Nine Lives	    Nine Lives

 by Phelis

  

 Author's website: http://www.e-fic.com/freedomfiction/phelis/index.html

 Disclaimer: All Highlander and Due South characters belong to their
creators, and not the authors. Not for profit, just for fun. 

 Author's Notes: This is for S, here's hoping life improves.

 Story Notes: The geography of Borneo used in this story has, perforce, to
be completely imaginary. But the monkeys are real

 This story is a sequel to: Making a Mark 

 

 Methos sagged back into the sofa, legs stretching across onto the coffee
table automatically, wondering why it was that an evening spent standing
around had left him feeling so drained. There were some things about the
modern world that he would hate to live without, like refrigeration and a
really good mattress. Pity they came with a set of social values that
included making small talk while holding a drink you weren't really
supposed to drink. 

 He tensed at the initial tingle, relaxing again as it was accompanied by
the sound of keys in the door. Ray had finally finished his shift, later
than expected, but that was nothing unusual. At least he had a few days
off now before he switched back to the early starts. Methos grimaced at
the memory of the five am alarms, before returning to the more pleasant
thoughts of his plans for Ray over the extended weekend. 

 "Hi," Ray said as he perched on the sofa next to him. Methos knew as soon
as he saw the dejected slump of his shoulders that his lover had had a
more than usually hard day. Twisting around behind Ray, he put his hands
on the bared neck and dug his fingers into the tight muscles. Ray rolled
his head appreciatively, encouraging the massage, before looking at him
tiredly. "Something happened?" Methos asked finally. 

 Ray grunted as Methos' fingers deftly loosened a painful knot just
beneath his shoulder blade. "Carter had to shoot a perp today. We spent
the rest of the shift talking to IA and doing paperwork." 

 "The man died?" 

 "Yeah. In my arms, real romantic." Ray's voice lowered and his hands
clenched as his eyes lost focus, clearly replaying the scene inside his
head. He came back to the present and muttered, "Stupid jerk." 

 Methos was thankful that at least it was only Ray's partner, not Ray
himself who had shot the criminal. "Do you want a beer?" 

 "No. You have one. I think I might go to bed. I'm whacked." 

 "Then I'll join you." 

 Ray stretched and yawned. "Did the party go okay?" 

 Methos pulled a face. "MacLeod enjoyed it. You didn't miss a thing." The
Highlander had recently persuaded Methos that on his next extended stay in
Seacouver, he should give some guest tutorials at the University. The head
of the department had decided this was a perfect excuse for an end of
semester soirée for the newly arrived Dr Pierson. Methos didn't
mind the academics so much, but he could have done without having to fend
off some fairly persistent passes from a couple of oversexed teaching
assistants. 

 He stood, held out his hand and pulled Ray up. "At least you've got no
more work talk till Tuesday." 

 "Ooh, yeah. Some down time will be real good about now. I don't know if
four days is enough though." 

 "We'll just have to make them worthwhile, then." 

 Ray just grinned. He was too tired to make love, but they talked about
minor things and kissed quietly until Ray fell asleep. Methos lay awake a
little while longer, thinking about the soirée. Despite his dislike
of academic politics, Methos had to admit that being back in Seacouver was
pleasant - spending time with Ray, Joe and MacLeod, and dispensing wisdom
to the ungrateful masses. Now that he had bought a house here, on which
Ray paid rent, he couldn't even complain about the accommodation any more.
No, he thought, drifting into sleep, life was quite good at the moment. 

 *There was a feeling of unreality about him and an oppressive darkness
permeating the air. He blinked to clear his vision but the strange
distortion persisted, as if he'd been trapped behind warped, smoky walls
of glass. The oppressive atmosphere unsettled him and accompanied a
curious tension that made his skin prickle and the fine hairs on his neck
and arms stand on end. Amidst this, he became aware of a gnawing hunger
within himself. He tried to recall why he was hungry or when he'd last
eaten, but he couldn't think beyond the almost painful need for
sustenance. He looked around for something, anything, to assuage the
emptiness. * 

 *There was nothing. * 

 *Nothing in sight around him, edible or otherwise, and no sounds to
indicate he was not completely isolated. He wondered vaguely if he should
be more alarmed by this, but it wasn't the first time he'd ever been
alone, left ignorant and abandoned, yearning for something he couldn't, or
wouldn't, name. His thoughts provided little distraction from the hunger,
which had become an incessant ache in his belly. He realised he was
starving as the pain and craving intensified. It was like a living thing
trying to claw its way free, uncaring of anything other than surcease from
the overpowering urge to feed. * 

 *The sensation of wetness and warmth on his skin made him blink suddenly.
His nostrils flared at the richly seductive aroma of fresh meat and his
mouth flooded with saliva. His eyes focused on the dark liquid coating his
hands and fixed avidly on the steaming flesh clutched in his stained
fingers. He opened his mouth, wetting his lips in anticipation, when a
blast of wind gusted around him. He felt the chill acutely against his
stomach and shivered. Concerned, he ignored the clamouring need for food,
and glanced down at himself to find the cause for that peculiarly exposed
feeling. * 

 *Where the skin covering his chest used to flow smoothly from ribs to
stomach, there was nothing but a raw, gaping hole. His belly was torn open
in a wide swath across his torso, just beneath his ribcage, ragged bits of
flesh dangling like grisly tassels from the edges. Blood still flowed from
the ghastly wound, running down his belly, groin and thighs in inky black
trails against his pale skin. Fascinated, he watched organs move within
the shadowed cavity of his body. Recalling his medical knowledge, he
peered more closely and found the anomaly he'd subconsciously noticed.
Something was missing. * 

 *Against his will, he raised his eyes back to the meat in his hands. For
the first time he noticed the tiny strips of skin caught in his
fingernails. He saw that the wetness was blood from the gaping wound he'd
ripped to appease the maddening hunger. At that realisation, the craving
reasserted itself with a vengeance. His mind froze, horrified, as his
hands raised his own liver up to his face to be consumed. He was helpless
to stop himself, helpless against the urge to devour, and as the steaming,
pulpy mass reached his mouth . . . He screamed.* 

 He was still screaming when he awoke from the nightmare that probably
saved his life. Only the instincts of millennia allowed him to avoid the
lethal cut as Ray's sword sliced with deadly intent through the air. He
rolled off the bed, his mind working furiously, trying to remember where
he'd left his own sword. Bugger, he'd left it in the living room. His mind
worked furiously as he tried to fathom what was happening. 

 First things first - disarm or disable. He didn't want to kill his 
assailant- but he didn't want to die either. Ray came around to where he
lay beside the bed and struck, frustrated only by the pillow Methos thrust
between his body and the sword, wrapping it. He pushed back on the trapped
weapon and forced Ray to move back, preventing him from freeing the sword.
Methos found the fight as eerie as it was terrifying.  Even weirder
than the reality of the attack was Ray's utter silence. His expression was
empty, as were his eyes, and apart from the insistent use of the weapon,
he was curiously passive. He could have dislodged his sword with a little
more effort, but did not. Methos dropped the pillow and gripped Ray's
hands, trying to prise them off the hilt. It was like trying to bend
steel. He punched Ray in the stomach, hard enough to burst internal
organs, but still the grip didn't relax, although the cop hunched over the
pain. Methos hit him again, this time in the jaw, and Ray collapsed. Now
the sword fell out of lax hands and Methos grabbed it. Ray wasn't quite
unconscious. Methos remedied that with a blow from the sword hilt. Now to
secure the man, and find out what the hell was going on. 

 He used Ray's discarded tie to bind his hands and found another for his
feet. He lifted the unconscious man onto the bed, and then took the sword
and Ray's gun out of the bedroom. He found his own, and stowed it under
the bed. He wondered if he should tie Ray to the headboard, but thought he
could probably handle him, hobbled as he was. He rubbed his hands tiredly
over his face. Just a few hours ago, the man beside him had been kissing
him and murmuring endearments. So what had driven him to try and murder
him in his sleep? 

 Ray awoke with a gasp, and seeing Methos beside him, suddenly smiled and
tried to reach for him. "Hi ... hey!" He stared at his tied hands. "Adam,
I don't do this shit, I told you. Take them off." He held up his hands
expectantly, a frown lining his face. 

 Methos pushed his hands down to the bed. "Not until you tell me why you
tried to kill me." 

 The frown grew deeper, and was now coloured by anger. "Is this a sick
joke?" He tried to sit up but Methos pinned him down by the shoulders. 

 "Ray - not ten minutes ago, I woke up within a split second of you taking
my head." 

 "Bullshit I did! You're making this up!" 

 Methos reached beside him and showed Ray the sliced pillow. Ray's eyes
went wide with shock. "That was very nearly me. You don't remember,
obviously." 

 "No ... Adam ... why would I...? Sleepwalking, maybe? You said I did it
before, after I ... killed that guy." 

 "Not like this, Ray. Then you were just off the sofa curled up in a ball.
This time, you were swinging like a master." 

 "No," Ray whispered. "Come on, Adam, this is a joke, right? Some kind of
tease-the-new-guy, Immortal hazing thing?" 

 The hope belying his words touched Methos, for all his puzzlement and
anger. Ray really didn't know - and obviously didn't consciously want to
kill him. "It's not a joke - I wish it was. " 

 "Adam...." Ray pleaded. "Methos...." 

 "I'm sorry." Methos stroked his lover's anxious face. "Look, I'm going
downstairs to call MacLeod, ask him to come over. You stay here." 

 "I would never kill you, you know that." 

 "Not while you're in your right mind, I know. Just stay there, okay?" 

 He got dressed and then gingerly undid the ties. Ray looked ashamed and
wouldn't meet Methos' eyes. "Ray, don't worry about it." He touched Ray's
cheek. "I'm not angry with you." Ray caught his hand and rubbed it against
his face. 

 Methos bent and kissed him. He saw the pain in Ray's eyes, but he had no
more comfort to offer. Whatever this was, wasn't amenable to just a hug
and kind words. 

 He went downstairs and called the Highlander. Duncan wasn't happy. "God,
Methos, it's three am! Did you have a fight with Ray?" 

 "This isn't funny, MacLeod. I need you to come over, right now. I'll
explain when you get here - just hurry, please?" 

 The tension in his voice must have alerted Duncan to the seriousness of
the request, since the Scot agreed to be there shortly. Methos hung up. He
poured himself a Scotch and thought about what had just happened, but he
could make no sense of it. 

 Duncan's knock came within ten minutes. Methos let him in. "Now tell me."
MacLeod ordered, without ceremony. Methos told him the bare facts and the
Highlander looked at him in astonishment. 

 "Why the hell would he want to kill you?" Duncan asked. 

 "I have absolutely no idea. We haven't quarrelled, the only thing that's
happened is...." Methos stiffened. Ray's Quickening distorted as if it had
become over-amplified, then suddenly flickered out. "Something's wrong." 

 "What?" Duncan said, puzzled, but Methos didn't wait, tearing up the
stairs with the Highlander hot on his heels. Ray wasn't in the bedroom.
Methos opened the door of the bathroom and felt his gorge rise at the
sight. Ray was slumped on the floor, dead - which was the natural state
for someone who had carved most of his vital organs from his body and who
was now lying in a massive pool of congealing blood and gobbets of flesh.
Methos turned and looked at the Highlander, who looked as nauseated as
Methos felt. "Oh, Christ, Methos." 

 "Help me, Mac." The straight razor Ray had used was still buried in his
abdomen. Methos wondered how he'd stayed conscious long enough to use it,
and knew he would not revive until they removed it. Duncan threw some
towels over the bloody mess so they wouldn't slip while they lifted the
lifeless body into the bath tub. "We need to clean this up - clean him up.
If he revives like that...." He didn't need to explain to the Scot how
traumatising that would be. 

 Duncan went downstairs, found a large bin liner and scooped the bloody
towels and the worst of the mess up and into the bag, sealing it. Methos
concentrated on wiping the pale skin clean and washing the worst gore off.
He'd done some pretty horrible things in five thousand years but cleaning
the torn corpse of his lover was one of the worst chores he'd had to
confront. 

 At last the bathroom looked less like a charnel house, and Duncan stepped
outside while Methos removed the blade and waited for Ray to awaken.
Methos held him down as he struggled against the confusion and pain. "Ad
... Adam?" 

 "Yes, Ray. Stay still - you're healing." 

 "I got hurt?" 

 "Yes, you got hurt. Lie still." It seemed forever before the messy gashes
healed up, and there still were hollows under the skin where large bits of
flesh had been excised. Methos helped Ray stand but he swayed and would
have fainted if Methos hadn't caught him. "Easy, Ray. Lean on me." Duncan
was waiting with a blanket and Methos enfolded his lover in it before half
dragging him to the bed with Duncan's help. Ray was unconscious again by
the time they got there.  

 Duncan stood and watched as Methos stroked Ray's face, his worry plain to
see. "He doesn't know what happened?" 

 "He doesn't remember a thing, Mac. What if he tries to cut his head off
next time?" 

 Duncan winced, knowing it was possible that Ray could do just that.
"We'll have to watch him - and secure him," Duncan said. 

 "I don't know what this is. I've never seen anything like this." 

 "You have - at least, I have." Duncan waited until Methos remembered. 

 "Shit - of course, Ahriman. But you defeated him, MacLeod." 

 "Do you really think that he is the only evil force in the world?" 

 "But why Ray - why me, for Gods sake? I'm no champion, nor is he." 

 "I don't know, old man. For now, we have to concentrate on keeping you
two alive until we get some answers. I think you both better come stay at
the loft until we get this sorted out. I'll get him dressed, you pack a
bag for you both." 

 It would be a squeeze but Duncan needed to keep his friends where he
could watch them both. The strain on Methos' face told him that they had
better find an answer to this - he couldn't bear to lose Ray. He busied
himself packing for the two of them while Duncan found clean clothes for
his lover. Ray woke as Duncan was dressing him with a shirt. "Wha's
happ'ning?" His voice was slurred. 

 "You're sick, Ray. You're coming to the loft." 

 "Doan get sick. 'M Immortal." The cop's eyes were already drooping shut
again. His state was unlike any revival from death that Duncan had seen. 

 "Well, there's a first time for everything. Can you stand up?" 

 "Yep." Duncan helped him up, but Ray's legs went from under him
immediately, forcing Duncan to hold him up by the waist. Terrific, Duncan
thought. I hope we don't run into anyone he knows. 

 Methos came back in, his face grim. "I've got his gun and his sword. How
is he?" 

 "Groggy - disoriented. Have you got his keys? Help me with him." 

 The two men helped Ray stagger to Duncan's car, where they put him in the
back seat with his head resting on Methos' lap. Duncan saw his friend's
white, worried expression in the rear-view mirror. We'll beat this,
Methos, he promised silently. 

 When they reached the loft, Ray was out of it again, which was beginning
to seriously worry Duncan. Even with the horrific injuries and the amount
of healing required, the most Ray should have been was a little tired -
but he was unconscious, unrousable. By silent agreement, Methos and Duncan
put him on the bed, and Methos undressed him down to his boxers. "Do you
think we need to tie him up?" Methos asked. The reliance on Duncan
betrayed his anxiety. 

 "I think so. I'll try and stay awake while you get some sleep, but if I
nod off, he might hurt you, or himself." 

 Duncan found some rope - Methos insisted on cushioning them with cloth
even though Ray's Immortal healing processes would prevent permanent
damage. Duncan waited until both men were settled. Methos wrapped himself
unselfconsciously around his bound lover. In other circumstances, Duncan
would have found this sweet, but in the present, it just showed how
worried the old man was. Duncan sat on the sofa with a book, hoping he
could at least stay awake until dawn and swap shifts with Methos. 

 He didn't last that long, and came awake to a hoarse cry. "MacLeod!" 

 Methos! He ran to the bed where Ray had his hands clenched around Methos'
throat. The older man was purple in the face trying to pry the hands away
from him. Duncan punched Ray unconscious, but Methos still had to unwrap
the choking hands. He fell back gasping for air. "Woke up and he got me,"
he managed to say as he rubbed his neck. 

 "I'll get more rope. You'd better move to the sofa." Duncan tied Ray's
wrists by a long cord to the bedpost, allowing him to lie comfortably, but
not get up. When sure he was secure, Duncan returned to Methos. "Would you
like a drink?" 

 Methos shook his head. "Just sleep, if I can. He's so strong when he's
like that. I mean, he's no ninety pound weakling any way, but it's like
fighting Silas." 

 Duncan grimaced, being well able to imagine the feel of the dead
Immortal's grip. "Get some rest, old man." 

 Methos lay down with his arm over his eyes. He didn't sleep, nor did
Duncan, and it was only a bare ten minutes later that they both heard a
choking sound from the bed. They found Ray had managed to wrap the cord
around his neck and was strangling himself. Duncan shouted and pushed Ray
up the bed to relieve the pressure while Methos got his little knife and
cut the cord. Before Duncan could protest, he stabbed Ray neatly in the
heart, killing him so quickly that there was virtually no blood. 

 "Why, Methos?" 

 "To save him. To save ourselves," Methos said tiredly. "And so we can get
some sleep. Untie his hands and feet, Mac. I'll take the knife out in the
morning - well, later." It was already pre-dawn. Duncan could see that
Methos was exhausted, and he felt little better himself. With Ray 'dead',
they could relax - for a while. 

 Methos crawled back into the bed next to the corpse of his lover, and
Duncan managed to get some rest on the sofa. It was nine o'clock before he
woke. He checked the bed. Ray hadn't moved, he was still dead. Methos
looked frail and tired. Even in sleep the lines on his face were still
tense . Duncan felt stiff, unsettled, the events of the night beyond his
ken. He must call Joe, he decided. He needed to know if the Watchers had
come across anything like this. He put coffee on, then made a quick call
to the Watcher on his mobile. When he finished, Methos was awake and
wandering around in his boxers. "Coffee will be a minute or two." Duncan
advised. 

 Methos nodded as he dragged his clothes on. He came over to the counter
and stared at the coffee maker. "How long are you going to keep him like
that?' Duncan asked, jerking his head back to the bed. 

 "As long it takes." 

 "I called Joe." Methos nodded again. "You said something happened...?" 

 "His partner shot someone - if it had been Ray, I'd say it was him
reacting to that, but even so.... you know how long I've been around, and
I've never encountered anything like this." 

 "Could he be possessed?" 

 "I would be tempted to say no, if it weren't for your experiences. Know
any good exorcists?" 

 "We could take him to Holy Ground. See if that had any effect. May be the
island...?" 

 Methos looked at him seriously. "And for how long, MacLeod? He's still
relatively new to his Immortality. He still needs people, mortals, around
him. He doesn't know how to be alone for extended periods." 

 "I wish Darius was still alive. He might have been able to help." 

 "The guy's a cop, Mac, not a monk. Are you suggesting we keep him walled
up, just to keep him alive? To keep me alive? He'd rather be dead, I
think." 

 "There's always that option." Duncan saw Methos considering the
unpleasant idea, and then rejecting it. 

 "No - we have to find another answer." Methos said finally. 

 "It was like he was drugged," Duncan said, thinking over the strange
evening. "Or under a hypnotic suggestion. He shouldn't have been so
confused after he revived." 

 "The only time I've seen him like that was after he took that Quickening
... oh, gods..." Methos went even paler. 

 "Methos, what is it?" 

 "The Quickening ... Creighton was the one who killed Cassandra." 

 Now it was Duncan's turn to go pale. "That's not possible." 

 "Isn't it? You said Ahriman used Kronos against you. We know that the
essence of the person remains in the one who takes their head. What if Ray
is trying to kill me because Cassandra wanted to?" 

 "But that's crazy, Methos. I've killed people - Kronos - who wanted to
kill you, you've killed people after me. Neither of us have tried to kill
the other while we're asleep." 

 "Well, I've never slept with you, MacLeod." 

 "Guess I might've had a lucky escape in Paris," Duncan said, trying to
make light of things, and got a weary smile from his friend. "Look -
Methos. Have you got any hint at all that Ray's disturbed in any way?" 

 "Apart from being too energetic for his own good, I'd say he was one of
the most stable people I know." 

 "We need help on this," Duncan said emphatically. 

 "We need Sean Burns." The two men looked at each other, each regretting,
in his own way, the useless death of the Immortal psychiatrist. 

 Duncan shook his head. "No point in wishing for the impossible." They
heard the elevator. "That'll be Joe. Do you want to revive Ray?" 

 "No. I want to hear what Joe has to say first." 

 The bluesman came in and frowned a little at Methos' presence. "I hear
our cop was trying to kill you for a change." Duncan winced at the none
too subtle allusion to a long since resolved quarrel between Methos and
Ray. 

 "Laugh all you want, Dawson - the guy nearly killed himself too."
Clutching his coffee cup, Methos stalked off up to the bed, presumably to
watch Ray, even though nothing was going to happen there for a while. 

 Joe looked apologetically at Duncan. "Bad night?" 

 "It wasn't good. Did you find anything?" 

 "Whoa, MacLeod - do I look like a computer? I've got people looking. You
got any ideas at all?" 

 Duncan explained about the shooting, and the possibility of Creighton's
Quickening having affected Ray. Joe rubbed his chin and shook his head.
"What you're describing sounds like a straightforward case of PTSD." 

 "Shell shock?" 

 "Yeah - could be. You know Ray's attitude to killing people." Joe made
his way to the armchair where he sat down heavily. "It's a funny thing.
Some guys after 'Nam came home, things seemed fine, and then something
triggered them off and kablooey!" 

 "You ever heard of someone trying to kill their loved ones in their sleep
before?" 

 "It makes people do the strangest things, Mac." 

 "So what you're saying is that Ray needs to see a psychiatrist." 

 "That'd be where I'd start." 

 "If we take him to a doctor, his career will be over in seconds," Methos
said, walking back into the living room. "Can you imagine what his
department will say if he admits he tried to kill anyone?" 

 "But if he's sick..." 

 "If he's that sick, I don't think modern medicine can help. He's not
insane, Mac - you know that, surely. You can tell that by looking at him.
And if there's another explanation, we should try and find it before we
ruin his life for him." 

 Joe shook his head. "What's with Ray anyway? He's still asleep?" 

