Disclaimer and Notes: Nick Wolfe, Amanda, Connor MacLeod, Duncan MacLeod, and Methos belong to Panzer/Davis. Anyone else in the story is probably some loose resident from Stonyland and therefore belongs to me. Parts of this were written during a really lousy concert... I'll let you decide which parts. <weg>

Time for the hide-your-eyes warning: Explicit sex, both m/m and m/f.

This is the sequel to Never Is A Long Time (you didn't think that wasn't coming, did you? <g>). Connor met Nick in Amanda's Gift.  Although I originally meant this to be a divergent timeline, I think the muses have had other ideas....

As always, this would be chaos without the support and beta help from Amand-r, Dana Woods, and Jamwired.
 

By Raine Wynd

---

"Kiss your lashes, kiss you low
I'm driven to you like the driven snow
There's a place for us to lie
For every lover there's a piece of sky" — Heather Nova, "Winterblue"

Duncan woke slowly. A moment of panic ensued while he tried to figure out where he was. He knew he didn't have hunter green bed sheets, or a two-inch thick comforter or an incredibly comfortable but firmly supporting bed. The afternoon sun shone through an unadorned window in the sparsely modern kitchen a few steps away. The studio apartment was furnished in an odd mix of American colonial and black metal that somehow seemed to work.

Under the covers, he was naked. He frowned; he rarely slept in the nude unless he had spent the night with someone. But who could that be?

Slowly, memory returned.

He was in the apartment above Shakespeare and Company, the American bookstore that had once been owned and operated by the Watchers, but now being held by Methos. Which meant that...

Duncan groaned and sat upright.

Last night most definitely had not been a dream.

He looked around, knowing even as he did so that the person he was looking for was miles away. Had he had been there, Duncan would've felt his Presence whispering in his head like the faint traces of a headache that wouldn't go away.

He tossed off the covers and swung his feet to the cold, wooden floor, grimacing as he did so. He could see that his clothes had been strewn haphazardly about the studio apartment. He set about gathering them methodically while trying not to think about just how his shirt had ended up in the kitchen sink. He found his underwear ripped and dangling on the right post of the four-poster bed, his pants in the ficus tree at the front door, and his socks and shoes in scattered directions.

He didn't really want to know.

He remembered anyway.

The imprint of Methos's lips against his own. The feel of Methos's hands on his skin, so warm and sure in their touch. The little gasps of breath Methos had made when Duncan had deep-throated him. The bittersweet taste of Methos that was now imprinted forever in Duncan's brain. The way his back had arched against the kitchenette counter in the basement downstairs and then, later, in the bed.

How very ticklish Methos was right at his jugular, and how pleased Duncan had been to discover that little tidbit of information. He doubted that he was the first to discover it, but he'd thought that since it was a place he found to be highly erotic, Methos would be the same way. He'd been rewarded for his efforts later when Methos had paid attention to that spot on him. Methos had gotten him to the point where even the hint of a touch on his jugular had made Duncan tremble with remembered pleasure and new anticipation.

He shuddered, trying to squash the images, but as he pulled his underwear off the post and tossed them into the nearest wastebasket, he was forced to acknowledge a simple fact.

He'd enjoyed every minute he'd spent having sex with Methos.

What he was suddenly afraid of was the realization that he wanted to do it again.

He swore and dressed quickly. It took him a few minutes to find his trench coat and his sword; he had to retrace his steps back down to the basement of the bookstore. He willed himself not to look at the kitchenette, not to remember how Methos had dared him, believing that Duncan wouldn't cross the invisible line between friends and lovers. Until yesterday, he hadn't known that Methos wanted him sexually. He had only thought the older Immortal was concerned about him as a friend and as his choice for winning the Game. He'd never imagined that Methos wanted him for more than that.

Now he knew in intimate detail not only that Methos wanted him but also precisely what Methos liked to do with him.

Duncan groaned as his mind conveniently provided him with the Technicolor image of Methos with his penis buried deep in Duncan's ass, his hand stroking Duncan's hard shaft, stroking in rhythm with his thrusts. Methos, his hazel green eyes dark and glittering with passion, as he thrust into Duncan with agonizingly slow strokes, making him ache with the wanting.

No. Must. Stop. Thinking. About. That, he told himself sternly.

What happened was an aberration. It'll never happen again. I love women, not men.

A voice in his head snickered. Then why are you turned on?

He groaned again and let himself out of the apartment.

***

Nick Wolfe was tired. Traveling from New York to Paris on the first flight he'd been able to find on short notice wasn't his favorite thing in the world to do. It now ranked as one of his least favorite things to do while recovering from a hangover. Immortal healing had taken the edge off the worst of it and was continuing to speed his recovery, but Nick knew he'd drunk more than he would have normally. He made a mental note for future reference not to try and play drinking games with Connor MacLeod or any other Immortal with centuries of practice behind him.

A half-smile formed on Nick's lips as he thought of his mentor. He hadn't asked for a teacher, but Amanda had sent him one anyway, trying to make up for the fact that she'd been the one who'd triggered his Immortality. Connor had saved his life in more ways than one, starting from the moment they'd met. Nick knew now that the older Immortal was deadly serious when it came to the Game. Connor lived quietly, but give him an excuse to party — like Nick's birthday — and anything could happen.

Which was why Nick had the worst hangover of his life. He had been staying with Connor while he'd tried to figure out where he wanted to live since he was officially dead in Paris.

To his credit, Connor had made the arrangements for Nick to fly first class, giving him extra space to stretch out and let his body heal itself. Nick was grateful for that; he didn't have the kind of cash it took to fly first class, and he hated flying coach. His five-foot-eleven-inch frame was just tall enough to make flying uncomfortable.

He closed his hazel eyes and thought about his life the last few years. He'd been a detective in the Torago Metro Police force on the trail of one master thief named Amanda Montrose when everything he'd taken for granted had begun to change. His partner had been killed while trying to prevent a dirty cop from killing Amanda. Even with the distance of nearly three years, the sheer waste of that effort struck Nick as deeply as it had the first time. Then, he hadn't known that Amanda was Immortal. He'd just thought she was a mere criminal, not worth dying for. Later he'd learned the truth.

He hadn't wanted to believe, but he'd always been a man to trust the evidence he could see, feel, or hear. Amanda coming back to life in his arms had been a shock... but the more time he had spent around her, the more he had seen that Immortality was one area she hadn't been lying about. The sheer enormity of her twelve hundred years had staggered him initially, until he found himself crossing paths with parts of her history. It was then he'd decided that he was glad to be mortal... never knowing what the future had in store for him.

For a while, it had seemed as though everywhere he had turned he was running into an Immortal Amanda had once known, that every case he'd take on for the benefit of his friend's security firm involved someone from her past. He'd nearly died a few times, not understanding the full scope of the danger he had put himself in by doing so. Then he'd tangled with an Immortal with a talent for potions and poisons. Even so, he'd been willing to die trying to see justice prevail, but Amanda had had other ideas. She hadn't wanted him to die, believing that if she let the poison take Nick, he'd die forever. She'd shot him instead, triggering his Immortality.

He wasn't always certain that was a good thing. He had a second chance at life, one beyond his wildest dreams, but there were times when it seemed the price to pay was far greater than it was worth. Still, he couldn't deny the side benefits — like the fact that his hangover was now gone — were things he had started to take for granted.

He thought about the reason for his sudden flight to Paris and wondered if Amanda would be meeting him at the airport. She'd said she needed him for something very important. Connor had taken the call, Nick having been in no shape to speak coherently, and his parting words to Nick at the gate had been "Tell Duncan to call me."

Nick wondered who the hell Duncan was and what his connection to Amanda was; he was obviously someone Connor and Amanda both knew. Nick was aware that Connor had a cousin named Mac somewhere. That concept had thrown him, since Connor had just finished explaining that Immortals had no blood relations. After further explanation (and an education in clan culture), Nick had understood that some family ties didn't need blood to make them real. He hoped that he'd meet Mac someday. preferably not over crossed swords. From the way Connor described him, and from what Nick knew of Connor's own talents, Mac was one of the best swordsmen in the Game. As someone who considered himself to be a reluctant player in the Game, Nick had no desire to fight anyone, much less anyone who could probably take his head in less time than it would take to describe how to do so.

Nick sighed tiredly and cupped his face in his hands. Exhaling again, he ran a hand through his dark brown hair. If there was one thing he'd learned from being around Amanda, it was that he'd find out the truth soon enough. Though she'd successfully hidden one secret from him — his destiny to be Immortal — he knew he was pretty good at getting her to tell the truth. Or at least a good portion of it.

The ex-cop smiled grimly. He loved Amanda, even if she was a pathological liar.

