Title: Three Days

Author: Carol

Pairing: Duncan/Methos

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; no infringement intended.

Notes: This short story will be submitted in three parts - one for each of the three days.

***denotes thoughts

THREE DAYS

By Carol

Part One - February 12

Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod was spending the winter in Seacouver. He had had enough of Paris for the moment and felt a semester or two teaching at the local university would provide some diversions, but when it had come down to it, he had not taken up the refuge of academia. He was thankful for his procrastination when Methos had shown up in Seacouver shortly after the new year.

It was another one of those time periods when the two immortals were friends again, but tension still seemed to exist, neither man being exactly sure why. Luckily Joe Dawson had returned with McLeod so that

his bar became a DMZ away from remembrances of the past.

McLeod was in a real quandary about his relationship with his fellow immortal. The deep pain and betrayal that he had felt over the horsemen was still a bitter pill that tasted like bile, if he allowed himself to contemplate the near apocalypse that had occurred in his relations with Methos. But, McLeod also knew that Methos was the very best kind of friend a man could have. Methos had never judged his past actions. Methos accepted him as he was. Why then could McLeod never seem to be totally confident in what Methos next action might be?

Suddenly, the elevator began to rise, signifying a visitor. A feeling of immortal presence was quickly felt so McLeod took up his sword even though he recognized the presence as Methos'.

The gate to the elevator lifted and out stepped Methos, the oldest immortal, carrying a large birthday cake. With a twinkle in his eye, the lilting baritone said, "Hello Mac, Happy Birthday!"

McLeod stood stunned for a few seconds since he knew that Methos knew that he had been born on the Winter Solstice hundreds of years ago. Finding his voice, he said, "Methos, you know today isn't my

birthday. Mine was last December."

At first Methos smiled, then a look of consternation crossed his handsome face. "Aaahhh, Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod, I knew you were a Scots barbarian, but since you do spend so much of your time in the United States, I would have thought you would remember Mr. Lincoln's birthday today?"

Feeling rather sheepish, McLeod gave an embarrassed smile and nodded. "Aye, I had forgotten, but I did not know, ancient one, that you were an admirer of President Lincoln."

For several seconds, Methos stood silent, looking deeply into the dark brown eyes of McLeod. Then in a voice so hushed that Mac could barely hear, Methos whispered, "I admire any man who worked to end slavery."

McLeod's eyes opened wide, painful images of running the underground railroad with escaping slaves, pulsating through his mind until he had to close his eyes to relieve some of the agony: the young black man whose neck he'd broken to save him the terrible death of gangrene; the stink coming from the camp called Andersonville; the fear on the faces of young and old alike, fleeing from their servitude, and the joy when a few - all too few - made it to the free states and some to Canada. All of these images and more passed like a freight train in the night through McLeod's mind sight - all triggered by Methos' words.

Methos could easily read the images, playing out on the handsome Scot's face. He had not been in the United States during much of the time of slavery, but he had heard McLeod's words about his time during the war. He had not come here to rake up old pain, but he had been in Seacouver for a few weeks now, hoping that he and McLeod could find some peace between the two of them. Things had gotten better, but Methos had decided that it was time to leave or as Duncan would say ? run again. The cake was Methos' last effort to try to trigger Duncan McLeod out of his cocoon of "let's ignore Methos' past and be friends

again phase".

Methos put the cake down on the table. "I guess the cake wasn't such a good idea. I just thought a man like Lincoln should be remembered. I . . I know he really wanted to save the Union, but he did make the push to end slavery in this country. I . . I just thought since you were involved you might want to celebrate the life of such a man."

McLeod stood with his hands by his sides, staring at Methos and then the cake. After a few seconds, he smiled. "I'm glad you remembered Methos. Slavery was so ugly. Those slaves would have whip marks

and other mutilations, sometimes. Some were so scared. Even now. . . I can still smell the fear - heavens, I'm glad it's over."

McLeod walked into the kitchen and pulled out two beers. Handing Methos two saucers, he cut two large pieces of the birthday cake. For the next half hour the two men forgot the tension between them and enjoyed the food.

As Methos began to drink his second bottle of beer, he held it up in a toast, "Here's to Mr. Lincoln and the end to slavery. Happy Birthday."