 "He's dead," Methos said curtly. "I'll bring him around. Mac?" 

 Methos took the knife out and Duncan took Ray's hands in his, ready to
stop him hurting himself. Ray gasped, then groaned. "Shit. Duncan? What
are you ... where am I?" He tried to sit up, and after Methos nodded,
Duncan let him do so, setting his hands free. Ray rubbed his messy hair
and looked at the two men in confusion. 

 "Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on? And why do I feel
like crap?" 

 Duncan signalled to Methos to let him handle this, and after a dark look,
the Ancient took himself off in search of more coffee. "Ray - do you
remember anything about last night?" 

 "Just some nightmares. I didn't sleep too good - I still feel tired. What
happened?" 

 "You tried to kill Methos with a sword, and when he left you to find me,
we came back and you'd eviscerated yourself pretty good. Look." Duncan
showed him the still conspicuous hollows in his stomach area and on his
hips. 

 "No." Ray whispered, horrified. 

 "We brought you back here and tied you up, but you still managed to
nearly choke him to death. Then you tried to strangle yourself. Methos
finally had to stab you to make sure you didn't hurt yourself or anyone
else." 

 Ray looked at his chest, and felt for the slightly tender spot that
marked the healed injury. "Is he okay? Did I hurt him?" 

 "I'm fine, Ray." Methos said as he sat on the bed and Ray looked at him
shamefacedly. "I'm okay, so are you. We're going to help you." 

 "I'm so sorry, Adam. I couldn't... I mean I wouldn't..." 

 "I know." Methos put his arms around Ray.  "Mac, give me a minute,
will you?" 

 Duncan returned to the sofa where he and Joe could hear Methos talking
quietly, soothingly to Ray. "The poor bastard," Joe said softly. 

 "We might be able to hold off for a few days - he's got some time off
anyway - but sooner or later we'll have to...." He looked up. Ray was
standing there in his jeans, pulling on a shirt. "Do you want some
breakfast, Ray?" 

 "No, I want to get out of here. The sooner I'm away from Adam, the sooner
I can't be hurting him." 

 "No!" The shout came from the other two Immortals at the same time.
Duncan got in first. "Ray, you don't understand. If you can't get to
Methos, as soon as you fall asleep, you try to kill yourself." 

 "So? I heal, don't I?" 

 "This time you have. But next time, you'll probably be more efficient." 

 Methos put his hand on Ray's arm. "Ray, you can't. I don't want you to
go. Whatever this is threatens the two of us. And that's the only way
we'll defeat it - together." 

 "I'll go to a doctor, get some sleeping pills to knock me out..." 

 "Drugs don't work efficiently on Immortals, Ray," Duncan explained
patiently. "You could take a bottle and you might not sleep the whole
night. As soon as they wore off, you'd try and harm yourself." 

 Methos pushed Ray over to the sofa and had little trouble persuading him
to sit before taking a place next to him. He took his hand. "Let us help
you, you're not alone." 

 "But how can I sleep? You gonna kill me off every night like a vampire or
something? How can I go to work? I feel like hell. If I had to work today,
I'd be a menace." 

 Methos looked at Duncan who explained. "We've come up with two ideas. One
is that this is post traumatic stress caused by the shooting yesterday." 

 Ray laughed dryly. "You're kidding me, right? You think I'm stressed over
that? Did I ever tell you about the time Fraser threw me out of a plane?
Or when we got trapped in the ice crevasse? Or when I nearly drowned? I'm
a cop. I may never have shot anyone myself, but I've seen people killed
before. Dammit, Adam, you killed a woman in my living room, remember? And
there was that Creighton guy, too. " 

 "You said you had nightmares for a long time after that woman - Beth
whatever her name was - nearly died." Methos pointed out gently. 

 "Yeah but that was my fault. That guy came at Carter and me with a gun.
Carter didn't have a choice." 

 Duncan broke in, "I think we've established that it's at least possible
that you might have been somewhat traumatised, Ray." 

 Ray snorted in disbelief. "You said you had two explanations - what was
the other one?" 

 "Cassandra." Methos said. 

 "Your old ... " Ray stopped, clearly remembering. 

 "My slave, yes. She hated me enough to try and get Duncan to kill me. She
sent Creighton after me. Maybe she did something that would affect me if I
killed Creighton. Only, you got the Quickening, not me." 

 "But if you got it ..." 

 "Who knows? I think it's quite possible that she could have laid some
kind of suicidal compulsion. That's what I think she'd want." 

 Duncan intervened. "Methos, that's all pure speculation and you know it."


 Methos looked at him sharply. "You have a better idea, MacLeod?" Methos
snapped. "You heard Ray. The idea that this is post traumatic stress just
doesn't make sense. Not for him." 

 "You really have no idea if it is or it isn't." 

 "Guys, none of this helps me." Ray said bleakly. "If it is PTSD, then I
can't work. And if it's some sort of spell, then how do we get rid of it?
This Cassandra chick is dead." 

 "Methos, "Joe said. "Creighton's death was over two years ago. " 

 "I know. But before we get Ray committed, we should wait. It may not
happen again." 

 Ray stood up. "No, Adam. It's too risky. How long do we give it? A day, a
week? What about in a month? I need to get help, before I hurt you." 

 "Sit down, Ray. Mac, why don't you and Joe find us something to eat from
the bakery. Ray and I need to talk - alone." 

 "Are you sure, Methos?" Duncan said quietly. 

 "I can handle it. As long as you," looking at Ray and trying to smile,
"don't fall asleep on me." 

 "Not much chance of that, buddy." 

 "Just give us twenty minutes or so." 

 Joe stood. "I should get going too. See if my people have turned up
anything. But Ray, listen. Don't worry. We'll help." 

 "Both of you?" Ray asked. 

 "Both of us." Joe followed Duncan out.  

 As soon as they were left in peace, Methos took Ray's hands. "Ray, if you
go to a doctor, the first thing he'll do is stop you working." 

 "I know. But Jesus, Adam, it's your life we're talking about." 

 "It's your life too. If you stay here, Mac can watch and keep both of us
from harm. There's also a possibility that it's nothing to do with the
shooting. I have trouble believing you're insane." 

 "You wouldn't be the first guy to think I was." Ray said with a small
smile. 

 "Give us these four days. Don't wreck your life without good reason." 

 "Didn't know you cared, Adam." 

 "I don't. Not one bit." They grinned at each other. "Do you want a
shower?" 

 "Yeah." 

 "I packed a bag. You've got clean clothes." 

 Ray thanked him and disappeared. Methos' calm facade collapsed. He knew
that PTSD was likely to be the explanation, whatever he said to his lover,
and yet ... Ray wasn't the type, and he knew the type only too well. He
expressed his anger. He didn't hold it in. If he wanted to kill Methos,
then Methos would be struggling with him while he was wide awake, not
while he was asleep. Sleep - what a good idea. He was shattered. What rest
he'd had, had been punctuated by nightmares and he kept struggling awake,
thinking Ray was trying to kill one of them. He wished Duncan would return
with breakfast. Methos was hungry. He made a fresh pot of coffee and
Duncan arrived just as it was ready. 

 "Where's Ray?" Duncan said sharply. 

 "Relax. He's having a shower. And he's still alive. I can feel him." 

 "So can I. Sorry. I feel a little jumpy." 

 "Tired too?" Methos reached over and snagged one of the paper bags,
biting into a donut without ceremony. "Night times are going to be fun for
a while." 

 "We need a straight jacket." 

 "And if that doesn't give him nightmares, I can't think what would."
Methos said flatly. 

 "Anything that works is going to. You can't stab him every night. That's
not rest." 

 Methos sighed. "Yeah, I know. One thing's for sure. He can't go back to
work and he has to have someone - you or me, someone strong - watching him
at all times." 

 "He's been in the shower a long time." 

 "I'll go check." 

 "No, I will. Eat your donut." 

 Mac put his head into the bathroom and the yell confirmed that Ray was
alive. "Ooops." Duncan said returning, looking embarrassed. 

 "That'll teach you." 

 "Good thing he doesn't remember me dressing him last night." 

 Ray emerged shortly after, giving Duncan a dirty look. "You want to hold
my John Thomas while I pee, Duncan?" 

 "I just thought..." 

 "You were using all the hot water, Ray," Methos jumped in. "Duncan's
brought food." 

 Ray dove in hungrily. "I could eat a horse." 

 "Good idea. You'll need to eat some extra protein to replace the tissue
you've lost." Duncan said. Ray pulled a face. "Immortality can only go so
far. I'll boil you a couple of eggs. That'll help." 

 "Hey, Duncan. Look, I appreciate your help, but you've got a business to
run." 

 "Okay. So Methos will boil you an egg, won't you, old man?" 

 "Of course. If you don't mind if they bounce." 

 Ray intervened. "I can boil my own goddamn eggs, thanks. Is there any
reason we can't go home during the day? And what are you planning on doing
with me at night?" 

 "You can go home, but we both need to be there. We're only assuming
whatever this is comes out when you're asleep. We really don't know that
for sure. As for night-time, you're the restraint expert, what do you
suggest?" 

 "You tried tying me up." Ray said thoughtfully. 

 "Well, yes, but we didn't know the full extent of what was happening. Now
we do, we can probably do better than we did." 

 "I guess that'll work. Here or our place?" 

 "Here," Duncan answered. "For now. It's easier to keep an eye on things."


 Ray looked at his lover warily. "Is that safe?" 

 "I don't know. But I could always stab you again at the first sign of
trouble." 

 Ray winced. "Does this mean one of you has to do without sleep?" 

 Duncan answered. "For the moment, yes. We'll give it a few days." 

 "I better get some decent manacles." 

 "Let me, Ray. I, uh ... know where you can get things like that." Methos
and Ray looked at Duncan, startled. "Hey, Amanda told me, okay?" 

 "Why, Duncan. I'm learning ever so much about you." Methos purred. 

 "Shut up, old man."  

 In the end, Ray and Methos returned home for the day, while Duncan paid a
visit to a discreet little establishment he knew of, the only one in
Seacouver. He brought his purchase over to the house in the early evening.
Ray's jaw dropped when he saw what he came back with. 

 "No way, José. I'm not getting in that thing. It's a body bag!" 

 "It's not, Ray. Bondage ... uh, people ... use them all the time. They're
designed to be safe, and you can't get out without help. They're a lot
more comfortable than manacles, or so I was told." 

 Methos picked up the Lycra sack. "I have to agree with Mac, Ray. At least
you can get something like a normal night's sleep in this." 

 "It's sick." 

 "You'd prefer to be manacled? Or tied up?" Methos' tone was sharp, worry
and tiredness giving it an edge. "Do you think we would suggest this if it
wasn't absolutely necessary?" 

 "No. I'm sorry. I know you're trying to help. I'll give it a try." 

 Methos and Ray had spent the day working out and trying to be normal, but
the cop was drooping by the time Duncan arrived. It was agreed that
MacLeod would drive them all back to the loft for the night. There was a
message from Joe. Nothing had been found in the Watcher's records of the
situation which depressed them all. Ray finally shook himself. "OK. I'm
done." he announced. "If I don't get some sleep in the next hour or so,
I'm gonna start seeing things. How does this work?" 

 "You don't want dinner?" 

 "Too tired. Let me use the bathroom. Then you can Saran wrap me." 

 Duncan helped Methos and Ray figure out the bizarre bag. There was a
problem in that the thing came with a hood which covered the face. "I
can't wear that, Adam. I get claustrophobic." Ray complained. Fortunately,
the zip locked in place even without the face covering. 

 Methos covered Ray up. Then gave him a brief kiss. "There. Snug as a bug
in a rug. You look like a caterpillar." 

 Ray grimaced. "Great. Like I don't feel stupid enough as it is." 

 "Sleep well." Methos said quietly. Ray rolled on his side and curled up
as best he could. The other two men left him to get some rest. 

 Duncan made a light supper. It was still very early, but Methos was done
in. He poked at the omelette with little enthusiasm. "Eat, Methos." Duncan
chided. "You can't help him by neglecting yourself." 

 With obvious effort, Methos shoved a forkful of food into his mouth.
Duncan let him get on with it, eating his own food and fighting the same
lack of appetite. He was clearing away the dishes and getting out a beer
for them both when he heard Methos run up to the bed platform. "Oh my
god." he heard the older man say, and then he saw Methos shaking and
slapping Ray into awareness. As he approached he could see what had so
horrified Methos. Ray had bitten through his own lower lip, mutilating
himself. Blood poured down his face. "Get a cloth." Methos ordered
harshly, holding his wakening lover to his chest. Duncan returned with a
damp face cloth, and Methos gently cleaned the healing wound and the worst
of the gore. Ray was not fully aware, for which Duncan was grateful. 

 Methos looked at the Highlander. "We'll have to gag him. Some clean
handkerchiefs and a tie, or a scarf, if you have them." In the midst of
his worry, Duncan caught the suddenly wicked glance that Methos threw his
way. "I don't suppose you and Amanda ever bought a ball gag from this
little shop of yours?" 

 Duncan blinked at the incongruous comment but realised Methos was
responding to an inherently ludicrous situation. "I always prefer to hear
them scream - don't you?" he said deadpan, and was rewarded by Methos'
shocked surprise, then a grin. Any embarrassment aside, Duncan actually
was sorry. That particular accessory would have been ideal . 

 Together they made a secure and safe gag out of several folded bits of
cotton, then Methos lay Ray back down. He was already asleep again. "I'm
going to watch him in case he chokes." 

 "Are you sure?" Duncan asked softly. 

 "How can I not?" Methos said. Duncan didn't - couldn't - argue with him. 

 Peace reigned for an hour, or so it seemed. But when he came up to the
bed to check on the two, he found Ray clasped tightly to Methos' chest,
deeply asleep, struggling, screaming quietly behind the gag - and lines of
helplessness and remorse etched deeply into Methos' face. "Oh, old man,
let him go. You don't have to do this." He pried Methos' arms away from
his struggling companion and wrapped his own around the Ancient. He
stroked the dark hair as Methos sagged against him. 

 "Can't ... hate seeing him like this, Mac ... like a wild animal."
Methos' words were halting and pained. They watched Ray writhe senselessly
on the bed. 

 "I know. Come away." He led Methos over to the sofa and made him lie
down, covering him with a blanket. "I'll watch him for you. Sleep, my
friend." Methos stared hard at him for a long moment before he closed his
eyes, and Duncan knew he'd just been entrusted with something precious. He
smoothed the blanket down once more, sent a silent prayer for his friend
to get some real rest, and then went up to the bed from which Ray had
nearly thrown himself in his struggle. He wrapped the sleeping man in a
duvet and then sat on the edge of it, using his superior weight to anchor
him to the bed. Even so, the struggles continued, and the muffled cries,
until he thought he would go mad from the sound. He endured it for two
hours, gritting his teeth. Methos startled him by finally shaking his
shoulder. 

 "This can't go on. Let him loose, Mac - get off the duvet." Duncan saw
the knife and knew what Methos was going to do. What he had to do. He
unzipped Ray's covering, Methos quickly stabbed him, and at last the
vicious struggles ended. "And now we know, Duncan. There's only one way to
escape this. Go on back to the sofa, I'll stay with him. It's the least I
can do." Duncan watched Methos gently remove his lover's corpse from the
hideous bag, then throw the thing to one side of the room. Part of him was
glad it hadn't worked - it really did look like a body bag for the dead.
But with Ray getting no sleep, only the rest of death, it wouldn't be long
before his body and his mind started to pay the price.	

 Morning found Duncan rested but no more at ease. His sleep had been
tormented by sad dreams, nightmares of the people he'd killed, and it was
a relief to wake up, even with the problems facing them still. He padded
quietly to the bed and found Methos just waking, fresh tears on his face,
looking pale and drawn. The old man went to pull the knife from Ray's
chest, but Duncan restrained him. "Leave it, Methos. If he wakes, he'll be
in a worse state than he was before." 

 "Then let's move him into a corner - a corpse doesn't need a bed."
Methos' callous words were belied by the gentle way he wrapped Ray in a
spare blanket and placed him reverently against the wall. "Reminds me of
Russia - stacking the corpses in the winter until the ground was soft
enough to bury them." 

 Duncan put his hand on Methos' shoulder. "Come and have breakfast. I
don't know about you, but I could use some coffee." 

 Over breakfast, they discussed options. "You don't think the holy spring
might be worth trying?" Methos asked. 

 Duncan shook his head. "Not right now. When I was there, I knew who I was
fighting and we were equally matched. Ray doesn't know his enemy - whether
it's you, Cassandra, something else. And whoever it is, unless it's his
own mind which I really doubt, he can't fight it on his own." 

 Methos ate in silence and Duncan looked at him with concern. This was all
too much like Alexa. Ray wasn't dying, not in the conventional sense, but
until this thing was beaten, there was no prospect of him having a normal
life. And unless Methos walked away, nor could he. 

 "I have an idea," Duncan announced, then waited. 

 "Don't keep me in suspense, Highlander, I don't like surprises." 

 "Why don't we let him kill you?" 

 "Not funny, MacLeod." 

 "Not meant to be, Methos." Methos shot him a withering glance. "What if
Ray 'kills' you - strangles or stabs you? Maybe that will be enough to let
him work through whatever's bothering him." 

 "You're seriously suggesting I let my lover murder me every night, so he
can get a good night's sleep? You're one sick bastard, Mac." 

 "Not every night. The poor guy needs to get some sleep - real sleep. And
it's not like you'll be damaged." 

 Methos considered. "All right - but no sharp objects - if this thing can
make him gut himself, then it can easily make him take my head off with a
butter knife."	

 They agreed to leave the experiment until that night. Methos returned to
the house and Duncan worked out downstairs. The idea of his friend's body
lying in the loft was nearly as revolting as the thought of that friend
killing his lover in his sleep, and in the end, he fled to the normality
of Joe's Bar. The Watcher was still urging Duncan to get Ray professional
help. "But what if it's to do with him being Immortal, Joe?" Duncan asked
despairingly. "And what good is therapy going to be anyway when he can't
talk about the biggest part of his life?" 

 "If you can't fix this, it might be kinder to take his head after all." 

 "And what would that do to Methos?" The two men looked at each in silent
agreement, knowing that Methos would take the death of Ray even harder
than he had done that of the mortal Alexa. 

 "Is there anyone at the University who knows about PTSD??" Joe asked.
"Someone you could talk to in a general way about it?" 

 Duncan thought. "Actually, there might be - I can check tomorrow. Are you
suggesting we try treating Ray ourselves?" 

 "You got a better idea?" 

 "Not on me. So far the best we've come up with is either Ray dying or
Methos dying. Not what I call good medicine." 

 "Where's Methos?" 

 "In denial. It's hard on him, Joe." 

 The blues man grunted sympathetically. 

 Dinner at the loft was a subdued affair and unsurprisingly, Methos again
had little appetite. Duncan didn't push and he was relieved when Methos
finally pushed his plate away. "Let's get it over with," Methos said
wearily. 

 He made his ablutions and then they moved Ray back to the bed. Methos
undressed to his boxers and lay down beside his dead lover. "Do it," he
ordered Mac. Duncan pulled the knife out and they waited, Duncan standing
discreetly away from the two men. Within minutes Ray revived, confused.
Methos immediately held him close. "It's all right, Ray. We've found a
solution. But you need to sleep. Sleep now for me." Methos stroked Ray's
face until the other man relaxed. With the deep exhaustion Ray had been
suffering before he was 'killed', he needed little encouragement. Duncan
watched as Ray slipped away into sleep. Methos gave him a last, cool look
before closing his own eyes and cuddling around Ray. Duncan fetched a
chair and sat in the corner, waiting. 

 It was only twenty minutes before he saw Ray sit up, eyes open and empty.
Ray glanced around, but Duncan didn't catch his attention. The 'sleeping
man' beside him did, and as Duncan watched in horrified fascination, Ray
calmly wrapped his hands around Methos' throat and squeezed. Even
forewarned, Methos struggled, and the sounds of his choking were
sickening. But at last, all was quiet, and Ray seemed satisfied, because
he lay down again, his arms around the man he just killed, and fell
asleep. 

 Duncan approached the bed quietly. Ray was indeed deeply asleep, making
no sound or movement. Methos was quite dead, but as Duncan watched, he
revived with a gasp and opened his eyes. Duncan put his hands on his lips
to signal 'quiet'. "It worked - he's asleep." 

 Methos rubbed his throat and nodded. "You'll keep watch?" he whispered. 

 "Yes. Go to sleep." 

 Methos sighed and curled into Ray's embrace, looking the most peaceful he
had done in two nights. Duncan kept vigil for two hours but finally
decided that their plan had worked and that he could risk sleeping
himself. He was confident that Ray moving about would waken him, and he'd
hidden all the knives and swords away. 

 He was still surprised that sunlight was streaming in the windows when he
woke. He quickly checked on the two lovers, but all was well, to his
intense relief. He had a swift shower and changed. Methos was awake and
sitting on the sofa when he emerged. "It worked, Mac..." Methos said
wonderingly. 

 Duncan smiled. "We've got it then." 

 His smile faded as Methos met his eyes. "For now."  

 Methos felt almost insanely cheerful, the effect of a solid night's sleep
obvious in every muscle and nerve of his body. He didn't even remember
waking up after Ray killed him, which suited him fine, and seeing Ray's
peaceful face made his heart lift. He'd almost begun to think he would
never see it again, not in sleep, anyway. He poured himself a cup of
coffee and one for Ray then padded back up to the bed. Ray was just
beginning to stir, and Methos waved the coffee under a twitching nose.
"Wake up, sleeping beauty." Ray's hand reached up and grabbed the cup, but
Methos held onto it until Ray was upright. 

 "You're okay!" 

 Methos grinned. "Of course I am. I'm hard to kill." 

 "Did we beat it? You did something?" 

 "Yes and no. Drink up and I'll explain." 

 Ray looked sombre as Methos told him what they had done, and that he had
in fact lost an entire day as a 'corpse'. "You let me hurt you." 

 "I'm fine, Ray. And you and I both got a good night's rest, which we both
needed. So don't dwell on it. 

 MacLeod came up to the bed and sat on it. "How do you feel, Ray?" 

