Rhapsody and Jeopardy
by Sarah Saint Ives
********************

The storm was savage. The Pacific Ocean was in a state of Pandemonium. Twenty miles off the coast of Washington state, a small rowboat capsized, pitching its two immortal occupants into the rolling waves. They survived the increasing swells and somehow managed to retain contact with each other until an unexpected speedboat arrived on the scene. A line was thrown to them and they climbed aboard, grateful for the kindness of strangers.

The wind was vicious and biting, so they postponed introductions, but as the boat’s driver turned eastward toward the mainland, one of the two rescuees shouted over the storm, "There’s an island the other way, much closer than the coastline. That’s where we were heading!"

The boat’s driver gazed at him with ice-blue eyes and made a decision. Turning the boat around, he headed west.

Doubling the jeopardy, as the island came into sight, a low-flying helicopter spun and crashed into the sea a hundred yards shy of the shore. The wrecked machine rolled onto its side and disappeared beneath the surface.

The boat was tossed about badly by the waves from the crash and the storm and the four men stared in horror. After a few silent moments, the helicopter bobbed to the surface and floated on its side. The boat’s driver peered keenly through the spray, his enhanced senses detecting signs of life. "I’m going to go get them!" He steered the boat close and beckoned the crash victims as they emerged from the ruins.

Three men swam desperately for the boat and were rescued, and all seven, miraculously unharmed, soon walked onto the island. The boat was tied and one man led the way along a path to a cabin. Safe inside, the seven men spared a moment to catch their breath. The temperature had dropped considerably, which left them shivering.

The owner of the cabin hurried to build a fire in the fireplace while the others began introductions. The boat’s driver reached out to shake with the older, distinguished gentleman they had rescued from the helicopter. "I’m Jim Ellison. This is my partner, Blair Sandburg. We’re from Cascade."

"I’m Dr. Mark Sloan." the white-haired gentleman returned. "Thank you very much for saving our lives out there! This is my son, Lt. Steve Sloan and our associate Dr. Jesse Travis. We came to Washington to visit an old friend and were on our way back home in Los Angeles, California when this storm hit!"

The man building a fire turned his face to one side. "I’m Duncan MacLeod. My friend there is Adam Pierson. We’re from Seacouver."

"Glad to meet you." Steve Sloan said. "How long do you think this storm is going to last?"

"No telling." Jim replied. "We got caught in it, too, on our way home from another island farther out. Our friend who lives there told us it was coming, but he thought we had time to get home."

"We didn’t expect it quite so suddenly, either." Adam Pierson said, shivering.

Blair took a step closer to the fireplace as flames leapt and crackled. "So, this cabin belongs to you?" he asked Duncan.

The dark-eyed man nodded and stood to meet the blue eyes, the fresh face and the soaked curls. "Yes, I built it." he answered. For long seconds, their gaze held, broken only when Jim approached and began to briskly massage Blair’s shoulders.

"Do you have blankets here?" Jim asked, protectively drawing his partner back from their new acquaintance. "He’s just getting over a mild case of pneumonia."

"Yes, plenty." Duncan answered, and, a little awkwardly, went into another room.

"Jim, I’ve been over my pneumonia for more than a week." Blair said. "I’m fine, really. But I *am* cold."

"What kind of meds were prescribed for your pneumonia?" asked Jesse.

"Penicillin." Blair answered.

"You finished the prescription?"

"Yeah, Jim made sure of that. He’s a stickler for following instructions." Blair smiled up at his taller partner.

Duncan returned with an armload of thick blankets. He handed one to Blair, who smiled graciously, one to Mark, one to Steve and one to Adam. "I have more." he said.

"This is enough for now." Mark said, which stopped their host in his tracks. "But I think it would be a good idea if we all got undressed. Wearing wet clothes, we’ll never get warm enough. We should hang our clothes up to dry and wrap up in the blankets for heat."

Jim stood in agreement. "He’s right." He immediately began to peel off his wet clothing. The others followed suit.

Totally nude except for his blanket, Adam Pierson casually seated himself on authentic-looking furs stacked to the left of the fireplace. "Mac, come join me so you can get warm, too."

"I’m all right."

"Duncan, get your ass over here. Now."

"Methos!"

The dark haired man gave him a mocking smile, and held up the blanket to invite him in. With a sigh of resignation, Duncan joined him.

Jim and Blair wrapped up in their blanket and sat together on one end of the long, home-made couch. The three men from Los Angeles were soon cocooned at the other end. Warmth trickled in, which made them sleepy.

Finally, Adam spoke to the group. "My name, as you heard, is not Adam Pierson, but Methos."