McLeod smiled and said, "To the end of slavery. Happy Birthday, Mr. Lincoln."

Within a few minutes, however, Methos stood up, obviously readying himself to go. McLeod immediately went to get another bottle of beer. "Don't you want some more cake and here's another beer."

A strange look entered Methos' eyes as he shook his refusal. "No thanks, Mac. I've got to be going."

"I don't think you should drive; you've been drinking, stay here tonight."

Smiling that strange smile of his, Methos shook his head once again. "I don't think two bottles will bother me. I'm fine; I've got a lot to do so I better get going. See ya"

As Methos walked to the elevator, he turned quietly, looking at the man that he loved as if he would never see him again. With a trace of bitterness in his voice and a look of incredible sadness in his greenish-gold eyes, he whispered, "You know Mac; how I wish someone like Mr. Lincoln had been around when I was a slave."

With those words, Methos entered the elevator and hit the button, not turning around to see the impression his final words had made upon the Highlander.

McLeod stood there stunned. Of course, he had known that Methos had been a slave off and on during his earlier life, but Methos was so reticent about his past that McLeod had relegated it to that distant past that was Methos in so many ways.

***Duncan McLeod, you are an idiot. For the past hour, you have been bemoaning the cruelty of slavery and the hardships that were endured and yet you totally ignored the pain that must overwhelm Methos every time he remembers his past. Talk about self-centered - I'm surprised he didn't walk out on me for being so blind.***

McLeod dropped his head to his chest, lost in thought. Suddenly, he raised his head as if a light had turned on in his head - ***the way Methos talked, it was like . . . I might not see him again - maybe. . . maybe that is what he has done - walked out on me!***

FEBRUARY 13 - EARLY MORNING

Methos lay in his bed, finally getting to sleep after hours of thinking about recent events. He had come to Seacouver in the early New Year, hoping that he and McLeod could restore their badly damaged friendship. In the ensuing weeks the two men had made real progress but there still was tension lurking in the background. Methos hoped for lessening of that tension had failed miserably when the Lincoln's Birthday celebration had rapidly become filled with remembrances of the ugly days of slavery. Now, Methos knew that he had to leave again, and that had kept him awake for hours.

Suddenly, Methos' conscious mind took in loud pounding. Opening his eyes sleepily, Methos looked around his apartment, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. At the same moment, he realized that he was feeling immortal presence, making the pounding noise. ***Heavens, I must have really been dragged out that I didn't sense Duncan's quickening.***

Putting on a robe and wiping a hand through his tousled hair, Methos went to get his sword. He knew absolutely that the presence was Duncan McLeod's but he had nagged the Highlander so often about never
assuming that he didn't want to get caught out himself.

Unlocking the several locks, Methos finally opened the door and looked in the face of Duncan McLeod. "What is it, McLeod? Can't a guy get any rest around here without the Scots' barbarian hordes rousting them?"

Looking especially handsome, McLeod entered and looked around. Surely, if the old man was planning on leaving, there would be evidence piled around. After a few seconds of looking, the Highlander turned
to look at the oldest immortal. "I wanted to talk to you . . . about yesterday?"

Methos' inscrutable face was securely in place. His baritone took on an inflection of suspicion. "What about yesterday? Didn't you enjoy my cake?"

A deep sadness entered McLeod's eyes. ***So that's the way it's going to be; I should have expected nothing less.*** Taking a deep breath, the Scot began. "Methos, you must think me dense and idiotic. You
let me talk about my painful memories of slavery, but we neglected to talk about your time as . . . as a slave. I'm sorry. Just the little contact that I had with the institution . . well, it must have been horrible for you."

Methos went dead quiet. Images of whipping, violations, even death floated through his mind, but none of those could he really reveal to this sometimes naïve Highlander. In a whisper, Methos said, "It's like anything in a long life, Mac. It had its good moments and a lot, too many, bad moments. But, I didn't go to see you last night to discuss my past - that's already been exposed too much as it is."

McLeod looked into the beautiful, greenish-gold eyes and asked, "Why did you really come over last night, Methos?"

Methos' eyes dropped to the floor. He stood absolutely still for a few seconds, feeling at a true disadvantage being dressed in only a robe. "I . . . I guess I just wanted to have a final celebration with you before I leave for warmer climes."