 "Better," Ray admitted. "Hungry, thirsty. Ready to rock and roll." 

 Duncan smiled. "Glad to hear it." 

 Methos watched Ray head off to the shower. "Thanks, MacLeod. I don't
think I could have stood another night lying next to his corpse." 

 "Don't get too relaxed, Methos. We've a long road ahead of us." 

 Duncan made a hearty breakfast which was gratefully received by the two
hungry men. Over the meal he told Methos about his colleague who might be
able to give them some help with PTSD. "Don't suppose she knows about
nightmares," Methos said half joking. "I've had some beauties lately." 

 "Me too," Ray added. "Eating my own liver - yuck." 

 "Say that again?" Methos said sharply. 

 "In my dream - I feel hungry and then I pull my own liver out and try to
eat it ...." 

 "But then you scream and can't?" 

 Ray stared at him. "Jesus," he said softly. "You too?" 

 "The first one happened just before you attacked me that first time."
Methos turned to Duncan. "PTSD? I don't think so, Mac. It's got to be
something else. Ray, let's go back to your last case in more detail. The
shooting?" 

 "We did paperwork in the morning, made a couple of calls and then we got
a tipoff about this perp." 

 "Who was he?" Duncan asked. 

 "He was a thief - specialised in art stuff. Someone broke into the
Seacouver Museum last week and stole a bunch of artefacts...." 

 "What kind of artefacts?" Duncan asked. 

 Ray thought. "Um - masks, spears, pots. Didn't look like much, but
they're worth a fortune, apparently." 

 "From where?" 

 "All over - South America, Asia, China." 

 "Go on," Methos ordered. 

 "OK - so Carter gets the word that this guy, Tieleman, the one he shot,
was the one with the goods, so we head down to this abandoned shop and
catch him actually packing the stuff up. He pulled a gun, Carter warned
him and then shot him. He died at the scene." 

 "Tell me about the artefacts, Ray." Methos looked at Duncan, not sure
where his friend's mind was headed. "Did you recover them all?" 

 "Pretty much. One of the pots got broken - Tieleman fell on it when
Carter shot him." 

 "Did you pick it up or move it?" Duncan asked again. 

 "I shoved it out of the way when I was trying to resuscitate him, yeah?
So what?" 

 Methos now knew what Mac was getting at. "Do you have more information
about this vessel at all?" 

 "In the files down at the precinct. What's this about?" 

 "I'm not sure. If you can give me a copy of everything you have, I think
I might go down to the Seacouver Museum and find out more about this." 

 "Whoa, guys. Are you saying I might be trying to kill Adam because of
some funky pot? You've been watching too much Buffy again." 

 "Ray," Duncan said seriously, "three years ago, I defeated a demon called
Ahriman. He could animate inanimate objects, cause visions, bring people
back from the dead - made me kill a man as close to me as my own son. It's
entirely possible a demon could be doing this to you." 

 Ray sat back and seemed to be considering it. "OK - I guess it's no
weirder than people who live forever and play with pointy sticks. But what
do we do about it?" 

 Methos interrupted. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Ray, you and I are
going to do a little research."  

 The two men were dispirited when they returned to the loft, and Duncan
knew enough to get them both beers before questioning them about what
they'd found out. "Well, the urn comes from Borneo, and that's about all
we know," Methos reported. "It's very old - at least a thousand years -
and was found in a cave in Kalimantan by a Dutch spelunker, who donated it
to the Amsterdam Anthropology Museum. It was on loan to Seacouver as part
of an exhibition. It wasn't even very valuable - the other stolen
artefacts were worth much more. But its use and significance aren't
known." 

 "That doesn't help." 

 "No kidding, MacLeod," Methos said, his sarcasm hiding his worry. Duncan
ignored the tone. 

 "Ray, one thing's for sure. You'll need to ask for some time off." 

 "For how long?" Ray asked. "I can't stay off work forever." 

 "Can you get a leave of absence?" 

 "Maybe - if I say it's a family emergency." He didn't look convinced. 

 "Then do it - ask for a month to be on the safe side. You're obviously in
no state to work, but just as obviously we can't get a doctor to sign you
off." 

 "Wonderful," Ray said resignedly. 

 Duncan yawned. "We keeping you awake, MacLeod?" Methos asked in
irritation 

 "I didn't sleep as well as you two did - the sofa and I don't get on. 

 "You can sleep with Ray, if you like," Methos said loftily. "I'm sure it
doesn't matter which of us he kills." 

 Duncan gave this serious consideration until he saw Ray's face, which was
turning red with embarrassment and anger. "It's okay," he soothed. "Methos
was only joking." 

 "Like hell I was, MacLeod." 

 "Methos!" 

 The ancient subsided. "I'm sorry, Ray. It was just an idea to let Mac get
some proper sleep." 

 Ray looked shy. "Do you want to do that, Duncan - I mean, I don't mind if
you don't. It's just ... " He stopped, the weirdness clearly too much for
him. 

 "Methos, you can be such a bastard sometimes," Duncan said angrily. 

 "Look, MacLeod," Methos said in his most reasonable voice, "things will
go easier if we share the burden of this. You said you're not sleeping
right, I've had a good night's rest. Why not try?" 

 Duncan looked at Ray who nodded. "All right. Thank you, Ray." 

 "You're kidding me, right? I'm the one who gets to sleep with Mr
Millennial Champion, you get the cop with the experimental hair, and
you're thanking me?" 

 Duncan flushed. "I just meant... I know this isn't easy for you." Duncan
still gave Methos a filthy look as he passed him on his way to the sink.
The old man could be such an insensitive son of a bitch.  

 Everyone was quiet over the meal. Methos knew Duncan was still angry, and
that Ray was hurt by his lover's apparent indifference to the situation.
He sighed internally - he'd really only been trying to ensure the
Highlander was well-rested, he could see how tired MacLeod was, but now he
wondered if either Ray or Mac would sleep. "Tell you what, I'll give you
both a back rub." 

 "Both of us?" Ray yelped. 

 "Methos, this is already kinky enough, don't you think?" Duncan added
quickly. 

 "Shut up, MacLeod. Only you deviant Scots insist that everything nice has
to involve sex. You'll lie there and take it like a man." 

 "Methos!" The old man merely grinned. 

 Duncan waited on the sofa while Methos gave a Ray a long, deep back
massage, and spoke to him softly, assuring him things were fine. It took a
while for Ray to relax - he wasn't as tired as the night before, and now
he was worried by the new element in the situation - but finally Methos
was satisfied that he was as ready for sleep as he could be. He signalled
to Mac, who undressed slowly - like he was headed to his own execution,
Methos thought grimly - and then lay stiffly next to Ray who turned his
head discreetly away. "For heaven's sake, MacLeod - this is supposed to
help, not hurt you. Loosen up." 

 MacLeod glared at him, then rolled over. Boy, talk about your challenges,
Methos thought, straddling Duncan. The Highlander's shoulder and neck were
like a sack of rocks, barely yielding under Methos' strong fingers, but he
worked relentlessly. Ray rolled over and watched his lover, and Methos
made himself smile reassuringly, which won an answering grin back. At
least he's not tense any more, Methos thought. He bent and kissed Ray as
he continued to dig into the stiff muscles of the Scot. "Sshh. Mustn't let
on that you can enjoy this," he whispered. Mac must have heard him,
because he gave a little snort, but then his shoulders finally relaxed,
making the job easier. 

 The massage took half an hour, by which time Ray was drifting. Methos
climbed off Mac's back quietly and pulled the covers over both of them. He
went around to Ray's side of the bed and caressed his face. "Sleep well."
He kissed him again, then took up his vigil in the chair Duncan had used
the previous night. 

 He hadn't watched long enough to become uncomfortable when he saw Ray
strangle Duncan, feeling sick that Duncan had had to see this, and even
worse that he had to go through it himself, but he was relieved when, just
as the previous night, Ray settled into a deep sleep directly following
the act. Duncan revived, rolled over and promptly fell asleep again,
making Methos wonder just what he and Amanda did in bed together if he
could take strangulation so calmly. He went back to the sofa, wrapped
himself in a blanket and was off in dreamland in short order. 

 Methos couldn't contain a grin when he checked the two sleeping men in
the morning. Duncan had wrapped himself around Ray, and Ray was drooling
on Duncan's shoulder. The Highlander was going to have a fit, Methos
thought evilly. He shook Duncan carefully, and clapped a hand over his
mouth when he looked ready to shout. Duncan looked at his position and
Methos took his hand away. "Good grief," Duncan said softly, then eased
his big body out from under the cop, who snuffled and buried himself in
the warm bedclothes thus vacated. Methos handed Mac his robe and they both
tiptoed away. "You," Duncan said severely, wagging a finger in Methos'
face, "will say not one word about this to him, or I shall personally
separate that smartass head from your body. Get it?" 

 "No need to be violent, MacLeod. It doesn't bother me. I thought it was
cute." Mac growled. "How do you feel?" 

 "Better," Duncan said grudgingly. "It was a good idea, even if it was one
of yours." 

 "Tsk, tsk. Are you always like this the morning after? I'm so glad I
didn't take you up on that offer in Paris." 

 "Methos - get your butt in the shower before I throw you to the floor and
show you just exactly what I'm like the morning after." 

 "Promises, promises," Methos said, but ducked the grabbing hand. 

 He found Ray up and yawning in the kitchen, pouring coffee when he got
up. "Everything went okay last night then?" 

 "Seemed fine from where I sat - for the rest, you better check with
MacLeod." 

 Ray blushed. "He's teasing you, Ray," Duncan assured him. "I had a good
night's sleep." Methos looked closely at Ray. The cop's eyes still had
dark circles under them, and his skin had an unhealthy grey tone. He
didn't look like a man who'd just had a solid night's rest. "How do you
feel?" 

 "Tired. Need more coffee." Methos frowned but said nothing. 

 Duncan invited Methos to spar and the old man accepted because he needed
to talk to the Scot alone. They left Ray to shower and call his boss about
time off. 

 "Mac, this isn't working." 

 "What's not working?" 

 "Ray killing one or the other of us. Did you see him? He looks like hell.
His Quickening seems off - stranger - too." 

 "Yes, I noticed." 

 "Whatever this is needs a real death - not a temporary one - to be
satisfied. Ray and I both dreamed of insatiable hunger. I think this thing
is trying to feed. I think it's feeding on him." 

 Duncan stood still, balancing the staff he was planning on using in his
hands. "How long ....?" 

 "Can he last? I don't know." 

 "His Immortal healing should sustain him for a while." 

 "Maybe. It can't solve everything, you know that." They heard the
elevator coming down, and felt the Presence. Ray emerged, clutching one
hand with the other, looking white as a sheet. Methos ran to him. Blood
dripped steadily as Ray tried to keep pressure on a deep cut on his hand. 

 "Mac, get the first aid kit! What happened?" 

 Ray was glassy-eyed with shock. "I...." His legs gave out, and Methos
lowered him to the floor. "Uh ... I wanted a drink of water but my hand
felt numb. The glass slipped and broke. I cut myself trying to pick up the
pieces." 

 Mac, having quickly assessed that the wound was relatively trivial, had
got the dojo's first aid kit. He knelt down and made Ray open his palm.
Both the older men could see there was no sign of healing taking place.
"What's going on, guys? I should be fixed by now, shouldn't I?" Mac didn't
answer as he applied a pressure dressing to the wound and tied it up.
"Aren't I Immortal any more?" 

 Methos looked at Duncan before answering. "Probably. But whatever's doing
this is interfering with your body in a big way. I think we should proceed
on the basis that you won't heal faster than normal, and that you won't
revive if you're killed again." 

 Ray stared at him in horror. "But ... that means if ... you can't stop me
if I try to hurt you." 

 "We can use other methods. Mac, does he need the hospital?" 

 "I think he'll be OK if he doesn't use the hand. Ray, I think you should
take things easy anyway. What did your boss say?" 

 "He wasn't real thrilled, but he says I can stay off for a month, more if
I really need it. I'll have to make it up to him later. That's if I'm
still a cop." 

 "Courage, Ray," Methos murmured, helping him stand. 

 By the following day, Ray's physical decline was even more obvious - he
was more drawn, more tired, and complained about his hands and feet
feeling numb. The knowledge that he could be injured - possibly fatally -
cast a pall over everything they did, and Methos was almost paranoid about
keeping Ray from sharp objects of any kind, much to the cop's intense
annoyance. "Fucking hell, Adam, why don't you cut my head off and be done
with it? Anything's better than you hovering," Ray said acidly after
Methos protested at him using scissors on a torn nail. 

 Methos glared at him, only Ray's obvious debilitation preventing him from
snapping back. "You're right - anything would be better. MacLeod, Ray -
I've got an idea." 

 Methos told Duncan to drive them to the city's Catholic cathedral. "I
know what you're getting at, Methos, but demons don't respect the rules,"
Duncan said. 

 "We don't know what this is, MacLeod. Come on." He led them in. Methos
and Duncan sat at the back of the church, while Ray wandered around.
Methos wasn't sure what he was expecting - he couldn't ask Ray to take a
nap in the pews - but he had a vague idea that it might help, and
desperate as he was becoming, any idea was worth following up. Suddenly
Ray gave a small cry and shook his injured hand as if it had stung him.
Duncan was with him immediately. 

 "Give it to me, Ray." Ray held it out obediently, and Duncan unwrapped
it. Methos looked - there, finally, was the blue flicker of healing, and
as they watched, the deep cut healed completely. "My cabin," Duncan said,
and Methos nodded. 

 "Cabin? What cabin?" Ray asked, confused. 

 Methos explained. "Duncan owns an island not far from Seacouver. It's
holy ground. You can stay there." 

 "Until when? Forever? I'm getting sick of being treated like a prisoner,
or an abandoned parcel here." 

 Duncan put his hand on the angry man's shoulder. "Ray, you aren't either
of those things. You're a friend, and we're both worried about you. Look -
we can go up to the cabin tonight, and see what happens. I'll take my
laptop and make some enquiries, now we've got a little idea about what
might be causing this." 

 "You have someone in mind, Mac?" Methos asked. 

 Duncan nodded. "Kem Lo - at the monastery I went to after ... after
Richie. He's an Immortal, but you won't find him in the records. He's been
there his entire life. The monastery has a huge library. If this pot is
the key, then he might know something about it." 

 "Oh, and how are you going to contact him?" Methos asked sarcastically.
"By carrier pigeon?" 

 "No, email." 

 The drive back to the loft was a silent one, each man musing over the
situation. Ray was unnaturally quiet and kept his gaze fixed on the
distant, hazy sky above the city. His thoughts seemed to be even further
away. " 

 "Give me your notes on the pot," Duncan asked Methos once they'd arrived.


 He spent half an hour composing the message to Malaysia and hit 'send'.
"Now we wait - he doesn't collect his messages every day." 

 "And in the meantime?" Ray asked, stopping his packing. 

 "We go to the island, and hope that whatever this is can be slowed down."


 None of them said what Methos was thinking - that if it didn't work, Ray
wouldn't last more than a week at this rate. "I'll have to get Joe to look
after my turtle again," Ray said suddenly, waking up from his reverie. 

 "Leave that all to me, Ray," Methos said. "I'll ask him to look after the
house. I'll stop in and see him, and get some more clothes for us." 

 Duncan suggested Ray could come shopping for supplies with him, and even
though he protested he was too tired, they didn't dare leave him on his
own in case he nodded off. The slight improvement wrought by the church
visit had disappeared. Methos had to hope his lover would benefit from the
cabin. 

 They ate a late lunch, locked up the loft, and drove in Duncan's Jeep up
to the isolated cabin. The little dinghy Mac used to get on and off the
island only held three men if there was no luggage, so he rowed them over
in two shifts, Methos complaining about his dislike of boats the whole
time. He found Ray looking approvingly at the house. "Some cabin," he
said. "We stayed in Fraser's dad's place in Canada - one room, and an
outside bathroom." 

 Duncan grinned. "This one started out that way. I fixed it up for Tessa."
He felt a pang as he remembered how his love had enjoyed the cabin once it
had been refurbished. 

 The place was indeed a comfortable prison, if Ray was going to see it
that way. Three bedrooms, a large fire-place warmed living room, and a
well-appointed kitchen. Indoor plumbing was the most important feature so
far as Ray and Methos were concerned. "You got electricity?" Ray said in
surprise. 

 "Yes - from solar panels and the generator. All the comforts of home." 

 Ray wandered out onto the porch. Methos helped Duncan unpack and air the
bedrooms they were to use, then joined the younger man outside. Ray was
huddled in a thick coat, sitting on the love seat, and staring across the
water. "You all right?" Methos asked, sitting next to him. He fancied Ray
already looked a little better. 

 "If this works, Adam - then what? Do I have to stay here for the rest of
my life?" 

 "Unlikely, Ray. We've fought and won against apparently hopeless odds
before." 

 "But what if we can't, this time?" 

 "This isn't much like you," Methos said gently. "Giving up before we've
even started." 

 "Well, this is something different - way out of my league. I mean - I
just got the whole Immortality thing sorted out in my head, and then this.
I don't know if I can live like this." 

 "You can and you will," Methos answered sharply. 

 "Does it make any difference if I do or I don't?" 

 "Yes, yes it does. To me, to Duncan. To Joe. To your other friends, your
parents. Look, you're tired and depressed. You won't feel that way
forever. Come inside, Mac's making Irish coffees for us." He gave Ray a
hug and the other man leaned into him. Too important to lose, Methos
thought. To me, anyway. 

 The hot alcoholic drinks warmed and cheered them, and Methos was glad
that Ray's colour seemed to have improved. Duncan had brought steaks with
them, insisting Ray at least needed the protein, and the good, hearty food
sat well on their stomachs. Even if the sense of peace was an illusion,
Methos relished the break from tension, and there were more unpleasant
ways of spending a late autumn evening than sitting with one's closest
friends, drinking spirits and telling stories, Ray's head in his lap, his
long body untidily sprawled along the sofa. It was Methos who yawned
finally and declared himself ready for bed. "Up to the challenge, pup?" he
said lightly to Ray. 

 "So what's the plan?" 

 "I'll keep watch again, Ray," Duncan explained. "It won't be long before
we know if holy ground affects the other symptoms." 

 "You mean me being a homicidal maniac," Ray said flatly. 

 "That's exactly what he means," Methos said jokingly. "Come wiz me to ze
cazbar, my fair friend," he said in an atrocious accent. "I vant to have
my wicked ways wiz you." 

 "In front of Duncan?" 

 "He won't tell a soul." 

 Methos was, of course, only kidding. Duncan gave them their privacy while
they settled into the soft bed upstairs and then joined them, sitting on a
chair to wait.	

 Duncan waited an hour and a half and the only thing that happened was
that Methos started to snore. Enough, he decided. Score one for holy
ground. He climbed into his own bed gratefully and was asleep in very
little time. The sound of his own name being called woke him. "MacLeod?"
Methos called softly. The Ancient was in the doorway. 

 "Come in. What's happened?" 

 "Ray's having nightmares - and so am I. The same nightmares." 

 Duncan switched on his bedside light, and Methos sat on the end of his
bed. "I don't understand," Duncan said. "Why are you getting this?" 

 "You remember the Quickening he took? Creighton?" 

 "You still think this is Cassandra?" 

 "No, not any more. But I shared that Quickening, because I was worried
about what it would do to him. I think it's left us linked in some way." 

 "How the hell ... that's not possible." 

 "Not for young things like you, it's not." 

 "Sharing a Quickening. That's a hell of a trick to do deliberately." 

 "It's a pain in the arse, no more - all the aggravation without the
benefits. I don't do it often, for good reason. Ray's the only person I've
done it for that I've stayed close to for any length of time." 

 "You feel him all the time?" 

 "No - only when he's extremely distressed, like now, or in great pain -
like the other night." 

 "Ah, that explains something Joe said. When Kulversson had you, Ray told
Joe that he felt 'funny' and he knew you were being hurt." 

 "There you go. Mac - I can't stay in there with him." 

 "Does being in here help?" 

 "A little - it's not so strong. I think I better sleep downstairs. That
should be far enough away, for tonight at least." Duncan got up. "Where
are you going?" 

 "In there with him - he needs someone with him." 

 Methos touched his arm as he left the room. "Thanks, Mac." 

 "No problem - he's my friend too." 

 Duncan found Ray asleep, but his face was contorted. Clearly the
nightmare had come back. Duncan wrapped himself around Ray and spoke
quietly and soothingly to him, as he would to a child who was having a bad
dream. It took a little while, but eventually the cop's body relaxed as
did his face. When Duncan was sure that he was no longer dreaming, he
allowed himself to fall asleep. 

 It was morning before he woke, and the temperature had dropped sharply
overnight, so he was glad of the warm presence beside him. He could hear
Methos moving around downstairs and he hoped the old man was building the
fire. He could count on him to make coffee at least. He'd intended to slip
out of bed quietly before Ray awoke, but he drowsed off for a few minutes,
only to be jolted awake by Ray sitting up and staring at him in horror.
"Duncan? What happened?" 

 Duncan sat up. "It's okay - Methos had some nightmares, and we think that
you and he are linked because of the Quickening you shared. He needed to
put some distance between you. I thought you needed someone to be with
you." 

 Ray got out of bed hurriedly and dressed. "Fuck. If it's not one thing,
it's another." He rushed out of the room, disregarding Duncan's calls for
him to settle down. 

 Duncan dressed more slowly, and went downstairs, intending to find Ray
and talk to him. Methos was dressed and drinking coffee in front of a
blazing fire. "Where did he go?" 

 "Out back." Duncan started to head the same way, but Methos stopped him.
"Don't, Mac. He needs some time alone." Methos poured him a coffee. "Did
everything go all right?" 

 "Until this morning, yeah. I didn't get a chance to tell him that he
didn't try to kill either of us last night." 

 "At least that gives us one weapon in the armoury." 

 "What about the nightmares?" 

 "Its way of expressing disapproval, I guess." 

 "Do you think if Ray stayed here long enough, it might starve to death?" 