Blair, an anthropologist and an inquiring mind, asked, "Methos? That’s it? What’s your last name?"

"I don’t have a last name."

"How could you not have a last name? Can you really do that, live in society and not have a last name? What does it say on your driver’s license?"

"My driver’s license says Adam Pierson. I’m talking about the name I was born with. I’m Methos."

Duncan drew in a long sigh. "Are you going to tell them the whole story now that you’ve opened that can of worms?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes. I don’t see why not."

"You don’t know these people. What’s the matter with you? Do you want to have to hide for the next fifty years?"

"Trust me, Duncan. I think I’m old and wise enough to spot honorable men."

"Are you sure? I didn’t know honor was something you could see at first glance. Maybe you could teach me that trick?"

Their accents were English, both of them, but Duncan’s was flavored with something else. Blair listened closely, very interested. "We’ll keep your secret, whatever it is." he promised.

Methos’ face turned grim. "Duncan and I aren’t like the rest of you." he began rather abruptly. "We’re..."

Duncan cut him off with a tight embrace and a sudden kiss.

The others stared in a moment in mild shock, then, in embarrassment.

When the kiss ended, Duncan gave his friend a pointed look and spoke clearly for all to hear. "We’re gay." he concluded. "That’s what my dimwit lover is trying to tell you."

"Yeah, we kinda caught onto that." Steve mumbled.

Methos’ lips curved into another ironic smile. "Duncan, really." he said softly. "I knew you’d be a great kisser."

Blair, who seldom missed clues, asked quietly, "So you’re not really gay?"

"No." Methos answered, gazing at Duncan. "Well, maybe we *are*, now that we’ve kissed."

"What are you? What were you about to tell us when he stopped you?" Blair persisted although Jim shook him in warning.

Duncan surrendered dramatically. "Okay, Methos, tell them, then. I won’t say I told you so when it hits the newspapers."

Methos leaned forward to kiss his lips softly again. "I rather enjoyed this bit of fabrication. I could luxuriate in your little games for the rest of eternity. You’re extraordinary, Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod. Forever rhapsody and jeopardy. With you, it’s forever or never. How could I not be totally obsessed with you? How could I live another day without you?" he whispered. Then, to the room, he announced, "We are immortals."

"Immortals?" Mark Sloan echoed with an expectant smile. "Is that the name of your rock band? I mean...you sound sort of creative and poetic. Immortals is a good name."

Methos contributed a chuckle. "I couldn't sing if my life depended on it. No, it’s what we are, Mark. I’m sure that you, being a doctor, will never believe us until we’ve proven it. Do you require a demonstration?"

There was no answer. The five onlookers waited to hear what sort of demonstration was being offered.

Methos kissed Duncan again, and found it returned. "Since none of you may survive the coming storm, I think it’s safe to confide in you." he said as he pulled away and got to his feet. Naked and barefoot, he padded over to the window and glanced out. "There are more furs so everyone can bed down soon. Buffalo hides are very warm."

"Methos," Mark encouraged, "we’re waiting to hear your story."

"Ah, yes." Methos reached into a cubby hole behind the window and drew out a long, shiny sword, presenting it to them. "My story. This, gentleman...this is what it all comes down to." His thumb slid along the blade and a thin stream of blood immediately appeared. His eyes went to his immortal friend, who had not budged from his spot on the furs. "Duncan, come and kill me, please."

Duncan sat steadfastly. "No. I won't do it this way, Methos."

"Come on, Mac. Just once. I’ll never ask it of you again, I promise."

"No. I’m not going to kill you, Methos."

"Why? Is it because you love me?"

MacLeod was sullen.

"Duncan. Talk to me. Do you love me?"

"By now, you should know I do, Methos."

"Then come and kill me."

"I will *not*!" Duncan stood, angrily, and strode over to him. "Why don’t you kill *me* if you have to prove this to them? Why would you ask me to do something you know will cause me so much pain?"

"I fear death will cause you pain, too."

"Yes, but it’s only physical pain."

Methos strode up to him, gave him another crushing kiss directly on the lips, then stepped back, gazing tenderly into his eyes as he brutally ran him through with the long sword. It went in at his solar plexis and protruded from the center of his back. The violence had been so sudden, so deadly, that it left their onlookers in shock.

Methos yanked the sword out, dripping with blood, carefully propped it into the corner and caught his friend’s body before he fell to the floor. Holding him gently, he kissed him again. "I do love you, Duncan. Will you sleep with me tonight?"

