a final long moment of staring into his insane eyes, lahoffy spit onto the floor at his feet.

"You...you said Methos! You know his true name?"

Lahoffy laughed, nodding toward Sheeza. "Ya know, girlfriend, this bulb ain't too bright!" Her grin disappeared when she looked again at Max. "Gee, ya think?"

Unable to control his anger and not caring about her threats, Max raised his hand and slapped lahoffy with the back of his hand. "You got a fresh mouth."

Spitting blood from her split lip, lahoffy smiled and giggled. "You know, Methos says that to me all the time." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "And now Max, you... are dead. When Duncan gets through with you, Methos is gonna come and mash what's left of you to pulp. There won't even be anything left for your family to bury! Your head will be nothin' but a greasy spot on the ground!"

Uncertainly flashed through him before the veil of insanity slid back into place. "Oh really? We'll see about that...."


Heading back to the house was a short but silent trip. The men, carrying their now empty glasses with Duncan lugging along the pitcher, all were keeping company in their own thoughts.

"Been a long time since I thought about Amanda. What are the odds that I would end up meeting people that are like she was...is? Duncan and Amanda? Awww Sheeza, what did you get yourself mixed up in this time? And Max is like them? Why has so much livin' turned him mean and not these two men? Guess time doesn't always improve things, just lends an opportunity to make things worse. Wonder what he was like back in those days." Wayne's brows furrowed with confusion as thought after thought overlapped in his brain.

"Amanda, what in hell were you doing in Naples? No circus is worth all this! No wonder you were so late meeting me in Paris! You were meeting Methos? Whatever for? Wherever you go love, you somehow manage to always get your ass in trouble! It's a wonder to me sometimes you've lived as long as you have. Splinter removal by a fresh, young sailor? Heh heh heh...just wait till I talk to you again!" Duncan couldn't help but grin in amusement for having something really good to tease Amanda with.

"Gods, I'm gonna have to talk next! Why oh why did I ever let lahoffy convince me we needed to come here? When this is all over, she's gonna owe me huge! MacLeod can handle himself! Proved it often enough, hasn't he? Max, you are more trouble than you're worth! Should have killed you when I had the chance back then. None of this would have ever happened! The Bastard!" Methos cast his eyes down to the ground as he walked. If the other men had been looking, they might have seen the briefest glimpse of a man he'd once been. Death was slowly flickering to life and Methos wasn't so sure he didn't want that to happen. His world, one he was happy with, was in danger of being altered forever and if that meant telling his side of the story, then so be it, but someone would be made to pay dearly. Fortunately, there was Max.

Death flickered again, this time longer...and it smiled.


Freda walked into the kitchen with her purse on her arm and her keys in her hand. A phone call from Wanda inviting her to Grandma's was just what she needed to get her away from her computer. She'd been battling all morning on the sixth level of Romulus' Ruins but so far, the annihilation of the last Dragon had eluded her. Aggravation had set in and anywhere but her room sounded good just then.

"Where you off to, Freda?" Wayne was asking, but secretly he was relieved to see his middle girl might be out of the house even for a little while. The barn is nice enough as barns go, but nothing feels as good to an old butt like its own chair.

"Wanda said that Queenie had her pups last night. Told me to come on over. Gramma's gonna give us pick of the litter before Rhonda and Rosyln, so I'm gonna go see what they look like."

"It's a little early isn't it for puppy picking?" Adam's smile quirked to the left.

"You don't know Rhonda and Rosyln. Wanda said they are coming over this evening. Queenie's pups are good ones. I can wait till they are weaned. Just can't wait that long to pick one out."

Freda looked at Dad, all serious. "I can have another dog, can't I," she asked as she walked by the men, leaving without hearing a reply.

The men watched Freda get in her van, start it up and head down the drive.

Wayne sighed heavily. "Guess I'll be getting another dog. Normally, I wouldn't do this, but...who'll join me?" Opening a cabinet, he pulled down a bottle and set it on the counter. "Been saving this for a while."

The green bottle was covered with a thick layer of dust and when Duncan reached out to turn it around so he could see the label, he left fingerprints on the glass.

"Dalwhinnie? You have Dalwhinnie? I've not seen Dalwhinnie in a very long time! They don't sell it where we live. How did you come by it?" Duncan's eyes twinkled.

Dalwhinnie, a scotch produced in the Highlands, was to Duncan, a treat. He drank Glenmorangie most of the time because it was more popular and widely distributed, and Dalwhinnie couldn't compete. The distiller was too small.

Removing a set of shot glasses from the cabinet, Wayne had a dreamy look on his face. "Got it in Naples. Had it there the first time. The buddies and me were looking to drink something different and I sort of liked the name. Been sitting up here in the cabinet since we bought the house. Guess this occasion is as special as they come, huh?"

Picking up the bottle and wiping the dust off the glass, Duncan grinned happily. "I'll say!"

Methos rolled his eyes. "Imagine that, scotch excites the Highlander," he said in a low voice.

Duncan glared at Methos as he moved to take a place at the table. Wayne followed after he'd rinsed out the shot glasses and wiped them with a paper towel. Methos swung his leg over the back of his chair and landed in a well-practiced sprawl.

With a glance toward the old man, Duncan grinned again and licked his lips. "It's a really old bottle, Wayne, you sure you want to open it?" His fingers twitched as they hovered over the wax seal, ready to break it and pull the out the cork. It has been a while since he indulged in scotch that didn't have a screw cap. He was already salivating at the thought.

With a small wave of his hand, Wayne nodded his head and rapped on the table with one gnarled knuckle. "Pour it," he said gruffly, his mouth set in an amusing pout.

When all three had their glasses raised, Wayne looked to his companions and spoke. "So who's Methos?"

Methos, who had already tossed down his drink, sputtered and choked as the heat-laden scotch seemed to change course and find his windpipe. "What?!??"


"MACLEOD!" Methos, after he'd caught his breath, glared at Duncan. It wasn't the first time the Scot had mispoken and had given away his true name. It wasn't that he was worried about Wayne or anything, and as far as Max went, he knew it, too. It was principle and Duncan knew better. "One of these days, he's gonna slip when it really is important!"

Looking apologetic and contrite at the same time, Duncan cast his eyes down at the table before looking up again at Wayne.

"Methos is Adam. He...uses Adam when in the company of outsiders to protect his identity, Wayne. It was wrong of me to have not been more careful earlier. Around the others, please call him, Adam, ok?"

Wayne didn't understand. "Why call yourself Adam then, if Methos is your real name? Are you wanted somewheres? If that's your concern, well...." Methos, still glaring at Duncan, paused a moment before allowing his expression to soften and return to normal. Turning to Wayne, he thought carefully before he answered.

"No, it's not that. I protect my identity because there is much to protect. No, not from the likes of you, your family, or even most immortals. I trust you, I like you. and I never willingly share this with anyone, but I'm going to tell you, Wayne. You are 'family' and I know you will keep this confidence." Smiling wanly, Methos rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Besides, you'll figure it out anyway, when I tell my part of this little story."


Sheeza was scared and trying very hard not to show it. Listening to lahoffy, she wished she had the courage to talk back to Max as her friend was doing. It was hard enough to try and ignore the pain of being hit across the ear, it was nearly impossible to push away thoughts of being dead.

Loving Duncan the way she did, she didn't want him in danger for anything in the world, even if it meant her dying rather than him mounting a rescue and losing his head should he fail. She didn't think she could go on, knowing he was gone and that it would be because of her.

"What are you going to do, Max?"

Lahoffy glared up at a wild eyed Max. "Yeah, asshole, whatcha gonna do?"

Taking on a thoughtful look, lahoffy tilted her head. "Hmmm...lessee...you hate Methos. Ergo, he must have bested you in some way. When was that Max? Huh? Oh, and wow, you've heard of Connor MacLeod? What did that sweety of mine do to you to piss you off, too? Aw, poor widdle Maxie...."

"Lahoffy," Sheeza hissed, fearful Max would hurt her again, shook her head trying to stop her friend from going too far.

Taking her eyes off her captor, lahoffy looked over at Sheeza and broke into a wide grin before wincing when the split in her lip widened.

"Screw that, Sheeza! I don't give a rat's ass what he does to me. He can go ahead and kill me. It doesn't matter. What matters is what Methos will do to him just for splittin' my lip, ya know? Think of that and then look at this piece of shit and see him for the toad that he is!"

Her eyes traveled over Max's body and revealed her disdain for him. "Stinkin' K'immies...they all deserve to die," she muttered.

Nobody had ever talked to him like that and lived. Max was beyond rage...his head was splitting and there were black dots swimming before his eyes."And here I thought I was being civil? Well, no more!"

Balling one meaty fist, fingers tightly clenched, Max drew back and punched lahoffy as hard as he could.

The blow, not centered, glanced off her forehead but it was hard enough to rock her, her skill cracking against the back of the chair. Lahoffy fought desperately to remain conscious...fearful of the blast of pain thudding back and forth between her ears.

Gasping for breath and with her eyes closed, lahoffy tried to smile. "Is...is that...all you got...Maxie? Pu...pussy," she managed to whisper as tears of pain rolled down her cheeks.

Sheeza's mind reeled, fear for her friend and admiration as well kept twisting and churning in her head. "She's right. Max *is* a toad. I know the boys will save us! Something is definitely wrong with Max. I'm ready to die if need be. Damnit, I can't, I WON'T be afraid!"