 Methos shook his head. "I don't think he would want to stay longer than
the forty years that pot was in the Amsterdam Museum. Whatever it is
lasted without a human host for at least that long." He finished his
coffee and went for a refill. "I think I should go back to town. I can't
do any good here, but I can get on with some more research there. We
shouldn't pin all our hopes on your friend." 

 Duncan sighed. "You're right. What about Ray?" 

 "You'll stay, won't you?" 

 "Sure - teaching doesn't start for another three weeks, and I can take
longer if I have to." 

 Methos pulled a face. "I hope for his sake you don't need to. I don't
think sitting around is his forte, and he's already depressed enough as it
is. You need to keep a close eye on him." 

 "You think he's suicidal?" Duncan asked in alarm. 

 "I think his world has been turned on its head for the second time in two
years, and he's had God knows how many set backs before that. He's not
Superman. 

 "No, but he's no child either." 

 "I know that, MacLeod," Methos said sharply. "But you remember what it
was like with Ahriman, and he hasn't got one tenth of your exposure to
weird things. He's disorientated and confused. And angry. I know how he
feels." 

 Duncan stood up and took Methos' wrist in his hand. "Calm down, old man.
I know what he means to you. I'll look after him for you, I promise."
Methos gave him a brief smile. 

 "I better go and collect my things. Do you want to go talk to him now?" 

 Duncan found Ray chopping wood, stripped to the waist despite the
freezing temperatures, attacking the log pile with considerable vigour.
The Scot watched silently for a while, admiring the play of muscles that
were the result of the hard work of their owner and his two teachers.
Finally, Ray stopped to wipe his brow, looked around and saw Duncan. "You
don't mind?" he said, nodding his head at the splintered wood. 

 "By all means. Ray, go ahead." Duncan waved casually at the scattered
kindling. "By the way, you didn't wait for me to tell you that it's
worked. You didn't try to kill Adam or me last night." 

 "I didn't?" He was clearly surprised. He picked up his discarded shirt
and sweater and put them on. "But what about the nightmares?" 

 "Well, Methos thinks that this is just the reaction of whatever's causing
the problem. Nightmares are a small price to pay." 

 "Them and being stuck here. Where's Adam?" 

 "Packing. He's going back to Seacouver." 

 "Because of me," Ray said flatly. 

 "To do research. He can be more use there. You and I will stay here until
we get some answers." 

 "But what about your job, Duncan? What about mine?" 

 "I'm not teaching until the semester starts again. As for yours, well,
we'll have to see." 

 "Not good enough. Look - why don't I just head off to the wilds of Canada
on my own? This is messing up too many people's lives." 

 "And do what? Live on what? And what about anyone who meets you? Or gets
this thing when you finally succeed in killing yourself?" Duncan was being
deliberately brutal, and his words had the desired effect. Ray went pale.
"You see? This isn't just your problem any more. Methos and I at least
have a little experience in dealing with this kind of thing. Give us time,
that's all I'm asking." 

 Ray hefted the axe and looked as if he might start chopping wood again,
but instead he swung it and imbedded it in the chopping block. "This sucks
a root." 

 "Come on, lad. It's not so awful - think of it as a vacation in the
wilderness. I'd probably be up here anyway, and it's beautiful. Let me
show you. Methos can bury himself in his books, and we can enjoy
ourselves." 

 Ray gave him a dubious look, but at least he didn't reject the idea.
Duncan led him back into the house. Methos was waiting for them. "You
understand, Ray? I'm not deserting you for good." 

 "Who says I'd care if you did?" But Ray smiled and kissed Methos on the
cheek. "You gonna have breakfast first?" 

 "Of course. Duncan's cooking." 

 After another huge meal, they set out. Duncan thought Ray might prefer to
stay behind, but he said he could drop in and see Joe. The younger man was
troubled and Duncan knew he tended to seek out the bluesman to provide a
welcome injection of reality.  

 Joe was just putting glasses away when Ray walked in. "Hey, young fella -
back already? Didn't it work?" 

 "No, it worked - sort of." Ray sat down, and Joe poured him a whisky
without asking. 

 "But ..." 

 "But ... I'm getting these nasty mother fucking nightmares instead. So's
Adam." 

 "How's that?" Joe was genuinely puzzled. 

 Ray sipped his whisky, closing his eyes in appreciation before he
answered. "It's bad enough I tried to kill him - now we find out that he's
got this mental link thingie with me." 

 "You've lost me. What, like he can read your mind or something?" 

 "It's more he can feel me if I'm in pain, and I can feel him. And now
he's sharing these nightmares." 

 "This is because of the demon or whatever?" 

 "No, he thinks it's because of that Quickening I took - Creighton. He
said he shared it." 

 Joe was astonished - he'd never heard of such a thing. "But that's
amazing, Ray. Incredible ..." 

 "You think? All it means is that he can't stay in the same house with me.
He's come back to town. He says it's to do research but..." 

 "You think he's running out on you." Ray's low mood suddenly made sense. 

 "Nah - not really ... I just ... he's gotta look after himself, I guess.
I can't help him. Can't even help myself." 

 Joe didn't know how to reassure the younger man. He knew perfectly well
that Methos was capable of running out to save his own skin - just as he
was absolutely certain he wouldn't do it to this young Immortal who had
come to be so important to him. "Don't you think he would have taken off
the second this started if all that mattered to him was his own health?" 

 Ray looked at him and shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe he thought it would go
away." 

 Joe decided to change the subject, and just hoped that time would prove
Ray wrong. "So what's the plan?" 

 "Me and Duncan are gonna stay on the island. Adam's gonna stay here,
research, wait for this monk guy to answer. Then - I don't know." 

 "It's nice on the island." 

 "I guess." Ray tilted his glass back and forth, watching the rich amber
liquid slosh gently about. "It's like having fucking cancer, you know?" he
blurted out. "Or being in one of them 'Alien' movies. I don't know who I
am any more, or why I'm doing things. The worst thing is that I can't even
die with a clear conscience. If anyone touches me when I'm dead, Adam
thinks this whatever it is will jump across." 

 "Well, I'm glad about that, Ray. I'd hate to think you thought dying was
an answer. You talked to Duncan about this?" 

 "Some. Not much." 

 "You should, you know. He's been possessed, and haunted by demons even
worse than this." Joe shook his head at himself. If he'd known years ago
that his life as a Watcher would lead to such a routine recital of
supernatural phenomena, he might have chosen differently. He sighed. Who
was he kidding?  "He survived. So will you." 

 "You don't know that, Joe." Ray looked at the bar man steadily. 

 "No, you're right," Joe admitted. "But I do know that if anyone can help
you, Methos and Duncan can." 

 "The worst thing is not being able to work. I've been working since I was
twenty, looking after myself, Stella. Never depended on anyone for
anything. Now look at me - I'm useless, can't do my job, having to hide on
that stupid island like a criminal..." Ray stared at the bar, then thumped
it in a bone-cracking blow. Joe refused to react. 

 "Is this pity party invitation only, or can anyone come?" Ray refused to
look at him. "Why don't you think about it from the other perspective for
just one minute? You got all four limbs intact." Ray's eyes flickered down
to the prosthetics hidden by the bar top. Joe caught the shadowed look but
didn't stop. "You've got two good friends helping you, standing by you - a
lot of people wouldn't. Your job's still waiting for you. And most of all,
you're still alive, and with a little luck, you will be for a very long
time. Not everyone has all of that." Joe kept looking at Ray until the
younger man lifted his eyes. 

 "You saying I should count my blessings and shut the fuck up?" 

 "I'm saying you should keep trying until your last breath. And have
another drink." Joe smiled at him, to break the tension and Ray hesitantly
smiled back. "You see? Was that so hard? Look - I know this is a tough
break, and I'm not saying it's not hell for you. But I'm sure Methos
hasn't run out - not on you - and I know MacLeod never gives up, so my
money's on the three of you, and not on this booglywoogly. You want to
make a bet on it?" 

 Ray shook his head, still smiling. "No, I think the odds are out of whack
on this. Thanks, Joe." 

 "Any time, kid. Where are they, anyway?" 

 "Duncan's picking up supplies and some other gear. We dropped Adam at the
house already." 

 "Do you think MacLeod would let me visit?" 

 "Sure I would, Joe," the Scot's voice rang out as he walked over to the
bar. "I think Ray would appreciate it, so would I. All set, Ray?" 

 "Yeah. I'll see you later, Joe." 

 Duncan looked at Joe over Ray's head and mouthed 'thanks.' 

 "Anytime," Joe said, responding to both men. "I might come up next week,
if you're still there." 

 Joe watched the two friends leave, the door swinging shut behind them
with a decisive click. He picked up Ray's glass and stacked it ready for
washing out of habit, shaking his head softly. He had a hell of a lot of
faith in Duncan and Methos - he hadn't lied about that. But in his years
as a Watcher, he'd seen more than a few immortals lose fights they should
have won, and that was when they were on their own ground, knowing
precisely what they were dealing with. 

 This time nobody was suggesting that it was destiny, that they ought to
have the ability to defeat this thing. 

 He just wished he really had the confidence that he'd faked with Ray.	

 "What's all this?" Ray asked, seeing that Duncan's car was full of gym
equipment. 

 Duncan grinned. "Ah, well you can thank our elderly friend for that. He
said I should take the opportunity to give you some more special training.
I think he said something about 'no rest for the wicked.' 

 "Gee, thanks, Adam," Ray muttered in the general direction of the house. 

 Duncan was pleased to see that Ray was a little more animated than when
they had driven down. He knew it was unlike the cop to be depressed for
any length of time, even though the circumstances would depress anyone.
Methos had again made him promise that he would take good care of the
younger man, an unnecessary promise since Duncan would do so in any event.
Methos made him smile. He was so off hand with Ray sometimes, still trying
to conceal the depth of his feelings, yet he was so transparent. 

 The weather was still getting colder, and Duncan broke the news to Ray
that work was needed on the house to ready it for winter. The younger man
was sanguine about that, saying that he'd had to help his Canadian friend
work on the little cabin they'd used up north. Duncan's plan was to keep
Ray too busy during the day to mope, and at night, offer what comfort he
could to ease the pain from the nightmares. Methos had warned him that
they may very well get worse over time. But Ray wouldn't be harmed by
them, however distressing. Or so they hoped. 

 Ray helped him unload the supplies into the dinghy and held up one item
in surprise. "Boxing gloves?" 

 "Yes. I thought you could give me a lesson or two." 

 Ray's face told him what he thought of that idea. "Me. Teaching Duncan
MacLeod to box." 

 "Come on, don't tell me you've forgotten everything you knew." 

 "Duncan - you're telling me that in four hundred years, no one taught you
how to punch?" 

 "That's different from the art itself." He was almost sure Ray didn't
know about his brief career as a bare knuckle prize fighter. 

 "You're nuts, you know that?" 

 "Possibly. Let's get going - I think it's going to snow." 

 The clouds were indeed threatening, and a few flakes started to fall as
they reached the island. "Could we get snowed in?" 

 "Maybe - I can get the road cleared in a day if I call the store. We've
supplies to last a fortnight, so there's no need to worry." 

 "Great - I'm gonna go stir crazy." 

 "Think of it as a chance to get to know me better." 

 Ray rolled his eyes.  

 Methos closed the laptop down with a sigh and rubbed his aching eyes. It
had been six days of intensive reading and research since he'd returned to
town. He'd contacted the Anthropology departments of a half dozen leading
universities, as well as the local Seacouver University and the museum in
Amsterdam where the pot had been until it was loaned to Seacouver.
Meanwhile, Joe had been surreptitiously looking in the Watcher library
again, tracking down any and every clue and idea he could come up with.
The pot, Methos had concluded, was a red herring. Its only significance
was that it was a suitable repository - but for what? Nothing in the Dyak
religions as they were known had anything like this, despite the
superabundance of gods, totems and demons. It was misleading, of course,
to even think of a single Dyak religion, since every tribe had its own
belief system, but for this thing - this infestation - to exert such
power, Methos was convinced it must be much older and much more powerful
than some simple local animist religion. 

 He stood and stretched. There was literally nothing more he could do
today - Kem Lo had replied to Duncan's message, and was even now looking
for material in the monastery records - but Methos had exhausted his
resources, at least for nowHe picked up the phone to call the cabin, but
then put it back down. He couldn't bear to keep reporting no success to
the two men. It'd been bad enough saying goodbye to Ray, seeing the
resignation and hint of fear in Ray's eyes, even as he tried to make light
of his lover's apparent desertion. Was he really so appalling that even
those who loved him thought he would run away? 

 And he was feeling sorry for himself, an emotion of singular uselessness.
Time to go to Joe's and let the mortal vent his frustration. Being annoyed
was at least better than feeling hopeless. 

 For a change, Joe was in a sympathetic mood and listened carefully as
Methos went through the lines of research. Joe had nothing to add,
unfortunately. "You said the pot is over a thousand years old." 

 "The pot is that old, but we have no idea how old this thing is. It could
be new. Hell, we don't even know for certain the pot has anything to do
with this - it could be the dead man, for all we know." 

 "You checked him out, right?" 

 "Yes, of course. He was nothing special. An art thief, usually stole to
order but this time he was showing initiative. A waste of air, from all I
could see." 

 "Have you spoken to Ray?" Joe asked carefully. 

 "No, Joseph, I haven't. I sent him an email, and he replied. He and
Duncan are having a great time." 

 "I was going to go up the day after tomorrow - want to come?" 

 Methos was sorely tempted, but two things held him back. He was not able
to research up there and the idea of facing Ray's hopeful look was too
painful to contemplate. He shook his head and Joe's disappointment was
obvious. "Why not, Methos? Are you scared?" 

 "Yes, I'm scared. Leave it alone." 

 Joe put a beer in front of him, and did just that. Despite his
resolution, the helpless feeling would not leave Methos be. He knew even
if they identified this thing, that was only a tiny part of the battle.
They had to somehow evict it from Ray's mind, and Methos frankly had no
idea how they would go about doing that. 

 He stared at his beer morosely, then tossed the little liquid left in the
bottle back and pushed it away. He waved to Joe then walked out. 

 He wondered how much of his low mood was because of the link to Ray. It
wasn't strong, or constant, but if both of them were feeling despondent,
he thought there might be something like a feedback loop, where one man's
emotion fed and reinforced that in the other. Something else he could do
nothing about, he thought. He turned on the light, fed Ray's turtle and
thought about going to bed. He decided to check his email again - just the
one message. Kem Lo. His heart started to thud hard as he reached to open
it - please, he thought, please let it be an answer. Gods, yes. It was -
the first break through they'd had. He called the bar. "Joe - I've changed
my mind. I'm going up to the cabin - tomorrow. Want to come?" 

 Of course he did. Methos hung up and then replied to Kem Lo. He logged
onto the Net and made some on-line bookings, emailed Duncan to tell him he
was coming up, and then turned everything off for the night. For the first
time in a week, he slept with an easy heart.  

 Duncan read Methos' cryptic message. "He's coming up, Ray." 

 "Does that mean he's found something?" Ray came over to look at the
screen. "He doesn't say." Ray looked at Duncan, puzzled. 

 "Don't get too excited. He might just miss you." 

 "You think so?" 

 "I know so. Finished that whisky? Want another?" 

 "Nah. I think I better go to bed. Um - you coming?" 

 "Of course." Even after nearly a week, Ray was still embarrassed about
the fact Duncan was sleeping with him. Only the fact that on the one night
they'd tried sleeping in separate rooms - the first night after Methos had
left - Ray's yelling had woken Duncan and had forced him to come in any
way, had persuaded Ray that it was a necessity. Duncan knew the problem.
Ray found him attractive, had made it clear - but also made it clear that
his heart and body belonged to a certain Ancient. Duncan had no problem
with that - Ray was also tempting, but not enough for Duncan to interfere
in a friendship of that kind. He'd just said matter-of-factly to Ray that
yes, sleeping with him might give him an erection, but then so did a full
bladder, and in the meantime, he liked to cuddle, so did Ray, and the
younger man shouldn't feel awkward about it. It was only when Ray
confessed that he'd shared a sleeping bag with his friend Fraser on their
adventure that he managed to persuade Ray that this was no different. The
low temperatures meant it was more practical in any event, for the
bedrooms were cool even with the fireplace. Duncan approached it as if it
were Connor or Richie, or a comrade in arms on the battlefield, and was
grateful that it allowed both of them to get a decent night's sleep. 

 Which he, for one, needed tonight. They'd worked hard all day, collecting
wood from the grove, cutting and storing it. He'd also decided that he
wanted to check the roof, so he and Ray had spent a couple of hours
scrambling around the steep inclines. They were hungry and cold when they
were done, and Ray had reheated a big crock of stew that he'd made the
previous day. Duncan had assigned him as evening cook - the Scot made
their breakfasts. Ray's appetite was huge, making up for the loss of flesh
he'd suffered on his unwanted guest's behalf, and also because Duncan was
working his butt off. They'd made numerous repairs, and Duncan had also
fitted in a workout session a day. Only in the evenings when activity
slowed did Ray have time to think, and Duncan did his best with chess, and
story telling, to distract the man. It had worked quite well. The only
thing he couldn't help were the nightmares which were increasing in
frequency and intensity, leaving Ray feeling washed out and with a
residual depression in the mornings that only coffee and an intensive
sparring session could dispel. 

 He felt the tingle of hope that Methos' message had caused, although for
his own and Ray's sake, he tried to step on it. It was unfair to raise
Ray's hopes. But still ... his peculiar friend had pulled the rabbit out
of the hat before. Perhaps this time, he would again. 

 Ray climbed into bed and curled up under the covers. He was a huddler,
Duncan had discovered, burying himself deeply in the bedding. "Move over,
Ray, for goodness' sake." 

 "Christ, Duncan, your feet are like ice," Ray grumbled back, but the
second Duncan was ensconced, the younger man scooted over and Duncan put
his arms around him. "You think Adam's got the answer?" 

 God. "I think he must have found something," Duncan said cautiously. 

 "Hmmm. Duncan, I've been meaning to say - all this, you ... uh, you know
... I'm grateful." 

 "It's no hardship, Ray. Except when you steal the blankets." 

 "Don't," the indignant reply came. "You make a better pillow than Adam." 

 "Are you saying I'm fat, Ray? Ray?" 

 No reply. Duncan chuckled to himself, and let himself drift off.  

 Methos stamped his feet from the cold, watching the dinghy's slow
approach. "Get on with it, MacLeod, I'm freezing my arse off here." 

 "Good to see you too, Methos. Hi, Joe." 

 "Mac," Joe said in acknowledgement. Duncan helped him into the little
boat. 

 "What's this?" he asked, holding up the bag. 

 "Scotch, and a leg of venison for lunch. Couldn't depend on Ray's cooking
not killing me." 

 "I hope you don't plan on saying that to him." 

 Methos waited for Duncan to row Joe over and return. They said little to
each other on the short journey, and both of them were solemn as Duncan
beached the boat. Methos saw his lover waiting on the foreshore in front
of the cabin, his every line broadcasting his impatience. He didn't tease,
jumping out of the boat and moving to stand close against his lover. "You
look good, Ray. How are you doing?" 

 "Better now." Ray looked hesitant, so Methos took the lead and kissed
him. "Did you miss me?" 

 "Not a bit. Is there a fire going in there?" 

 He waited until everyone was settled with hot drinks before telling the
news from Kem Lo. "It's not a demon - not even a sentient entity at all.
The locals call it ukaska - there isn't a translation in English. It's
really just an elemental force. It lives, grows by feeding on the life
force of the living - so the text says." 

 "Pure evil?" Duncan asked, frowning. 

 Methos shook his head. "That's crediting it with some purpose. Its only
purpose seems to be to live. It doesn't reproduce, or demand worship, it
just exists. Unfortunately, for it to live, human beings have to die.
There are a few reports of 'evil places' throughout Borneo - just a few.
Where people lose their minds, murder their families, or kill themselves,
but as soon as someone touches the body, they themselves become similarly
afflicted. 

 "But I don't get it - this ukaska or whatever wants a life force, right?
So why kill someone?" 

 Methos nodded. "I was confused by that too, until I realise it's behaving
like many parasites - it's got a two-stage life cycle. It seems to need a
time of residence in a dead creature as well as a live one. Don't ask me
why - maybe it needs to do that to breed." 

 "Breed?" said Joe in alarm. "You means more of these suckers are gonna
come out of Ray?" 

 "I doubt it, " Methos said calmly. "Look, we don't have that sort of
information - this ... thing ... could be a group organism for all we
know. It jumps from a dead host to a live host to a dead one. We don't
know why, and I don't think we need to know. All we want to do is get it
out of Ray without killing him or anyone else." 

 "So how do we do that? Has anyone beaten one of these before?" Duncan
asked. 

 "Kem Lo says that in a couple of cases, the locals have dealt with it by
forcing the victim to kill themselves in a cave, and then sealing the
cave." 

 Ray went white. Duncan spoke again. "So the idea is that the force, the
ukaska, is released, like a Quickening, and has nowhere to go and is
trapped? So where does the pot come into it?" 

 "That's what I don't know," Methos said with a sigh. "I've booked a
flight to Kuala Lumpur tomorrow at six a.m. I'm going to work with Kem Lo
and see if we can find out more about the place where the pot was found.
I'll probably have to go there myself and see if anyone knows anything." 

 Ray cleared his throat. "And then what - we go out and they do some magic
over me? Or do I kill myself out there?" 

 "Not if I can help it, no. My idea was that I do the leg work, to save
you time. Once you leave here, your condition will deteriorate. If I've
located the tribe, and learned how to get rid of the ukaska, then I'll
send a message. Then you and Duncan can come out." 

 "Did Master Kem say what happened when this thing was allowed to feed?"
Duncan asked. 

 "Yes - it gets stronger, starts to exert control over the waking victim.
You see, at the moment it's weak. It can only work where there is no
resistance, as when Ray is asleep. If he succeeded in killing - for real -
it would be able to overcome the conscious mind." 

 "Jesus Christ," Ray muttered and walked out of the room. 

 Methos looked at Duncan. "How's he been?" he asked the Scot in a low
voice. 

 "Good, mostly. The nightmares are bad. 