The light went out in those wide, brown eyes as the body slumped in his arms. Wiping a tear, Methos kissed the dead lips once more and glanced up to see the five visitors now on their feet. "Could someone help me get him back to the furs?" he asked. "He’s much heavier than he looks."

There was absolute silence for thirty ticks of the clock before Steve and Jim, still unrecovered from the shock of the brutal murder, moved to help him carry the dead man to the furs.

Steve began, "I’d like you to know I’m a cop, Methos, or whatever your name is, so it’s my duty to place you under arrest for the murder of this man."

"I’m a cop, too. Cascade P.D." Jim said. "And I have a feeling you’ll be spending some quality time in the nearest institution."

"No, you don’t understand, yet. Just give him a minute." Methos beseeched as his arms were wrenched behind him, his wrists handcuffed together. "Just watch him. This is our demonstration! We are *immortals*. He wouldn’t kill me, so I had to kill him!"

Blair and Jesse wore identical horrified expressions, but both took pity on the man. "Jim, have some compassion, man." Blair entreated. "He might be a nut, but he’s naked. He’ll freeze with his arms handcuffed behind him."

Steve picked up the blanket from the floor and wrapped it around Methos’ slender shoulders. He glimpsed regretfully down at the slain man. "Dad, you want to come do this?"

Mark approached the body, shaking his head sadly as he touched the inactive carotid artery. "He’s dead. Time of death approximately 5:27PM." He closed the brown eyes and the gaping mouth, pulled his blanket more tightly around himself as he rose.

As he turned to walk away, the brown eyes popped open in mortal terror and a long gasp was torn from the throat. The dead man jolted and sat up.

"Oh, my god!" Mark cried, stumbling backward.

"He’s alive!" Jesse squeaked.

Blair’s mouth was open in disbelief, but he was smiling. "It’s true! They *are* immortal!" he cried with enthusiasm.

Jim stared, but said nothing. Steve, although visibly shaken, seemed to take it well. Retrieving his keyring, he reached for Methos, who smirkingly turned his back to him so he could unlock the cuffs.

As soon as the killer was free, he hurried to his victim and embraced him. "I’m sorry I had to do that, my love. Are you all right?"

Duncan was strangled for long moments, but when he could speak, he nodded wearily. "I’m fine." he answered. "Are you happy, Methos--now that they have learned our secret?"

"It took them a bit by surprise." Methos said. "They were ready to carry me away to the lunatic asylum."

"That’s where you belong." Duncan said, pressing his cheek to his friend’s shoulder. "Now, if we’re quite done with the killing, can we take a nap? I’m very tired."

"Yes, of course." Methos pointed to the back room and spoke to Steve. "You will find furs stacked in there. Spread them wherever you find room and make yourselves comfortable. I, for one, need a nap."

With that, the two immortals snuggled close and went to sleep.

^^^^^

Jim had kept the fire going most of the night and was the first one up the next morning. He made a roaring fire, put on his nearly-dry clothes and went out into the drizzling rain to answer the call of nature and gather more wood. The storm had dissipated without major damage to the island.

There was coffee in the cupboard, a dusty spatterware coffeepot on the old-fashioned cookstove. Wondering how long the stove had been part of the furnishings, Jim made a fire in it, took the two water buckets and went to find the bubbling spring he had been hearing since his arrival on the island. Coffee was ready in fifteen minutes.

The smell woke the others.

There were enough tin and enamel cups for them all. Sipping boiled coffee, Mark Sloan opened the subject that had plagued their dreams. "So, being immortal means you can be killed, but you wake up alive again?"

"Yeah," Duncan answered, seated cross-legged on his fur. "That’s right."

"There has to be a catch. What is it?"

"If I lose my head, I won’t wake up again."

"You’ll stay dead?"

"Yeah. And the immortal who took my head will get my power."

"You have power? What kind of power?"

"The power from all the immortals’ heads I’ve taken."

One look at Blair’s stricken face subdued him. Duncan looked down. "I know. It’s barbaric. I don’t want to kill. They don’t give me a choice."

Patting Blair’s knee, Jim asked, "Do you age?"

"No. I was born in Northern Scotland in 1592. Methos was born three thousand years before Christ. He’s more than five thousand years old."

"Wow." Blair said. "No wonder he doesn’t have a last name."

"Yeah. They didn’t use them back then."

"So what was the world like five thousand years ago?" Steve asked, still skeptical.

"It was very different." Methos answered. "People were crude. The courtesies you enjoy today had not been discovered yet. To survive, you had to either be immortal or very, very fortunate. I was both."

"Are you related, then--you and Duncan?" Jesse asked.