"Yo! MAXIE! You like beating on women, don't you! Ah yes, that's right...Freda mentioned something about that the last time I talked to her. Aunt Florence is in her 70's and you broke her leg for her? What the hell is the matter with you? And, oh yeah...you know Connor? Better not let Duncan know you know him. It'd just take a phone call to get his ass here! Why, he's family, isn't he, lahoffy? Toad like you, with all that hate...you lost to them then, what in hell makes you think you'll win now?!?" Scared, Sheeza grinned with pleasure at finally finding her voice.

A lump was forming on her forehead and she felt a fierce heat coming from the spot where Max had hit her. But it was all trivial when it came to hearing Sheeza speak up. Lahoffy's heart swelled with pride, nodding encouragement to her friend.

"Maxie, what makes you think that men who beat you way back then, won't beat you now? You think you can use us as ammunition against them. She and I aren't weak-minded prisses who swoon at the thought of blood and beheadings. If it wasn't all right, would we be together with them now? Duncan would never have a weak-minded woman and I should doubt Methos would either, given their backgrounds, their histories, and well, who they are. So what makes you think either of them will let you use us against them, huh? Lahoffy is right. You're a pussy. A loser then, and a loser now. You want to kill me? Go ahead. I, too, will have the satisfaction of knowing you will be just as dead as me." Finished and gasping for breath from her tirade, Sheeza felt good, felt strong.

If it were possible, smoke would have issued from his ears. The black dots had grown so profuse Max wasn't sure he'd be able to hit Sheeza at all. The agony in his head was so intense, he fought the urge to bring his hands up and attempt to massage away the pain. He knew from experience that it wouldn't work anyway. Settling for looking as fierce as possible and not trusting his tongue to say anything coherent, Max turned on his heel and stomped out of the barn, slamming the doors shut.

It wasn't till Sheeza and lahoffy heard his truck start and rocks spewing from spinning tires that they breathed a collective sigh of relief. They both set out to try and get out of their bonds and speculate aloud what they thought Max's next move would be.


Max leaned over the steering wheel, squinting at the road ahead. Though it was broad daylight, he could barely see. He was almost blind. The moans coming from him fell on deaf ears, the pain in his head had cut the signals to his brain.

Speeding down the gravel road, he came over a small hill and spotted a six-horned buck feeding off to the side of the road. Gnashing his teeth, he headed straight for it, his need to let off steam was that great. The deer, used to the traffic on this lonely little road, never knew what hit him. As Max lay dying in the ditch, his head caved in from hitting the windshield of his now demolished pick-up, he smiled, happy the pain in his head was gone....


Methos reached out and filled his shot glass to the brim. Taking a deep breath, he tossed the liquor in this open mouth and grimaced slightly as the heat from it burned its way down his throat. He would have much rather had an ice cold beer, but there were so few left in the fridge and he really needed the extra alcohol to help him tell his part of the tale.

"I suppose I should save us all some time and start at the beginning," said Methos, his voice sounding weary and blue, "since Max and I have a history, such as it is."

Duncan filled their glasses once more and sat back, getting comfortable in his chair. Since their first encounter with Max at the restaurant, he'd been wondering what could have possibly happened to make for such hatred between two men, enough to have risked exposure of their immortality in front of mortals. It wasn't lost on him that Max spoke German in front of family and friends that didn't know he could, and Methos was rude and insulting from the beginning instead of just his usual sarcastic self.

Wayne sipped at his drink, eager to hear about something, anything from Max's past.

"Well," Methos began, raising an eyebrow, "this goes back to...you ever see the movie "Gladiator", Wayne?" Methos decided it might be easier to put things into perspective if he didn't spout dates, hoping the old man had seen the movie.

Wayne looked back at Methos quizzically. "Yeah? Why? That's just a movie. What's that got to do with Max?"

"So, I knew Russell Crowe. Or rather, the real General Maximus Decimus Meridius. Funny, Russell Crowe resembled him a great deal. Wondered at the time if maybe someone connected with the casting was immortal...."

Duncan's face went from 'blank' to 'surprise' to 'revelation' to 'understanding', one stage after another. "That's why you laughed when you saw him the first time wasn't it, not because of his knees like you said?"

"No, MacLeod. I knew him, and I still say it's not coincidence about Russell Crowe. Anyway, that's neither here nor there. My point is, I was there. I was in his army. I was alongside him fighting the enemy that was Germania. Max was on the other side."

Wayne was perplexed. "So, if you don't mind my asking, just how old are you? I mean," Wayne's hands fiddled with his glass, "that movie was set a long, long time ago."

"I'm around 5,000 years old, give a decade or two." Methos glanced out the window at the sky, allowing time for Wayne to absorb what he was hearing.

Wayne was shocked. He understood immortality and the concept, but he'd never really thought about it in terms of millennia. He turned to Duncan. "And you?"

"I'm not nearly as old as Methos. I was born in 1592, in the Scottish Highlands."

The more he learned of the men sitting at the table with him, the more incredible it all seemed. It was different when it was just Amanda. He'd seen her immortality at work healing her wounds. He'd never really thought of it in terms of forever and then some. Suddenly, in the grand scheme of things, Wayne felt small, insignificant.

"And the girls, they know how old you really are? How old is Amanda?"

Duncan grinned. "Yes, they know hold old we are. We hold from closest friends no secrets. Amanda, she's over 1200 years old by now."

Methos cleared his throat. "If you two don't mind, I'll be getting on with this, all right?" Though he was smiling, Methos made it clear he wanted to continue with the story.

"As I was saying, Max fought for Germania. He was a general in his army and was touted to be one of the fiercest of his land. He thought nothing of sacrificing his men in battle if it meant even the tiniest victory. I won't bore you with the long details, I'll just say it was my doing that caused him to hate me the way he does. We invaded his village and started killing everyone. A woman started screaming she was the wife of the great 'General Von Gauche' so we captured her and took her back with us to Meridius. Sending word with runners, men who knew they would probably never make it back alive, we let him know we had taken her.

Days later, just when we were to put her to death, one man came back. It was obvious he'd been beaten and tortured. He collapsed and with his dying breath, he told us the General was coming under a flag of temporary truce to bargain for the freedom of his wife. He died in my arms, the poor bastard. His palms of his hands had been sliced to pieces...."

Methos downed his drank, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Meridius decided to wait another couple of days, to see if Von Gauche would show. He did, under that flag of truce. Off into the distance, we could see his army, but they didn't advance. We were ready in case that happened. Guess he must have loved her.

"Anyway, he showed up on his horse, cloaked in the hide of a bear. Must not have been cured very well because a smell came with him. He was filthy, his face dark with dirt and grime.

"Von Gauche was bellowing for Meridius to show himself, to show he was a man and release his woman and stop hiding behind her. He'd sensed my immortality as I had his, but let it go at the time as he knew I wasn't Meridius. I guess he thought I was neutral.

"Our men surrounded his party, must have been maybe a half dozen men with him, swords and spears ready to cut down the first man to make a wrong move.

"I signalled a man to get Meridius, who was in a tent with the woman.

"He came out, holding the woman by the hair, long and blonde. She was, or rather, had once been a beautiful woman. Meridius had her hair in his fist and was dragging her along behind him, making her scream.

"Meridius stopped and threw the woman down at his feet. She lay there sobbing and pleading for Von Gauche to do something, though the Roman couldn't have understood her. I did. Spent many years in Germania before moving along to Rome.

"Von Gauche was incensed. Called Meridius a coward and demanded he release his wife. Told him that for the insult, Von Gauche would not only kill Meridius, but would invade and destroy Rome in the name of Germania and tell all who would hear that it was Meridius that caused their destruction.

"Now Meridius was a gentle man at heart...good and loyal. Von Gauche was making threats contrary to his flag of truce. Meridius, at my nod, spoke. He told Von Gauche that the truce wouldn't be honored. He knew he couldn't return the woman now that the threats had been made in front of so many witnesses. He had wanted the meeting to take place inside the tent but no, Von Gauche had to throw down the gauntlet and show his power.

"Meridius hauled the woman up by her hair and pulled out his knife. Looking squarely at Von Gauche, not breaking eye contact, he slit her throat, turning her screams to gurgles as she sagged to the ground dead.

"At my signal, our men advanced on his party. Von Gauche screamed at me in German that I could stop this, that I had to stop it. He kept looking from me to his woman lying there dead or dying as her blood pooled around her head.

"When he saw that I wasn't going to stop it, he drew his sword. Archers let fly and he was knocked from his horse, a dozen arrows running through him.

"His men were quickly dispatched and I came up to him as the light was fading from his eyes. I knelt down and took his head in my hands so he could see me. 'A life for a life,' he said, 'you will die by my hand.' And then he was gone.

I know I should have taken his head, but I didn't. I had my men bind him and put rocks on him to weight him and had him thrown into the river instead. The other men were dragged nearby and dumped into a ravine.

I guess without their general, his army felt they had lost. They didn't attack and we didn't stay around. We packed up camp and moved out in the other direction.

So, that is why Max hates me. I didn't kill his woman, but he felt I could have and should have stopped it, no matter how he trashed his flag of truce.

Naples now, that's another story."


With painful gasps for breath, Max came to life. Sharp pain like daggers jabbed at his eyes from the bright sunlight overhead, forcing him to quickly close them again. Concentrating on his breathing, he could feel the repairs still being made throughout his body.