Which led him to the second reason he'd been staying with Connor. Nick had needed the distance being across the Atlantic Ocean had provided... he'd needed to figure out if he wanted to remain in an intimate relationship with Amanda or if he wanted to close that chapter of their relationship. After five intense months of turning their relationship into the love he'd thought he'd be denied because of the Game, Nick had come to realize that he could only tolerate Amanda's penchant for half-truths up to a point. Beyond that threshold, he lost his patience and found himself doing incredibly stupid things — like getting himself killed in public. Or taking off without a sword, so sure he could protect himself with a gun.

Nick shook his head at the memories. Amanda drove him crazy as no one else in his life ever had.

So far, Nick hadn't come to any easy answers. On one hand, he knew his life could be relatively uncomplicated without Amanda in it. He had an open-ended job with a friend's security firm, and Connor had offered to help if Nick decided to pursue other employment. Beyond that, Nick had few obligations. Aside from the enemies he'd made before his First Death, Nick didn't have much to concern himself with on that front. The moment he added Amanda to the mix, however, he opened himself up to the various skeletons rattling around in her closet, not to mention her willingness to involve him in her almost compulsive habit of acquiring items without the benefit of a sales transaction.

Though she was doing an admirable job of staying mostly on the straight and narrow path with the operation of The Sanctuary, Nick accepted that the woman he loved was a thief. She was also the most intriguing woman he'd ever met. She would never be an easy woman to live with or to love, and Nick suspected he would never be content with less.

Now Amanda needed his help.

Some would call him a fool for going, knowing that Amanda had a talent for putting herself in situations where she hadn't calculated all of the consequences. Connor had told him, though, that he should only really get worried when she showed up on his door carrying gifts. The fact that she'd called instead didn't make the situation any less important, but in Connor's estimation, it meant that Nick could consider Amanda's problem to be of a non-urgent nature. Even so, there hadn't been any question of Nick not going.

He loved her.

That was reason enough.

****

As he'd hoped and half-expected, Amanda met him at the gate. She threw her slender arms around him and kissed him nearly senseless. As he'd always been partial to her kissing, he let himself be swept away by her enthusiastic greeting. He pulled her in close, loving the way she felt against his body. Strangers brushed past them, but he ignored them. At the moment, nothing else mattered but the lithe woman in his arms.

She drew back, desire and delight sparkling in her dark eyes. "So you didn't miss me," she drawled teasingly.

He shook his head soberly, noticing that she'd changed her hair color from white blonde to a honeyed brown. "Not at all."

She laughed huskily. "Me neither." She linked her arm with his as they moved out of the gate area and towards baggage claim.

"So what's with the hair?"

Amanda shrugged. "Time for a change," she told him. "Like it?"

Nick took a long look. "Not sure," he said honestly. "I got used to the way you looked as a blonde." He knew blonde hadn't been the color she'd been born with; dark brown was more her. He kissed her lightly.

She smiled at him. "I have an idea," she announced.

He looked at her warily. "Does it involve the possibility of my getting shot or arrested?"

Amanda's smile turned wicked. "Only if we're caught doing it in public," she answered saucily.

Suddenly, all Nick could think about was how quickly it would take to leave the airport. Fortunately, he spied the duffel bag containing his clothes and the case containing his sword on the luggage conveyer belt, and they were soon on their way. Still, home couldn't be reached fast enough, especially since Amanda insisted on teasing him the entire cab ride there.

In the back of his mind, Nick knew he was only delaying the inevitable confrontation and that Amanda hoped that by distracting him with her body, he would be less inclined to object to whatever scheme she'd concocted. He told himself that this time he would just play along with her game and go from there, instead of objecting from the very beginning.

Of course, the fact that Amanda kept his mind firmly on sex probably had a lot to do with it.

Somehow, she managed to pay off the driver and get them through the back door of The Sanctuary and into her bedroom. They stumbled through the doorway, undressing as they went. Nick landed on his back on the mattress, Amanda on top of him. They were both too aroused now to linger.

He heard Amanda sigh as his penis slid inside of her, heard the breath leave his lungs as he groaned with the pleasure of being that close to her. She was incredibly warm and slick, and he marveled at how she managed to squeeze his hard shaft tighter with the barest movement of her hips. He'd never had a lover as skilled as she was, had never known a passion this deep. Nothing else seemed to matter except the touch of skin on skin, the feel of her wrapped so intimately around him, the sensations that flooded his mind. The pleasure was pure and explosive and Nick couldn't get enough.

He arched up to meet her thrusts, grasped her hips with his hands to seat her more firmly and to guide her. She flowed with his movements, her eyes half-closed, her breasts bouncing just slightly. He watched her, loving the way the pleasure she felt was reflected in the sensual smile she wore and in the way she tried to get him to come first. He resisted, wanting to wait a little bit longer, wanting to make it last. His pleasure was only heightened by every breathless cry she made.

She tensed. Her head rolled back and she impaled herself on his penis with one hard downward stroke, squeezing as she did so. Nick couldn't resist the sensations, and he shuddered with the force of his orgasm, groaning with the intensity.

In the afterglow, Amanda lay cuddled in his arms. For several minutes, he didn't want to let go of the serenity of the moment but knew Amanda wouldn't be expecting him to ask his questions now.

"So tell me what this problem of yours is," he quietly demanded.

She lifted his head slightly, meeting his eyes. "I missed you," she told him, sincerity shining through her voice.

He chuckled, not fooled for a second. "Give, Amanda. I love you, but I'm not stupid."

She gave him what he rated as her second-best "But, Nick, darling, I'm telling you the truth" look and brushed a fingertip across his left nipple. He shivered; he had never found his nipples to be an erogenous zone before Amanda, and she delighted in his reaction. She toyed with his nipple a bit longer, drawing out the pleasure, and Nick had to force himself to stand his ground.

"Amanda," he said warningly, catching her hand.

Seeing the resolve in his eyes, she sighed.

"You don't let a girl get away with much, do you?" she said with affectionate exasperation.

He shook his head and slipped his hand from her waist down to her hips. She trembled delicately, and he smiled. Two could play at this game.

"Nope," he told her, letting his hand drift down over her hip to let his fingers play with the small triangle of dark brown hair there. "So who's the big, bad, old friend of yours this time?"

"Ah... Nick... darling— " Her voice broke off as, this time, she caught his hand before his fingers could dip between the cleft of her vagina. "He's not bad," she said defensively. "Just a little... confused."

Nick smiled, not minding in the least that he'd been stopped. He had gotten what he'd wanted — her attention. "Oh? How?"

Amanda smiled and snuggled a little closer. "How good are you at discussing history?"

He looked at her, surprised. Then he chuckled. "According to Connor, I have no concept of history."

His lover laughed. "You'll do just fine, then." Gracefully, she rolled out of bed and slipped on a white silk robe.

"What does my knowledge of history have to do with anything?"

Amanda pursed her lips, considering. "You'll see," she promised. "Later. Right now, why don't you get some sleep?"

Hearing the order behind the gentle words, Nick knew he wouldn't get any more information out of her. He decided to do exactly as she'd suggested.

****

Nick awoke four hours later feeling refreshed. He showered and donned a pair of jeans and the blue silk shirt Amanda had left for him on the bed. He hadn't needed a note to know that she'd left it there deliberately as a suggestion for him to wear it. He considered refusing, but he liked pleasing her, and a shirt seemed like a rather harmless gesture. It was only after he'd put it on and went to brush his hair that he noticed that it brought out the blue in his eyes. He shrugged; he imagined that had been the reason why Amanda had chosen it for him.

After putting on a pair of sneakers, he headed over to the main bar where he knew he'd find Amanda. Though she left the day-to-day business of running The Sanctuary to the operations manager she'd hired, she liked to take an active role in greeting the club's guests. In the past, he'd often served a stint or two behind the bar while she'd worked the room. His official capacity was as de facto copartner, since his friend who had purchased the club with Amanda had put him in charge of overseeing his European operations.

Tonight, however, he found her seated at the far end of the bar, watching the crowd. It was still fairly early, but the dance floor was full. He nodded a greeting to the club's deejay, noticing the stage was in the process of being set for the live band that would be playing later. The music throbbed around him, reminding him that it had been weeks since he'd been in this environment.

As he approached, Amanda slipped off the barstool and met him with a kiss.

He smiled, returning the greeting. "Someone might think you missed me," he teased her.

She laughed softly and drew him back to the bar. Deftly, she managed to seat him so that she was settled between his legs on an adjacent stool, and his back was against the bar. She leaned back into him, and he let his arms rest loosely on her hips. The position was one of her favorites.

"So, what's going on tonight that's so important that you bought me a new shirt?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I just missed you."

Nick chuckled. If he didn't know her as well as he did, he'd be inclined to believe that was the whole truth. He started to say something, but right then Presence shot through his head like a sudden migraine sent on a bolt of lightning. He felt Amanda tense and knew she'd felt the warning as well. He turned to watch who was coming in, though he quickly realized he couldn't see much past the crowd before them.