 Methos nodded in understanding. "Once you leave here, you'll have to move
fast, you realise that. Go direct from here to the airport. The flight's
going to be a problem. It's twenty hours from here to KL and you can't
stab him, or let him fall asleep." 

 "What about if we have to go through the jungle? This thing eats him
alive in days, you saw." 

 "Yes, I know, Mac," Methos snapped. "What's the alternative? Make him cut
his own head off and blow up the body? You saw his face - he really thinks
we might ask him to do that." 

 Joe interrupted. "Methos, go and talk to him. He needs you." 

 Duncan nodded. "I'll start lunch. He's probably up on the roof again." 

 He was. Methos found him perched on the steep section above the side
porch, facing out toward the lake. Ray had wedged himself securely into a
sheltered corner where the sloping eaves intersected. He sighed to himself
and clambered onto the porch railing. The things he did. Grasping the edge
of the overhang firmly with both hands, he hauled himself up. Once up he
carefully traversed the sharp incline, approaching Ray at an angle and
keeping himself clearly within Ray's view. He didn't want to startle his
lover into slipping or falling. He paused and eyed the roofline several
feet above Ray's head. Just enough room for him to fit and still be
sheltered from the wind's bite. He moved forward the rest of the way and
quietly tucked himself into the space directly behind the troubled man.
Ray said nothing, only waited until he had leaned back against the
shingled surface behind him. Once he was sure he wouldn't send them both
tumbling from the precarious spot, Ray pressed back against him in a
silent plea for warmth and comfort. 

 Methos could feel that Ray had put back the lost weight even in the brief
interlude, but what he could see of his lover's face was a picture of
agony. "Tell me what's wrong," he asked quietly . 

 Ray scowled then shivered as a chill blast of wind swept over their
unlikely eyrie. Methos wrapped his arms around Ray pulling them closer
together. The words when they came were far from cold however. Instead,
they burned with suppressed anger and resentment. "You're telling me that
I got this thing in my head that can control me even when I'm awake if I
manage to kill someone, and that the only answer so far is for me to kill
myself. Did I miss anything?" 

 "Yes. The bit about there being another answer. There has to be." 

 "But what if there isn't, Adam? What if I'm a time bomb? I could kill all
of you in your sleep - for real. I could run amok and if anyone killed me,
then they'd have this shit in their heads. You know, I've been daydreaming
about, I dunno, drilling a hole in my head to see if it would go away all
on its own." 

 "We could, I suppose, but aside from the pain and the mess, I'm not
certain that's such a good idea. No one knows how much we can recover from
severe head injuries." He slid one hand up over the back of Ray's neck and
into the soft, blond spikes, tracing the gracile contours of Ray's skull.
His fingers tightened minutely before he continued in a low voice. "And
I've become quite fond of you. I'd rather you weren't the guinea pig." 

 Ray spared him a surprisingly sweet smile and a brief, gentle kiss before
asking, "You've done it?" 

 "Seen others do it." Ray made a 'yuck' face. "Well, you brought it up." 

 "Yeah. So how long will all this take, you going to Malaysia?" 

 "As long as it does. I'm sorry. But at least we know what we're dealing
with." 

 "They knew it was a fucking T-Rex in Jurassic Park too but that didn't
make things any easier!" Ray slumped. "Adam, I'm scared. I never had a
problem like this that I couldn't just fix by working harder, or fighting
better, or talking it out. Knowing I could be a killer - knowing this
thing is sitting there waiting to ambush me. It's driving me nuts." 

 The bleak look had returned to Ray's face and Methos knew that all his
years and all his research were futile in this moment. "I know, I know,"
he said softly. "I'm terrified by this too." 

 "So why don't you just leave? You don't have to be involved." 

 "I'm a masochist, what can I say?" 

 "I'm serious, Adam. You've got the most to lose of all of us. If I die,
it's just a puny forty years of life down the drain. You, you're a goddamn
history book on legs." 

 "I can't see it that way, Ray, nor should anyone else." He repressed a
shudder. God forbid he should ever truly come to view himself so, else
he'd be no more deserving of life than Kalas or Kronos. "You think Joe's
life means less to him than mine does to me? Do you think it should? Or
that Duncan is worth less than I am? Or that an Immortal born tomorrow is
worth less than you?" 

 "No. I don't know ... I didn't mean ... look, Adam, why don't you let me
go to Malaysia. The monastery's holy ground and me and this Kem Lo guy can
work it out, right?" 

 "Do you read Sanskrit, Ray? That's what these texts are written in -
Sanskrit and Arabic. I read both fluently." 

 "Well, let me come with you. That gets Duncan out of it." 

 Methos gave this serious consideration. There was something to be said
for the idea but in the end he rejected it. "No, I'm afraid not. I don't
know how long it might take me, and we already know how fast this thing
works in running you down. And the other problem is that I really need
Duncan to help me keep you under control at night. You'll be more
comfortable here than in the monastery." He felt Ray's shoulders sag. "I'm
sorry." 

 Ray struggled out of his grip. "We should go in. It's getting colder."
Methos held onto his arm. "What?" 

 Methos drew him in for another kiss. "I missed you," he said softly. "The
bed is lonely without you." 

 Ray looked startled at the admission. "Missed you too. All the time." 

 Methos tugged on him. "Duncan's making a roast. He'll be a while. Want to
kill some time?" 

 "In bed?" Ray asked huskily. 

 "Either that or on the dining table. What do you think?" 

 Ray grinned. "I think Joe would have a heart attack." 

 They dropped down from the edge of the roof and let themselves in the
back door. Duncan gave them a glance, Methos put his finger to his lips
and then pointed upstairs. Duncan nodded and smiled. They crept up quietly
to the bedroom Ray and Duncan had been using and Methos locked the door.
"Now, you. I've been dreaming of having you and nothing's going to get in
my way." 

 Ray grinned and sprawled on the bed. "Do I look like I want to stop you?"
He sat up and undid his laces, pulled off his boots, then lay back again.
"I'm all yours." 

 Methos took his own shoes off, and then lay down alongside Ray. He got
his hand under the waistband and slid it up the warm skin hidden by the
shirts until he found Ray's nipple, then he rolled it gently. Ray
shivered. Methos covered his mouth with his own, and they kissed hungrily,
making up for the lost time. He ended up lying on top of Ray, his hand
trapped and he could feel the other man bucking slightly, trying to get
some friction going. "Not like that, Ray." He rolled off and freed his
hand, and slowly undid Ray's belt, taking his time over undoing the fly,
watching Ray squirm a little in anticipation. "I see you've learned
nothing about patience while you've been here. " 

 "I can do patient - if I have to. Get on with it, Adam!" Methos ducked
the clutching hands and caught them, shoving them under Ray's own body. 

 "Keep them away or I won't be responsible for what happens to them." He
pulled Ray's jeans and boxers down to his knees, then swung over and
straddled the cop's legs. "Now that's a picture," he said, admiring the
proud erection, the dark blond curls and the taut stomach above them. He
bent and licked the smooth flesh, ignoring Ray's wriggle, and did it
again. And again. 

 "I'm not an ice-cream cone," Ray complained. 

 Methos didn't bother to lift his head. "Mmm. No, definitely not. He
continued, slicking his way down to the curls, and then taking Ray's cock
in his mouth, gently tasting it, tickling it with his tongue. He cupped
Ray's balls carefully, warming them in his hand, feeling them tighten a
little. Ray's hands escaped from the restraint Methos had placed on them,
and the Ancient felt them settle gently on his head, stroking lightly,
touching his face, encouraging him. He took his cue and began to stimulate
in earnest. Ray moved his hands to Methos' shoulders, and held them
firmly, still letting Methos set the pace. Methos wanted this to be slow -
he didn't know when he'd see Ray again, or when they would make love, and
he wanted Ray to be able to remember this when he felt low. He let Ray
come to the brink, and then he removed his mouth and began to lick Ray's
stomach again. Ray didn't protest the loss of sensation - he knew this
trick of Methos' and Methos knew he always enjoyed it. He kept his hand on
Ray's balls, letting them tell him when the younger man was relaxing a
little, and then he laved the cock again. Over and over he did this,
backing off, coming back, until Ray was whimpering quietly, and Methos
knew he was more than ready. It didn't take long, Ray's fingers digging
into Methos shoulders as he came with a gasp. 

 Methos looked on all he had done, and it was good. Ray's stomach was
flushed, as was his face, and the sadness that Methos had seen out on the
roof was gone. He pulled the pants and boxers off his unresisting lover
and then removed his own. "Now, me." He pushed Ray's legs apart and knelt
between them. 

 "We haven't got ..." 

 "Oh yes we have," he said with a grin, pulling the little tube of lube
out of his breast pocket with a flourish. 

 "You planned on this?" 

 "I've had an erection drilling a hole in my pants all the way from
Seacouver. And I figured if you weren't willing, there was always Joe."
The startled squawk that got was well worth the image the words produced. 

 Ray sat up on his elbows and took the lube off Methos, spreading some on
his fingers. He touched Methos' cock and the older man came closer so Ray
could reach, slicking it with strong strokes that nearly made him come. He
went to take the lube so he could prepare Ray, but he held it out of his
reach. "Uh, uh. Why don't you watch for a change?" 

 Methos was astonished, and then watched in fascination as Ray slowly,
teasingly, stretched himself, using his long fingers, stroking his
half-hard cock with his other hand. If this was what sleeping with MacLeod
did to the man, he'd have to arrange for it to happen more often. "Gods,
Ray, I'll never get inside you at this rate." 

 "Can't have that," Ray replied, tossing the lube aside. "I'm all yours." 

 Methos meant to be gentle, but he was so aroused that he almost threw
himself at his lover. He wrapped Ray's legs around his waist and then
entered Ray in a single smooth stroke. Ray closed his eyes, and Methos
thought he was hurt, but then he opened them again, and all Methos saw was
lust and love shining forth. "Adam, please." 

 Methos began to thrust, and all thoughts of gentleness flew out of his
head. Ray gripped him with his knees, pulling him in, urging to move
faster, harder. And something shifted; something was very, very wrong, his
head filling with images of pain, flashes of the killings down the
centuries; the Immortals, the mortals, the beheadings and the shootings,
the shocked faces and the screams; and he wanted it now as he wanted it
for millennia, the rush of the violence and the power was just so damn
good. 

 Gasping, he rolled away from Ray, erection gone, and the feeling faded
instantly to just a memory. Ray's hands clamped around his neck,
expressionless eyes staring right through him, unknowing and uncaring.
Some of that emptiness was there in his mind, hovering around the edges of
his brain, creeping, utterly terrifying. Ukaska. How...? He tried to break
the grip, but again he struggled against inhuman strength. His vision was
already spotting, blurring. Should he just relax, let Ray kill him as he'd
done before, and wait to revive? He couldn't risk it - something had
changed. 

 Dimly he heard a knock on the door, and MacLeod coyly saying lunch was
ready. He couldn't answer although he screamed the Scot's name in his
mind. As he began to lose consciousness, the knock came again, and then
the door burst open, the lock breaking under MacLeod's weight. Strong
hands joined his in trying to break Ray's grip, and then MacLeod cracked
his fist on Ray's jaw, knocking the other man back. Methos scrambled
clear, still gasping for breath, huddling against the wall. "Methos?" 

 "I... " Methos couldn't explain. He grabbed his clothes and shoes, and
fled.  

 Joe waited impatiently in the living room, the delicious scent of the
cooked meat teasing his nose and setting his juices running. MacLeod had
hinted that the two others had gone upstairs to get reacquainted, which
was fine, but he was an old man and wanted his lunch before the long drive
back to Seacouver. When Methos came down the stairs, he was about to make
a smart quip - but the remark died stillborn when he saw the empty
bleakness of the other man's expression. "What's wrong?" 

 Methos stared at him, then shook his head. He went to the refrigerator,
opened the door as if to get a beer, and then seemed to lose momentum,
before slamming the door shut, making the contents crash about. He stalked
out the front door. Joe thought about following, and then thought better
of it - he knew what Methos' tongue was like when he was pissed, and he
had no desire to subject himself to it. He got up and walked to the foot
of the stairs. "Mac? Ray? What's happening?" 

 No answer. He sighed and sat down, pouring himself another Scotch. More
troubles in Paradise, he supposed. But when he saw Mac's strained face, he
knew it was more than that. "Ray tried to kill Methos - while he was
awake," Duncan explained. 

 "While Ray was awake? Shit. But what about this being holy ground?" 

 "Obviously there's a limit to what it can do." 

 "How is he?" 

 "Devastated." Duncan walked into the kitchen and turned the roast off
then stood with his hands on the counter to look at his friend. He didn't
speak. 

 Methos came back inside and glanced at MacLeod. "How's Ray?" he asked
quietly. 

 "He's upset." Methos started up the stairs. "Methos, don't. Not now. He
... he doesn't want anyone near him." 

 Methos rounded on Duncan. "It's not his fault, Mac," he hissed. "It's
mine - I should have bloody well known. Sex. The original life force. I
gave it what it was starving for." 

 "I know, old man. And I'll tell him. But he's in no state now to listen.
He needs to lick his wounds. Come on, you two have lunch. You need to get
back before dark with the weather the way it is." 

 MacLeod dished up, but the food Joe had been looking forward to was like
ashes in his mouth. Methos ate silently, mechanically, his mind god knew
where. Mac's face was dark, his thoughts clearly on the man upstairs. 

 They cleared up and Duncan rowed them back across the lake. No one said
much, the optimistic mood of the morning as if it had never been. Methos
stood with his hands in his coat pockets, looking grimly at the Scot.
"Tell him ... tell him to keep his head, Mac," Methos said, and Joe
wondered why it was so hard for the Ancient to admit his true feelings. 

 MacLeod put a hand on the old man's shoulder. "I will. And you, find the
answer. For all of us." 

 Methos nodded and climbed into the driver's seat of Joe's 4x4 . Joe
wished there was some comfort he could offer, but he'd rarely felt so
useless in his life.  

 Duncan re-entered his house and stared at the dirty plates, signs of a
meal that should have marked the start of a new hopeful phase in this
bizarre episode, but which had been more like a wake. He'd only seen
Methos this upset, this withdrawn, when Alexa had died - in a way, it was
not dissimilar. With a heavy heart he climbed the stairs. He really didn't
dare leave Ray alone, not like this, despite the other man's explicit
wishes but he still knocked on the damaged door before he came in. Ray was
slumped against the wall under the window, his eyes shut, his long legs
stretched out in front of him. There were tears on his face. Duncan
crouched down. "Ray? They've gone. Would you like to come down and have
something to eat?" Ray shook his head, then put the back of his hand
against his mouth as if tears or vomit might come out. Duncan reached out
a hand and brushed Ray's damp cheek. "It wasn't you, Ray. Methos said he
should have realised that sex might feed this thing. It got strong enough
to control you temporarily - but it won't last." 

 Ray drew his knees up, pressed his hands over his face and began to sob.
Duncan leaned forward and put his arms around the rigid man. "Oh, lad,
come on. It's just a wee setback - no harm done to anyone." 

 "Can't do this, Duncan. Can't live like this any more. Help me, please?" 

 "We're trying as best we can...." 

 "No, like ... what Adam said. Help me...." Shocked, Duncan suddenly
understood. 

 "No," he said firmly. "Not ever, do ye hear? Not while there is breath in
my body, or Methos'." He shook Ray a little. "You have to promise me
you'll keep trying, Ray. No more of this talk." 

 "I can't, Duncan. You don't know what it's like." 

 "Aye, lad, I do. Worse than this. Did ye forget what I said about Richie?
Ahriman? I wanted to die too, just the same, but if I had, we'd all be
damned now. Look, this thing is in you, and cannot escape while you live.
While we protect you, then it's caged. All we have to do is find a safe
way to get it out of you." 

 "And if you can't?" 

 "We will. Have faith. In me, and in him. I am the Champion, lad - and
he's..." 

 "Methos," Ray said dully. 

 "Yes." He felt the younger man shudder. "Come downstairs, Ray. You'll
feel better with some food inside you, and we can talk about this like
rational adults. What happened just now is unimportant." 

 "Is Adam OK?" 

 "He's worried about you. You can call this evening before his flight
tomorrow. I know he'd want to hear your voice, to know you're all right." 

 "I never hurt anyone I loved, Duncan. Not intentionally. Never raised a
hand to Stella, or anyone else. I ... feel like a fucking monster." 

 "You're not. If you were, you would not be welcome in my home - as you
are. Come with me. Trust me." Duncan's soothing voice, used to getting his
own way, did the trick, and Ray slowly relaxed and uncurled. He wiped his
face with the back of his hand, and Duncan offered him his handkerchief
before pulling him up. The younger man's face was still full of misery and
shame. "This isn't you, Ray. I know you wouldn't lay a finger in anger on
Methos or any other friend. You're just a tool. Not one of us blames you
in any way." 

 "Are you sure about this, Duncan? Are we so sure this isn't PTSD after
all?" 

 "I know I'm sure. And that's all I need. Come and eat." 

 Duncan watched the younger man eat obediently but frowned at the way he
moved like a whipped cur. How could he think that any of this was his
fault? "Would you like to spar a little with me, Ray?" he offered as a
distraction. He wasn't prepared for the other man's violent reaction. 

 "No!" he shouted. "Duncan, promise me - keep me away from weapons until
this is over. Hide 'em, lock 'em up - anything. And I want you to tie me
up at night." 

 "I'll do no such thing, lad. You're overreacting..." 

 "I tried to kill the man I love! With my eyes wide open. I knew what was
happening, I just couldn't... couldn't stop myself..." His voice
disappeared, and to Duncan's dismay, the horrified look was back on his
face as he relived what had happened. 

 "Ray, stop this," Duncan snapped. "What happened was an accident. And
temporary. I guarantee you, it won't happen again. I won't let it." He
held out a hand. "Come and sit down on the mat, I want to try something." 

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

 "Aye, you did. This isn't fighting. Sit." 

 He didn't wait for the younger man to obey, but took up a lotus position
on the comfortable living room rug. He watched as Ray did the same and
then looked at him suspiciously. "Methos taught you some meditation while
he was training you, right?" 

 "Yeah, to help me focus and all that." 

 "Well, this is just going to be purely for relaxation. To help you
relieve the stress this is putting you under." 

 "What if I fall asleep?" 

 "You won't - and more important, neither will I. I'm going to guide you
in, and watch you the whole time. You'll be perfectly safe. Trust me." 

 "Okay. What do I do?" 

 "Close your eyes and listen to my voice." Duncan led Ray through the
exercise, getting him to concentrate on his breathing, then on the
different parts of his body, relaxing each in turn. He saw approvingly
that Ray's breathing was deep and even, and that the tension marks on this
face had eased. Finally he got him to imagine a pleasant safe place where
he could retreat to when he was under stress. "Are you there?" Ray nodded.
"I want you to imagine that you are taking a little walk. Just to see
everything that's here. Smell the fresh air. If there are any flowers,
pick one and hold it to your nose, smell the fragrance..." Duncan let his
voice become hypnotic and deep, intending to leave Ray in the trance for
twenty minutes or so. Suddenly Ray screamed, an unearthly sound, and he
thrashed about, trying to extricate himself from the lotus position,
scrambling to his feet, nearly tripping in his haste. He fled to the
corner and held his hands in front of him defensively, his eyes wide in
fright, keening. Duncan didn't know if touching him would make it worse.
"Ray! Ray - what is it?" 

 "Keep it away. Get it off me!" he yelled, clutching at his chest, tearing
at his shirt. Duncan dodged the flailing hands and gripped the man firmly
by the shoulders and pulled him into a crushing embrace. 

 "No, Ray - it's not real. It's. Not. Real." He took the man's face in his
hands and forced Ray to meet his eyes. "Look at me. I'm real. Come back.
You're safe." 

 Ray reached up a hand. "Safe?" He looked down and shivered. "It's gone."
He would have collapsed but Duncan held him, and helped him to the sofa,
keeping his arms around the trembling man. "It was eating me, Duncan. I
saw it. It was ... like a black spider or something. Blurry. But it kept
biting, eating me." He rubbed his chest as if the injuries had been real.
"I picked the flower like you said, but it was hiding there. Waiting for
me. I was so scared." Ray closed his eyes. Duncan rubbed his back
soothingly. "Fuck, I need a drink." 

 Wordlessly, Duncan got him a glass and poured him a hefty Scotch, and
then, after a moment, one for himself. He handed the drink to Ray. "I know
it might not sound like it now, Ray, but this might be a very good thing."


 "Yeah, right," Ray said sardonically. 

 "I'm serious. If you can visualise it, you might be able to fight it, or
contain it somehow." 

 "But it's so strong - I couldn't pull it off me." 

 "Not yet, no. But maybe with time - I'm going to call Methos and tell
him. He knows a lot more about this sort of thing." 

 Ray didn't answer, just sat sipping his drink, lost in thought. Duncan
wished there was some way he could take the burden of this off the young
Immortal's back, even for a while, but there wasn't. He was ambushed
wherever he looked. 

 Ray finished his drink and stood up. "I'm going for a walk - if you think
it's safe." 

 "I'm sure it is. Which way are you going? I'll look out for you in say,
three hours?" Ray nodded and told him he was going to do a partial
clockwise circuit of the island. 

 Once Ray was gone, he dialled Joe's cell phone. "Joe? Are you still on
the road?" 

 "Coming up to Seacouver in about half an hour. Why?" 

 "Can you ask Methos to call me the second you're back?" 

 "Will do. Is something wrong?" 

 "No, but it's important." 

 Twenty-five minutes later, Mac's cell rang. "MacLeod." 

 "Give," Methos said. 

 "I tried a meditation exercise with Ray, and the ukaska attacked him. He
was able to see it. I wondered if this might be a way of fighting it." 

 He heard Methos breath out heavily. "When Alexa was ill, one of the
doctors - well, one of the quacks actually - suggested that she try a
visualisation technique. She was supposed to imagine her cancer and try
and heal it with light and heat. It was no sodding use of course - but I
wonder if ... yes, Mac, keep it up. Get him to face it, learn about it. It
can't hurt - well, I can't think it would hurt - and it might help. But I
wouldn't touch him while he's doing it, or try and join in - that could be
risky. Oh, and Mac - make sure it doesn't get a chance to overwhelm him.
Give him a safe way out." 