Slowly, grimacing at phantom pains shooting through him, reminders of how broken was his body, Max rolled over and again opened his eyes. The first thing they focused on was the rear end of the deer carcass wedged in under his truck which had landed on it's roof just a few feet away from him. He was glad it wasn't him under the truck. It would have taken him longer to come to, and far messier. Crawling on his hands and knees, he reached in through the open window and grabbed an old faded green duffel bag from the back. Max always kept a spare set of clothing, and judging from what he could see, he couldn't really do much till he cleaned himself up.

Ever grateful for his immortality, he reached up and used the truck to help him stand. A series of pops and cracks sounded through the quiet, his bones and joints making their final move to their rightful places. With a deep sigh, he picked up the duffel and made his way to one of the hundreds of little ponds, both natural and man-made, that dotted the countryside. This wasn't the first time Max had used one of these watering holes to clean up and hide the evidence of his violence. He only wished the water wasn't so cold, though he had long been used to bathing that way.


"How you doin', lahoffy? Any luck?" Sheeza was trying to get her arms closer together so she could bend her wrist around and take some pressure of her bindings.

The rope her uncle had used wasn't smooth, which is why, she thought, he liked to use it. This was rough rope of the type used on farms everywhere. It was cheap and splintery. Those little bits stuck out and gouged at the soft skin of her wrists like sharp needles.

Her skin was raw and weeping blood but she was trying not to focus on the pain so much as focus on how to get out of her predicament. In her mind, she had firmly planted the image of Duncan standing before her, smiling and speaking words of encouragement to her. Even though he wasn't truly there, in another way, he really was because her love for him gave her strength and courage to keep going, to search for the solution.

"Shut up Methos! I am too trying!" Lahoffy winced as a particularly sharp fiber poked her and hit a nerve under the skin. "That's better. Now...." With a mighty lurch, lahoffy toppled over, her breath knocked from her as she hit the floor. "Don't laugh! It was your idea! Bastard!", she said between gasps for air.

Sheeza looked over at her friend, lying on the floor, still tied up. "Want me to have Duncan come over there and talk to him?" she asked, giggling.

"No, he'd just figure out a way to make it my fault, Sheeza," she replied, rolling her eyes. Walking her feet up, lahoffy inched herself away from her chair, happy she was laying on dirt instead of a wooden floor. "I...think...this...might...actually...." Rolling to the side, lahoffy sat up, her arms hanging more loosely behind her back.

Able to bring her arms closer together, she was elated to find that much of the tension in the ropes had slackened enough to move her wrists more freely.

A few moments later, lahoffy squealed triumphantly and hurled her rope across the barn where it landed on the ground. "Asshole actually came through! Ha!" Gazing up toward the ceiling, she smiled sweetly. "Thank you, honey!"

Standing up, she winced as she rubbed her raw wrists lightly. "Ooh! That hurts! Here hon, lemme help you. We gotta get out of here! No tellin' when Maxie will come back and I don't want to be here when he does!"

Seconds later, Sheeza's bonds were gone and she too rubbed at her wrists. "You are so lucky you didn't get your arm smashed when you knocked your chair over. Man, for an immortal Max sure sucks at rope tying, huh?

Shaking her head in disgust, lahoffy closed her eyes. "Probably thought we were too soft to get out of them. Come on, let's get out of here."

The two left the barn and headed down the drive, wondering just where they were. Knowing it was a bad idea to take the direction with the most tire marks and obvious use, they instead headed across the field on the other side of the road, believing they would eventually come across another road, possibly one much safer. A farmhouse would be nice, too, but they were scared to approach one too soon as it could be Max's. Sheeza didn't remember ever being at his house and couldn't say what it looked like or even where it was.


Feeling like a new man, Max placed his torn and bloodied clothes in a pile and doused them with lighter fluid which he kept in the duffel for just such an occasion. Lighting a kitchen match with a jagged and dirty thumbnail, he tossed the flame onto the clothing and watched them burn to oily, black bits. He added some wood and sticks on top to make it look like a little campfire should anybody come snooping around.

Picking up the duffel, he headed back to his truck and tossed the duffel in the back. Glancing once again with pleasure at the dead buck, he grinned and took off down the road, back the way he came.

Mortals to him were mostly sheep. They believed what they wanted to believe and that suited him just fine. Nobody seemed to notice he didn't look older than he did the day he married Florence all those years ago. People just took to saying that he was too mean to die, that he'd outlast all the good folks in these parts 'cause of his meanness. Even too mean to get sick.

He used to make an effort to put a little gray in his hair the last several years, but it had been a while since he even bothered with that. Seemed like nobody even noticed and he was right, they didn't. Nobody really wanted to look at Max and most didn't look him in the eye when he was around. This suited him just fine, though he knew he was going to have to move on soon. Florence was going to die sooner or later and when that happened, he would have worn out his welcome.

One thing he knew for sure, he wasn't going to do that till he had taken care of a little unfinished business that he should have taken care of long ago. Business in Italy that should have been a walk in the park and somehow ended up with him getting nothing instead of the two quickenings he thought he was going to get.

"That bastard was mine, the coward! I had my sword to his woman's throat and he ran like a yellow dog with his tail tucked 'tween his legs!!"


Methos liked the model, but he didn't love her and he wasn't prepared to sacrifice his life for her, especially when he knew that Von Gauche wouldn't spare her anyway. So, he did what he had to. He left, tears running down his cheeks as he hurridly packed his belongings and fled the hotel. A quick couple of phone calls located Amanda in Naples and decided a train was the best way to get himself there to meet her.

What the ancient didn't know was that Von Gauche's men were watching the hotel and had followed him to the train station. They hadn't been ordered to interfere, so they just watched him and reported back to Max.

Von Gauche followed Methos to Naples, after a telegram had been sent to associates there to watch for Methos when he arrived. He instructed them also to not interfere, but to report to him instead his whereabouts and any other pertinent information they could get their hands on.

When he himself arrived, his comrades were at the station, filling him in on Methos' whereabouts and about a telephone call he'd made from the train station. They had overheard plans for a meeting that evening. It seemed to the two men that Methos was impatient with the other person and had raised his voice only to look around hastily and cup his hand around the mouthpiece.

Unfortunately for Methos, Max arrived for the rendezous ahead of him. Amanda had little defense when the two men she'd been flirting with in the park suddenly grabbed her and knocked her unconscious with a blackjack. She was looking out for immortals and was caught by surprise by mortals instead. To Max's delight, he found himself in possession of a beautiful woman, and an immortal one besides. He fancied the idea of having his way with her and when she no longer amused him, she would lose her head to his blade.

When Methos arrived at the park, the immortal signature that washed over him wasn't the one he expected to find. Instead, he was faced with a man who he'd regrettably, not killed when he'd had the chance. Before his enemy located him, Methos turned and once again, fled for his life.

Max, angered that he'd repeated his failure to attain revenge on Methos, was doubly enraged to learn that Amanda had also somehow escaped his clutches. Though he would never admit it, he blamed himself for her as he took his sweet time going back to the warehouse where she had been stashed for his later amusement. He didn't think a sweet, young thing like her would get away. He swore that someday, she would be his, right after he finished with Methos. Maximillian Von Gauche didn't like to lose.


"Oh Bitches," Max sang out in a sickly sweet voice, "I'm baa-a-ack...." The grin slid from his face when he saw his prisoners were gone.

"Shit!" Running to a side wall, he yanked a set of keys from a nail and ran back outside. Scanning the countryside, he saw nothing, not even a bird flying by.

"Damnit all to hell!" Jumping into an old stationwagon, he ground the ignition till it caught and the engine started. Yanking the gear handle to drive, he pulled the car around and headed down the road and back to his place.


"Do you even know which way you're going, Sheeza?" Lahoffy, tired and aching in places she really wished she didn't, wanted nothing more than to find a nice soft spot and lay down for a week or two.

"No, I don't, lahoffy. I'm pretty sure we can't be too far away from somewhere. We'll stop at the next farm, ok? Will that work?" Sheeza, herself just as tired, kept her focus on Duncan, walking beside her and holding her hand. It sounded silly to most people, but it worked for her, imagining him with her even when he wasn't.

"It'll have to do," she puffed with an exaggerated sigh, "I just can't wait 'till Methos chops that bastard into little tiny chunks and we can use him for carp bait!"

Sheeza rolled her eyes and glanced at lahoffy pointedly. "Just a little bit bitter..."

Laughter echoed as both of them started guffawing about fish having terminal gas from eating too much German food. The mood lightened significantly as the two women trudged on. Sheeza grabbed on to lahoffy's hand and it felt good, loved ones held in each hand.


Methos looked at Duncan and Wayne. "I didn't know 'till today just what happened to Amanda back then. I didn't put two and two together. Just figured she'd stood me up...again."

"How did you know Amanda was even in Naples?" Duncan was fascinated at how small the world could be and wondered briefly again in fate and destiny.

"If you must know MacLeod, she was in Florence when I was there. She was seeing the artist whose model I had taken out and let die. She had left a few days earlier for his home in Naples to 'do some shopping' as she put it, and to see the circus."

~R-r-r-in-n-ng!~

With a groan and stretching his back, Wayne walked to the wallphone and lifted the handset to his ear. "Hello," he said in a slightly slurred drawl.

"Ludwig," an ominous voice growled, "put Pierson on the phone."