Amanda apparently saw who it was before he did. She stepped out of his arms momentarily to meet the newcomer, who turned out to be a tall, well-dressed, olive-skinned man with short blackish-brown hair and the kind of looks that probably garnered him a room full of admirers. Nick saw her accept a hug from the stranger, and he relaxed. He smiled wryly as he watched her nearly drag the stranger over to meet him.

Nice to see that I'm not the only one she does that to, he thought.

"Nick, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Duncan MacLeod," Amanda said.

"Pleased to meet you," Nick said as he rose to his feet and shook the other man's hand. ' Figuring the chances of two Immortals sharing the same last name weren't relatively small, Nick decided to follow through on a hunch. "MacLeod? You wouldn't happen to be Connor's cousin Mac, would you?"

"Yes, I am." The pride in the other Immortal's voice held the same distinctive ring Nick had heard in his mentor's voice. "You know Connor?" Duncan asked in surprise as he took a seat.

Nick grinned. "Quite well. He speaks highly of you."

Duncan turned to Amanda as she leaned into the embrace Nick offered, taking up their previous positions. "You knew Connor was in town, and you didn't tell me?"

Amanda laughed. "Darling, I wouldn't dream of doing that to you."

Nick cleared his throat, choking back a laugh. "Actually, Connor's still in New York. I just got back in town. He told me to tell you to call him."

He watched Duncan's eyes take in the possessive way he held Amanda, saw something — regret? acceptance? resignation? — flicker in his expression, and wondered just what kind of friend Duncan was to Amanda. He decided on "old lover" and tried not to be jealous of something that had happened before he'd come along. He wondered if Duncan was the reason Amanda had called him.

"So how's he doing?" Duncan asked. He then ordered a double shot of Scotch, that was delivered almost immediately.

Nick brought Duncan up to speed on his kinsman, studying him all the while. If he wasn't mistaken, Duncan seemed ill at ease about something. Sensing Duncan wanted to speak to Amanda alone, he made his excuses and left.

***

"You never said you were involved with someone," Duncan observed, more than a little irritated. "I thought you weren't, that's why I came here."

"You've been here for months, Duncan," Amanda retorted. "You could've called. At the very least, I would've thought you would've talked to Joe; he would've told you about Nick if you'd asked. I had no idea you were back from traveling the world until Methos told me you were here."

At the mention of Methos's name, Duncan flinched. "Amanda, I need you."

Amanda heard the plea in her best friend's voice and snickered. "Darling, you are not going to use me to hide from Methos. I am not going to be in the middle of you two." She paused and lowered her voice. "Unless you're thinking."

"Amanda!" Duncan wasn't really shocked — he'd long ago determined there wasn't a whole lot she hadn't tried at least once — but he was already feeling uncomfortable about his attraction for Methos. "Have you lost your mind?"

She chuckled. "No, but you're probably thinking you have."

Duncan sighed and took a drink of the Scotch he'd ordered earlier. "I can't do this, Amanda. This changes everything."

"How?" she asked reasonably. "You and I have been lovers and friends for centuries. We're not always lovers, but we've always been friends. Why should that be different for you and Methos?"

"Because it's Methos we're talking about," Duncan stated, as if that explained everything. "This isn't you and me, or me and some woman I've met. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a male lover, much less someone like him?"

"A very long time, if the way you're acting is any indication," Amanda answered. "Something tells me you've never had anyone like him. " She paused. "Or is because you've never had a male lover?" she guessed.

"No. That's the problem — on both accounts."

"Darling, you know loving a man doesn't make you less of one. If it matters, I don't think anyone other than Methos could've turned your head in that direction, anyway. He's not your typical guy." She looked at Duncan, wishing there was an easy way to explain what she saw so clearly. "Both of you are so close to each other already. What harm could there be in taking the next step?"

"Everything. Nothing. I don't know. Amanda, I'm scared."

"I know," Amanda returned quietly. "But coming to me isn't going to solve your problem. If I wasn't with Nick, it would only make things worse."

Duncan sighed again and looked past Amanda to Nick, who was headed their way. "So when did you meet him?"

"Two and a half years ago. He was trying to arrest me."

Duncan mulled over that information as Amanda waited patiently. "You never mentioned him before."

Amanda shrugged. "I didn't know how I felt about him then. Now I do." She reached out and grasped Duncan's hand, feeling a little ache in her heart for him. She loved him but not in the way she felt he needed, not in the deep, soul-completing way that she'd found with Nick. "I'm sorry."

Duncan smiled, but she could tell it was forced. He loved her, had always loved her, and there had been a time when she had thought theirs was the best thing she'd ever had. Then Nick had entered her life, and she'd discovered there was something deeper than the love she shared with Duncan.

"I'm happy for you," Duncan told her sincerely.

"Thanks," she replied as Nick approached. "Will you be staying?"

Duncan shook his head. "I don't want to be in the way."

"Nonsense," Amanda told him as Nick joined them.

Nick added his vote to Amanda's, saying he wanted to get to know a friend of Amanda's. In the end, Duncan was persuaded to stay.

The evening passed quickly. Nick found Duncan to be a more open person than his kinsman, though he still detected a bit of reserve. By the time Duncan made his good-byes, Nick was certain that he liked the guy.

He just wasn't all too certain about whatever Amanda had planned for him. It struck Nick as odd that she seemed to need him to reinforce the fact that she was with someone else. Duncan didn't act like he was jealous of their relationship. If anything, Nick suspected a simple statement attesting to his presence in Amanda's life would've been enough for Duncan; he struck Nick as being a gentleman in that respect. But Amanda wasn't telling Nick anything more than she had.

Maybe, Nick told himself as he got ready for bed that night, she really did miss me.

Silently, he shrugged. Either way, he was here now. He'd had the chance, as Connor had reminded him before he'd boarded his plane, to walk away, to let Amanda handle her own problems. With a rueful smile, Nick slipped into bed as she wrapped her arms around him.

There wasn't anywhere else he really wanted to be than right in the middle of whatever Amanda had in store.

***

The following day

***

Amanda was in the midst of going through a shipment of new liquor when she became aware of an approaching Immortal. She stopped what she was doing, hoping it was Nick returning from a trip to see their friend Liam. She really didn't want to be going through the liquor, but she knew from previous experience in running a bar that it didn't pay to skimp on quality control. Her lips curved in a smile as she remembered the saloon she'd once run, until it had burned down in a fire.

She shook herself from the memory; now wasn't the time to be lost in the past, should the incoming Immortal be someone looking for a fight. Holy Ground was a tradition, not a rule, and she'd heard what had happened to Connor when he'd fought on Holy Ground. She had no desire to be crushed to death or to have her sword splinter.

The door opened, letting in the morning sunlight, and a tall, whipcord lean man with black hair and an angular face strolled in. He paused momentarily at the door to take off his black trench coat, revealing that he wore a baggy Oxford sweatshirt over dark blue jeans. Recognizing him, Amanda relaxed.

"To what do I owe this honor?" she greeted him.

He took a place at the bar and, tilting his head slightly, considered the question. "Honor is vastly overrated," he remarked. He draped his coat over the stool near him.

Amanda laughed. "So why are you here and not with Duncan?" She pulled out a bottle of wine from an open box that rested on top of the ice freezer and placed it on the bar.

Her visitor picked up the bottle and studied the label. "You'll be disappointed by this," he told her. "That vineyard has been bad for years."

Amanda frowned. "That doesn't answer my question, Methos." She rummaged around the drink prep area, looking for a corkscrew.

He didn't answer right away, seeming to be fascinated by the way the wine sloshed around the bottle as he rolled it between his hands. "He's made his choice."

"So unmake it for him," Amanda suggested breezily. "Ah, there you are." Discovering a corkscrew on a hook along the side wall, she grabbed it and plucked the bottle from Methos's hands. She stuck the corkscrew into the cork but didn't twist it, setting the wine aside for the moment. She leaned on the bar and stared at Methos.

"It's not going to work."

"So why come to me?" She picked up the bottle again and unscrewed the cork.

"I just want to be sure you don't get the idea that you can do something about it."

Amanda wasn't fooled for an instant. "This, from the guy who showed up here for two weeks straight looking for a drink and company because he couldn't find anyone who could take the place of Duncan." She pulled two glasses off the rack above the bar and poured the wine.

Methos exhaled heavily. His eyes looked haunted, old, and weary. With his left hand, he picked up the glass Amanda set before him but did not drink it, staring at it as if it could somehow tell him something.

"I've dealt with this before," he told Amanda as he set the glass down and steepled his hands on the bar.

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that. Her heart ached for her friend. Instinctively, she reached across the bar to clasp his hands. He let her take them.

"You don't sound too sure of that," she noted.