 "Got it. Are you OK?" 

 "Yeah. I calmed down. Ray?" 

 "He's gone for a walk. He's pretty rattled." 

 "Not surprised. He can call me this evening." 

 "I told him that. I don't know if he will - he still thinks this is his
fault somehow." 

 "It's not!" Methos exploded. "It could have been anyone - it could have
been his partner for gods sake. Can't he see that?" 

 "Maybe later. It's a lot for him to deal with." 

 "I know. I'm glad he's got you, Duncan. It's good you're sleeping with
him." 

 "It's no trouble, Methos. I'm glad to be here." 

 "Remember what I said about conserving his energies. This thing will be
hungry once you leave the island - I think it might be worse than before."


 "Leave it to me. Please give my regards to Master Kem." 

 "I will."  

 Methos regarded the excellent meal in front of him with a jaundiced eye.
No matter how good the food was, or how generous the leg room, or how
comfortable the leather chairs were, there was just no getting away from
the fact that he was voluntarily spending over twenty hours trapped in a
metal tube that so very easily could burst into flames and make him very
permanently dead. At least worrying dying in a plane crash made a change
from the other persistent worry in his life, which had taken him over just
as surely as that blasted ukaska had taken over his young lover's mind. It
made him blindingly, dangerously furious, the thought of this mindless,
purposeless entity controlling his dearest friend, draining the life from
those wonderful eyes and turning his flesh to nothing. If taking up Ray's
suggestion and sucking the damn thing out his brain with a straw would
actually work, he would do it - anything to free Ray from the hell he now
inhabited. And to think the child actually blamed himself! That had made
Methos so angry that he'd had to go to the dojo and get seriously mean
with a punching bag for an hour or two. 

 He knew he should have stayed a little longer on the island, reassured
Ray that all was well between them, but he was so angry, so depressed at
his own stupidity, he thought he should get away before he did any more
harm. He'd waited for Ray to call, and finally he'd called Duncan's phone.
But Ray had refused to talk to him, just giving him a message through
Duncan that he hoped he had a good trip. Was Ray angry with him? Or just
disappointed. He growled at the memory. Bad enough the child was being
tormented by this invader, now his lover was scarifying him with his
thoughtlessness. 

 He forced himself to think about what Duncan had told him of the
meditation. It was interesting that Ray's mind was still able to see the
thing as a separate entity, as an enemy - that meant his personality and
his sense of self were preserved. He knew MacLeod was experienced in
meditation techniques, and he was confident that Ray would come to no harm
that way - but could it actually help? He tossed the ideas he'd had back
and forth, unable to sleep on the long trip. By the time he'd reached KL,
he was exhausted and fretful. He showered and went straight to bed. In the
morning, he would drive up to the monastery, and hopefully some answers.  

 Duncan sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair watching Ray try to fall
asleep and wondered if he should just override the other man's
sensibilities and climb into bed with him. But Ray had pleaded with him
not to put himself at risk, to sit and watch if the thing in his head was
really subdued again or not, and Duncan hadn't the heart to increase his
distress by refusing. The only problem with this plan was that Ray had
tossed and turned for two hours, and so far as Duncan could tell, was as
wide awake as when he had first reluctantly got under the covers. He was
scared to fall asleep, that was the simple truth of it. "Ray, why don't
you let me come in there with you? The worst that can happen is that
you'll strangle me and fall asleep." 

 "You don't know that, Duncan. Things have changed." He heard the pain in
the other's voice and sighed. He got up and sat on the edge of the bed.
Ray actually moved away, as if his very touch was poison. "Come here, lad.
You can't hurt me like this, and I won't hurt you, that's for sure." 

 "What do you want?" 

 "The same as Methos did the other night - I'm going to give you a
massage. You're as tense as an archer's bow, and I'd like to get some
sleep before dawn, you know." 

 "Duncan, I'm sorry - why don't you just tie me up?" 

 "Because I don't want to, and there's another answer. Just let me get
some oil. I won't be long." 

 He smiled a little to himself as he fetched the massage oil. In normal
circumstances, this would be a prelude to a night of hot sex, but even if
Ray would have permitted it and Methos would not have minded, the
afternoon's events had provided the starkest warning that it was a bad
idea. He found Ray lying on his back, tense as ever, watching him warily. 

 "Och, you'd think I wanted your head. Roll over and for god's sake,
relax." 

 He quickly rebuilt the fire to warm the room, and stripped to his boxers.
"Do you sleep in your underwear at home, Ray?" 

 Ray turned his head and gave him a startled look. "Um, no - not usually."


 "Well, take those off. God knows, I've seen you naked and seen naked bums
before. Or don't you know the joke about what a Scotsman wears under his
kilt?" Ray stared at him, but slipped the boxers off without turning over.
Duncan did the same, not being in the least ashamed of his own body. He
smiled at Ray trying not to peek. "It's okay to look, Ray. I suspect if we
end up in Borneo, we'll be seeing a lot of each other that way." 

 "Never heard of modesty, Duncan?" 

 "There's nae lassies about, so what are you worrying for?" He gave up
teasing the younger man, and kneeled between his legs. Very nice indeed -
that Methos was one lucky son of a bitch. "I see you keep your gluteals in
good shape, Ray." 

 "Is that your way of saying I have a cute ass, Mac?" Duncan was delighted
to hear the smile in the other man's voice. 

 "I guess it is. You ready?" 

 He warmed some oil in his hands and applied it to the strong shoulders.
Like Methos, this man's slight build belied some serious muscle power - he
had spent hours chopping wood while on the island, and had wielded the
heavy axe like a toothpick. He was no longer the inexperienced fighter
that had worried Duncan so much when he'd first encountered him. He'd
never defeat Methos or Duncan, they had too many years and too much skill
on their side - but he'd give Amanda a hard time, and many an Immortal
head-hunter who thought that he might be easy pickings was in for a very
nasty surprise indeed. Pity that all his dedication and fitness was no
match for the evil in his head. 

 Duncan forced his thoughts away from such negativity and turned his mind
to letting his energy flow with warmth, and healing into the tense
muscles, and the injured soul of the man underneath him. He cleansed
himself of all but thoughts of support, friendship - even brotherly love -
all things which could help the younger man in his fight against the
ukaska. He felt Ray relax slowly, the skin warmed by the insistent digging
and massage, and could feel the pulse and the breathing slow. "You done
this before, Duncan?" Ray asked drowsily. "With a guy, I mean." 

 "Not exactly, but the principle's the same." 

 "What about, uh, the rest of it?" 

 "Sex? Yes. Not for a while, though. You?" 

 "Not since high school. Never thought about anyone but Stella while we
were married, and then boom! I meet Fraser, and it's like, wow, he's hot.
But he wasn't interested. Then I meet Adam and he just knocked me over -
he's so good-looking. The rest of it was wild. I think that's part of why
I like him." 

 "Guys with big swords, you mean." 

 He felt Ray chuckle. "You got it. Kinda weird me being like you after all
that. Especially when Immortals are like cats and dogs most of the time." 

 "It doesn't have to be that way, but I know what you mean." 

 "There was just something about Adam - like a pull. Did you feel it?" 

 "I think I did. The man drives me insane sometimes, but I could no more
let him out of my life than I could cut my arm off. I mean, I could, but
it would hurt like hell." 

 "I couldn't. It scares the crap out of me how much I want him." 

 "I know that feeling too. You know you're supposed to be trying to go to
sleep. Don't make me sing you a lullaby, I beg you. Methos will never let
me hear the end of it." 

 Ray laughed again. "Okay, I'll be good." 

 Duncan kept up the sensuous, nonstimulatory touches until he was quite
sure Ray had drifted off. Now was the proof of the pudding, he thought. He
climbed off the other man carefully, and sat cross-legged at the end of
the bed to wait. If the pattern followed its previous course, then it
wouldn't be long. He waited an hour. Nothing. Not even a bad dream. That
was conclusive as far as he was concerned, and he was getting cold. He
crawled under the bed clothes and put his arms around the familiar furnace
of Ray's body. "Sleep well," he whispered, putting a chaste kiss into the
short hair on the back of Ray's neck.  

 It took three hours to get to the monastery - an hour of highway, and
then another two on poorly made, heavily potholed roads that made his
kidneys ache. The oil palm plantations suddenly gave way to forest, and
there it was, rising like a terracotta sculpture out of the earth. 

 An acolyte greeted Methos and led him to their living quarters - a spare
room with sleeping mats and basins of water. It seemed hours before the
acolyte came for him and led him to Master Kem's rooms. The monk almost
looked his true age - he must have died his first death very late in life,
Methos thought. He greeted the Ancient warmly. "Welcome, Adam Pierson. How
is Duncan MacLeod?" 

 "Well, Master Kem. Concerned about our friend, as am I." 

 "I understand. It is indeed a most worrying affliction. Tell me, did you
bring the photos of the vessel that was broken?" 

 Methos produced the museum catalogue photo. "Is it important?" 

 "In itself, no. But it confirms what I have found in the texts. Come with
me to the library." 

 Methos followed the elderly monk down worn stone stairs, to a large cool
room where there were hundreds of scrolls bound in cases on the walls. A
few were being studied by fellow monks. Kem Lo led him to a table where a
brittle roll of paper was carefully laid out. "It was very difficult to
find this reference, and until I saw the picture, I was not completely
sure. The tribe which succeeded in trapping the ukaska - the only ones to
do so, to my knowledge - were afflicted by a disaster. Only a handful
survived, and it is they who carried the oral tradition down to us." 

 "What was the disaster?" 

 "They lost their shaman, and were no longer protected from the evil
spirits. Or so it was said. In any event, most of the tribe died. Here is
the reference. "They went to the home of the evil thing. The wise one
lured the evil thing into the vessel with his life, and the elders left it
there to remain." 

 "That's it?" Methos was less than impressed. 

 "I'm afraid so. But do not look so despondent. We already know what the
vessel is - you have shown me a picture - and I think the 'home' must be
the cave where it was found." 

 "But what's this about 'luring it with his life'? 

 "When you set a trap, Adam, what do you do?" 

 "Bait it." 

 "Yes. And this ukaska feeds on the life force. The shaman must have
somehow put it into the vessel to draw it there, and trapped it." 

 "Are we talking about blood? That's seems easy enough." 

 Kem Lo looked at him steadily. "I don't think so. The shaman died doing
this - this was the disaster that afflicted the tribe. He gave his life to
trap the ukaska." 

 Gods. Love Ray though he might, he couldn't die for this ... this
possibility. But nor could he stand aside and watch the younger man waste
away either. "So if you can somehow get a man's life force out of his
body, do you need to recreate this vessel?" 

 Master Kem shook his head. "No, I think not - the jug is just that, a
simple container. You can see that the shaman has put magical symbols and
representations on it, but these are not important. What is important is
what was inside." Methos could understand that - if the guy was going to
give his life up, he'd want to put it in something a little more ornate
than the Dyak equivalent of a jam jar. 

 "Do you have the faintest idea how you can get a life force out of a
man?" Methos spoke calmly, as if this was an academic discussion only. 

 "You do it all the time - when you kill another like yourself, is that
not true, Methos?" 

 Methos stared in horror at the old man. "My name is Adam Pierson, Master
Kem," he said coolly. 

 "So it is - now. But I can feel your power, Ancient, and there is only
one of us who is that old. Now, you can release a Quickening through
death. I think it may be possible to take less than all the life force
from one such as yourself, one who has taken many Quickenings, and let you
survive." 

 "You think - you don't know?" 

 "It's never been attempted, only theorised. All I know is that if anyone
can do this, you can." 

 "Well that's just terrific, but since I've never done it before,
obviously, then the chances of it working seem rather slim, don't you
think?" Methos said with rather more sarcasm than was polite. 

 "The only other way is to for your friend to kill himself and entomb his
body." 

 "Unacceptable," Methos gritted out. 

 "He is important to you?" 

 "Yes. He is. To me and to MacLeod." 

 "Then you can either do nothing, or try what I have suggested. It will be
neither easy nor pleasant, I warn you." 

 "Now, there's a surprise." Methos sighed. "What do I have to do?" 

 "Today - nothing. Rest, perhaps meditate. We will try tomorrow. It's
going to be long day, and a difficult one. You need all your strength, and
your courage. My colleague will show you out." Methos turned to go.
"Ancient - what we are going to attempt is risky, you understand that? You
could die - permanently." 

 The situation was too grim for a smart retort - Methos merely nodded and
followed the young acolyte out. He was given directions to his room, told
what to do if he wanted food or drink, and shown the way to the gardens.
He chose to stay in his room - he had some thinking to do. This was, he
well knew, completely insane. He knew nothing of Kem Lo other than what
Duncan had told him, had no reassurance that the man wasn't using this
ploy to get his Quickening - gods, the man had known who he was straight
off the mark! Duncan's respect for him really didn't prove a thing - after
all, the Scot liked him, didn't he? And if this didn't work, Ray would be
short one lover, Duncan a friend, and yours truly without a life, which,
thank you very much, he'd become quite attached to after five thousand
years. The last man to try this had condemned his tribe to
near-annihilation. Not exactly a strong recommendation. It wasn't even the
only answer - he refused to contemplate any solution which involved Ray's
death, but he could live on MacLeod's island, or other holy ground of his
choosing. Hell, Methos could offer him a choice of a dozen places to stay.
Of course, it would mean giving up his career, but he was going to have to
do that anyway in a few years. Was it too great a price to pay for life
itself? Would Ray really choose his own life over Methos'? 

 No, he wouldn't, Methos well knew. Ray's instant response would be
suicide of the literal or the figurative kind, and Methos knew if the
younger man was forced to live an enclosed life, he would go mad. The man
was a ball of energy, the restrictions of the past fortnight had been a
torment for him. If he had to contemplate centuries like that, he really
would prefer to be dead. 

 Duncan would do this without hesitation. Duncan was a fool. That makes
two of us, Methos sighed heavily. He knew he was going to do this just as
surely as he knew he hated the prospect almost more than anything else
he'd ever done. He remembered a discussion he'd had with Joe about his
journals, and a will. It was a little late for legalities, but he supposed
he owed it to Joe, and Duncan, and Ray, to tell them what he'd done, and
why. And what they meant to him. 

 He hadn't really expected to spend the afternoon writing what effectively
were suicide notes, and the exercise made him depressed and tired. He
really should try some meditation, but not in here. He needed to be out in
the fresh air, and now that it had rained, the heat seemed less
oppressive, although it was still very hot indeed. He went down to the
gardens and was glad to see that the monks had planned against the heat,
planting large and shady trees at strategic points, even with the
civilised touches of stone seats under them, useful since the ground was
sodden from the downpour. He took his place under a large fig tree,
inhaling the bordello rich scents of the garden, the rising humidity, the
distant bite of incense from the monastery. He closed his eyes. His life
had been full, no doubt, and though he had more regrets than there were
stars in the sky, he'd had his pleasures too. Most recently because of a
certain cocky blond cop who'd got under his skin and refused to budge. He
wanted to live, he wanted to live with Ray, and Duncan and Amanda and Joe,
for however many years he was spared. He wasn't ready to die. Even that
dark night when he'd offered Duncan his head, he wasn't ready to die so
much as he was tired of the fight to live. He hated the Game with his very
soul. If he died tomorrow, at least he knew there were some Immortals -
like Ray and Duncan, and a few others - who hated it with equal passion,
and if it were up to them, it would be over without another head being
lost. 

 This wasn't just for Ray, he realised. If Ray died, and the ukaska was
released somehow, then it would be a blight to rival the Black Death,
slaying mortals and Immortals alike. He hoped the gods would forgive him
that it was Ray's survival that was uppermost in his mind. What there was
left of it, he thought wryly, for surely he must be slowly going out of
it. 

 He crossed his legs lotus fashion and let his mind empty of all these
worries. He would need all his faculties, such as they were, to deal with
what was coming, and couldn't allow himself to be distracted by thoughts
of other people, other concerns. He reached deep within himself, centring
himself, cleansing his mind and his body. He let himself remain this way
for nearly an hour, knowing it was worth as much as a night's sleep in
some ways. He slowly let himself emerge, but was surprised to find that he
was suddenly on a warm beach. This wasn't part of his meditation routine -
where the hell...? It was more like a fantasy beach - the sand was pure
white, the water warm and lapping the shore gently and the sky was blazing
in a permanent sunset. Not like any beach he'd ever seen, or imagined.
"Adam?" a familiar voice called. 

 Methos turned. "Ray - where is this?" 

 Ray looked around. "It's my safe place. You know, where I come when I
meditate." 

 "Are you meditating now?" 

 "Um - don't think so. I'm asleep. Duncan gave me a backrub." 

 "That's nice - but why am I here?" 

 The other man shrugged. "Dunno." He came up to Methos and took his hands.
"Glad you are, though," he said shyly, and kissed him. Well that felt real
enough. 

 Methos looked around. There were flowers and trees, quite impossible for
a real beach. There were even roses, for heaven's sake - they certainly
didn't grow in salty air. "Did you make this?" 

 "I guess so." Methos started to walk to the flowers. "No! Don't - that's
where ... you know ... the thing is." Ray clung to his hands, preventing
him from walking away. 

 "Can I see it from here?" 

 "It's under the rose bush - look." Ah, so it was. A black, scabrous,
nasty looking thing. "It's got sharp teeth. I know." 

 "Let's leave it alone then, shall we? I want to talk to you." Methos had
no idea if this was a dream, a jet-lagged fuelled delusion or a genuine
link to his lover's subconscious, but he thought it was worth a go. He
took Ray's hand and the walked away down the lovely stretch of sand, until
they had left the flowers far behind. He sat down and pulled Ray down next
to him. The younger man lay his head on Methos' shoulder with a sigh. 

 "Are you mad at me for not talking to you on the phone?" Ray asked. 

 "No. I was just concerned about you. This isn't your fault." 

 "I know that - here. But when I wake up, it's all confused. It's nice
here." 

 "It's nice out there too. Listen, Ray, I have to tell you what's
happening." He explained quickly. Ray reacted with horror. 

 "No way, Adam. This is going to kill you, and it may not even work. I
can't let you do that!" 

 "Too late. I've already decided. And it's not just for you. Look - I'm
probably the only person in the world who can do this safely, if at all.
And I'm Immortal too, don't forget. The chances of this doing me permanent
harm are vanishingly small." 

 "Bullshit, Adam. I know when you're lying. Your face goes funny." 

 It does? Methos thought. "Well, never mind. I'm going to do this. You
must tell Duncan that I've left instructions ... in case things do go
wrong. Kem Lo will give them to you all." 

 "No! Adam - please. You can't." There was fear and grief in Ray's eyes
and Methos gently kissed them. 

 "You asked me once what I was saving myself for, Ray. I think the answer
might be this. If you believe in destiny of any sort, there must be
something in the fact that the one person who might be able to do this, is
the one person who's prepared to try. Now, no more protests. I don't know
how long I can stay here with you - you'll wake up soon, I suppose, and I
want to spend that time holding you. And telling you something I've never
been brave enough to say before. I love you, Ray Kowalski. Remember that
always." 

 "Adam ..." Ray choked and then buried his head in the crook of Methos'
neck. "I love you more than I have anyone - more than Stella, Fraser - my
parents ..." 

 "More than Shelly ...?" 

 Ray lifted his head and gave Methos a very damp smile. "Yeah - even
Shelly. You can't die. Promise me that." 

 "I'll do my best. Will you kiss me?" 

 For an answer, Ray did just that, tenderly and with all the love he had.
Methos could feel it like a living thing, his affection and devotion, and
it wrapped around him like a soft warm cloak, strengthening him and
calming him. This he would carry with him tomorrow. "Do you think we can
do this again?" Ray asked softly. 

 "I don't know. I don't know why we can do it now. I don't know if you'll
remember any of this tomorrow, or even if it's real." 

 "It is, and I will. I swear." Ray looked up. "Uh oh, I think I'm waking
up." He stood. "Adam - you have to come back. I'll wait for you forever if
I have to." 

 "And I you, pup. You keep up the meditation with Duncan but mind the bug.
Don't lose yourself." He felt in his pocket - what was that doing there?
He took the object out. "Use this." It was a ball of silver thread. "Throw
it, and follow it if you think you've got lost. It'll take you home." How
did he know that? He just did, that was all. He stood and took the other
man in his arms. "Be strong for me, Ray. Live. No matter what it takes. Do
you understand?" 

 "Yeah, I do. I promise." Ray looked wistful, then gave Methos a peck on
the cheek. "I gotta go. See you tomorrow, same bat time, same bat
channel?" 

 "Maybe. I love you." 

 Ray smiled, and then walked slowly away. As he did, the beach faded away
and Methos found himself back in the garden under the fig tree, getting
dripped on. It had started to rain again. Well, that was different, he
thought. Was any of it real, though? He still could feel the warmth of
Ray's love and his touch, which he missed so much. If it was a fantasy,
then it was a delightful one. He sighed and stretched. The rain was
easing, but in truth, with it being so hot, it didn't matter if he got
wet. He didn't care for the tropics that much, he like his climates a
little less extreme, but he'd take this over Paris in the winter any day.
But he'd take Paris in the winter over not being in Paris or anywhere ever
again. 

 What a gloomy Gus, he thought. His watch confirmed that it was
dinnertime, and that the acolyte had said that he was welcome to join
Master Kem for the meal. He had some questions for the old one. He checked
that he was presentable and went in search of food and answers. 

 He was directed without fuss to the monk's rooms, and found he was
expected. "Methos, come and sit," he was bid by the elderly monk. The food
was brought in - simple, vegetarian and wholesome - and they sat on the
floor to eat. "You had some rest, I trust?" 

 "A little. I had some things to settle. Master Kem - if things go wrong
tomorrow, if I am not rational when we finish, you and your monks may be
in great danger from me, have you thought of that?" 

 "I have, and you must not concern yourself. The battle you must think of
is with your heart and your mind. We can look after ourselves." 

 "And another thing - if this process leaves me ... lessened, damaged ...
I want Duncan to come here and take my head. I've left him a note. He'll
understand." 