A bit foggy from drinking so early in the day, Wayne had already forgotten who Pierson was. "Who?"

"Don't play stupid Wayne. It doesn't suit you," Max replied angrily.

"Oh. Just a minute." Wayne put his hand over the mouthpiece, his mouth had suddenly gone dry. "It's Gooch. He wants to talk to you, Methos." Cocking his head to the side, he looked from Duncan back to the ancient immortal. "Does he know you as Methos?"

Nodding his head, Methos sighed and approached Wayne. Taking the receiver from him, he held it to his ear. "Pierson."

"I have your women. Are you and MacLeod gonna come out? Or are they gonna die in your place?" Max was banking on the fact that Sheeza and lahoffy hadn't yet contacted them and was probably walking around in circles with cows or sheep for company.

"Max, if there is one thing I know for sure, it's that you sooooo don't have our women." Methos smirked and turned around to face Duncan. When he did, it melted from his lips.

Duncan was frozen in place, his mouth an almost perfect 'O' and his eyes open wide, making him look like a caricature for the definition of surprise. "WHAT?" he all but shrieked.

"HEY!! I'm talkin' here!" Max roared, bluffing them to get their attention. "I'm calling you both out! I'll take MacLeod first, and then you. Want you to watch your friend die. When I've done you both, I'll have your women and kill them, too! I'll...I'll...Wayne and his girls are dead after I get through with you!"

Placing his hand on Duncan's chest to keep him at bay, Methos spoke quietly. "Shut up, Max. Your threats are meaningless. Let me talk to lahoffy."

Duncan made another grab for the phone and Methos ducked smoothly out of his reach. With a nod of his head, he pointed to his own chest and nodded. "Whaddaya mean she's sleeping and can't be disturbed? Fine! Time and place you bastard! Quick, somebody get me a pencil and paper!"


The sun hung low in the west. It would be dark in another hour. Duncan stood by the mailbox, motionless and forlorn. Gazing toward the Southwest, he squinted against the golden rays of late afternoon.

His shoulder-length hair hung loose on his shoulders, fluttering around his face from the breeze blowing in from the west.

In the hand hanging at his side, a digital phone. He'd forgotten to remind Sheeza to take it with her. She hated it so, but he felt better knowing she could reach him when she was away from the compound without him. Now...she was beyond his protection. Standing there and blaming himself, Duncan's shoulders slumped a little bit more.

"Please let her be all right. Let lahoffy be all right too. They should have been back by now. I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to them! If he harms them, I'll kill him! I swear it!"

Methos stood several yards away watching the Highlander. A plume of dust indicating a car was approaching made Duncan stand up straight and strain his neck to see who was coming. He slumped against the mailbox when Freda came to a stop.

She was smiling and words passed between them before she turned and came up the drive to stop and park near Methos. "Hi, Adam! Sheeza and lahoffy went shopping, huh? Cool, there's a big sale at Walmart! Just came from there myself," she chattered happily, waving a shopping bag at him. "Jeez, hope Sheeza didn't take 'M'. Heard there was a big car accident that blocked the whole road. Well, see you later! Got a new game I want to try out." She grinned and headed for the house.

A sharp rap on the glass in the kitchen window caught Methos' attention. Wayne touched his wrist and nodded gravely.

Methos nodded back at him grimly before walking down the driveway to join Duncan. Tentatively, he placed his hand on his friends shoulder. "MacLeod, it's time."


Max pulled the sword from its scabbard, cursing under his breath for not cleaning it after the last head he'd taken.

Over the decades, he'd encountered very few immortals traveling through and though he denied it even to himself, Max had grown as rusty as his sword looked.

Each time he crossed paths with another of his kind, Max put on a friendly face and welcomed the stranger to his restaurant or to visit, hoping the ruse would make him or her let their guard down just long enough to take their head. He wasn't even above getting someone drunk. He even shot a few that just didn't play into his hands.

Lifting the lid on an old trunk, he lifted out a cloth wrapped bundle. Unwrapping it, a little can of oil and a whetstone was revealed. Still muttering and cursing, Max set to work rejuvenating his blade.


"Do you even know where you're going?" Lahoffy huffed a sweaty lock of hair off her damp brow. "It'll be dark soon and we haven't seen a single house. Don't you find that at least a little bit unusual, girl?" Her tone was one more of alarm or concern than it was anger. "I don't much like being on foot, out in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, with nothing and alone."

"Right there with ya, lahoffy," Sheeza panted. Grateful she always wore a hair tie on her finger like a ring, she'd pulled her own hair back into a ponytail earlier and was much more comfortable for it. "I watch too many scary movies to be out stuck out here alone. I mean, what if the house we come to belongs to a family just like that one in Texas, huh?" Grinning, she peeped at Lahoffy.

"Jeez, I can't even begin to tell you on how many levels that is soooo not funny! If I'm gonna be eaten, it isn't gonna be by some chain-saw totin' cannibals with a hankering for a taste of this!" Lahoffy accentuated her statement by slapping her fanny and grinning back. "I'll just stick with the sword packin' variety thankyouverymuch!"

Laughter erupted, and the more they tried to stop, the funnier it got until they collapsed on the ground. When they got to their feet again after their brief rest, the girls spirits were lighter.

"Come'on, Sheeza. There has to be people somewhere. Let's go find some before some wild animal finds us and decides it's hungry."

"Oh, no need to worry on that account, Sweetie. Dad told me years ago that the reason there is a deer problem around here is because there aren't any predators around here. No bear, coyote, wolves, bobcats, or mountain lions. Closest thing we can get assaulted by is maybe a fox. The deer get so over-populated, they get diseased and die off. Hunting season is wide open, too."

"So what you're saying is it's pretty much Bambi-attack or nothing, is that it?"

Sheeza pooched out her lower lip and furrowed her brow. Smiling, she nodded vigorously and said, "yup, unless we get bit by a snake."

Lahoffy shrieked and looked at the ground around her in a panic. "SNAKE!?!!??"


Without a single thought to his beloved Thunderbird, Duncan drove down the gravel road as fast as he dared. Rocks banged against the undercarriage and the rear end fishtailed a bit in the loose spots, but he didn't care. Not now. The only thing on his mind was getting to the girls and making sure they were safe.

He swore to himself that if he could just have them back safe and in one piece, it would be a very long time before he let them out of his sight again. Even then, he'd make sure Sheeza had a phone with her, even if he had to sew it into the lining of her purse!

He envisioned their reunion, him and Methos hugging the girls and raining kisses down on their upturned faces. From a dark corner, Max drew into the light, his ghoulish smile sickening to look upon. He shook his head and started chuckling, the tone low and evil. His eyes widened and he glanced quickly back to the woman he held in his arms. Sheeza's eyes were closed, a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth telling a different tale.

Shaking his head violently to dispel the horror in his head, Duncan hunkered down over the wheel and stomped hard on the gas pedal.

Methos slid along the seat with a tight turn. Reaching a hand out to brace himself against the dash, he glared at the Scot. "What are you doing MacLeod?! For Christ's sake, slow down! You're gonna get us killed! We really need to get there alive, you know?" Underneath the veil of sarcasm, Methos battled with his own demons. He knew just how much Max hated him and he feared for lahoffy, knowing that Max thought she belonged to him. "Drive faster MacLeod!"


Finished with sharpening his sword, Max went around to the back of the barn and started up the portable generator. It was noisy, but there were no neighbors close enough to pay it much mind. This place was his special place. Only he knew where the bodies were buried. It was tough work, but he took pleasure in burying those whose quickenings he'd taken.

Some went fast, but most went slow, and only after begging him to end the torture. He took great pleasure in killing his victims, only to have them revive so they could endure what he did to them all over again. World War II and Vietnam gave him many wonderful ideas, which he put to good use.

As the little engine sparked to life, lights slowly brightened on the inside of the barn, a glow coming through the chinks and cracks in the wood walls.

"Now, come to die you bastards," he growled to himself.


As the last of the sun dipped below the horizon, lahoffy hugged herself, though not from the cold. Her eyes were fixed on the last of the reddened glow of sunset and fervently wished she would trip over a nice big flashlight.

Sheeza stopped, her hands resting on her hips. She was tired, hungry, thirsty and more than a little sick of being lost. It had been a very long time since she'd spent a whole day without seeing so much as a car, a house, or even a single power line! Turning in a slow circle, she scanned their surroundings.

There!~ Off in the distance. Were her eyes deceiving her? Or was that a tiny sparkle of lights? She could have sworn they weren't there a minute ago. Or were they?

"Lahoffy, look! Civilization at last!"

"Cool! When we get there, I'm gonna sit down and not get up till I'm good and ready! Let's get moving!"


Coming down the graveled hill, Duncan spied the lights in the distance. Seeing well enough by the rising full moon, he shut off the headlamps. He didn't feel like advertising their approach till they were much closer.

"There's no talking to him, is there, Methos? One of us is going to have to take his head." Duncan didn't relish the idea of taking Max's quickening. He imagined him being dark and oily, probably capable of giving his own quickening a bad case of indigestion. At that notion, his mouth quirked in a half-smile.

"Should be my fight, MacLeod. I'm the one he hates. You just got sucked into it. And now the girls. Von Gauche will rue the day he ever crossed my path again," Methos said, anger tightening his voice. "He's mine."

"And if you lose?"