"It has to be this way," Methos insisted. "Better to just leave it as one night of mutual madness than to try and make something of it."

"One night of Duncan has never been enough for me," Amanda said knowingly. "Now that you know what he's like, do you think you can honestly say the memory alone will be enough?"

Methos closed his eyes and a muscle worked in his jaw. Opening his eyes, he whispered, "It has to be."

"Bullshit," she said challengingly.

Before he could say anything to that, the silent klaxon warning of another Immortal's arrival passed through Amanda. She felt Methos tense under her hands, and she let go of him, knowing he'd felt the Presence as well. Probably thinks it might be Duncan, she mused.

Amanda smiled. "It's probably just Nick." At least, I hope to God it is. If Duncan's early for lunch, Methos will think I set him up somehow, even if I had no idea he'd show up today.

Her friend relaxed only marginally as the front door swung open. He looked like a rabbit cornered by a hunter.

"Breathe," she commanded him, watching a shudder ripple through him like a coiled spring going down a flight of stairs. "If it's Duncan, I can help you with him," Amanda offered.

Methos shook his head and favored her with a wry smile. "As I recall, anything you try to help with tends to explode with unforeseen consequences."

"I think he's got your number, Amanda," a new male voice entered the conversation.

Amanda pouted as the owner of the voice strode into the room. "No fair, Nick. You're supposed to be on my side," she chided him.

Methos snickered. "I knew I liked him for a reason," he told Amanda. "I'd better get going." He picked up his coat and turned towards the door.

"What about Duncan?" Amanda wondered.

"Don't even think about interfering," he growled in voice of frozen steel. He smiled pleasantly at Nick, and then walked out the door, donning his coat as he went.

Nick turned to Amanda. "What was that all about? And who was that? He looks like a guy I ran into at the airport sometime back." He remembered that incident; he'd been in line for boarding as passengers had been debarking the same plane.

"An old friend," Amanda said tiredly, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose. "And I wouldn't be surprised if you did run into him at the airport; Adam's always going somewhere."

Nick snorted. "Friend? He sounded like Death there for a second."

Amanda looked at her lover, then burst out giggling.

"What? What did I say?" Nick demanded.

"Oh, I shouldn't be laughing about this." Amanda restrained herself with an effort. "Darling, sometimes you're more honest than you realize."

Nick looked at her and saw that she wasn't going to explain that oblique remark. He decided to let it go. "So what did he want?" Nick asked.

Amanda smiled. "Advice."

"About what?" He took her in his arms and nuzzled her neck.

She moaned lightly, arching slightly against him. "About what to do with his love life."

"Did you tell him to go find one of his own?"

She laughed. "That's just it. He has one, but it's not going well." She turned, stepping out of the embrace..

"Oh? So is that what aren't you supposed to interfere with?"

"Well... " Amanda looked put out.

"Meaning... " Nick said as he picked up the wineglass Methos had abandoned and sniffed it experimentally. "Yes." He sipped and grimaced; the Merlot was too acidic for his taste.

Amanda frowned at his expression, then sampled her wine. She made a face and checked the bottle. "We definitely won't be serving this brand here," she told Nick. "I should have known it wasn't as good as the one the liquor distributor used to carry."

"I told you before I left that they've been switching things," Nick remarked.

"I know, but I didn't think it was this bad," Amanda murmured thoughtfully. Guess Methos was right. "I suppose I have to have a talk with Marcelle," she said, referring to her operations manager. She paused. "Would you do a favor for me?"

Nick looked at her warily. "What?"

"Duncan is meeting me here for lunch, but I want you there."

Puzzled, Nick looked at her. "Why?"

Amanda appeared to be slightly uncomfortable before she sighed. "You know how I said I had a problem that I needed your help with?"

Ah, now we're finally getting somewhere. "Yes?"

"Well, it's Duncan. He wants me back."

"He seemed pretty comfortable with the idea of you being with me."

"Oh, he won't interfere now, but if you weren't here, he'd be more tempted to seduce me." Amanda hesitated. "And nothing against you, darling, but I wouldn't shove him out the door for trying."

"I see," Nick said. He was trying hard to be objective, but where Amanda was concerned, he didn't have much. He knew she had plenty of time to acquire any number of ex-lovers. Maybe in a couple hundred years, I won't think anything of having a sometime lover in my life. Amanda is mine.

"So why can't a guy like him find someone else to screw?" Nick was deliberately blunt; Amanda's admission bothered him more than he was willing to admit.

Amanda bit her lower lip. "That's the other problem. He has. He just doesn't know what to do now."

"What's the problem, is she married?"

"No. Duncan wouldn't knowingly involve himself with a married woman."

"Then what? Is she gay? Ugly? A hooker with a heart of gold?"

Amanda shook her head, a smile lighting her face briefly at the images Nick conjured. "It's not that simple."

Nick narrowed his gaze. Amanda avoided it studiously, something she did quite frequently when she thought he might see something in her expression she didn't want him to see. Trusting his gut instinct, he declared, "Something tells me we're not talking about a woman."

"Give the man a cigar."

"You've got to be joking." Nick's impression of Duncan MacLeod had been that of a very virile, one-hundred-percent heterosexual man, the kind of guy who'd always have all the women in a room lusting after him and would more than likely walk away with one of them. He recalled that Connor had griped that if he and Duncan went anywhere, Duncan would be the one to walk away with the best woman in the place, leaving Connor to settle for second best.

"You're not telling me Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod is gay, are you, Amanda?"

She laughed softly at that. "No, he's not gay."

Nick sighed in relief. He wasn't all that comfortable with homosexuality; like many people, he figured it was okay as long as it wasn't right in his face. He also didn't relish the concept of his mentor's cousin being that way; it felt a little too much like family.

"So why doesn't he just forget about this guy? I mean, if he's not gay, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"'It isn't about whether or not he's gay. Love, lust, whatever you want to call it, doesn't know gender and it quite frankly doesn't care. Duncan's problem is that the other guy is someone very close to him." Amanda paused before clarifying, "To both of us. He's the one you saw leaving earlier."

"The one who told you not to interfere?"

"Yes."

Despite his initial revulsion, Nick found himself strangely interested. His mind reviewed his impression of the stranger: tall, wiry, a lightweight, but with an innate fluidity of movement that suggested economy of motion despite the casual way he moved. Black hair and sharp eyes that had missed nothing. He had looked like a grad student, especially with the sweatshirt he'd worn, but the eyes had been old, far too old for the twenty-something man he appeared to be. Nick wondered just how old the stranger really was.

Old enough to have been around the block a couple of times, Nick guessed. Hard to tell with another Immortal.

"So what's so special about him?"

For a long moment, Amanda said nothing. Nick could see the silent debate in her eyes as she seemed to try to determine whether or not to reveal what she knew. Impatiently, Nick spoke her name.

"He saved Duncan's life a few times," Amanda informed him finally. "And mine."

"That means they're close friends," Nick surmised, "and you're friends with both of them. You want both of them to be happy."

Amanda beamed. "Exactly. They won't get there if they keep coming to me."

"So you want me to protect you from both of them, is that it?" Nick stepped around the bar and drew Amanda into his arms. "Sounds like a difficult job," he said soberly, "but I think I know just the man for it."

"Do you now?" she asked huskily, laughter underlining her tone.

"Absolutely," he assured her. Seized by the urge to show her just who loved her, to brand her as his, he asked, "Want proof?"

She pursed her lips and nodded.

He kissed her slowly, taking advantage of the fact that the club was closed and they were alone. He loved moments like this; she was never more beautiful in his eyes than when passion slowly flushed her nearly elfin features, and she forgot everything except him.

His breathing was as heavy as hers when he finally ended the kiss. Continuing their conversation as if it hadn't been interrupted, he asked her, "That enough proof?"

She shook her head negatively, as he knew she would. "I think," she drawled provocatively, "I need a little bit more."

"Well, why don't I just show you?" He didn't wait for her affirmative, but started kissing a trail from her temples down to her collarbone, slipping the neckline of her scoop-neck ballerina top a little more onto her shoulders.

He had just started in on nibbling at her collarbone as her hands slipped down to cup his erection through his jeans when the migraine-like assault of Presence hit. He swore as he felt Amanda stiffen.

"It's probably Duncan," she told him. "Lunch, remember?"

"I know," Nick said grudgingly. "Just don't move away from me for a minute, all right?"

Amanda chuckled softly. "Wouldn't dream of it." She pressed closer and wrapped her arms around her lover.

"Tease," he accused her, but there was amusement in his voice.

****

Duncan heard Amanda's low-throated giggle as he stepped into the room. A quick search showed that she was hip to hip against Nick, and his arms held her close. For a moment, Duncan envied Nick's position and damned him for it.

If Amanda wasn't with him, I could drown myself in her and forget what happened with Methos. He could use a bit of Amanda's "oh-but-it'll-be-so-much-fun!" attitude right now to distract him from the thoughts that were running through his head.