"I don’t think we *have* relatives. Immortals have never been explained. No one knows where we came from. None of us have ever been able to find a parent or any other ancestor, no natural sisters or brothers, no offspring. There are hundreds of us, but where we came from, no one knows."

"Your thumb isn’t cut any more." Blair observed, putting on glasses. "Last night, just before you killed Duncan, you cut your thumb on the blade. The cut is gone now."

"We heal very quickly. Instantaneous regeneration."

"I have to get more information on you." Blair said. "Will you tell me more?"

"Of course." Duncan answered before Methos had time to speak.

The older immortal gave him a scornful glance. "Yes." he agreed grudgingly. "Of course."

Jim nudged Blair. "Drink your coffee before it gets cold." he said.

Steve downed the last of his coffee and reached to take his father’s empty cup. Setting them on the small table in the kitchen, he said, "I’m gonna take a walk down to the water and check on your boat, Jim."

Jim nodded, getting up. "I’ll go with you." He stopped Blair as he rose to accompany them. "You stay here, Chief. You’ve already been out in this stuff too much." The two tall men left the cabin together.

Methos, having noting Blair’s earlier idolizing gaze in their direction, whispered in Duncan’s ear, "You could have that one if you wanted him. In fact, we could share him. That could be fun, don’t you think?"

"He’s beautiful." Duncan whispered. "But Jim is possessive. I think he would probably *kill* for him. And, thanks to our open discussion, he now knows how to kill an immortal."

"I could kill *him*." Methos said thoughtfully. "Then we would have Blair all to ourselves."

Duncan’s disapproval was instant. "Not a worthy statement of you, Methos. Anyway, if Blair knew you killed his friend, he would hate us."

"I’m kidding, you moron. I’ve sworn off killing. You were my last."

"Good."

"The perplexity remains. How are we to seduce him if his friend is in the picture? It’s obvious he’s in love with him."

"I don’t know, Methos. Maybe we shouldn’t try. Didn’t you just declare your ‘undying’ love for me last night?"

"I do love you, Duncan. More than I can justify."

"Define love, Methos."

The old immortal laughed out loud. "Love!" he said theatrically. "Love is passion! Love is friendship! Love is generosity and caring! Love is sacrifice and commitment. Love...love is the need to touch you..." His fingertips slid delicately along the Scot’s jawline. "...to taste you, to behold you, to know you inside and out. I love you, Mac."

MacLeod smiled and kissed him. "I love you, too, Methos."

Their three-man audience tried to occupy themselves with distractions, but there was very little in the room that could keep them averted from the emotional scene before them. Their disconcerted gestures made Methos laugh again.

"You’ve never seen lovers in love before?" he asked blatantly.

Mark cleared his throat. "I never watched." he clarified. "I live and work in LA, so I’ve seen plenty. I mind my own business."

"Then you’re a wise mortal." Methos commended. "What about you, Blair? You’re displaying a profound interest in us. Is is because we’re exhibiting this queer behavior, or is it because we’re immortal?"

Blair blushed. "Both, I guess." he answered, unable to lie to them.

"What about you, Jesse?" Methos went on. "What do you think?"

Jesse swallowed air. "If you’re really five thousand years old, then you’re allowed to be as eccentric and as uncensored as you want to be. You’ve probably done everything and decided that traditional lifestyles are boring."

"No. I don’t think that at all." Methos said.

"You’ve fallen in love with a person of the same sex."

"Yes. Touche, pretty boy." Methos challenged. "I’ve seen the way you look at your friend Steve, and the way he looks at you. How can you honestly think no one will see the love there? I'm sorry to tell you this, but I knew the two of you were fucking as soon as I met you."

Jesse’s face was rosy red.

"That’s my son you’re talking about!" Mark objected.

"Yes, and he’s no adolescent." Methos reminded him. "I’m guessing him well over forty. He’s old enough to make his own choices. You can't choose his life partner for him."

"He’s not gay!" Mark insisted.

"Presumptions parents have about their children aren’t always based on fact, but more on their own prevalations."

Mark stared at him. "Prevalations?"

"Yes, you want him to be the kind of man you are. You’re already disappointed because he didn’t become a doctor, and now you expect Jesse to fill the role of the younger son you never had, which, in your godly mind, makes them brothers. For them to become lovers, you would have to face the fundamental principles of incest and failure as a father. Everything reflects on you. But it doesn't. Not really. It's not your fault. It's nothing you did or didn't do. And there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. Get a clue, Dad. Jesse’s not really your son. He’s just your friend, and your son’s lover. Steve and Jesse love each other. They’re here. They’re queer. Get used to it."

Duncan couldn’t suppress his chuckle.