When only McLeod's eyes reacted to the news, Methos continued, "It's been good seeing you and Joe again, but these very old bones are hungering for the warmth of the tropics so I'm off to sunny Mexico on
tomorrow's 10:00 am flight. Just think a winter spent on the beaches of Mexico. I think I can put up with temperatures in the 80's or better." Methos tried to smile at his friend but failed miserably.

McLeod continued to stand looking at the older immortal without saying a word for several seconds, then he took two steps toward the man, stopping just out of range of Methos' long arms, he finally replied, "I see."

"Well, I'm glad you do. I can't believe that you would be surprised, after all you know that I don't like cold weather, and Seacouver is certainly not a tropical refuge for we, older citizens, who treasure the warmth of the Sun Belt.

McLeod dropped his head onto his chest, seemingly pondering the recent words of the 5000 year old man. Suddenly, he raised his head and asked, "What did you do before plane flight? Where did you go in the winter then?"

McLeod gasped when he saw the harshness then the bleakness that lit the ever changing green-gold eyes. The two men had talked about the past a few times since that fateful day when McLeod had thrown Methos up against his SUV and proclaimed that they were through. The pain that McLeod now saw was like being flayed alive. Never had the past seemed so close as in those green eyes in turmoil.

"I . . . I'm sorry, Methos. I didn't mean to pry. I'm trying . . . really trying, but I care about you, and I was just wondering. Forget I asked, please."

All of this time Methos had said nothing but once again his desire for and love of the Highlander invaded his thoughts. He really couldn't stand to see his friend so upset - leaving certainly was the only solution to this constant raw irritation that occurred every time the two immortals met.

Sighing Methos replied, "No problem, McLeod. Nothing is ever just black and white. Slavery was just like anything. It was a business so when you were a slave, you had to learn to survive, but your fate was not in your own hands so you did things that weren't . . . pleasant and then you went on to the next time. Same things with winters; you didn't have any alternative, so you lived with it . . . or died. Forgive me for bringing back all of that. I should have left Mr. Lincoln dead and buried, just like so many other things."

"No, Methos. Thank you for remembering the day. Too often we stick our heads in the sand like ostriches. I guess I do that as much as anyone. I created an image, forgetting that my images aren't gospel. I'm glad you came over, but I wish you wouldn't leave so soon. You've only been here a few weeks. I was hoping we could . . . see each other more."

Methos smiled sadly. "Don't worry, McLeod; you'll probably see me again - either here or in Paris, when the weather gets warmer. You know I can't stay away from Joe's music and beer."

McLeod's doe-like eyes took on a new wistfulness. "Do you have to leave tomorrow? Tomorrow's Valentine's Day, and I was hoping we could spend the day together. I've got a sort of special day planned, and . . . well, I hoped you'd be there."

Methos shook his head in wonder, "McLeod, McLeod ? you're the only 400 year old man that I know who is romantic enough that he remembers Valentine's Day. Well, you certainly don't need me to celebrate. There are lots of beautiful ladies in Seacouver who will be happy to receive candy, red roses, and the charm of the son of the Clan McLeod."

"I see. Is that all I mean to you? You come into my life every few months; then you leave again. Don't you want more from our friendship than that? I want to be able to enjoy the every day things with you, Methos. Things like Valentine's Day, gossip about what we've done since we last met; listening to good music and playing chess. I want so much for our friendship to be comfortable, but it never will be if I have to wonder, every single day we're together, if that's the day you're going to leave."

McLeod's statement shook the old Immortal. He had figured that McLeod would certainly prefer visits of short duration - after the Kronos debacle. No commitment - no possessiveness - no deep feelings. Standing silent for a moment, Methos shrugged and finally said, "I . . . I don't know what to say, Duncan. I know I hurt you a great deal when I didn't tell you about Death. It hasn't been easy for me either. I just figured that it might be better if we didn?t spend too much time together. You know my 5000 years are always lurking. The old saying, 'Familiarity breeds contempt', is sometimes true and I just didn't want to push my luck."