I don't want to want Methos! he told himself firmly. In time, the ache will pass... the desire will fade. That's all this is — just a passing lust.

Even as he thought it, Duncan knew he was lying to himself. He hadn't been able to stop thinking of Methos ever since he'd left the bookstore. Amanda had always been good for a distraction, and that had been his motivation for coming to see her.

Looking at her now, though, he suddenly had the sense that she wasn't quite the same person he'd left behind all those months ago after the encounter with Keane. Amanda was settling in again... he could see it happening like it had happened with the saloon she'd once owned, except now the person she'd chosen to share that with wasn't him.

On one level, he was happy for her... but somehow, he'd always pictured he'd be the one by her side. On another, he was left feeling strange... as if the part of him that should've been feeling bereft had been disconnected. He loved Amanda... didn't he?

Of course I do, he answered himself automatically.

Then why did you think of Methos just now? a voice in his head demanded.

He had no answer for that.

He cleared his throat, knowing Nick and Amanda were aware of him, but letting them know he was in the room. Both turned slightly his way. Duncan noted that Nick didn't let go of Amanda, and he had to suppress a knowing chuckle.

No doubt Amanda's up to her old tricks again, Duncan thought. She always loved to turn me on just before I had to meet someone.

Unbidden, the image of someone else turning him on like that flashed through his brain at that precise moment. He swore under his breath.

Now is not the time to be thinking of him. Besides, it hasn't happened, it's not going to happen, and I will not wish for it to happen.

Liar, the damnable voice in his head snickered.

With an effort, he put on his best smile and went forward to greet Amanda and Nick.

Lunch was mercifully short. Seeing Nick with Amanda just seemed to hammer in the fact that Duncan was once again alone. Nick's silent actions during the meal had proclaimed Amanda as his as surely as if he'd put a neon sign on her marked: "Mine, not yours anymore."

Duncan sighed. He wouldn't steal Amanda away from Nick,

He liked Nick; from what he could see, the younger Immortal was good for Amanda.

He wondered why suddenly that realization left him feeling strangely free.

The thoughts tumbling through his head refused to be silenced. He walked through the city after leaving The Sanctuary, no real destination in mind, trying to make sense of the silent riot in his head.

If it was anyone else, this wouldn't be so difficult, he thought. We'd have a nice, pleasant affair, and that would be the end of it. But this isn't anyone else.

He thought back to the first time he'd met Methos, how much in awe he'd been of meeting him, how much he'd struggled to understand him then. In the years since that fateful day, Duncan had realized he'd only glimpsed pieces of the complex personality that was Methos. Now he could add yet another piece to that puzzle... and the knowledge both thrilled and terrified him.

What am I supposed to do now? he wondered. I don't want to lose his friendship. It was only supposed to be an answer to a dare, only supposed to be something to keep him from disappearing from my life now that I've started to feel like I have a handle on it again.

Methos, what have you done to me?

****

Two days later

Amanda moaned, arching into Nick's touch as she awoke. His mouth was on her, licking, tasting her intimately. How'd he know I was dreaming of this? she wondered hazily, then thought no more as his tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot.

She screamed his name as the first waves of pleasure shot through her. Shuddering, she could only cling to him as her orgasm peaked.

At last, he lifted his head and slid up her body to cradle her close. "Good morning," he said huskily, dropping a kiss on her lips.

She smiled as she tasted herself on him and saw the sheen of pleasure filled in his eyes. She knew he had given her pleasure just for the sheer joy of doing so, and expected nothing in return. "Good morning."

He returned the smile and then let her go to rise to his feet. "You wanted to get up early," he reminded her, "so you could go to that gallery before it closed."

She took a moment to admire his rangy body as he gathered the clothes he planned to wear that day. "I don't suppose I could convince you to stay in bed with me today?" she asked seductively.

He chuckled. "Nice try, Amanda, but I've inventory to do. You wanted someone to check to see what Marcelle's been ordering, remember?"

Amanda sighed regretfully and stood, knowing Nick was right. "I don't want to have to fire him."

"Well, maybe we can avoid that," Nick said as he pulled on a pair of jeans. "You don't know if he's been abusing his ordering privileges or not."

"When I talked to him yesterday, he just didn't have a really good excuse for us having that Merlot. I don't have a good feeling about it."

Nick shrugged. "We'll see." He glanced at his watch. "You'd better hurry if you're going to get to that showing." She didn't miss the slight emphasis he gave to "showing", and realized he wasn't fooled by her apparent interest in art. She chose to ignore it for the moment, grateful that he hadn't gone all ethical on her and not woken her up.

Rolling over, she glanced at the clock on the nightstand on Nick's side of the bed. Seeing the time, she swore lightly and continued to roll out of bed.

*****

Later that day, Nick was going over the bar's inventory when the strange Immortal walked in. "Amanda's mysterious friend has returned, I see," Nick observed. "Do I get a name this time or not?"

The stranger appeared to consider the question. He seemed surprised and pleased at something Nick didn't understand, but the expression passed so quickly he began to think that perhaps he'd imagined it. "Adam Pierson," he said finally, reaching across the bar to shake hands. "Amanda around?"

Nick shook his head. "Something I can help you with instead?"

"She's not with MacLeod by chance is she?"

Nick took a look at his visitor. Something — he wasn't quite sure what— instinctively made him not trust Adam, at least not at this moment. Someone who hadn't spent a lifetime chasing suspicious characters might have been taken in by the casual attitude Adam radiated, but Nick wasn't that person. Friend of Amanda's or not, Nick wasn't going to just give her away. "Tell me you aren't after her head and maybe I'll answer that question."

That produced a wry chuckle. "Would you believe me if I said no?"

"Probably not."

"Smart boy." Then Adam smiled. "Of course, if I'd wanted her head, you'd be dead right now." He spoke casually, as if he was discussing the weather, but Nick had no doubt that the other Immortal was serious. "Then again," Adam continued, "since I rather like having her around and I prefer not to take the heads of my friends, your mistrust is a bit unnecessary, don't you think?"

Nick smiled. "When it comes to Amanda's friends, I'm not inclined to trust easily."

"I can't imagine why," Adam uttered, deadpan.

Nick looked at Adam, then the two men laughed quietly. "Amanda went shopping," he told him finally. "I think she's checking out the new exhibit at one of the smaller galleries downtown. I forget which one."

Adam seemed to consider this for a moment. "She didn't say she was meeting anyone, did she?"

"Not that I know of," Nick said slowly, starting to be concerned. "Why?"

Adam ignored the question. "MacLeod hasn't been in either, has he?"

"I haven't seen him in a couple of days, unless you mean Connor." For the first time, Nick realized just how confusing it was to know both MacLeods, though he didn't think he'd ever mistake one for the other.

The other man shook his head. "Connor's not who I'm worried about. Duncan— " and Nick got the impression he used the name deliberately to avoid confusing him "— left me a message to meet him three hours ago, but he never showed up. I thought maybe Amanda caught up with him."

Nick glanced at his watch, abruptly realizing that Amanda was running late. She had promised him to be back by now, and she always called if she was going to be late. That had been something he'd insisted on for his own peace of mind. "She would've called if she was running late," Nick informed Adam now, setting down the clipboard he'd been using to count inventory. "She was really concerned about being alone with Duncan."

He paused and looked at Adam. Fear darkened the other man's eyes and then it was gone. "Maybe they ran into a traffic accident somewhere," Nick offered.

"Maybe." Adam didn't sound convinced. "Do you know who Amanda's Watcher is?"

"Wait a minute. I thought we weren't supposed to know about them."

"Well," Adam said practically, "most of us still don't." He shrugged easily. "I was one of them for a while. So do you know who they have on you and Amanda or not?"

"No. Amanda decided to play 'spot the Watcher' with them one day and they've gotten better at fading into the woodwork since." Nick cursed, realizing what Adam was thinking. If they could find Amanda's Watcher, they could find Amanda ... and Duncan. "How'd you manage to get into the Watchers if you're Immortal?"

Adam looked at him archly.

"You never told them you were," Nick deduced.

"You catch on quick."

"I can't imagine they weren't exactly happy to find out who you were."

"In a manner of speaking, no." He shrugged philosophically. "It was a nice place to hide for a while."

"So you don't have access to the information you used to."

"No."

Nick thought quickly. "There might be another way," he told Adam. "I'm in charge of a friend's security firm's operations here in Europe. We have some connections with the police I might be able to use if you're really concerned about where they are."

"Mac is never late for anything. It just isn't his style."

"You really think something's happened?" Nick moved down the bar to where he kept his laptop docked and powered it on, needing the information he had stored in his electronic address book.

The other man followed Nick's path and tried to look unconcerned. "I know it has."