Mark was stunned. "So...so, Duncan, do you agree with him?"

Duncan met his eyes, then looked away. Then, with a sigh, he faced him. "Yeah. I do."

Jesse’s eyes were downcast, his hands in his lap. Mark turned to him, demanding. "Jesse, tell me they’re wrong."

Jesse’s lips were trembling as he ran for the door. "I have to go find Steve." he said as he escaped out into the rain.

Blair started after him, but Mark, regaining his presence of mind, stopped him. "You stay in here, young man. You just got over pneumonia, remember?"

"Maybe *you* should go after him, Dad." Methos suggested.

With a nod, Mark got dressed and went out the door, leaving Blair alone with the two devious immortals.

^^^^^

Methos gave Duncan a shove. The Scot ambled unthreateningly toward the mortal and touched his cheek. "What do you want from us, Blair?"

Blair wasn’t stupid. He recognized an impending seduction and a dangerous situation. "I’m an anthropologist. I just think you’re very interesting. I never met anyone like you, and now I’ve met two!"

"Don’t you think he’s attractive, Blair?" Methos asked from their furs. "Look at him. Look at those eyes, those lips. Would you be offended if he kissed you?"

Blair took a step backward, but Duncan caught his arms, tugging him toward him. His strength was incredible. Blair had never felt so vulnerable in his life.

And he had never been so aroused.

"Jim will be back any second." he said nervously. "He’d be really pissed if he caught me..."

Duncan stopped him with a tender kiss.

Blair’s knees wobbled as the immortal plundered his mouth. Dazed and frightened, he did not struggle, remained docile in the arms of his captor. Of their own, his arms rose and circled the immortal’s neck. Isolated from conscious thought, his cock ground against the hard cock of the man kissing him.

Methos laughed, which ended their mindless rapture. "Blair, my love. You were too easy."

Shivering, Blair pushed back from Duncan again and wiped his moist lips. The immortal let him go, no attempts made to recapture him, so the anthropologist turned his back, very shaken.

"Blair, you’re beautiful." Duncan murmured. "I didn’t mean to hurt or scare you."

"You didn’t." Blair’s voice trembled. "I’m fine."

"Will you look at me?"

Before the mortal could respond, footsteps and voices advanced. Jim, Steve, Mark and Jesse entered, soaked and shivering. Moving to the fire, Mark’s teeth chattered. "It’s really cold out there, and it’s raining pretty hard again."

"The boat’s gone." Steve said matter-of-factly, "None of our cell phones are working. I don’t know if it’s some weird interference, or if they all shorted out in the water. Whatever it is, we can’t call out."

"We never even bring cell phones when we visit the island." Duncan said sadly. "This is where we come to get away from the world. I didn't know they wouldn't work on the island because we've never tried to use them here."

"So we’re stranded." Blair stated the obvious. "What are we going to do?"

"I don’t know." Jim answered, a hopeless shrug moving his shoulders. His discerning blue eyes were on Blair’s puffy lips.

Self-consciously, Blair rubbed at his lips with the back of his hand. "Jim, we need to get home. We have to work tomorrow."

"They may have to do without us tomorrow." Jim said, reaching for him. "Come here."

The younger man obeyed automatically and found his face being closely inspected by his partner. "What are you doing, Jim?" he asked.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked.

"I’m fine."

"You and I need to talk, Chief. Alone."

Blair studied his _expression and nodded. "Duncan, can Jim and I talk in the bedroom?"

"Of course." Duncan answered sensitively.

The anthropologist caught his partner’s hand and led the way. They closed the door behind them.

Methos sighed blissfully and moved along with the discussion. "Mark, did you find out what you needed to know about your son?"

Mark’s distress was Steve’s undoing. "Listen, Methos, or whatever your name is... The relationship between Jesse and me is none of your business. You need to leave my dad out of your little head games and just shut the hell up! Do you understand me?"

Methos gazed up at him mirthfully. "Yes, I do." he answered calmly.

"What did you do to Blair?" Jesse asked, having picked up on the signals.

"Nothing. I never moved from this spot." Methos said.

"Then what did *Duncan* do to Blair?" Mark demanded.

Duncan faced the older man with mild obstinance. "I think Methos was wrong about you being honorable men. Your accusations are beginning to seriously annoy me."

"No one accused you of anything." Steve argued. "He asked what you did to Blair. I’d like an answer to that, too."

Methos broke in and answered before Duncan had a chance. "Has anyone else happened to notice how beautiful Blair is?"