McLeod nodded, "I haven't made it easy for you; I know. But, couldn't you just stay through Valentine's Day? I'm sure there must be flights to Mexico every day - would it hurt so much to stay one more day?"

Telling himself that he was making a mistake, Methos responded, "No, of course, not, but . . . well, it will just postpone the inevitable. Besides, this is Valentine's Day and I don't blind date or double date."

McLeod laughed, "No problem with that. I haven't spoken to anyone about plans for the day. I just thought we could go to Joe's and enjoy the new group, playing there. I could cook some Methos' pleasers and we could just enjoy the day, is that so bad."

Although it sounded absolutely fantastic to the older immortal, Methos forced himself to reply with a voice that sounded incredibly blasé. "No, that sounds good, Mac. That will give me a chance to see Joe
again. What time?"

"How about 10 o'clock?"

"In the morning? What kind of celebration are you planning, Highlander - a brunch?"

Smiling his most charming smile, McLeod replied, "Sounds good to me; I thought we could start out with a breakfast-lunch kind of thing and then spend the day together, okay?"

"Well, much against my better judgment, okay, but this better be good. By the way, since I don't plan to get up until 9:59, how am I supposed to change the flight day for my trip to Mexico?"

Duncan's face suddenly dropped into deep sadness as he was reminded of Methos' leaving. Then, Duncan's face scrunched into a half smile/half frown, "Weellllll, if you trust me, my travel agent can handle the whole thing. Just give me your ticket, and I'll drop it by on my way home; he can get it all fixed up ? then I'll pick it up when I pick you up tomorrow."

Handing his ticket to the Highlander, Methos looked at his friend with suspicion, "It's really nice of you to do this, but I'm sure I could find time today to make the change; if you'd let me know your travel agent's address."

McLeod looked aghast, "And let you go out into the bitter cold of a Seacouver winter? No Way. I will sacrifice myself since I'm the one who asked you to stay for one more day. Besides, my travel agent is kind of funny about this kind of thing. He might think that you're trying to cheat him, since you aren't a regular customer."

"Oh come on, Duncan - pull the other one, but I do have some more packing to do and some things to put in storage so it will be helpful. I'll see you tomorrow around 10:00 am and bring lots of money because I plan to be hungry."

Duncan McLeod headed for the door, pleased that the meeting had gone better than he had expected. Now, all he had to do was some packing of his own, see his travel agent, and, of course, plan his Valentine surprise. As he closed the door after saying good-bye to the ancient one, he thought of one more thing that he should do - ***Do hospitals take reservations for private rooms? I might just need one after Methos finds out what I'm planning as his Valentine Surprise.***

February 14:

Methos was finally finished packing and putting everything else in storage. These short visits to Seacouver just weren't worth it anymore. He spent more time packing than actually being there. ***Well, it's your own fault, Old Man. You're the one who's fallen for the Highlander. You're the one who just can't seem to break away from the man. Stay away from him for awhile and maybe you'll find some other reason to live.***

Methos knew that he wouldn't, but he hadn't survived the last five thousand years on hope. He sighed heavily, looked at his watch, and sank gracefully to the sofa to await the Scots. He didn't have long to wait because the handsome Highlander was always punctual.

Methos threw open the door to his apartment, without sword in hand, knowing that this would draw comments from his friend. Duncan McLeod stood in the doorway and stared at the slender man who he had come to need in his life. "What's the matter, Old Man - you planning to commit suicide soon?"

Methos grimaced at him, merely mouthing, "Ha Ha."

Methos walked to the couch to pick up his coat when he stopped suddenly upon hearing McLeod ask, "Are you sure about leaving? I really would like you to stay. I've found that I like having you around. I know we haven't always been on the best terms - that's mostly my fault - but I want you to stay with me, please."

Methos turned around, trying to read the seemingly sincerely look in the Scots' eyes. Then the ancient immortal shook his head briefly. Turning his devastating greenish-gold eyes onto the man he loved, "I . .. I think it's best if I go; don't want to wear out my welcome." Then with an incredibly sad smile, he continued, "Besides, you know how I feel about the cold and Mexico will feel so good for the next few months, even if I can't drink the water."

McLeod smiled affectionately at his friend, "I never knew you drank water anywhere."