"I'll not lose, MacLeod. If I lose, lahoffy will have my head." Methos gasped. That had come out not quite the way it sounded. "Well, you know what I mean," he added.

Chuckling, Duncan laid a hand on Methos' shoulder. "Yeah, I know what you mean. She's a little spitfire, but she's your spitfire."

"Damned right. S'been fun taming her, too. Almost got that little filly saddle-broke."

Laughing outright, Duncan turned a grin on Methos. "You know I'm going to have to tell her that, don't you?"

With a shrug, the old man smiled. "Go ahead. She gives the best rides when she's pissed."

Slowing down, Duncan stopped a short distance from the barn. "You ready?"

Sighing, Methos felt inside his coat and let his hand close around the hilt of his blade. "As ready as I'll ever be, MacLeod. Let's do this."

Pulling foward, Duncan approached the barn, sensing Max somewhere nearby. "Stay sharp. He could be anywhere."

"Same could be said to you."

As they exited the car, Max came out of the barn, his sword in hand, it's blade reflecting the light above the doors.

"So you came. Gonna try and save your whores?" Max sneered, his head throbbing again with the pain he'd gotten used to long ago.

Duncan pulled out his katana and immediately went into an aggressive stance. "Not gonna try, Max. Gonna do."


They walked and walked but it seemed like forever before Sheeza and lahoffy got close enough to make out what they were approaching.

"Shit! Sheeza! I told you we were walking around in circles! We're back at that damned barn!"

"Oh God! Will this nightmare never end?" Sheeza felt like crying. Seeing that barn made her feel like such a failure. Just then, her eyes settled on a dark shape she could swear wasn't there earlier when they had made their escape. "What's that?"

Lahoffy squinted, though doing so didn't really help in the dark. "It looks like...couldn't be...it is! It's Duncan's car!"

Taking off at a sprint, the girls quickly slowed down to a walk, both were just too tired to maintain much more than that. With no water and no food, they both felt ready to collapse where they were.

As they reached the driveway, the sounds of swords clashing against each other came to their ears. Worry for the guys spurred them on.


Methos slowly circled Max, his Ivanhoe at the ready. His eyes never left his opponent, so angry was he that he pictured chopping him up in little pieces, hacking at him until the quickening entered him.

"Lahoffy!" Calling out, he had raised his head a bit to send his voice upward in the direction of the loft. "You up there?"

Duncan had stayed by the door, still in battle mode, his katana across his arm and both hands holding the hilt at shoulder height. "Sheeza?"


"Your whores can't answer you," Max snarled, as he feinted in with a thrust that was easily blocked. "Got 'em gagged. Used my old socks, after I wiped my ass with 'em." He grinned viciously at the thought. "Yours seemed to like the taste, Methos."

Stepping back, Methos grunted, his anger dissolving instantly. He tried, though. to keep his 'battle face' on, but it was proving difficult. His upper lip twitched. He coughed, trying to stifle the chuckles that were bubbling up to the surface.

"Your old socks, eh? Well Maxie, somehow I doubt that. You see, I happen to know that she only likes my socks," he replied cooly, countering another slash with one of his own.

Nodding towards Duncan, Max grinned again. "His whore didn't feel like cooperating, so things got a little rough. But it's all right, I treated her just as nice as I treat my wife."

Duncan's stomach clenched at the implication. Stepping forward, he raised his sword a bit higher. "You'll pay for that." His nostrils flared and his eyes flashing angrily, he stepped closer.

Max backed up, his greasy smile sliding around on his face. "Wait a minute, wait, wait, wait...two against one, that ain't fair!"

Lahoffy and Sheeza reached the barn door just in time to hear that exchange and both of them sucked in air, a little bit shocked.

"Oh you do, do you?!" Lahoffy strode through the barn doors, angrily brushing her hair back and stopped next to Duncan, her hands braced on her hips. "Just kill the bastard, Methos, and then we need to have a talk!"

Glancing quickly over his shoulder, he grinned, elated to see Lahoffy in one piece. He faltered though when his brain registered the damage to her face. 'Max is soooo gonna die for that!" "That's fine luv. But back off, okay? Kinda busy right now."

At the sound of Lahoffy's voice, Duncan whirled around, acknowledging her and then looking around for Sheeza. "Sheeza?"

Stepping inside the barn and into the light, Sheeza wanted nothing more than to run into Duncan's arms. However, she was well aware of the dangers she would be adding by distracting him right now.

Max threw his weight into his sword arm, hoping that the arrival of the girls would give him a slight edge.

"Back off? Dirty, shitty socks in my mouth? Not funny Methos!" Lahoffy's whole face was bent into one big glare.

"Not meant to be, dear," Methos replied, grunting from the brunt of the blows reigning down upon him by the maniacal sword-weilding k'immie. "I love you and am glad you're safe, but ...right now..."

Relief flooded every fiber of Duncan's being. She was alive and she was safe and to him, that was all that mattered. "Are you all right? Did he ... hurt you?"

Sheeza touched the puffy bruise on her face. "Not much. He hit lahoffy more than me."

His head swiveled back toward the fight, angry that she and lahoffy were hit at all. Men didn't hit women for sport or to inflict pain. One way or another, Duncan was certain that Max would die in that barn.

"Right now, right now...I'm going on record to say that you've never stuffed your socks in my mouth, dirty or otherwise! Right now, I want you to admit it," she growled through clenched teeth.

"I'm fighting, with a sword, and you want me to do what?" Methos could hardly believe his ears.

"Now, Methos!"

Max stooped and scooped up a handful of fine dusty dirt off the barn floor and flung it in Methos' face. When the old man hollered and raised his hand to his eyes, he lunged forward, hoping to get the upper hand.

Methos staggered back, Max's sword was buried deep in his chest, halfway to the hilt.

Sheeza screamed, her hands fluttering around her face, her eyes widened in horror.

Lahoffy stood still, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets in shock. Battling for breath, her mouth opened and closed rapidly. A thin sound came from somewhere inside her and grew until it was deafening. "METHOS!"

Duncan acted quickly, moving in between Max and Methos, who now lay on the ground, his hands wrapped around the blade sticking out of him. His katana was pointed up to the ceiling and his arms worked back and forth, the blade chopping back and forth, seemingly eager to get in on the action.

Max stepped back and slowly circled to the right. He had lost his blade, but was still dangerous in his insanity.

Keeping himself between the k'immie and his friend, Duncan spoke in a low voice. "Sheeza, pull Methos back and take the sword out."

Only able to nod, which Duncan didn't see because she was behind him, she stepped forward.

Kneeling on the ground, lahoffy raised Methos to rest against her knees. When he winced as the sword cut into him, she shrieked, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Methos, I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault, luv" he replied, his voice raspy and wet sounding as the blade had invaded a lung and he was bleeding internally. It wouldn't be long now. "I admit it," he whispered, his eyes looking drowsy, his fingers losing their grip on the blade. "You've never had my dirty socks in your mouth."

Sobbing, she cupped his face in her hand. "Would you just shut up? It doesn't matter now, you idiot! Don't die, please don't die..."

Struggling, Methos brought his hand up and pulled lahoffy closer to him. "I will, but only for a moment my love, only for a...." Methos' hand slumped and fell across his stomach. He was gone.

Looking up to the ceiling, lahoffy wailed as though her heart was broken. Inside, she knew Methos would come back and that it wouldn't take very long for him to do so. Even so, it was gut-wrenching to watch him die.

Laying a hand on her shoulder, Sheeza nodded to her in sympathy. She'd never seen Duncan die, but she could still be supportive and try to give her friend the comfort she needed. "Lahoffy, I have to do this."

"Hurry Sheeza," Duncan said gravely, his eyes glued on Max.

Spying a scythe on hooks, Max backed away till he reached it and reached up to pull it down from the barn wall. He'd never used it for farming. It was one of his tools that he used for special guests he brought to the barn. He relished the look in his victim's eyes when they would see it and imagine what Max would do to them with it.

"It's not fair, MacLeod, Methos is mine. Let me finish it! You pretend to be a man of honor, but what you are doing," he said with a sneer, "is interfering! That's not part of the game and you know it!"

Duncan's hands repositioned themselves on his katana and his knees bent, combat ready. "Honor? You speak to me about honor? You don't know the word, Max. Honor isn't beating defenseless women. Honor isn't running women off the road and kidnapping them," he spat, assuming the accident Freda mentioned was the girls, since he didn't see the Highlander parked outside. "Honor is a concept totally alien to you. Why should I keep to the practice of honor if it is a value that means nothing to you? Why should I follow the rules of the game when it's obvious to me that you don't?"

Max hesitated, disgusted and angry at the ugly words of truth ringing through his ears. Pushing the veil of denial firmly down, his eyes went cold, dead, flat and ugly. "And interfering is honorable? Methos is mine, we were engaged in combat. Just because I got the better of him, doesn't mean you can step in and make this fight your own. I want his head, it's mine. That's my blade sticking out of him, ain't it? Then, when I'm finished, you can be next."

Seeing that lahoffy was no condition to be of much use to her, Sheeza put her back into the task of dragging Methos' dead weight across the barn floor. She felt bad when she noticed the hilt of the blade wobbled back and forth, indicating that Methos had been run through and the tip of the sword was raking through the dirt.