Something in that voice made Nick take a second look at the other Immortal. No, definitely not 'grad student' now, Nick thought. This isn't a guy with your garden-variety best-friend's concern. His mind flashed back to a psychic he'd worked with once on a case, and realized Adam's voice held that same note of haunted conviction. "You psychic or something?"

"Or something," Adam agreed. He fell silent as Nick clicked his way to the information he sought and then picked up the phone. As the line he'd dialed began to ring in his ear, he saw Adam reach over and abruptly disconnect him.

"We don't have time for this," he suddenly growled.

Taken aback, Nick stared at the other man. "How the hell do you expect to find them?"

Adam didn't answer. He was already halfway to the door.

Swearing, Nick grabbed his sword and his coat. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" He reached out to the other Immortal's shoulder, trying to stop him.

Without warning, Nick found himself with steel underneath his chin, scraping at his throat.

"Either come with me," the voice of Death said, "or get the hell out of my way."

Very carefully, Nick swallowed. "Okay," he agreed, and Nick couldn't say what he was agreeing to; he only wanted that sword off his throat.

After a long moment, Adam released him; the sword disappeared into the folds of the trench coat he wore. Nick stood there, rubbing his neck and watching Adam head towards the exit once more.

No wonder Duncan's confused, Nick thought. What do you do with a guy who could turn into a stone cold killer at a drop of a hat?

Help him find Duncan, so they can leave Amanda alone, his logic replied.

Without stopping to think of the ramifications, Nick headed after Adam.

****

It was supposed to have been a relatively simple day.

Not wanting to be cooped up inside all day, Amanda had elected to run a few errands in addition to seeing the gallery. There was a dress she'd seen on one of the club's guests that she had liked, plus the gallery's exhibit had been themed around the period just before the French Revolution. She had fond memories of that time... even if she'd come to hate Marie Antoinette.

Thinking of the long-dead queen, she smiled as she recalled how the gallery had tried to pass off a very good replica of the crown Amanda had stolen and never returned. She wondered what the reward would be if she just 'happened' to prove that the crown being shown in the gallery was a fake.

Lost in thought, she was caught off guard by the rush of Presence as it filled her brain. Abruptly, she stopped in her tracks, causing the woman behind her to bump into her. Distractedly, she murmured an apology in French as her gaze searched the street.

A short, stocky, balding man stood at the end of the curb, waiting expectantly for her. He reminded her of a leaner Danny de Vito, but without the charm or the humor. He was dressed in a bright blue ski jacket and dark blue pants. She didn't see his sword, but knew the moment they headed off to a secluded area, she'd see it.

Damn it. This is not what I need today.

She took a deep breath, and moved to meet him.

"I don't want to fight you," she told him.

"And you don't have to," he returned. "I'm just looking for the Highlander. They say he's quite a hit with the ladies. I figured you might know him."

"You're wasting your time," Amanda told him, instantly resenting the stranger. Automatically, she moved to protect her best friend. "He's not here."

"Oh ye of little faith," Duncan announced from behind her, before stepping in front of her. "Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. You were looking for me?"

The stranger looked confused. "You're not the Highlander," he said accusingly. "I'm looking for Connor MacLeod."

Duncan smiled wolfishly. "Connor is my kinsman. His challenge is mine."

"Are you nuts?" Amanda hissed in an undertone. "Connor would kill you himself if he heard you talking like that!"

Duncan ignored her and went forward to meet the challenge. Amanda was left to follow them into the depths of a nearby alley, away from prying eyes. She had no doubt as to who would win, but still she watched with her heart in her throat. Still, she set the shopping bags full of her purchases down on the ground and drew her sword, just in case Duncan needed help.

The swords clashed, the sound ringing in her ears. It should've been a fairly straightforward challenge; Duncan had even given the stranger a second chance to back out, but the other Immortal had refused.

Except Amanda could see that Duncan was losing. His face was in agony as he tried to parry the cuts his enemy made. She didn't understand it. Honor bound her not to interfere, but she couldn't just let her best friend die.

She was contemplating the best way to intercede when Duncan managed to turn his opponent's blade against him. The stranger's eyes went wide with shock at the unexpected turn of events. One swift stroke, and the stranger was nothing more than wisps of unearthly lightning that wrapped insidiously around Duncan, seeking purchase in his body.

Instinctively, Amanda hung back, not wanting any part in the Quickening but unable to stop watching the drama before her.

Duncan screamed with the intake of the Quickening and fell to his knees. Amanda saw him struggle to ground himself with his sword. Her breath caught, knowing this was the crucial moment when Duncan was fighting for dominance over the other Immortal's personality. Silently, she willed Duncan the strength to win this part of the fight.

He brought his arms together slowly as a bolt of Quickening lightning arced between his hands and streaked up the katana before slamming into his chest. Amanda let go of the breath she'd been holding, only to have the next freeze in her lungs as Duncan collapsed and the sense of his Presence deserted her.

Amanda ran to him, hoping that he was all right, that he wasn't dead. She knew it happened sometimes: the battle had been won, but at a cost, and then the Quickening was only stage two of the war. She rolled him over and felt for a pulse.

There was none.

Come on, Duncan, come back.

*****

The relief he felt at finding Duncan was too much to be expressed in words. The emotion overwhelmed him, and Methos forced himself to hang back, to let Nick take the first steps towards where Duncan lay cradled in Amanda's lap. Amanda had drawn her sword at the first brush of their Presence, but she had set it aside upon recognition.

"What's wrong?" Nick asked.

"Blade was poisoned," Amanda said bitterly. Her eyes met Methos's before sliding over to Nick, who'd recoiled at the mention of poison.

"He's not permanently dead, is he?" Fear laced Nick's voice.

"No," Amanda answered, "but he's dead until the poison works out of his body. Someone's got to watch over him until then."

"How long will that be?"

"Could be hours," Methos spoke finally, thankful his voice didn't betray his own worry.

Sirens wailed in the distance, no doubt in response to the strange explosions of energy a Quickening produced.

"Nick, give me a hand with him," he requested. "We need to get out of here. Amanda, grab the swords."

"Methos— "

"Don't argue with me, Amanda. I know what I'm doing."

Nick grabbed Duncan's dead weight, positioned him in a modified fireman's carry, and started moving him towards the car. "What happens if someone cheats like that?"

"Depends," Methos told him as he helped Nick get Duncan into Nick's SUV. "If you have friends who find out that's how you play the Game, your death is usually avenged."

Nick grunted as he let go of Duncan's heavier weight. "That's not what I meant. Can he recover from this?"

Methos's eyes met Amanda's as she came up to the SUV and placed the swords in the cargo area, along with her shopping bags. "He's recovered from worse."

"Worse?" Nick asked as he shut the door and started to climb into the driver's seat. "What could be worse than poison?"

Methos shared another look with Amanda before returning his focus to the younger Immortal. "A lot of things," Methos said as the sirens became louder. "We'd better get moving before the police arrive."

Duncan hadn't revived yet by the time they arrived back at The Sanctuary. Nick carried him up the stairs and into what had been Nick's suite of rooms, laying Duncan on the bed.

"Anything else we can do?" Nick offered.

"No, I'll take it from here. Thanks."

"We'll be downstairs if you need anything," Amanda added, taking the cue to leave.

After Nick and Amanda left, Methos stared at Duncan, willing him to revive faster. From experience, Methos knew it wasn't the wounding itself that caused the greatest pain. The worst part was the reviving, for it was like being poisoned in reverse. The pain came first, ten times more intense than just being stabbed or shot.

Realistically, Methos knew there wasn't anything he could do for the Highlander than just wait.

How many times have I done this? Methos asked himself. Waited for you to wake up, waited for you to recover from whatever it was that was wrong with you? I should know better. I have better things to do with my time than moon over you like some helpless woman. I don't need this. You've complicated my life in more ways than one, MacLeod. A smart man would leave now.

His hand reached out to brush Duncan's chest. The shirt Duncan had worn was in tatters; a simple jerk of the fabric and Duncan's chest lay bare. Methos found himself staring at the flesh he'd just exposed, remembering how it tasted, how it felt under his fingertips. He felt his arousal at the images and swore.

It's not going to happen again, you idiot, Methos told himself. By now, MacLeod's probably convinced himself he's one hundred percent heterosexual, and what happened was just some crazy impulse he's going to regret forever. Get yourself out of here before you embarrass yourself.

Disgusted with himself, he headed down the back stairs, unaware of Amanda's eyes watching him leave.

*****

"Something wrong?" Nick asked as Amanda returned from the kitchen, frowning.

"Adam just left."

"So?" Nick took the oranges Amanda handed him and began slicing them for the sangria he was preparing.

"He didn't look like he was coming back." Amanda took the knife from Nick and set it aside. "Why don't you go up and check on Duncan?"