The corners of the beautiful mouth turned up slightly, "Well, there is that, but I will drink the beer. Do you have my ticket for tomorrow's flight?"

"Well, actually, I was able to get you a redeye flight for late this evening. I know you don't like those types, but this way, we can have the day together, then you can board the flight."

Methos was just ready to say something about the arrangement when he shut his mouth quickly ? after all, he wasn't going to see Mac for a long time so better to say nothing. "Great, shall we get going; I'm starved."

As Methos shut and locked the door to the apartment he maintained in Seacouver, it felt like a part of his life was coming to an end. McLeod's gesture of asking Methos to stay in town was just that because he knew that very soon the Scot would get on with his busy life and the female population of the Western Hemisphere would no longer be lonely.

The day rushed by - even though Methos tried to savor and hold each moment of it. The brunch was delicious. Duncan McLeod certainly knew how to select the finest dining places. The conversation fed the
aching heart of the 5000 year old immortal, but all too soon it was over. Methos suggested that they head to the airport to relieve McLeod of the necessity of entertaining him but the Scot was having none of it.

For the next several hours, the two friends walked, talked, saw a movie, talked some more, visited Joe, and even went ice skating ? an activity Methos refused to participate in until the gorgeous Scot skated over and
held out his hands lovingly in invitation. By the end of the day, both men were exhausted but the tension between them had all but disappeared. ***Sure, we get along well, when McLeod knows I'm leaving, and he won't have to put up with me for . . . maybe years.***

Finally, McLeod suggested that they better be getting to the airport because international flights had longer pre-flight check in times. "Mac, I can get a taxi to go to the airport; save you the long trip back."

The light in the brown eyes lit up, "No way, Old Man. I'm taking you to the airport so you might as well not argue."

The drive to the airport was quiet but comfortable. When they pulled into the short term parking, Methos turned to his friend. "I know I scoffed a lot about Valentine's Day, but I got you something. I figured I'd give it to you now."

Duncan looked at the small package, but didn't take it. He looked at Methos with a smile, "Thanks Methos, but I'd rather you'd wait, we still have a couple hours until the flight, why don't you give it to me then?"

McLeod got out of the car, not really noticing the extremely puzzled look on his friend's face. Methos got out to get his luggage, but when he got to the rear of the car, his luggage was missing. Turning around looking, he noticed that McLeod was already checking his luggage in with the sidewalk check-in. ***I don't get Duncan, one minute he's talking about waiting until later to get his present, and the next, he's rushing through my getting out of here.***

The two men walked into the main terminal. "Why don't you relax Adam, I'll see about your sword and presenting your ticket for a boarding pass."

"Thanks, Mac, but I can do it myself."

"Hey, consider it my Valentine's gift to you."

"Yeah, but it's an international flight; how about my passport and stuff."

"Don't worry, my travel agent friend took care of all of that."

For the next several minutes, Methos relaxed, contemplating asking for another draft beer, but decided against it. He didn't want McLeod, thinking that he was drinking to console himself over leaving.

Finally, Methos noticed Mac approaching. He directed him to the First Class Lounge for the airline where a beautiful buffet was set up. Both men filled plates, took drinks, and settled in a small corner of the spacious lounge, to wait.

"Mac, I didn't book First Class originally, what did your travel agent friend do?"

"Oh, he was able to get you a better deal and an upgrade. Be grateful, Old Man."

Both men sat back and relaxed. The talk became even more convivial with the free liquor being provided. Finally, the boarding call for First Class passengers was heard and the two got up and headed to the
boarding area. Methos turned around to shake Mac's hand when the Highlander suddenly took the slim figure into a hearty embrace.

McLeod stepped back quickly and said, "Take care, Adam and see you soon." With that he turned around and left. Methos stood stunned for a moment but then moved down the line and boarded the plane. He
realized suddenly that he had not given his gift to McLeod but certainly Mac's swift departure said that he really didn't want to accept it.

Since he was boarding First Class, Methos knew that it would still be a few minutes before boarding would be complete. His heart was aching so much that he decided to close his eyes and act like he was resting. Noises of boarding passengers developed all around him, but Methos gave no reaction until a very familiar voice asked, "Hmmm, is anyone sitting in this seat?"