When she had pulled him close to the door and out of the way, Sheeza gingerly took hold of the hilt and with all her strength, she pulled. At first nothing happened, it seemed as if the metal had become a permanent fixture. Glancing guiltily at lahoffy who had crawled on her hands and knees after her man, crying the whole way, Sheeza did what she had to do. To gain purchase against the sword, she put her foot on on Methos' stomach and used the added leverage to finally wrest the weapon from his body. Wincing from metal grating against bone and the wet, sucking sound the sword made as it departed from the flesh, she took a deep, shuddering breath. "It's done, Duncan," she said, her voice hauntedly soft.

Duncan hated Max, found nothing redeeming in him whatsoever. Raising his chin, he leveled a steady gaze upon the malevolent man standing in front of him holding a scythe poised to try and take his own head. Being a man of honor and integrity, he was faced with a decision to either follow the rules of the game or not.

"Max," he began, his voice low, yet clear and seemed loud. "I like to think that I am a man of honor. But you've proven yourself not to be. Moreover, you've tormented the woman you've made your wife. And, you've hurt people I love, not because you felt they deserved it, but out of spite and a need to inflict some of the pain and ugliness trapped inside of you. And it's not just because of me or Methos, either. I'd wager Wayne has something to do with it, doesn't he?" Seeing Max flinch at the name, Duncan knew he'd hit a tender spot and decided to go for it all. "I cannot... no...I will not just step aside and allow you to take Methos' head. Against my better judgement, I'll give you the chance to just walk away, leave the state and never come back here in this lifetime or in the next. This state is off-limits to you. If I hear of you even being close to this place, I'll hunt you down and take your head. If you want to fight, you face me." His chin lowered, indicating he was done.

"My my," Max growled, his eyes flashing with anger, "you are an arrogant young pup, ain't ya! And to think I was gonna let you live...." Max lunged forward, the scythe rising in front of him, the blade encrusted with the blood of immortals long gone. "DIE!!!"

Duncan quickly side-stepped the attack and stuck one soft-leather booted foot out, tripping the charging k'immie.

Max roared with surprise as his bottom-heavy body went airborne, sailing across the barn. Afraid he'd impale himself on the blade of his weapon, he pushed it away from him so he would have a chance of landing on his hands and knees.

The scythe blade clonged hollowly on the ground. Max hit the floor hard, rolled and got to his feet. Clenching his hands into tight fists, he jerked his head to the left, a sign of reluctant acknowledgement. "Nice move, MacLeod. Want to be a real man and do things the hard way?" Bringing his fists up, Max danced around in a parody of the 'gentleman boxer.'

After a brief moment, Duncan smiled meanly and put his katana back in its place inside his coat. "With pleasure...."

While Duncan was dodging, feinting and jabbing Max into a bloody rage, Methos took a huge gasp for breath and his eyelids fluttered open. The first thing he saw was a teary eyed lahoffy leaning over him. "Did I get him?"

Laughing through her tears, lahoffy caressed his face with the tips of her fingers. "No, you didn't." Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she punched him in the shoulder, hard.

"Ow! What was that for", Methos asked, wincing and moving a hand to cover that spot.

"For dying on me, asshole! After the last time, I warned you not to do it again!" lahoffy's stern look faded quickly into smiles again just before she leaned down and planted a breath-depriving kiss upon him.

Panting when she finally sat up, Methos gazed up at her with glazed eyes. A bit turned on, but glazed nevertheless. "And for....," he panted.

"Coming back to me," she replied, before leaning down again, this time meaning business.

Sheeza was caught between watching Duncan make mincemeat out of Max and the heartwarming sort-of reunion between two of her closest and dearest friends. Finally she chose Duncan, giving her friends a shred of privacy.

Max landed hard against the barn wall, rebounding from the force of Duncan's forceful tossing of him. Leaning back against the rough wood, his head hung low and blood dripped onto the ground from the gash on his forehead and his split lip. He'd barely been able to land a blow on the Highlander and in contrast, MacLeod was beating him to a bloody pulp. "It's just not fair!"

Taking a peek at Duncan, who stood a few paces away, he noticed there was hardly a hair out of place and the only blood on him was his. Dammit! He could only take slim pleasure from the little bit of blood on MacLeod's skinned knuckles...skinned from accidentally catching them on his teeth as that furry-knuckled fist met with his mouth.

"Had enough yet, Max? Want to try your sword on me this now?" Duncan's voice was low, smooth and deadly. He knew Max was no match for him but he really wanted to make the fight last and inflict a great deal of damage. He wanted Max dead, but he didn't relish the idea of taking his quickening. He didn't before, and he sure didn't want it now.

Max didn't say anything, he just stood there, his fists clenching and unclenching, the thin pain from his wounded hands no comfort at all. Strength was what he needed and as badly as Duncan had beat him down, he was healing.

Duncan sauntered over to Max's bloodied blade and picked it up. Holding it up, he examined the blood mixed with dirt clinging to it. "Not nice throwing dirt in Methos' face and then sticking him with this." Looking over at Max, Duncan smiled, evil intentions clearly evident. "And while talking to lahoffy. Bad form," he said with a sigh, "No honor. Hmmmm...." he murmured, pulling on the darkness he remembered when he'd been overfilled with the dark quickening, "you ready to die by my sword? Or yours?" He grinned widely, his eyes glittering.

It was difficult to talk to MacLeod, Max knew that now. He was too slick, a city boy who could never understand easy or simple. "Before we do this," Max grunted, "I wanna know some things. You gonna talk?"

"If you ask nicely, Maxie," Duncan answered, his grin never faltering.

Frustration welled up inside Max. He hated being called Maxie, and he hated this man in front of him. It was true, he did hate Wayne and it played a large part of his treatment of Sheeza. Lahoffy was different though. He took pleasure in hurting her because he knew she was with Methos'.

"Clean answers is all I want, MacLeod. How old are you?"

"Over 400 years. You? Ah, well, you have to have some age on you from what I understand. Yes, from the look on your face, Methos did tell me what happened between the two of you. Consider yourself fortunate he let you live back then, Maxie. It would have done you well to have left him and us alone this time around, too.

"Oh? And why is that? Methos is nothing. He hid behind the general then and he hides behind you now."

"You're wrong. He wasn't in charge then and he isn't in charge now."

"Oh? Are you in charge? What is he then if he is nothing? Was he just Meridius' servant? Oh," he said, nodding his head and grinning sweetly, "maybe Meridius had other uses for him? Tell me, do you have other uses for him, too?"

"Methos was, is death, Max. Death to all who oppose him, should he choose to tread that path again. But I'm in charge because this is Sheeza's home and we are staying with her father and she thought you were family. Methos could handily do away with you, but this is mine. I want you dead."

Methos, sitting up and cradled in lahoffy's arms, had enjoyed the fist-fight immensely. It had been too long since he'd seen a one-sided fight that made him feel good for the one taking the beating. "Quite right, MacLeod. You are in charge. It's not even my vendetta, it's Max's. If Max wants to fight, then he can fight you. I've no quarrel with him. You made up for what he did to the girls, and then some. So go ahead MacLeod, your choice."

Lahoffy rolled her eyes, squeezing Methos even tightly in her arms. "Ooh, my knight in shining armor...." she teased, before kissing his temple.

Methos closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her lips against his skin. "Whatever you decide MacLeod, hurry up and do it. lahoffy wants to go for a ride." Opening his eyes, his gaze landed on the Highlander.

Duncan burst out laughing, right along with Methos. "Now I really will have to tell her, you know."

Max, listening to them, felt like he was being ignored, that his importance was downgraded to taking the back seat for some stupid private joke.

"Sword," he said, his voice choked with anger and strangely, a bit of embarrassment. "I'll take your head, and then I'll take theirs. Yeah, I'll leave, but not before I've finished you all off and buried you with the others."

Duncan's eyes narrowed sharply. "Others? What others?"

"Heh, anybody and everybody who was stupid enough to come close enough to me in the past 50-odd years, that's who. I get 'em here, and I do 'em. Take their quickening. Just like I'm gonna take yours and his. The women are a bonus, like Ludwig is gonna be. Guess I'll have to do Florence, too. She's been suspecting for a while now. Why you think I broke her leg for her? She was leaving to go to her mother's."

Duncan nodded, processing the information he'd been given. Pushing his feelings down into a tight ball, he felt it growing, feeding the memories of his dark quickening, fueling him with heat and anger that he felt back then.

"Time to die, Max. You ready?"

"Big words for a pawn. Sheeza controls you! Yeah, got you wrapped right 'round her little finger! Why, you should be grateful I hit her. Taught her a lesson about speaking out of turn."

"Time for talking is done." Duncan tossed the dirt-encrusted sword back to Max, withdrawing his own with the other hand. Drawing his blade up, he swung his sword a few times, metal whiffling through the air. "Easy? No. Slow...and very painful," he almost crooned.

Methos looked back at lahoffy. "Methinks Maxie is done for. Evil Duncan has reared his ugly head. And he calls me Death?"

Sheeza heard the whisper and she'd been watching and listening to everything. The Dark Quickening had been before her time but she'd heard some things. Duncan did seem a bit different, or so she thought. He was meaner, colder than Duncan really was. It made her wonder how Duncan would be after taking Max's head. She worried that the evil in her uncle would change Duncan for the worse.

The battle didn't last long. Max lunged for Duncan, his sword above his head, roaring like a bear on the attack. Duncan whirled around, his blade slicing as cleanly through the air as it did through Max's neck. It was over hardly before it started.