"Why don't you tell me why you called Adam 'Methos' first?" Nick countered. "If Duncan's back from the dead, I'm sure he'll come downstairs."

Amanda's eyes flashed. "You weren't supposed to hear that," she said sourly. "It's one of Adam's names."

"Just one of his names?" Nick asked suspiciously. "What aren't you telling me, Amanda?"

"It's noth-"

"Bullshit," Nick said. "You've told me that line one too many times. Remember, I know you're planning on hitting that gallery, else why would you have stopped at the electronics store for parts?"

"I'm not planning a heist, I just needed some new parts for the bar," Amanda denied vehemently.

"Uh huh, sure. And it wasn't you who hit the Valentino estate two weeks ago and made off with that necklace you're wearing now."

Amanda glared at him. "You-you-you are— "

"In love with you," Nick returned steadily, unfazed by her temper. "Which means I know you better than most people. Give, Amanda. Tell me about Methos."

"If I tell you, will you do a favor for me?"

Though Nick had the feeling he might regret it, his curiosity had been aroused. He had to admit, he was intrigued by the Immortal who claimed friendship with Amanda and Duncan, and who'd admitted to being a Watcher once. "Name it."

So Amanda did.

****

Three hours later

Duncan's barge

"Thanks for dropping me off, Nick," Duncan said sincerely.

"No problem," Nick returned. "I had an errand to run anyway." He paused. "I've been wanting to ask you something. When Methos came looking for you, he seemed to know just where you were.

Duncan looked surprised for a moment. "You know who he is."

Nick nodded. "Amanda told me."

Duncan grinned as he guessed how Nick got Amanda to tell the truth. Then his smile faded. "Methos and I have... a connection. It's not perfect, but it lets us know if we're really in trouble."

"Is it because you're — " Nick swallowed his prejudice and forced himself to say the word, shutting his mind to the images the word conjured "— lovers?"

"No."

"Then what? I'm just trying to understand your relationship with him. Amanda said you— "

"Back off, Nick." For the second time that day, Nick was faced with a sword. "This is between Methos and me, and we'll damn well do what we please."

"Fine." Nick held his hands up in surrender. "I'll just tell Amanda that you're being a stubborn idiot and she'll more than likely try to do something to help you, more than what I'm doing now. You know what happens when she tries to do something right for the people she loves — nothing goes like she planned."

Duncan glared at Nick, then sighed heavily and put down his sword. "All right," he conceded. "I'll think about it."

Reluctantly, Nick departed, heading down the banks of the Seine where Amanda had guessed Methos would probably be.

Nick never fancied himself to be a matchmaker. He only knew that he had to stop Amanda from getting really, really depressed over two of her closest friends before she decided to cheer herself up. From previous experience, he knew that when Amanda decided to cheer herself up, something tremendously expensive found its way into her clever hands. Nick could do without another grilling session from the French police; if anyone was going to be doing any investigations, he wanted to be the investigator, not the one being investigated. Amanda had admitted her gallery stop earlier had been to distract herself from interfering with what she called a "clear-cut case of sexual frustration," which had made Nick even more concerned.

Moreover, he had never tried to get two men together before, much less two men who were much older and more experienced than himself. Unconsciously, Nick rubbed his neck.

The things I do for Amanda, he thought. I really shouldn't get involved in this. As Duncan said, it's none of my business. So why am I doing this?

Nick sighed. Because I don't like to see Amanda in jail as much as I once did. Because Connor's my teacher, and that makes Duncan like family.

He took a deep breath and walked forward.

****

Standing on a bridge overlooking the Seine, Methos felt the rush of Presence interrupt his thoughts and he turned from his survey of the river's current to face the Immortal striding down the walkway to meet him. Recognizing him, his eyes narrowed.

What is Nick doing here? he wondered. He squashed the sliver of hope that rose with Nick's arrival, and deliberately turned his back on the newcomer.

Nick slipped in behind Methos, who wondered at the younger man's attempt at stealth with a dry chuckle. Stealth was too old hat for him not to notice.

"Running away never solved anything," Nick greeted him. "Then again, you probably made up that saying."

"So she told you."

Nick considered the statement. "A name like Methos isn't one I'm going to just forget, no matter how much she insists she said 'Adam'. She forgets I know where she keeps certain uh, shall we say, trinkets, and that I still have friends in law enforcement." He paused. "Not that I'd use them against her without a damned good reason." He looked around. "Nice view. You can see everything down river from here."

"It's not Tahiti," came the dry observation. "If you're looking for the secret of life, I don't have the answer."

"I wasn't looking for it," Nick replied. "If I'm supposed to be impressed by you, I can tell you I'm not. Then again, most of Amanda's friends haven't impressed me much."

Methos laughed shortly. "So what brings you here? I'm not going back, if that's what you're here to try and talk me into doing."

Nick shook his head. "Your life. I just have this rather huge interest in keeping Amanda happy. You see, when she's happy, she's less likely to go traipsing off in the middle of the night hoping to recover some ridiculously expensive item from people who would rather it stayed under electronically locked, bulletproof glass and in the eye of high-tech surveillance cameras. And right now, Methos, Amanda isn't happy."

"Not my problem."

Nick looked at the older Immortal. "I suppose not," he conceded. "Then again, I'm not her oldest friend, I'm her lover. Some would say that makes a difference." He shrugged. "But like you said, not your problem."

He exhaled heavily, clearly troubled by Methos's attitude. "For what it's worth to you, Duncan's up and walking around now. I just dropped him off at his barge a few minutes ago." He turned to leave.

Methos turned away, not wanting to watch him go. He heard the footsteps falter for a second, as if the younger Immortal had more to say. Silently, he willed Nick to continue on, but Fate wasn't listening to any prayers Methos made.

"You know," Nick said, "there's something I don't understand. Amanda says you'd do anything for Duncan, that you've saved his life a couple of times when no one else could, and you've been through a lot of hell together. The way she makes it sound, I'd think you were in love with the guy." Nick paused. "If that's true, I don't blame you for running clear in the other direction. I probably would, too."

"I'm not in love with anyone," Methos denied, turning to face Nick.

Nick regarded him with a 'yeah, right, sure' expression on his face. "Whatever," he said carelessly. "I'm just passing on a message Amanda thought you'd be interested in knowing." With that, Nick departed.

Alone with his thoughts once more, Methos stared at the river.

Had it only been a short time ago that he'd stood here in the snowing rain, convinced Duncan would never be his lover? He'd been so certain, so sure that it wouldn't happen, that he'd dared Duncan to prove him wrong.

He half-closed his eyes against the rush of memory. He couldn't walk into the bookstore, which had been his private sanctuary, without remembering.

Be strong, he admonished himself. You've lived through far worse.

Even as he tried to convince himself of that, he knew he wasn't fooling himself. There were worse things than breaking his own heart, but at the moment, Methos couldn't think of any. Miserable, he headed back to the apartment he kept above Shakespeare and Company.

****

Duncan stared at the door after Nick's retreat before donning his coat and grabbing his sword. Questions churned through his mind, questions he knew could only be answered by one person. Suddenly it didn't matter how long it took to find Methos; Duncan would find him.

He had to know.

**** 

"Why'd you leave?" Duncan asked quietly two hours later as he stood in the living room of the apartment above Shakespeare and Company. It had taken him some time to find Methos, and he'd initially discounted the bookstore.

"Because I know you." Methos held Duncan's gaze for a long moment. "You wear blinders when it comes to your lovers. You always have. You always will. Someday, that'll get you killed."

"You think you can protect me?" Duncan was incredulous. "You're not my guardian angel."

"No?"

The single word hung heavy in the stillness, and Duncan was forced to turn away, to close his eyes against the memories the question conjured. God, this hurt. Please, he willed, don't say anything.

"Why?" he asked in anguish, opening his eyes. "Why do you keep coming back?"

A resigned snort met his question. "I don't know."

Duncan turned back to see his friend staring at the ceiling, an expression of pain on his face. "That's not an answer, Methos."

"What do you want me to say?" Methos's voice was low and full of frustration. "'I love you'? It's not that simple, and you know it."

Duncan rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed. "If it was, would we be having this conversation? Damn it, Methos, I just am trying to understand what's happening between us."

"What's happening is this." Methos grabbed him and kissed him.

It wasn't really an answer. It was the wrong thing to do. Yet Duncan couldn't help but respond to the angry passion of the kiss, feeling his lover's frustration matching his own. The heat from the fury fueled another desire, more intense than the first. He moaned.

Hearing it, Methos stepped back. He stared at Duncan as if he was seeing him for the first time.

Duncan stepped closer, reading the doubt and sudden self-disgust, the same feelings he felt. "Don't go."

The echo of his words from a few days before struck Methos like a knife. They had been pivotal words, words that had eventually had led them to their first night together. Methos laughed humorlessly. "Is that how it's going to be? For a good time, call Methos?"