 "You will understand as a Buddhist, I can hardly condone such a thing, my
son," he said gently. "But as a man ... I understand. We will help MacLeod
should it become necessary. You will not be left to suffer." 

 "Thank you." 

 "You are afraid." 

 "Does that surprise you?" 

 "No. It shows you are wise. I too am afraid. What is lain upon you is a
very great burden. I don't think even I could shoulder it. You must love
this young man very much." 

 "It's not just that, Master Kem. If this thing gets loose in the world,
you know what it will do." 

 "Yes. But perhaps it is fated that it should do so." 

 "I won't, can't believe that. This ... thing... this ukaska, has no place
in my world. It does not belong in the world of men. Nothing that kills so
indiscriminately can." 

 "Many would say that about Immortals." Methos opened his mouth to protest
that he didn't kill indiscriminately, then shut it. He would have to add
the rider 'any more'. But little escaped the monk's notice. "You see, my
son? If we deny life to one living thing, then we deny it to all." 

 "But this thing is not living - it's a parasite!" 

 "So are many creatures. Are you so certain that you have the right to
judge whether it should live or die?" 

 "I don't care if it lives or dies, as long as it bloody well leaves my
friends alone!" 

 Master Kem smiled. "And so it comes down to individuals, as it always
does. You don't do this for justice, or the greater good, but because you
love this man, and cannot bear that he is in pain. Is that not the honest
truth?" 

 "Yes, I suppose it is. Does that make a difference to what we are
planning to do?" 

 "No. I just want you to be honest. Tomorrow you will have to face
yourself, Methos. You will have nowhere to hide, no way of lying to
yourself. Are you truly ready to do that?" 

 "I'm not sure." 

 "And that, at least, is also honest. My son, no one can do this for you,
but you will not be alone. I will be with you in person, and your loved
ones, your friends, will be with you in spirit. They will help and
strengthen you, just as you have helped and strengthened them in the
past." 

 "How do you know I have? How do you know I'm not some parasite as well?" 

 The monk looked at him wryly. "A parasite does not fly ten thousand miles
and offer to give his life for a theoretical hope of saving another. Nor
do I think this is the first time you have made sacrifices for others. You
have been a teacher, I feel that. A healer too." 

 "I have also been a murderer, a rapist, the worst nightmare of men, women
and children. I have created terror and pain and destruction. Do you feel
that too?" he said harshly. But the monk merely nodded. 

 "Yes, that is part of you too. So is the rest. So are the Quickenings of
the people you have killed. All you, all Methos. From this well, you will
draw the bait for the trap. The well is deep, Methos. There is much there,
enough to spare. You are old, and your soul is rich. Light and dark live
within you more than in most. It is your gift and your curse. Now, eat
your food. We won't talk more of this. You need to empty your mind and
prepare for the battle. You have done this before, no doubt." 

 Oh yes, a thousand times. Possibly thousands of times. He had not won
every battle he'd ever fought, but by the gods, he'd given each of them
everything he had.  

 Duncan was getting more than just a little annoyed. He'd been awake for
half an hour, and for twenty nine minutes, he'd been arguing with an
increasingly frustrated Ray Kowalski who was trying, without much success,
to convince him that he'd had a conversation with Methos in his sleep, and
that Methos was planning on virtually committing suicide in order to lure
this thing in Ray's head into a jar, of all things. "Ray, for god's sake.
Even if what you're saying is true, there is nothing we can do about it.
We can't get there in time, there's no phone number, and Master Kem won't
receive the email for days." 

 "He's gonna die, Duncan! He's gonna pour himself into a vase or something
and die!" Ray had been pacing back and forth for fifteen minutes and
Duncan finally lost patience. 

 "Sit down, Ray," he growled, "or I'll tie you down. This isn't helping
anyone. Look - did Methos say he was going to die?" 

 "No, but he said there was a risk. He was lying, I know that. Duncan -
it's not worth it. You gotta stop him." 

 "I think I'd have about as much success doing that as you would, Ray. The
word 'stubborn' was probably invented by Methos for Methos. Besides, he's
lived five thousand years. He doesn't take unnecessary risks." 

 Ray stood up again. "Oh yeah? We're talking about the guy who took on
Gina Valincourt, are we? The one who saved your ass when Liam O'Rourke
came for you? The one who you nearly killed when that Dark Quickening
thing got ya? Crap, Duncan, you don't even believe what you're saying,
don't try and fool me." 

 "I said he doesn't take unnecessary risks - not that he takes no risks.
It's up to him to decide what's necessary and what's not. He's a grown man
a hundred times over. He can make up his own mind." 

 "Some damn friend you are, MacLeod. I want to get off the island. Can you
get me to the town? I'll hitch from there." 

 "No way," Duncan said firmly. "What are you planning to do?" 

 "I'm gonna fly to Malaysia." 

 "You are certifiable, do you know that? For one, I'm not rowing you
across the lake. Two, you'll never get to Malaysia in time. And three -
what happens when you fall asleep on the plane? How many people do you
think you'll murder, huh?" 

 "You fucking bastard," Ray hissed. He sat down and covered his face, then
roared in anger. "There has to be something, anything - I feel so fucking
helpless." 

 You and me both, kid, Duncan thought sourly. But this couldn't go on - it
would come to swords if they weren't careful. "Ray," he said more calmly.
"What did Methos ask you to do?" 

 "He said to keep up with the meditation, and to remember I loved him." 

 "So what's wrong with that?" 

 "What's wrong is that I'm gonna be sitting on my ass while the man I love
kills himself!" 

 "Do you have much choice? Look - this isn't exactly fun for me either,
and I can't see how you and me being at each other's throats is going to
help. If the worst happens - and I really think there's every chance
Methos will succeed, because he wouldn't do it if there wasn't a chance
that he will - then you and me and Joe will need each other. Or were you
planning on honouring Methos' sacrifice by curling up and dying?" 

 "Shut up, Duncan." 

 "Well, come on, what are you planning to do?" 

 "Don't have a lot of choice, do I? Seeing how I have to stay on holy
ground if I'm not going to turn into a murderer." 

 Duncan stood. He'd had enough and they were going around in circles. Ray
couldn't leave without his help, and even it meant he was keeping the man
against his will, the only sensible option was for him to stay until they
got word from Malaysia. "I'm going down to make breakfast. Stay here or
eat, it makes no difference to me." 

 He stomped downstairs. My god, he thought, this situation is going to be
the death of all of us. If Methos didn't come back, and somehow he knew
there had to be something behind this vision of Ray's, then someone was
going to have to make sure that Ray didn't harm himself or anyone else.
He'd resolutely avoided looking at the long term, and now he did, it was
unappealing. Ray - trapped on holy ground, or forced to sleep with an
Immortal lover. Duncan, unable to travel freely in case the ukaska slipped
the leash. And if Methos died, both of them were going to be hit hard.
Dammit, Methos wasn't going to die and that really was all there was to
it. 

 He felt a Presence and then Ray was there. "Um. Look, Duncan ... I'm
sorry." He looked utterly shamefaced. 

 He put his hand on Ray's arm. "Me too, lad. I don't know if what you saw
was real or not, but we can do naught about it. Do you want some coffee?"
Ray nodded. 

 They ate breakfast in silence. Duncan knew that Ray's thoughts were many
thousands of miles away, as indeed were his own, but they couldn't moon
all day over it. "Tell you what - why don't we go to Seacouver and see
Joe? We can afford one night away, surely, and it will do us good." 

 "Okay - I need to speak to my boss and extend my leave of absence. I
suppose I should collect our mail too." 

 They decided to leave after an early lunch, make a night of it. It was
going to mean Duncan would have to be throttled again, but he could live
with that. The change of scenery would make it worth it.  

 Methos had slept badly, it being a long time since he'd slept on mats on
bare earth, and moreover, with the prospect of possible death awaiting
him. Not the best preparation for trying to distil pure essence of Methos
to stick in a bottle. Master Kem hadn't told him what was involved, except
that no drugs or physical means were required. That just meant that he had
more than an even chance of coming out of this insane, something his
Immortal healing couldn't help with. They were going to be in Master Kem's
rooms all day, and when he presented himself, he found that some cushions
had been provided. He cocked an eyebrow at the monk. "You're going to be
in one position for a very long time, Methos. You may as well start by
being comfortable." Nice thought, if perhaps a little pointless, he felt,
but nevertheless made sure his body was arranged as easily as he could
manage. 

 Kem Lo produced the chosen vessel - a metal pot with a wooden bung,
almost a perfect globe. It felt heavy. "Is it magical?" Methos asked. 

 Kem Lo laughed. "No, my son. We don't hold with such things. It was a
gift from a grateful visitor. It is practical and suits our purpose.
Moreover, when we succeed, you will be able to carry it easily to the
cave." Methos appreciated the 'when' rather than the more likely 'if'. 

 "What do I do?" 

 "The principle is simple. You must go within yourself, and find the core
of your being. From this, you will imagine taking enough of your
life-force to fill this vessel. If you have the power, and the ability, it
should go in. We know it can be done - it has been done. We just don't
know if you can take only part of the life force." 

 Wonderful. Methos - lab rat. "Do I hold it?" 

 "Yes." He placed Methos' hands comfortably around it. It felt cool, and
Methos could feel the carvings on the side of it. Made of iron, he
thought. 

 "Now only you know where you start, and where you end - what is you, and
what is not you. I will be here, and I will try to act as your anchor, but
once you are within, you will be on your own. What else do you need to
know?" 

 "Do I get a helmet?" Kem Lo looked at him in puzzlement. "Never mind. No,
I think I'm ready. I should put myself into a trance, yes?" 

 "Yes. Let me guide you in." 

 Methos closed his eyes and the old monk began to chant.  

 Joe was more than a little relieved to see Duncan and Ray, although
surprised it was so soon after the disastrous visit to the island. Duncan
just said something about needing some entertainment. Ray was polite, but
distracted, and disinclined to talk. Joe put drinks in front of them both
and Duncan and he talked small talk. Methos wasn't mentioned as if by some
tacit agreement. It wasn't like Ray not to say anything, but the younger
man seemed to be in a world of his own. Joe kept an eye on him, but left
him alone. He didn't have to be Einstein to know what he was thinking
about - or more precisely, who. 

 The new band started and Duncan and Ray both seemed to cheer up. The
girls were good, the leader vocalist had a wet dream of a voice, and Joe
wished he was ten years younger and could invite her out without looking
like a lecher. Still, singing like that - almost as good as sex. Well, so
he thought. It'd been a while. 

 The evening wore on and the bar got busier and busier. Ray and Duncan had
migrated to a table before things got too crowded, and from what Joe could
see, they were having a good time, the slight tension between them
completely gone. 

 What the hell...? He looked over,and Ray was bent over the table and his
hands were clutched to his head like he was in agony. Duncan's arm was
around his shoulder, and even from this distance, Joe could see the
concern on the Scot's face. Joe called to Mike and told him to take over,
then he limped over to where his friends were sitting. "What's going on?" 

 "Methos," Duncan said quietly. "Ray seems to be channelling him. I need
to get him out of here. " Duncan slid out and with his arm around Ray,
half pulled, half carried the younger man to his feet. Joe could see Ray's
face was ashen, covered in sweat, and he was biting his lip in a way which
promised blood very soon. Joe took Ray's elbow, and they slowly made their
way through the crowded bar. Ray was hardly supporting himself at all but
Duncan's strong arm kept him upright. The cold hit them like a punch in
the face. Away from the noise, Joe could now hear that Ray was trying to
bite back whimpers of pain. 

 "Where are you parked?" 

 "We're not - we walked from the dojo." 

 Damn - a brisk fifteen minute walk, and totally out of the question for
Ray in this state. "I'll bring my car around. Stay here." 

 Stupid order - they weren't going anywhere. His car was parked at the
back of the club and he had to push his way back through the crowd. He
told Mike he wouldn't be back that evening, then went out the back, and
drove around to where the two men were still huddled on the pavement. Ray
was a dead weight - Duncan pushed him into the back seat and climbed in
after him. "The dojo?" Joe asked. 

 "Yeah. Quickly, Joe." 

 "Wasn't planning on taking the scenic route. Hold on." 

 He got them there in four minutes. Ray was unconscious now, and Duncan
had to carry him into the dojo and up in the elevator. "What's going on,
Mac?" Joe asked. 

 "I'll explain in a minute. Just let me get him settled." Duncan lay Ray
down on the bed. Joe got a cold washcloth and Duncan put it on the cop's
forehead. They waited anxiously until Ray stirred and groaned. 

 "Oh man, that sucks." He stayed horizontal and held the cloth to his
face. "Mac, I need a drink." 

 "So do I, MacLeod," Joe joined in quickly. "And an explanation." 

 Duncan put his finger on his lips, and motioned Joe away from the bed.
Over at the drinks cabinet, he poured the whiskies and explained to Joe
what Ray had learned in his vision. "I was sceptical at first, but now I
think there really is a link between them, and Ray is experiencing some of
the pain that Methos is." 

 "Jesus Christ, Mac! You only see fit to tell me this now? Look at him -
if that's only part of what Methos is experiencing, this could kill him!" 

 "Aye, that's what we're afraid of." 

 Joe was left speechless. Duncan took the opportunity to take the Scotch
to Ray and spent a couple of minutes talking quietly to him. He came back.
"It's not a lot better for him - I don't know what to do." He looked at
Joe as if the bluesman might have an answer. 

 "Sorry, Duncan, I'm fresh out of ideas." 

 "Duncan!" Ray yelled. The Scot ran to the bed, Joe limping behind as fast
as he could. 

 "Mac, he's in trouble! He's dying - oh God!" Ray clutched his head, then
grabbed the Highlander's hand. "Duncan, help me - I gotta go to him." 

 "Ray, you know..." 

 "In here, dammit! Like he did last night. Help me get under, in a trance.
Hurry." 

 "Calm down, Ray. You can't bully yourself into a meditative state. Get
comfortable." 

 Ray sat in lotus position and closed his eyes, still wincing with the
sharp pain that was written all over his face. "Come on." 

 Duncan sat on the bed, motioning to Joe to keep away, and began the
instructions for breathing, and for leading Ray into the trance state. To
his utter amazement, Joe saw the cop's face relax, and his breathing slow.
I'll be damned, he thought. Ray was more determined than he thought. But
not enough it seemed. "Fuck!" Ray screamed. "Help me!" The ukaska - he'd
forgotten about the thing. Of course - they were no longer on holy ground.
Duncan shook Ray hard, telling him to open his eyes. It took over a minute
before Ray was aware, and then the cop was sobbing with pain and
frustration. 

 "It's no good - it's there, waiting for me. Damn! Duncan - you gotta help
me, please!" 

 Duncan looked at Joe. "The church?" Joe hazarded. 

 "That's it. Ray. Ray! We're going to get you to Holy Ground and try
again. Can you make it?" Ray nodded, still in the grip of remembered
terror and the pain, but at least walking on his own, albeit on wobbly
legs. Duncan took his arm. "We'll take my car, Joe. Is the church open at
this time of night?" 

 "It'll have to be." 

 This time Joe baby-sat Ray, who rode the short trip with his eyes
clenched shut, and his hands in fists on his knees. Joe could just about
make out the whispered litany of 'hurry up, hurry up' but otherwise Ray
was exercising astonishing control. If the pain was as bad as it was
before, Joe was surprised he was still upright. 

 The closest church was the big cathedral where Methos had brought them
before. It was open, but deserted. Duncan helped Ray into the back of the
church, and they hid on the floor, crouched down behind the pews. Joe
wondered how the hell they were going to explain things if they got caught
- a little extemporaneous exorcism? Temporary insanity? He'd worry about
that when it came to it. Right now, Duncan was concentrating on putting
Ray back in the trance state. Unfortunately the cop was now worked up too
much. "Ray! Calm down. Forget everything else. Listen to my voice. Close
your eyes. Now listen to your breathing...." 

 Again Joe watched Ray wrench back control of his body, relax and fall
under the spell of Duncan's soothing voice. And then all they could do was
wait.  

 Methos was drowning in pain and exhaustion. He had fought so hard, had
endured so much torment, and now, at the final juncture, he was going to
die. His body was on fire, his mind in agony, reliving the pains physical
and mental of a long, poorly lived life. He had dragged himself across
fields made razor like with the bones of the men and women he had killed,
he had choked on the dust of the thousands of corpses he had personally
created. He had endured the thirst of the damned, the hunger of the
bellies of the children he had orphaned. He had listened, over and over,
to the reproach of the people he had loved and lost, the women and men who
had loved him and died, often cruelly, because of his presence in their
lives. There was so little comfort, so little beauty in all this, he
thought. This is my life, and I am going to die the death I have made for
myself. He wanted to give up. He had forgotten why he was here, and he no
longer cared. So tired. Too much pain. He held something in his hand - a
round pot. Why? He felt he should let it go, the better to climb the
slippery walls of this hole, but when he went to open his hand, something
stopped him. It made little difference. He would die now, or he would die
later. But it would be soon, he knew that. He lay his face on the cold
green stones which lined the well. He knew not how he had not slipped
already, but he couldn't hold on much longer. 

 What was that? He tried to still his thumping heart. Again. "Adam?" Who
was Adam? Who called a stranger's name in this wilderness? 

 "Methos?" That was him, but he had no strength to reply. He felt his
breath failing, his vision failing. He would die before he could fall. He
had exhausted himself truly. He wished he could remember why. "Methos? Are
you down there?" Something hit him in the head, and slithered past his
face. A silken, silver thread. Now they were mocking him in his pain. Go
away, he told the unseen person. "Adam, take the thread." Are you kidding?
he thought. Let go to take hold of a spider web? "Methos, grab it. It'll
hold you, I promise." 

 That voice. He knew that voice. He raised the hand with the heavy pot and
made a feeble pass at the rope, somehow tangling it in his fingers. Great
- now if he pulls, I can add a broken hand to my misery. The stranger
pulled, and Methos resigned himself to the pain. But to his surprise, he
was raised easily as if he was on a harness and a winch. It took forever,
and no time, before he was at the top of the well and being hauled out on
the ground. He just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. So tired. A gentle
hand brushed his cheek. 

 "Adam, are you all right?" 

 With great difficulty, he turned his head. He knew this man. This man he
had taught, and he had loved. Still loved. "Ray." 

 "That's me. We gotta get out of here, it stinks. Come with me." 

 Ray pulled him up, and held him and the silken thread. Together they
followed it across the wasteland. The broken skulls and bones gave way
slowly to verdant fields, and breezes ruffled the long grass. "Where are
you taking me?"  Methos asked, his comprehension and strength
slowly  returning with every step. 

 "To the beach. You look like you need a break." 

 That made him laugh until he was sobbing, and his legs went from him, and
only the strong hands of his lover held him, dragging him into the light,
until they were at last on the white sand, safe and warm. "This the
stuff?" Ray asked, taking the pot carefully from his hands. 

 "I think so. Shake it." 

 Ray did. "Well, you got something in there. Adam, I was worried sick
about you. We all were." 

 "I was worried sick about me too." He watched Ray roll up the fine silver
thread back into a ball. "You were supposed to use that to find your way
home." 

 "You're my home." 

 Methos smiled, lay down and closed his eyes. "Are we safe here? Is the
ukaska here?" 

 "Yeah, but he's a long way off. I'm on holy ground - I mean, my body is.
Joe and Duncan are waiting." 

 "I need to rest. Can I?" 

 Ray put his hand on his forehead. "You sleep all you want. I'll keep you
safe. Rest now." Then a soft kiss like a benediction, and Methos slipped
into glorious, dreamless sleep.  

 Duncan and Joe waited anxiously. There was no outward sign of trouble,
Ray looked serene, almost happy - but he'd been gone for over two hours,
with no sign of him waking. Duncan had said he didn't dare try and bring
him out on his own. Joe looked around. There was no one about, so the
worry of discovery had lessened. But what was going on in Ray's head? Joe
swore, this whole business was almost worse than Ahriman, except no one
had died. Yet. What the hell was going on? He needed to pee, and his back
and hips were killing him. Pews weren't designed for hours and hours of
sitting around. "He's coming out!" Duncan said. Ray's eyes opened, and
then he smiled. 

 "Well?" Joe finally asked, when it seemed Ray was just going to sit there
grinning like a loon. 

 "He's okay. Even had a long nap. He says hi, by the way." 

 "That's terrific," Duncan said dryly. "Anything else?" 

 "He got the bait. And he's gonna call us in the next twenty four hours or
so, just as soon as he gets back to KL." 

 "And the ukaska?" Duncan asked. 

 "Oh he's still there. Came sniffing around after the bottle with Methos'
life force in it, but Adam made a face at it and it ran away." 

 "Made a face?" 

 "It scared the shit outta me." 

 Joe had to suppress a giggle. It was either high drama or low comedy with
Immortals, and you never knew which. 

 "Come on, guys, I gotta get out of this joint," Joe complained. Ray rose
easily to his feet, all the weakness and pain clearly completely gone.	

 Methos opened an eye, and just as quickly shut it. Gods, he hurt all
over. But he was still alive, and so far as he could judge,* compos
mentis.* A cool cloth touched his face. "Methos? Are you awake?" 

 It was Master Kem. "I think so," he said without opening his eyes. "Did
it work?" 

 "Oh yes. You've been back with us for several hours. I thought it was
best to let you sleep. It seems to have been ... difficult." 

 "A little, yes." He pushed himself up with a groan and looked around. He
was still in Master Kem's rooms, and still on the cushions, although
prone. "How long?" 

 "You were in the trance for over sixteen hours, and you have slept all
night. It will be dawn soon." 

 "Ray came to me. He helped me. I wouldn't have survived without him." 

 "You see, my son? I told you that those you had helped would help you." 

 Methos suspected it was more to do with the shared Quickening, but in any
event, they could now move to the next stage of the plan. "I'm going back
to Kuala Lumpur today. I'll make arrangements for getting to the cave." 

 Master Kem nodded. "I can give you some names of people who might be able
to help with that. Are you sure you can drive back so soon?" 

 "No offence, Master Kem, but the sooner I get my old bones onto a real
mattress, the better off I'll be. Besides, there's someone I have to
call."	