Just before the quickening took over, Methos spoke. "Hardly worth all that posturing, was it, MacLeod", he asked, sarcasm sweetening his words.

The electric lights popped and sizzled and the little generator out back died, wheezing and screeching to a halt. The barn, though plunged into darkness, was lit up with the electrical light show, all of which was feeding directly into Duncan.

Battling against the foul, heavy quickening that had overtaken him, Duncan's senses were assaulted from all sides. A stench surrounded him making him gag and Max's quickening was far more powerful than the man's fighting talents belied. When it was over, he collapsed and rolled onto his back, his arms and legs wide apart on the ground. "Sheeza," he gasped, breathing heavily.

Sheeza, hearing the summons, hurried to his side and knelt down beside him.

"It's been fun, but can we go home before any more evil immie uncles crawl out of the woodwork?"


Trying hard to ignore the pesky digitized warbling of Bonny Portmore coming from the front seat, Methos gritted his teeth and refused to open his eyes. Finally, when he could take no more, he cursed something about the need for earplugs and relinquished his hold on lahoffy to reach over the seat and snatch up the offending cellphone.

Snapping the cover open, he thumbed the switch and snarled, "Yeah, what is it!" He was seriously pissed and didn't care who was calling MacLeod.

Silence on the other end made him uncomfortable and little pangs of guilt announced themselves to him. He glared at them but softened his voice. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Uh, MacLeod's phone, may I help you?"

Total quiet was replaced by Freda hemming and hawing, unsure of what to say. Finallly, she got her words sorted out and she tried again. "Uh, Adam? Dad wants to know when you all are gonna be home. He wants to lock up for the night and go to bed. He's been pacing the kitchen and drinking. It's not Christmas. Why's Dad drinking? Is something wrong? 'Cause if something's wrong, he's not tell...."

Methos sighed. "No, nothing's wrong, Freda. Uh...did you want to talk to Sheeza? I can go..."

Lahoffy, very much in the mood and wanting to resume their cuddle, couldn't keep her hands off Methos, making it very difficult for him to concentrate on the call.

"Yeah, can I talk to Sheeza? I haven't seen her all day. What'd she buy at Wal-mart? They had these really neat...."

"Just a minute, I'll go get her," he replied, smoothly cutting her off in mid-sentence.

Muttering again, Methos handed the phone to lahoffy and nodded his head in the direction of the barn. "Freda wants to talk to her sister. Take it to her, wouldja?"

"But...," lahoffy began, holding the phone as far away as she could, "why me? You answered the damned phone," she said, her voice a rough whisper.

"Sooner done, sooner fun," Methos retorted, grinning at her. "Now scoot! Off with you...wench." Winking at her, he leaned across her and opened the car door, letting in the cool night air.

Shivering at the sudden gooseflesh that prickled her skin, she stared at Methos to see if he was serious. Sighing, she nodded her head. " Well okay, hand me my shoes."

Chuckling, Methos held up a hand and started shaking his head. "Nope. Wench...you will go barefoot unless I allow it, and I don't. Now hop to!"

Freda strained to hear what was being said. It was infinitely better than worrying about her father drinking alcohol on a day other than Christmas or New Years,which is something she couldn't recall him doing ever before in her whole life. "Wrench? What about a wrench? Did that nice car of Duncan's break down?"

The look of surprise on lahoffy's face was swiftly replaced with knitted brows and a frown. "Excuse me? ALLOW?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, lahoffy's eyes bored straight into Methos, her unflinching, unwavering stare locking him in her sights. The fingertips of her free hand drummed against her bicep. Her lips pursed as she chewed at the corning of her mouth.

Methos, confident as he always seemed to be, stared right back at her but felt his grip on the situation begin to slide out from under him. "Uh oh. Guess that was the wrong word, eh, Methos? Don't just sit there, man! Do something."

Without glancing away, he moved his hand to her thigh, letting his fingers do the talking in the hope that he could break her concentration.

"Lahoffy? Hon? Freda's waiting..." he crooned.

Her eyes flashed and the set of her mouth went from kissable to something akin to frightening and Methos knew his goose was cooked. Valiantly, he tried to stand his ground in the staring contest till he could no longer deny he had lost the battle with a mere slip of the lip.

Lahoffy, sensing her victory, leaned closer to Methos, her hand teasing his thigh as his hand had so recently teased hers. " 'Thos? Hon? Freda's still waiting."

His shoulders slumped and he allowed his eyes to break from hers. Looking away, he held out his hand and felt the plastic against his palm when lahoffy dropped the phone onto it.

Reaching down for his shoes, lahoffy put her hand on his chest. Whimpering as she groped his hard pecs for a moment, she finally was able to shake her head. "No love, no shoes."

"But...I...FINE!" Methos scrambled quickly out of the car when lahoffy shrugged and picked up her blouse, fully prepared to put it back on.

Muttering and gasping as the sharp rocks cut at his feet, Methos quickly scrabbled across the graveled drive and onto the dirt covered area in front of the barn. Listening through the closed doors, he cursed softly when he caught the sounds of Duncan and Sheeza engaged in activities that he sorely wished he was still engaged in with lahoffy.

A little beep came from the phone. The little green light had turned yellow, indicating a battery running low. Methos knew time was short. Clearing his throat loudly, he banged on the barn door, opened it and thrust his arm though the crack. "Hey! MacLeod! Phone for Sheeza! Make it quick, didja know the battery's almost dead?"


"Methos?" Duncan peered at the crack in the doorway, his hair disheveled, his eyes wide open.

"Who else, MacLeod?! Come on, let Sheeza talk to her sister. The battery is about dead."

"Why is the battery almost dead? I just recharged it and it hasn't been used."

"Well, believe it or not, MacLeod, but me and lahoffy were uh...talking? It's not like we were sitting around waiting for the phone to ring and then run to bring it to you. You gonna let her come get this phone or not?" Methos was cold and it was easy for him to blame MacLeod for everything, since he was in charge and all.

Realizing that there was no imminent danger of being caught completely naked and laying in the middle of the barn floor in a compromising position, Duncan relaxed.

Groaning softly, he kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her nose and finally her lips. "Mmmmm....as good as this is, there...is the phone call, babe. It's okay, I'll go," Duncan whispered, "remember my place."

Faster than almost one could blink, he got up and all but sprinted past the door, snatching the cell phone from Methos' outstretched hand. He was away from Sheeza for maybe five seconds, if that.

A disgusted voice came from the other side of the barn door. "Your welcome, MacLeod. Sure thing, MacLeod! Anytime, MacLeod!"

Outside, Methos turned around to head back to the car, already eyeing the sharp rocks and hating MacLeod for no good reason other than he wasn't the one who had to walk across them to get back to what he was doing. His grouching was exasperated when he heard a half-hearted and muffled thank you that was obvoiusly spoken from a covered mouth.

A tiny beep sounded as Sheeza put the phone to her ear. "H-hello? Hello? Are you still...." Sheeza looked down at the phone. The little yellow light slid to red. The connection was dead. Briefly, she wondered who it could have been, but at the moment, other matters were pressing and demanding her fullest attention. In Duncan's arms, she knew of no safer place to be and also knew that whoever called, they would wait, whoever they were. What was important at that moment, was what was going on right there, in front of her.


Wayne stopped pacing when he reached the kitchen counter where he tipped the scotch bottle and drained the last of the fine, single malt into his glass. "Well?"

Freda's face was a light pink having finally understood all of what she was hearing over the phone. "Uh...I don't suppose they will be home anytime soon, Dad. They sounded busy."

Wayne, worried about his daughter and her friends, needed more information than that. "What did they say?"

Freda shrugged, trying not to picture her sister doing anything like what she thought. It wasn't working. "Well, I think the car broke down because Adam and lahoffy were bickering about a wrench. He was telling her to get it and she didn't want to. Then, Adam was yelling at Duncan to let Sheeza come answer the phone. They uh...I think they were off by themselves. But then the phone went dead, low battery or something." Ducking her head, she hoped that was enough of an answer. She wasn't very comfortable talking about sex, having sex, wanting sex or seeing sex much less talking about it with her father. "Well, 'night, Dad. Going up to bed now," she said as she disappeared through the doorway that led to the stairs.

Wayne felt the heavy burden of worry being lifted from his shoulders. It didn't matter if they didn't come back that night. Locking the back door and turning on the porch light, he smiled and laid his head against the cool glass in the window. The phone call told him all he needed to know. Everybody was all right and Max was gone. Duncan had protected his daughter. If he had any reservations before, he sure didn't now. If he should ever need it, Duncan had his blessing.

Snapping off the kitchen light and standing in front of the kitchen window where the light from the full moon pooled, Wayne sent silent thanks up to the stars as he drained his glass.

Weaving ever so slightly, he headed for the door and off to bed where he was sure he would sleep well, safe in knowing his baby girl was safe too.


Early birds began twittering and chirping before even the first rays of sun began threatening the eastern sky. Duncan, used to waking early, grabbed the edge of his coat and pulled it over himself and Sheeza.

He smiled remembering the events of the past few hours. Sheeza had proven to him she could handle herself in a dangerous situation. He had wanted to protect her from it all, but this time, she and lahoffy showed their strength and he was proud of them.

Kissing the tip of her upturned nose, he was rewarded with a smile and the opening of her eyes. He was so glad he'd found a lantern with fuel in it and had lit it to dispel the almost total darkness inside the barn.