"If you laid a hand on him," Steve warned, "you’ll pay for it. I’m sure he’s telling Jim all about it. You couldn’t have missed the fact that Jim is a little...well...protective of him. If he finds out you tried to put the moves on his little friend, he’ll be coming through that door ready to kill both of you any minute now."

Untroubled, Methos pushed his luck. "Jesse’s beautiful, too, you know. I’m sure you’ve noticed."

Steve shook his head angrily, pointed his finger directly at the immortal. "You're crossing the line. You keep your eyes and your opinions to yourself from now on. In other words, shut your mouth, thank you very much. Do I make myself clear?"

Methos nodded and fell silent.

^^^^^

"What happened while I was gone?" Jim asked, touching Blair’s lower lip.

"Nothing, Jim. Don’t be so paranoid."

"I’m not paranoid. I’m pessimistic. There’s a big difference."

"Sorry." Blair smiled. "Don’t get so pessimistic, then."

"He kissed you."

"How could you possibly *know* that, Jim? I’m guessing your enhanced vision can distinguish between my saliva and his, or the thermography of the lips. What gave it away?"

"You looked scared and guilty. Your lips were pinker than normal."

"So it *was* thermography."

"I know you, Blair. I’ve lived with you for five years now. I know you better than you know yourself. I know you didn’t want that kiss, that he forced it on you."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I’m the only person you should *want* kissing you."

Blair’s bewilderment brought him closer. "If you wanted to kiss me, Jim, you’d have done it a long time ago. What’s with the attitude?"

"You’re mine, Chief. Nobody else kisses you."

"If you really feel that way, why have you wasted so much time acting like we were ‘just friends’? If you wanted me, I was always there. I’m here now." His tilted face offered a kiss. "Don’t claim me and leave me standing here looking lost."

Jim bent to place his claim and Blair latched on, kissing him for all he was worth. In all their separate conquests, in all their romantic and sexual misadventures, there had never been a kiss like this one. Oblivious to the cold world around them, they spent long minutes in the sweet throes of their first taste of love. Five years of caged longing set free, they indulged in the texture of lips, skin, hair and cloth.

"Oh, god, I love you." Blair whispered in torment.

"I love you, too, sweetheart." Jim kissed him again and again, immediately addicted to the flavor. "You're mine. Do you hear? No one else kisses you."

"No one else kisses me." Blair agreed, submitting to his terms. Both arms around his friend, he let himself be finally and totally possessed.

^^^^^

"Why does Jim call Blair ‘Chief’?" Jesse asked.

"I think it’s just his pet name for him." Mark answered. He viewed the young man, thinking. "Jesse, Steve..." he began. "If you were..."

Steve waited patiently. "What, Dad?"

"If you *do* love each other...if you have a relationship like that, I just want you to know that I’m okay with it. I’m not the austere father who’s going to disown my son. I’m not going to disapprove of you. You know I love you. I love you both."

"I love you, too, Dad." Steve smiled at him hesitantly. "Jesse, what do you think?"

"I’d like to tell him." Jesse answered.

"Yeah, me, too."

Mark sighed. "So, it’s true."

"Yeah, it’s true." Steve admitted. "We got together right after I had that car wreck. Jesse came over to check on me while you were working and it just...happened. He leaned over to look in my eyes, and I...I just couldn’t help myself."

"It’s okay, Steve." Mark patted his son on the arm. "I understand. Jesse’s sweet, he's cute, he's very intelligent and fun to talk to. And he loves you, too. I can tell."

"Yeah." Jesse agreed. "I do."

Mark stretched out his arms and pulled his son’s lover into a fond embrace. "Welcome to the family." he said softly into his ear.

Methos was grinning knowingly. "Isn’t love wonderful?"

Duncan caught his hand and hefted him to his feet. "You’re the cynic who once lectured me about the evils of romanticism and other foolish traditions, but you’re suddenly just full of yourself, aren’t you?"

"Full of myself? Now that’s an interesting stretch of the imagination. What if I was full of *you*?" Methos kissed him with passion. "Now that we’ve corrupted these mortals and motived them to rationalization, you and I can attend to our own intimacies. Once Jim and Blair come out of the bedroom, would you join me for a bit of a whirl?"

Duncan kissed him again and ran an amused finger down the length of his British nose. "Oh, Methos, you daft old man." he murmured lovingly. "Of course I will."

^^^^^

Blair’s kiss-swollen lips pursed as he glanced toward the door. "How are we going to get out of this place?" he asked. "I want to get home where we can be alone and try to make up for all the time we’ve wasted."

"Yeah, me, too." Jim said, kissing those treasured lips again. "The boat was blown away in the storm. None of the cell phones work."