"No," Duncan growled, suddenly infuriated. "You're right. What we are to each other isn't simple and it can't be put into words. There's no one else in the world that knows me like you do. No one else who can make me feel like you do. All I know is that I can't stop thinking about you as my lover, now that I know what you're like, but I don't want to throw away what we have."

Methos looked at him as Duncan closed the distance even more. For a long moment, the two men stared at each other, pride warring with pride. In that instant, Duncan was vividly aware of everything they'd gone through in the history of their relationship.

It should have mattered: all the tangled threads of a friendship that had never been a friendship based on common interests; all the lies and the half-truths and the things they would never say to each other but pondered in the middle of the night when the dreams were nightmares; all the sacrifices they'd made for each other, and all the pain they'd shared. Somehow, it didn't.

Right now it only meant that Duncan knew Methos well, that he knew there wasn't anyone else in the world he wouldn't continue to be fascinated and frustrated by. He could easily spend forever trying to understand the layers that made up this one very unique man.

There was no going back to what their relationship had been; it was far too late for things to ever be the same, now that they knew each other so intimately. Regardless of what happened in the next few minutes, there would always be that extra knowledge of what had once been.

If Methos tells me he doesn't want me sexually, can I live with that knowledge? Duncan asked himself as Methos continued to stare at him.

On one level, Duncan knew he could. It wouldn't be the first time in his life he'd had a brief affair with a friend and continued to be friends with them afterwards. On another, the one that had prompted him to take a dare only a few days before, Duncan knew he couldn't.

Or rather, didn't want to.

When did I fall in this deep? Duncan wondered. Love isn't the word for how I feel. It doesn't begin to describe this... sense of having the other half of my soul with me. I didn't want this, didn't want to admit how much you mattered to me. Now it's all I can think about.

Motivated by his feelings, Duncan leaned forward slightly and kissed Methos slowly, his lips asking silent permission to continue.

His lover held himself back.

Now it was Duncan's turn to retreat and search Methos's gaze. In those golden-green eyes, he read desire and hesitation. "Talk to me, Methos." Please don't tell me this is a mistake. I want this. I want you, Duncan prayed.

Oh God, I didn't want to disclose that, Duncan groaned as he realized he'd spoken the words aloud.

"You're sure of this?"

Duncan laughed shortly. "No," he admitted honestly. "All I know is that I want you in my life." He swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. "I want you in whatever way you'll have me."

With that, Methos stepped forward. Slowly, he pressed his lips to Duncan's, kissing him with unexpected tenderness. Duncan nearly closed his eyes as the gentleness struck a chord deep within him. He'd never expected to be on the receiving end of this sweet affection, though he'd known Methos was capable of it. Almost wonderingly, his hands rose to bring Methos closer. He was surprised to feel them shaking, and he found himself holding onto his lover more tightly than perhaps the moment warranted. Methos drew his head back and stared into Duncan's eyes.

For a long moment, they stood there, neither saying a word. Time fell away as the world narrowed to just the two of them and the space they occupied. Duncan was aware of his breathing, echoed by Methos. A part of him screamed that it wasn't too late to back out, to have second thoughts... but Duncan silenced it.

He wasn't going to regret doing this. He knew, though, that he'd regret not doing so in some distant later timeframe. He had enough of regrets to last him the rest of his life.

As if on cue, their mouths met.

This feels right, Duncan thought as he began to return the kiss. Warmth infused him as the passion slowly built to a fever pitch.

Methos's hands deftly stripped him of his clothes. Duncan felt the brush of cooler air on his overheated skin as Methos stepped back to undress. A gentle push, and Duncan was on the bed. Methos followed, and Duncan reached for him, wanting to pull him in close even as Methos began to kiss and lick a path down Duncan's body.

Feeling Duncan's hands brush his back, Methos paused in his tormenting assault to slide upwards and drop a kiss on Duncan's lips. Duncan shuddered. A part of him marveled at how aroused he felt. He wanted more. He took advantage of the opportunity to capture Methos's mouth. Their tongues dueled briefly before Methos broke the kiss to nibble at Duncan's sensitive neck.

Methos took his time, clearly in no hurry to rush this joining. Shivers of delight followed his touch, and he explored every inch of Duncan as if he was rediscovering it after a long absence.

Perhaps he is, Duncan thought hazily. He couldn't get enough of the way Methos caressed him, of the feel of him against Methos. His memories had only hinted of this slow, sweet passion.

It felt strange to be treated like this. Duncan was used to being the one to show this to his lover, but now it was Methos who maintained restraint while urging Duncan to surrender to their desire. In a way, it lent an unreal quality to their lovemaking, but Duncan was too caught up in the moment to analyze it for too long. Methos's touch had ignited a slow fire that now burned through Duncan, and when Methos finally slid inside of him, all thought of anything else fled.

Duncan was moaning incoherently as he arched his back and moved his hips, trying to get even more of his lover inside of him. He felt Methos go still and thrust into him one more time, then he groaned as Methos's orgasm triggered his own.

Exhausted, he fell asleep, barely aware when Methos slipped out of him and cleaned them up. He didn't see Methos move to stand by the window, looking faintly worried.

What happens now? Methos asked himself.

Live, grow stronger, fight another day, some perverse voice in his head declared.

Methos groaned, and leaned his head against the window.

It should've been simple, Methos thought. I thought I was ready for this. Instead, now that I know what it's like to make love to him, the longing has grown. He turned to watch Duncan sleep. Will there be a time when this passion fades?

Methos closed his eyes. I couldn't bear to wake up and face his guilt the other morning, so I left. But I can't leave this time, not knowing he feels the same way I do.

With a sigh, Methos opened his eyes and walked back to the edge of the bed. Why is it that when I'm with you, I feel like I've found a piece of heaven I can keep? he asked the silent figure on the bed. You're like a drug in my soul. All I want is more.

As if hearing his silent debate, Duncan stirred. He opened his eyes. "Come back to bed, Methos," he said huskily, reaching for him.

All the doubt fled in the face of such an invitation. Methos found he couldn't refuse.

Tomorrow, he decided, could take care of itself.

— — — — — — — — — — —
Epilogue
— — — — — — — — — — — -

Two days later

Amanda paused in the doorway to the third level of The Sanctuary, which had been converted into a workout room. Nick was going through a series of moves with an invisible enemy. It was rare for her to catch him practicing his swordwork; by unspoken agreement, they never trained together. It was too easy a temptation for them to translate a disagreement they had into a physical confrontation.

She smiled in appreciation as he went through a particularly complex series of attacks. Connor had trained him well. Silently, she thanked God that Connor had agreed to teach Nick and that Nick had returned to her life. She knew, though, that now that her little problem with Duncan and Methos had been solved, Nick would be leaving.

She didn't want him to go, but there wasn't anything she could do. He knew her tricks, saw through her lies, and still he loved her. Or so she hoped. Suddenly, she wasn't sure.

Watching him, it was vividly clear that he could take care of himself. Was I wrong to want him so much I couldn't let him die? What kind of life have I given him? He's given up so much for me. His life is my life. Is that any way to live? Should I let him go?

Even as she thought the question, her heart screamed a denial.

"So are you going to stay this time?" Amanda asked softly as he stopped his workout. "Or are you still mad at me?"

Nick considered the question as he set down his sword. "Let's see, in the past few week, you've managed to have me nearly killed by both the Highlander and the world's oldest Immortal for trying to play matchmaker." He picked up a towel and rubbed sweat off his face. "Never mind the fact that you already have been the death of me at least once, and I still don't agree with dying like that."

Hope flared anew as Amanda heard the affection lurking beneath the mildly irritated tone. "But you love me anyway."

Her lover shook his head, pursing his lips. "Nah, I'm just interested in learning how to be a gigolo for older women."

"Nick!" Irritation flashed through her at the insult even as a part of her realized that he was with her of his own free will.

He grinned, and took off running down the stairs, Amanda hot on his heels, just as Duncan and Methos started up.

"Well," Methos mused, "guess that answers the question of what's up there." He sighed. "Do you remember ever being that carefree?"

Duncan grinned. "Is this one of your 'I'm old and battered' speeches?"

When Methos just smiled, he caught his lover's hand. "Well, logistically, you are old," he began. He was cut off as they reached the top of the stairs, when Methos tackled him to the ground, and covered him with the entire length of his body.

"Old," Methos muttered. "I have idea for a response to that. Some of them involve props."

Duncan caught the look in his lover's eyes. "Oh no you don't," he said warningly. "Do you want to give Amanda something to hold over our heads?"

Methos considered Duncan's words. "You're right," he agreed. "I know of a better place." He rose to his feet.

Gratefully, Duncan stood. He had only a second to register Methos's wicked smile before he found himself stumbling through the doorway of the workout room and the door slamming shut behind them.

***Finis***
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