"Is it morning so soon, Duncan?" Sheeza snuggled in closer, her arm pulling him to her almost in a bear hug.

"It's early yet. I think we should probably go though...your Dad will worry. Too bad we can't stay here a while longer, but I don't think I want to spend much more time with Max lying right," he said, gesturing towards the decapitated body, "over there."

Sighing contentedly, Sheeza glanced over at her dead uncle and grinned. "Yeah, he's likely to start stinking pretty soon."

Groaning like an old man, Duncan sat up, not really wanting to. "Remind me again why I thought it was a good idea to sleep on the cold, hard ground," he asked, grinning good-naturedly.

Scratching his chest, he got to his feet and helped Sheeza to hers. "Lets go see if Methos and Lahoffy are awake."


Several days passed without incident. Those that knew what happened to Max Gooch weren't telling and those that didn't, figured he must have took off again like he did when the IRS wanted him for tax evasion. Everybody figured the old bastard would surface sooner or later but in the meantime, they wouldn't worry about it and instead, enjoy his absence.

Aunt Florence seemed a different woman. Though still hobbling about in her cast, she felt and acted twenty years younger. Grandma voiced her distate for Max in her own subtle way, surprising all because they had no idea she had never liked him.

Wanda, realizing that Duncan had only eyes for her baby sister, decided to be happy for them and found she liked him for a potential brother-in-law just as much.

Freda, on those occasions when she left her room or was even at home, was still breathless and a little moon-faced whenever Duncan paid attention to her. She got to know lahoffy much better after some more time chatting about their allergies.

Lahoffy, with Freda's assistance, got in to see the allergist who tested her and found that the hay pills Freda took were also perfect for lahoffy.

Methos insisted she lay in a six month supply along with obtaining all the written information available on the drug. He was taking no chances when it came time to return to the CDC. He wanted the same lahoffy there that he'd wrestled with in the barn here, on several different occasions.

The bright red Highlander, the one that had rolled twice and had come to a rest on its roof, was righted and towed back to town. The rental company was too far away to send them another one, so it got hauled off to the junkyard after pictures had been taken for insurance.

Methos only stopped complaining after Duncan agreed to rent another SUV for them since Sheeza had been driving the first one at the time of the accident. He would have agreed to anything if it meant that the return trip would be just him and Sheeza alone. He planned to take a longer route and spend some time with her, traveling back roads and stopping whenever they felt like it.

Wayne lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw them pull in the driveway the next morning. He'd come running outside before the car had even stopped. Uncharacteristic for him, he pulled Sheeza and lahoffy both into his arms and gave them a big hug. He pumped Duncan's hand and clapped Methos on the back. Not for a second did he ask what happened to them or to Max. He knew enough. He could see for himself that his baby girl was in good hands and was grateful for that.


Methos and lahoffy waved, albeit a bit sadly as they pulled down the drive and turned to head for the highway. They'd had fun both off by themselves exploring the countryside, as well as together with Duncan, Sheeza and her extended family.

Freda waved goodbye and walked down to the mailbox and stood looking after them long after the dust had already settled. She was going to miss them.

"Duncan? Is the car packed and ready to go?" Wayne tamped tobacco into his pipe, making sure it was the way he liked it before fishing in his pocket for matches. "Where's Sheeza?"

Duncan, standing by the back door in worn but serviceable blue jeans and a crisp, white shirt rolled up to the elbows and his favorite pair of soft, black leather boots, shoved his hands into his pockets. "She's upstairs, in the attic I think."

Wayne cocked his head to the side. "The attic? Well what's she doing up there? There ain't nothing up there to see."

Rocking back and forth on his heels, the Scot raised his eyebrows and puffed out his cheeks, releasing his breath. "I don't really know. She said something about gingham and started mumbling."

Thinking for a minute, Wayne scratched his head. "Oh," he replied, finally remembering what the gingham and Sheeza connection was. "She's gonna be a while. Don't know where it's packed. She'll find it. Meantime, want to show you what I done."

Heading into the house behind the older man, Duncan realized he'd grown very comfortable in the short time he'd been at the Kelly Place and was going to miss it. However, he'd been away from the CDC for longer than he wanted and missed the ladies and Connor, as well as Richie. For a fleeting moment, he wished the Kelly Place was the CDC.

Through the kitchen and dining room, Wayne headed for the far corner of the living room where he proudly displayed his Indian artifacts.

Duncan hadn't been in the living room for the past couple of days as most of the socializing was done in the kitchen. As far as he could tell, said dining room was just a throughway and the kitchen was where all the real living was done. The chairs were comfortable and the conversation was always interesting, easy going and unstrained.

Reaching behind the cabinet, Wayne flipped the switch that lit up the recessed lights in the back of the case. In the dim room, the artifacts glowed behind the glass.

Duncan looked and saw immediately what items had been added. The knife that Wayne had cut himself with had been cleaned and polished, bringing it back to as good a shape as was possible. It lay on a black velvet stand showing off the fine craftsmanship in the ornate handle decoration. "The knife looks better than the day I lost it," he said softly.

Next to it on the shelf, on matching velvet stands and encased in hard plastic were matching gold coins, also brought back to as near to mint as possible.

On the shelf below, a piece of leather, darkened and frayed at the edges was propped up by a wedge of clear lucite. Duncan looked up at Wayne. "What's that for?"

His lips trembled and worked. "It's for Amanda. I hadn't thought of her in years. Looking at that leather made me remember, made what happened back then real. I never thought I'd meet another the same as her. And here I did, right in my own backyard," he answered.

Duncan looked back at the case, half smiling. "Amanda is a special one all right. A pain in the ass. You got lucky though...saw the better side of her."

A wicked giggle was heard and Duncan joined in. "I'll have to call Amanda when we get back."

Looking back into the case, Duncan didn't spot the one other thing he was looking for.

"It's not there," came the words, "I didn't put it in there."

"No?" Straightening up, Duncan turned to Wayne. There, in the old man's hand was a velvet box, the same color as the display pieces.

Thrusting his hand out, Wayne deposited the box in Duncan's hand without ceremony. "Here."

Inside, the pocket watch lay nestled with the chain wrapped around it. It had been restored and was ticking away.

Emotion clutched his heart and Duncan felt perilously close to tears. There was a time when that watch meant the world to him and it nearly crushed him when he lost it all those decades ago.

Slipping the watch from the box, Duncan popped the catch and opened the cover. A tear rolled down his cheek when his mind filled with memories of Sarah, the woman who'd gifted him with the watch.

Nodding his head, he replaced the watch back into the box. Opening the cabinet door, he laid it down next to the knife and closed the door again. His fingers traced the wooden frame as he bade a silent goodbye finally to an unfinished chapter in his life.

Wayne was perplexed. "But why? Don't you want it?"

Another tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped at it. "Wayne, I grieved when Sarah sent me away. That watch was all I had of her for a long time and when I lost it that day, running from the white men who'd come to kill my...the Indians, I felt I'd lost a piece of myself."

"Then all the more you should have it," Wayne said, reaching to open the door.

Duncan stayed his hand. "No, the time for that is done. I've made my peace." He looked at Wayne in earnest. "Sarah was then, she isn't now, Wayne. Can't live in the past. It's dangerous for those like me who can't let go."

Nodding silently, Wayne reached up and pulled down a velvet bag. The clinking inside told Duncan what it was. The gold coins. "Here. These are yours. I cleaned 'em up some. Kept two for the case and used one to fix the watch. Hope you don't mind."

"Mind? How could I possibly mind?" Duncan grinned and wrapped his arm around the older man. "As far as I can see, those coins don't belong to me. You keep them."

Wayne looked skeptical. "But this is a whole lot of money. You doing that fine with money that you don't need this," he asked, hefting the bag and making the coins clink.

"I'm fine. You found those coins, just the same as you found these other things," Duncan said, pointing at the case. "The only thing from you I want is Sheeza to come back with me, to us at the CDC where she belongs."

Wayne chuckled. "But you already got her...."

Duncan's smile faltered. "Wayne, there's something you need to know about Sheeza and me. We aren't..."

Wayne held out his hand and took Duncan's in a grip stronger than belied his years. "Duncan, I know. She already told me. Shorty never could keep secrets from her old man. But you're right, she belongs where she belongs, and it ain't here anymore. Just bring her home to visit from time to time, OK?"

Duncan's eyes watered and his grin was lop-sided with emotion as he hugged Wayne to him. "Will do," he whispered.


Hugs and handshakes went around the circle until everybody had said goodbye. Somehow, Freda and Wanda both got more than one hug from the handsome Highlander. Before she could get emotional, Freda took off to her room and Wanda leaned in close to whisper in Duncan's ear.

"You know where to find me...."

Duncan smiled and nodded his head, gripping Sheeza to him more tightly. "I'll remember that Wanda," he replied.

"Drive careful and call when you get there," admonished Wayne, "let us know you got there safe."

Duncan plucked the keys out of Sheeza's hand. Remembering the sounds of rocks hitting his car made him not want to let her drive the first leg of their return journey. "We will."

Getting into the car and settling in, Duncan started the engine and let it warm up while the last bits of conversation were hurried through.

When all was said and there was no more, the black Thunderbird rolled down the drive and out of sight. All that was left in its passing was the cloud of dust hanging in the air, the clank of rocks hitting the car and the receding curses of the Highlander.

Sheeza DameCDC
Aug 17, 2003

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