Methos' eyes flew open - McLeod! "Mac, what are you doing here? Are you going to Mexico?"

Mac smiled shyly, "Uh no, I'm going to the French Riveria."

"Well, I hate to tell you, but you're on the wrong flight; this plane goes to Mexico."

"Uh, no it doesn't, Adam; it's going to the French Riveria via New York, and Paris."

Methos suddenly sat up straight, "What?????"

Mac sat down quickly, effectively blocking the other immortal from getting up. He looked directly into the face of the man he needed more than breathing and said, "Adam, I know you're mad at me, but I had my travel agent change your Mexico flight to the Riveria and then book me a flight as well." Methos continued to just stare at the Scot as if he had lost his mind. McLeod got more and more nervous - this didn't seem to be working out right.

McLeod tried again, "Well, this is a tropical place too, and well, think of it as my Valentine's present to you."

"Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod, let me out of here. How could you do such a thing?"

Duncan preferred to answer the literal question rather than attempt to answer the more dangerous question. "Well, it was really pretty easy - Etienne, my travel agent made the reservations while I spent yesterday, storing my possessions and packing, then I . . ."

"STOP! That's not what I meant and you know it"

"Oh, well, . . .oh, well." ***It's better to go onto the offensive even if it gets me killed.*** "Well, it's all your fault; I kept asking you to stay, and you were determined to leave, so I figured if you wouldn't stay with me, then I would go with you. I have a good friend who is letting me have his villa in Provence for the next three
months. For some reason, he wants to go where there's snow so he can ski. Isn't that funny?"

When he saw that Methos was not laughing, McLeod shut up and waited, expecting the Old Man to demand that the flight attendant get him off of the flight, but nothing like that happened. Methos just sat.

After several minutes, the flight attendants began announcing that the flight was departing, now McLeod knew that Methos would demand to get off, but still he sat and said nothing.

After they were airborne, Methos finally turned to his friend, "Why did you go to such lengths, Mac? I figured I wore out my welcome in the first week. The tension between us was so high sometimes, I thought
it would come to swords. I'm getting too old for this, you Highland barbarian, what's going on?"

Suddenly, it was as if the two men were in their own world. No one else existed. "Methos, I've done a lot of thinking in the last few weeks. I know I want you with me - wherever you go, I'll be there too. We don't have to commit to anything or do anything. We don't even have to stay on the French Riveria for three months. I guess I just wanted to show you how important you are to me. You like the warmth, and I like . . . love you so I thought they were a perfect combination."

The green-gold eyes began to change to a deeper green as emotion flooded into them. In an incredibly shy voice which showed his deep insecurity, Methos asked, "Love? - you mean like one friend for another?"

McLeod reached forward and gently caressed the smooth skin along the beautiful neck. Then he placed a delicate kiss on the soft lips of his beloved Methos. Leaning back slightly so he could see the amazed
look on his friend's face, "No, I mean the kind of love that I have for you ? the worship, adore, and lust after kind of love. I'm willing to wait though. I figure ? if you're willing - we can spend our time on the Riveria, getting to know each other. Maybe I can convince you how I really feel about you and then, well, maybe . . .you'll find that you like me too."

The total love that flooded into those deep green eyes caused McLeod to emit a gasp. Then the two men were locked in an embrace which threatened to get out of hand until they remembered where they were.
They broke the embrace and except for the flight attendant who was looking envious, no one had even noticed.

The two men relaxed back against their seats, sitting with their shoulders right next to each other. Duncan's hand found the slender fingers of his friend and entwined them. After smiling at each other, they sat quietly for a few minutes until Methos sat up quickly and said, "I forgot to give you your Valentine's present."

Reaching into his duffel bag, Methos pulled out the small package and handed it to his friend. Opening it slowly, McLeod finally saw the gift inside. It was a candy heart like the ones available around Valentine's Day, but this one had been handmade. McLeod stared at it for several minutes, then looked up into the moist green eyes. "If I had seen this earlier, I would have known."

Methos nodded, "Why do you think I wanted to give it to you in the car?"

Looking once again, McLeod leaned over and kissed his friend and soon-to-be lover. As he did so his thumb gently caressed the words on the heart:


HOLD MY HEART UNTIL I RETURN TO YOU



THE END