"And we have to eat or we’ll get sick." Blair said.

"Yeah. Eating *is* one of the essentials."

"You’re pretty good with a bow and arrow. Do you think there are any deer on the island?"

"Yeah, there are. I was just thinking about that. I saw the bow and arrows hanging on the wall and deer tracks at the spring. I’m not really an avid hunter, but I’m willing if it’ll keep us from starving."

A rap at the door introduced Duncan to the room. "We’ll both go." he said.

"You and me? Deer hunting together?" Jim said vindictively.

"Yeah. I have faith you won’t shoot me in the back."

"Why shouldn’t I?" Jim’s eyes were ablaze.

"Because we’re friends."

Blair’s fingers on his lips prevented Jim’s curt retort. He paused to glance down into the pleading blue eyes and tried to bridle his jealousy. He took Blair's hand in his own and kissed it. "Keep your hands and your lips off my partner." His warning to the immortals was taken seriously.

"Okay." Duncan agreed repentantly.

"He’s mine."

"I can see that. I'm happy for you. You should cherish each other."

"We do. Now, if you’re ready, we can go hunting."

Duncan turned to Methos, who waited behind him. "Later, my love." he promised. "We’ll be patient. Our ‘whirl’ can wait until we’ve returned."

"No problem." Methos answered, gently. "We have all the time in the world."

^^^^^

Blair kissed Jim goodbye at the door and waved to the others as they set out on their hunting expedition. Duncan and Methos were armed with bows and arrows. Jim and Steve carried their pistols.

The anthropologist was taken by a fit of coughing that nearly took his breath as he bent to stoke up the fire. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked round at a concerned Jesse. "I’m fine." he said.

"Pneumonia doesn’t go away that fast." Jesse said. "You could suffer a relapse and be sicker than you were before. We don’t have any antibiotics here to give you. All we can do is be sure you rest and stay warm."

Blair allowed him to lead him to the couch where he was snuggled under a blanket between the two doctors. "What if we never get rescued? What if nobody ever finds us and we have to live the rest of our lives here like this?"

"Well, at some point, the weather will improve." Mark said. "Steve was a boy scout. I’m betting he can sculpt a canoe out of a log and an oar out of a branch. Then one of us can go for help."

Blair and Jesse giggled. "We’ve got some real-life Daniel Boones here with us." Jesse said. "Don't worry, Blair. Somebody will figure out how to get us back home."

"Until then, we’ll have to do the best we can." Mark said. "At my age, furs on the floor don’t make the most comfortable of beds, but at least we’re staying warm and we’re out of the elements. There’s plenty of wood to keep fires going, plenty of fresh water in the spring. If the boys can come back with a deer, we’ll have sustenance. We can survive a long time like this."

"I hope we don’t have to." Jesse said. "I mean...I enjoy roughing it as much as anybody. Steve and I have had some great camping trips. I like Jim and Blair, they’re great guys, but Duncan and Methos just seem a little...I don’t know..."

"Dangerous?" Mark guessed.

"Yeah. Very." Jesse said.

Blair stared at them. "I don’t see them as dangerous." he said. "They’re just not like *us*. That’s all."

"Did they try to molest you while we were gone?" Jesse asked bluntly. "Is that what Jim was so pissed about?"

"Molest me? No! Duncan kissed me, and Jim got jealous. But you know what? Jim finally confessed that he loved me because of his jealousy, so I feel that Duncan did me a big favor."

"Well, that’s one way of looking at it." said Jesse. "Am I the only one who’s thought of this, or is anybody else just a little bit scared that Methos and Duncan will kill our guys and come play with us ‘til they get bored, then kill us, too?"

Mark frowned. "Jesse, please. They’re a little different, but I don’t believe they’ll kill us."

"I hope not."

Blair reached for the young doctor and hugged him. "Stop it. Now I’m getting scared."

The two men rocked each other worriedly, and time passed.

Once fear had been presented, it went through stages of development until their stress was intensified. Cuddled close, they waited and listened.

It seemed like hours later before two distant gunshots startled them. Tensely, they waited, hearing nothing until more time had passed. When he heard his son’s voice outside the door, Mark hurried to open it and crushed Steve in a desperate hug. "Are you all right?" he asked, a little alarmed that there was blood staining the sleeve of his coat.

"I’m fine. It’s the deer's blood, not mine. We got a six point buck. Food for days." Steve said.

Mark moved aside so they could drag the carcass into the cabin. It had already been field dressed with Duncan’s sharp knife. "How do you propose we cook it?" he asked.

"There are pots and pans in the cupboards, even some vegetable oil and salt." Duncan said.

While the others moved the beast to the small kitchen table and began hacking it apart, Steve built up the fire in the cook stove with small kindling. "Fried or baked deermeat and another cup of that fresh-boiled coffee will be a great supper."

Jesse hugged and kissed him, lingering close to the stove with him. "I was so worried." he whispered.

"Yeah, from the way Dad and Blair acted, I don’t think you were alone." Steve smoothed back his lover’s soft blonde hair and kissed his forehead. "We’re going to be fine, babe."

Blair stood very close to Jim’s left elbow, kept his eyes averted as the deer was butchered. "You didn’t happen to see the boat anywhere, did you?" he asked finally.

"No. It’s gone, Chief."

"Can you build a canoe out of a log?" Blair asked.

Jim grinned at him. "You mean with my trusty pocketknife?"

Blair went for a kiss. "Simon is going to be looking for us."

"Maybe he’ll find us."

"That would be nice."

"The helicopter is still floating around on top of the water--at least part of it. If another chopper flies over, they might spot it. That will bring them down to check it out."

"So we listen for choppers."

"Yeah. At least we have hope."

"Right now," Mark concluded, "that’s pretty much our *only* hope."

^^^^^

Duncan was an expert at preparing deer meat. With two woodfires blazing, the chill was gone from the air. Their clothing drying on nails in the wall, the hunters, wrapped with their lovers in blankets, made themselves comfortable on furs and ate strips of meat until their bellies were full.

"Have you decided whether or not we’re villains?" Methos asked as the room became satiated and cozy.

Cuddling heavily against Jim, Blair spoke first. "Are you?"

"We’re just men, Blair." Duncan said. "Just men who need all the same things you do."

"You’re afraid of us, aren’t you?" Methos surmised. "There’s no need to be. I would no more harm any of you than I would harm Duncan."

"But you *killed* Duncan last night." Jesse reminded him.

"He revived. You wouldn’t. Don’t worry, child. No one’s going to harm you."

Being called a child brought to mind that the man talking was over five thousand years old. Irrational faith overruled suspicion. Jesse smiled at the ancient immortal.

^^^^^

"We committed an unpardonable sin here last night." Methos mused as he piled more wood on the fire while the others were snoozing on their respective furs.

"What was that?"

"There’s to be no conflict on holy ground. This island is holy ground."

"I think we’re forgiven." Duncan said generously. "For four hundred years, I believed in everything I was taught. The longer I live, the less attention I pay to rules."

"With age comes wisdom." Methos quoted.

"Not always. Look at you." Duncan said playfully.

Methos spread his hands and looked down at himself. "Yes, do. Look at me. Quite remarkable, you think?"

Duncan leaned over and kissed him, patting his half-hard cock. "Yes, *quite* remarkable." he said.

"How long should we keep these mortals waiting before we give them the raft?"

"I think they’re ready. They seem to have come round. Jim and Blair are together, Steve and Jesse are out to Mark. I think they can go home now."

"And we’ll be all alone and stranded here."

"The raft seats eight. There are only seven here."

"But I wanted to spend time alone with you."

"We can always come back after we’ve gotten them to safety."

They were interrupted by Jim Ellison, naked and demandingly in their faces. "You have a raft?"

Methos glanced him up and down. "Damn good hearing you have there, Jim."

"Yeah, damn good." Jim said. "Where’s the raft?"

"In the closet in the bedroom." Duncan said.

Jim stooped beside them and gripped them each by a hand, his demeanor unexpectedly reversed. "I want to thank you both." he said softly. "For everything."

After a pause, Methos winked at him. "Anytime, Jim."

^^^^^

The sun rose in a cloudless sky. Duncan busied himself cooking a breakfast of deermeat while the others put on their hang-dried clothes.

"So, how many days you think the deer will last us?" Jim asked as he approached their host. They were about the same height and build. Jim wrapped an arm around his waist as he sniffed the frying meat.

"A week, no doubt, but we can leave..."

Lightly, Jim bumped foreheads with him. "In a couple of days when you find the raft in the woods." he said quietly.

Duncan stared at him. "Yes, of course." he said. "In the woods." He smiled conspiratorially.

Glancing back to see that the others were occupied, Jim gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and went back to his furs.

Methos advanced, finding himself amazed and aroused. "*Now*, can we consummate our relationship? I want it known that I love you, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. With you, I plan to count on a life of joy and sadness, of good and evil, of Rhapsody and Jeopardy, of forever and never. Now that we have the opportunity, will you join me in the bedroom for that whirl?"

Duncan kissed him passionately. "I thought you’d never ask."

end