 Ray had been like a cat on a hot tin roof ever since they got back to the
island, waiting for Methos' call. Duncan prayed this wasn't all a massive
delusion on the younger man's part - he so wanted to believe that Methos
was alive and well and had succeeded in his strange quest, but he only had
Ray's word for it that any of this was more than a peculiarly realistic
nightmare. Now he was doing it - waiting for the phone to ring. When it
finally did, Ray snatched the mobile up before he could reach it. 

 "Kowalski. Adam! Hey, are you all right? It was real, right? The well,
the beach, all that? Cool - you better tell Duncan. When are we coming
out? Okay, I'll pack my swimsuit. Here, I'll hand you over. Love you." 

 Ray handed the phone to Duncan, beaming. Duncan found himself smiling.
"Hi, old Man. I hear you had quite an adventure." 

 "Not something I'd want to repeat, MacLeod. I assure you, Ray isn't
making any of it up. He saved my life back there." 

 "And you've got some of your life force trapped in a bottle, is that
right?" 

 "Honey for the flies. You and Ray need to get out here right away. We're
heading into the jungle, nothing too adventurous but it'll be a week-long
trip, so make sure he's is well rested. I'll make the connections this
end." He gave Mac the details of his hotel. "How's he holding up?" 

 "Apart from driving us nuts worrying about you, he's okay. He'll be
better when he can see you in person." 

 "Me too. Oh, and Duncan? If you're handing out backrubs, I expect one
too, okay?" 

 What the hell? How did he know? "Anything you say, old man. It'll be at
least two days before we can fly out. I'll head into town tomorrow
morning, and get the gear, make the bookings, and then bring Ray in the
day after." 

 "Fine. Say hello to Dawson for me, and tell him I expect the beers to be
cooling when we get back." 

 "I don't need to tell him, Methos. Look after yourself, my friend." 

 "Mac - bring a first aid kit. Don't forget about Ray's condition." 

 "I won't. You worry too much." 

 "No, I'm just very old and wise. See you soon." 

 Duncan hung up, still smiling. It was so good to hear from Methos. He
looked at Ray. "Ready for the sun, my lad?"  

 Methos paced impatiently waiting for Duncan and Ray's flight to clear
Customs. Even though he'd spoken to Ray a couple of days previously, he
wouldn't feel entirely happy until he had his arms around the man and felt
solid flesh under his hands. Ah, and there they were. Ray headed straight
for him and wrapped him in a bear hug. "You really are okay," Ray said,
grinning. 

 "Yes, I am. How was the flight?" 

 Both Duncan and Ray looked wryly at him, and Duncan answered. "Not
something I want to repeat in a hurry." 

 "Yeah - do you know how hard they make you try and sleep on those things?
And I saw all the movies and read all the magazines ten hours in." 

 "And I just plain ran out of things to talk about," Duncan said with a
wince. "In the end, I had to rope the stewardesses in and told them Ray
was on a new experimental therapy where he had to stay awake." 

 "And did it work?" 

 "Close call." 

 "Well, you can sleep all you want now. Let's get a taxi." The two
travellers did look worn out, and he was glad he had gone with connecting
flights to Kalimantan the following day. Even though it meant Ray would
deteriorate, the rest was necessary too. He'd booked them all into a suite
with two bedrooms. Ray and Duncan showered and insisted on hitting the
sack immediately. "I just got out of bed, you realise," Methos pointed
out. 

 "No problem," Ray yawned. "I can sleep with Duncan." 

 Duncan raised his eyebrows, but Methos just nodded. He was slightly taken
aback at Ray's easy cuddling with his friend, but it was only to be
expected. He made himself comfortable in an armchair while the two other
men settled down. Of course, Ray rose and throttled the Scot, which still
made Methos sick to see, but then they both drifted into a deep sleep.
Methos used the time to look over the faxes he'd had from the contacts in
Kalimantan. They were to fly into Borneo, and there travel by road for two
days, and by river and overland for three. After that, they had to
navigate the cave system where the pot had been found. He didn't dare use
a guide for that part, but MacLeod had gone caving, and so had he a long
time ago, so he had to hope everything would be okay. He'd bought some
equipment in KL, as it wasn't available locally, and Mac had brought some
from the States. The only things they were missing were their swords - it
would have been too long and complicated to arrange their import, although
Methos felt deeply unhappy at his weaponless state. The only comfort was
that the chances of meeting another Immortal here, or in Borneo, were slim
- but not non-existent. 

 He checked his watch - the boys had been out for three hours, and showed
no sign of waking. He wandered downstairs and ate a light meal. He still
felt drained - well, literally, he supposed. He still hadn't quite worked
out what he'd lost through the events at the monastery, or if the next
Quickening would replace the lost life force, or even if just living would
do so. The only noticeable symptom was a persistent weariness, which was
slowly dissipating. He'd done a light work out in the hotel gym, and
noticed no weakness, to his relief. He went back to the suite - the other
two hadn't moved a muscle. He could lie down and read in the other room,
but his craving to feel Ray wasn't yet sated. Damn it, the bed was big
enough for three or four grown men to sleep comfortably. He wouldn't
disturb them if he stretched out beside Ray, which would let him feel his
heat, and hear his breathing, which was all he wanted. He lay down with a
book, and started to read. 

 A clicking noise awoke him. "If you take a photo of me in my sleep,
MacLeod, I will pull your liver out through your nose with a rusty fish
hook," he said quietly but firmly. He rolled carefully, and saw a sheepish
Scot putting his disposable camera down. "You must be feeling better." 

 "Yeah. You looked so cute like that." 

 "I'll give you cute." He got up gingerly, not wanting to disturb Ray, and
signalled Mac into the other room. "We should wake him up, I suppose. Why
don't you order lunch from room service, and then I can fill you in on the
plans." 

 Duncan placed the order, and Methos showed him the maps and itinerary.
Duncan approved of the arrangements. "You seem to have lined everything
up." 

 "I had an inspiration and contacted the BBC Natural History Unit - they
were out there just a month ago, and I was able to use their contacts. And
money smoothed the rest of it. The hardest part, unfortunately, is at the
end, when Ray will be weakest. One of us will have to be at his side the
whole time. You brought a medical kit?" 

 "Yes. No point him having immunisations and such, but he's bought
sunscreen and insect repellent as well." 

 "Good." 

 "Did Master Kem say how you're supposed to get the ukaska out of Ray's
head and into the pot?" 

 Methos frowned. "Not exactly. He doesn't really know - we're winging it.
But since visualisation and meditation worked so well for the first part
of this, I suspect it will when it comes to the second part. But the
critical thing is that we have to be in the cave before we can do this, or
it will simply leave with us again. The idea is that the double lure of
being in its den and with a food supply, will allow us to seal it in." 

 "You're planning to dynamite the cave?" 

 "I wish. No, that would only attract attention, and that's the last thing
we want, for someone to find the bloody thing. We'll just bury it." 

 "Not a permanent solution." 

 "Nothing would be, short of firing it into the Sun. It's the best we can
do." 

 The food arrived, and Methos woke Ray while Duncan set the meal out. Ray
still looked weary, as if the sleep had done him no good, but he said he
was ready to get up and eat. "Have we got time for some sight seeing?" he
asked. Duncan looked at Methos, who shrugged. 

 "I can't see why not." 

 "I think you'd both enjoy it," Duncan said. "I know where you can see
monkeys roaming loose in the gardens here." 

 Methos lifted an eyebrow - monkeys were hardly his thing - but Ray looked
delighted at the idea, and Methos reminded himself that this was only
Ray's second ever trip outside the American continent. 

 "Are you up to it?" Methos asked Ray. 

 Ray stretched and yawned. "Yeah. Guess so. Don't feel any worse than I do
when I'm working nights." 

 The food arrived and Duncan and Ray tore into the food. "I'm getting
spoiled, hanging around you guys," Ray said appreciatively. "I never ate
so good even when I was married to Stella. Never travelled so much
either." 

 "Benefits of Immortality, Ray. Time to do the things other people think
they won't have time to do." 

 "Kinda makes up for the evil psychos trying to take your head off with a
sword, I guess." 

 It was still very hot, the afternoon rainstorm having not yet arrived.
Duncan suggested they went to the Kuala Lumpur Bird Park. It was Ray's
first experience of the tropics, and he stared in wonder at the profusion
of plant and animal life. Even the inevitable downpour seemed like just
part of the magic for him. They took shelter and watched the impressive
storm. "Never seen rain like this before," Ray said, amazed at the fury of
the weather. 

 "Neither had I, Ray," Duncan said. "The rain in Scotland can be fierce
enough, but nothing like this." 

 For all the force, the rain lasted less than an hour, and then they could
explore further. Ray spotted a little shelter under which a small monkey
was tethered and before he could move, the young animal was on his
shoulders, grooming his hair. "Hey! Jeez, what is it with animals and me?
Diefenbaker attacked me too." 

 "Diefenbaker? The Prime minister?" Duncan asked in confusion, looking at
Methos. 

 "The wolf. Watch it - that's my ... ow!" The park ranger whose pet it was
grinned at Ray's predicament, but once Ray calmed down, so did the young
macaque, who contentedly picked through Ray's short hair. Duncan kept
clear - his own hair had grown long again and Methos could imagine he
really didn't fancy getting a monkey tangled up in it. He watched Ray's
delighted surprise in amusement. "You find any fleas, they're yours,
sweetcheeks," Ray said. 

 The baby monkey probably would have sat with them all day, but finally
Ray decided enough was enough and gently lifted her off. "You're cute, but
I'm taken, hon." The ranger took her from his hands. "Maybe I'll come back
and see you some time." The monkey chittered and Methos had the weirdest
feeling it understood. Come on, old man, he told himself - the guy's
Immortal, not Dr Doolittle. 

 "That was cool," Ray commented. "I like animals. Didn't you say there
were some monkeys on the loose somewhere, Duncan?" 

 "There are a few here, but the rest are at Bukit Nanas." 

 "Let's go then." Methos shook his head a little at the restored and
therefore energetic cop, but followed happily enough. 

 Bukit Nanas was an area of apparently wild forest surrounded by the city,
and as advertised, there were a group of monkeys living free. "Funny
little guys, ain't they?" Ray said, watching the small troop in
fascination. 

 "Yes. Leaf monkeys, I'm told they're called," Duncan said. "I saw them
when I was here last." 

 "They live in the leaves?" 

 "Or eat them, I'm not sure." 

 These weren't as friendly as the pet they'd encountered, but Ray was
happy enough to see them. "Maybe I'll be an explorer next time around.
Travel in the jungle, filming animals." 

 "You could be, yes. Or a scientist, or a vet," Methos suggested. 

 "Don't like blood." 

 "Work in a zoo, maybe. If you like animals, there's lots of things you
could do." 

 "Would make a change from working with human scumbags, that's for sure." 

 It had been a surprisingly pleasant afternoon, Methos decided. They
eschewed another restaurant meal and instead found the food stalls used by
the locals. "At least we don't have to worry about the food making us
sick, huh. What did he say this meat was?" Ray asked suspiciously. 

 "Chicken." 

 "Chicken chicken, or it tastes like chicken? Don't want to be eating
snake, or dog or nothing." 

 Methos looked at Duncan, who explained. "Those are delicacies, Ray, even
if they were on the menu. You won't buy them here. It's chicken chicken." 

 " 'S good." 

 Ray's normal conservatism in food matters broke down easily as Duncan
pointed out the best things for them to try, and so long as they avoided
anything too outrageously spicy, he was happy. Ray was actually less
conservative than Methos, who normally wouldn't be seen dead in this part
of town, let alone eating with his fingers at a less than hygienic food
stall, but watching the enjoyment his lover was getting from the exercise,
he was well content. They were conspicuous, being tall and European, but
Ray was oblivious to this, enjoying himself. Perhaps he would be an
explorer one day, Methos thought. He certainly looked little like the cop
he knew in Seacouver, dressed in shorts, T-shirt and sandals, munching a
satay stick and talking animatedly. Well, perhaps after all that had
happened recently, he needed a holiday. 

 It was still relatively early when they made their way back to the hotel,
but Methos pointed out that they had a long day ahead of them - an early
flight, and a full day on the road after that. Duncan left the two lovers
in peace - although Methos reflected that if he'd known Duncan and Ray
would be so comfortable sharing a bed, he could have got a smaller room. 

 "Just you and me now, pup," he said, settling down next to Ray, who
immediately curled up around him. 

 "Never was so glad to see anyone in my life, Adam. That place I found you
in freaked me out. What was that?" 

 "My life, all in one place." 

 "Wasn't good - why was it so dark and dead?" 

 "I suppose it's because that's what a lot of my life was." 

 "But where were the good things in your life?" 

 "You remember that field we went through - before the beach? That was
it." 

 "Not much compared to the rest." 

 "I suppose not." 

 "You nearly died. Don't do that again." 

 "Not even for you, Ray," Methos said with feeling. 

 "Adam - what if this doesn't work?" 

 "I don't know," Methos said softly. "Take you to holy ground in the short
term, but after that... but let's not talk about that now. You should know
by now the power of positive thinking." 

 "Kinda gives a whole new meaning to it, don'tcha think?" 

 "Quite. Let's go to sleep, Ray."  

 The flight to Borneo took only forty minutes, and they had arrived at
their destination by ten o'clock, the heat of the day already stifling.
The young Australian who Methos had contacted through the BBC, Peter
Gallagher, had arranged the truck and a driver, plus the bulky camping
equipment, canoes and caving harnesses. Methos was paying him handsomely
for the rushed and exhaustive arrangements, but Duncan was pleased to see
the guy was just naturally thorough. Knowledgeable too - he'd been running
trips into the interior of Borneo for several years, had worked with five
different film makers and knew how to travel light and fast. Duncan and
Ray took to him right off. They expected to make two hundred kilometres on
fairly poor roads that day, camp over night, and drive another hundred or
so the following day before leaving the truck and continuing on foot. The
driver wasn't happy about having to wait for them, but enough rupiah had
finally convinced him - that, and the prospect that refusing would piss
off Peter, who was an important source of continuing income. 

 "Okay, guys, let's get this show on the road. Ray, you and Adam can sit
in the back, Dunkie, you sit in the front." 

 Duncan's eyes narrowed at 'Dunkie' and he glared at Methos, daring him to
laugh. The eldest controlled himself with an effort. The vehicle was
rough, but serviceable, and Peter assured them that nothing less would
cope with the roads ahead, or carry all their equipment, which included
two motorised kayaks. 

 Duncan was dead weight for this part of the trip, but Peter wanted to
talk to him about the river journey, since Duncan had revealed that he was
familiar with canoeing. "Have those other two bludgers ever been on the
water before, Dunkie?" 

 "Adam has, a little, but he doesn't like the water. Ray, I don't think
so." 

 "Well, it'll be up to you and me, eh? So where are you from? Scottish
name, yank accent. Adam's a Pom, I can tell that." 

 Duncan spun Peter a yarn about emigrating to America as a child, and
growing up in the States. "Fair dinkum? So you can live just about
anywhere? I have to keep going back to Aus to renew my visa, it's a bloody
pain in the bum. Worth it though, those BBC guys must be made of money.
They better get a wriggle on though, the way the forest is being cut down
and burned. There won't be anything left to film. You can see it here -
this is a logger's road. Look at the mess, will ya?" 

 Indeed it was, and Duncan mourned the seemingly inevitable loss of yet
another wilderness. He'd seen so many go down to the god of Mammon and
humanity. Peter was more sanguine about it - thought it was a shame, but
as an outsider, what could he do? 

 "It'll be better tomorrow - it's too rugged for the logging companies.
Mainly Dyak country. You guys serious about not wanting to stay in the
long houses? 'Cos it's really the way to go." 

 Duncan was aware of that, but the long houses were communal, and they
couldn't risk someone seeing Ray's bedtime ritual - or, god forbid, being
caught up in it. Peter chatted cheerfully as they made their slow and
rather uncomfortable progress. After one particularly bad bump, Duncan
looked through the rear window - Ray was grinning, but he recognised the
grim look on Methos' face as one that promised retribution to the unnamed
gods of the roads. In person. With an axe. 

 "So Ray and Adam, sleeping together are they?" Duncan blinked at the
blunt question, so cheerfully put. 

 "They're partners, yes." 

 "Thought so, the way Adam keeps looking at him. You're not like that
then?" 

 It'd been a long time since anyone had been quite this frank in casual
conversation with the Scot. "No. Do they bother you?" 

 "Shit no. My girlfriend's brother's a poof - good bloke though, no pansy.
Like them. You'd never know. It's what inside that counts, right?" 

 "Right. How much longer until we stop?" 

 "There's a village up ahead about twenty clicks where we can buy some
food - so forty minutes. Don't need to go, do ya?" 

 It had equally been a long time since anyone had enquired after the state
of Duncan's bladder. "No - I was just curious." 

 They'd brought rations with them, but Peter reasoned that they may as
well buy what they could on the road. The villagers seemed to know the
Aussie quite well, and Duncan suspected there was an element of
socialising going on. There was food to be had, rice and the ubiquitous
chicken, and fresh fruit. Methos and Ray looked glad of the break - Duncan
offered Methos the more comfortable seat for the rest of the day. "Ray
might need it more than me, MacLeod." 

 Duncan looked at Ray. He was tired looking, but still cheerful.
"Tomorrow, Adam. He'll need it more - he's enjoying himself now. I warn
you - Peter's pretty forthright. And he's figured you and Ray out." 

 "I think I can handle one harmless Australian, Mac. I was out there for a
year, you know." 

 Duncan suppressed a grin. He wondered if Methos would be so cocksure
after three hours of Peter-style interrogation. He wandered over to where
Ray was sitting, eating his meal, the centre of much interest. Three young
children, no more than four years old, were sitting in a row watching
every move he made, to the cop's obvious consternation. "Why are they
looking at me like that, Duncan?" Ray asked out the side of his mouth.
Duncan smiled at the children, and touched Ray's hair, which made them all
giggle. "They're making fun of my hair?" 

 "No, they probably haven't seen that many blond men before. Why don't you
let them touch it?" 

 Ray gave him a look, but then beckoned the little girl who seemed the
boldest, to come over. By dint of sign language, he told her what he was
offering. She reached out a tentative hand and touched Ray very gently on
the top of his head, and then snatched her hand back, chattering. Peter
wandered over. "She's saying it's soft. They think it looks like it should
be prickly." 

 Peter said something to the kids, and then they all came up and touched
Ray's hair, with increasingly boldness. Ray went rigid, clearly unsure
about all this. The children giggled, and then Peter shooed them away.
"They don't have TV. You're worth a week of stories to them." 

 "Happy to oblige." Ray stood and stretched. "Fuck, it's hot." 

 "You better keep slapping the sunblock on, mate. Skin like yours, you're
bound to burn. And keep the hat on." Duncan watched Ray open his mouth to
protest being treated like a kid, then close it again. Peter went to find
the driver. 

 "He's a good guy, really," Duncan said. 

 "Yeah, right, Dunkie." Ray laughed at that most unbecomingly, Duncan
thought. 

 Duncan climbed in the back of the truck with Ray and got as comfortable
as he could on top of bedding rolls. Ray looked peaceful. "You're having
fun, aren't you?" Duncan asked as the truck started off. 

 "This is terrific. If we could forget about the reason, I'd be having the
time of my life. I thought Canada was going to be my one big adventure for
my life time, and now here I am, playing Jungle Jim. If Fraser could see
me now." 

 The truck ride was uncomfortable, but no worse than travelling by wagon,
of which Duncan had done more than a little. When the afternoon rains hit,
Duncan and Ray took cover under a tarpaulin. Nothing seemed to bother Ray
about this experience, and Duncan was glad it wasn't Methos under the
smelly, hot cover. It was all part of the adventure to Ray, and Duncan
could not begrudge him his enjoyment now, because they both knew that in
the coming days, Ray's physical deterioration would make it more of a
trial. 

 They emerged before the rain fully stopped, to let it cool them and wash
a little of the road dust off them. They talked little, Duncan enjoying a
rest after the morning, and for most of the time, it was just too damn
noisy to talk. Just after five, they arrived at the selected campsite.
Duncan noticed that Methos exited the truck cabin with unseemly haste, and
busied himself at the edge of the camp. Peter seemed perfectly cheerful,
so Duncan assumed Methos was simply suffering from culture shock, and
would get over it. Then he groaned mentally - he'd forgotten he was to
share a tent with the Australian, because naturally Methos and Ray would
share one of their own. Oh, the things he did for his friends. 

 He was surprised how readily Ray helped the tents and the camp be set up,
until he remembered that Canadian trip he'd mentioned. It was more recent
camping experience than he had had - or Methos. Methos took over the
cooking, muttering that boiling rice was at least well within his
experience. Duncan wondered if the Ancient was suffering from a mild
inferiority complex - nah, he thought, not possible.  

 Methos was awake before dawn, and spent a pleasant few minutes listening
to the raucous greetings of the day from the tropical birds, and the eerie
but beautiful whoops of the gibbons. He'd certainly rather listen to that
than five more minutes of the abrasive guide. Bloody cheeky Antipodeans. 

 He looked at Ray sleeping. Today was going to be difficult. And they
needed to get going. He blew in Ray's ear, and the other man flapped in
irritation at the annoyance. "Time to get up, pup." 

 Ray groaned without opening his eyes. "Tell me at least that you've got
coffee." 

 "No, but I'm sure Peter has made all the arrangements." 

 Ray opened an eye. "You two really didn't hit it off, did you?" 

 "Let's just say I'm glad he's mortal. The idea of that man's chatter
pursuing me through the centuries would drive me insane." He kissed Ray
quickly. "Move it." 

 The ever-efficient Peter had indeed got breakfast going, and the
proffered coffee, instant though it was, went a little way towards
softening Methos' attitude to him. Peter smiled at him, then looked past
him and frowned. "You right there, mate? You look a little crook." 

 Methos turned, and knew immediately what Peter meant. Ray had visibly
deteriorated from the day before. "I'm okay, Peter. Just tired." 

 "You sure? You better ride up front with me this morning." 

 "Splendid idea, Ray. I'm sure you two will have a lot to talk about." 

 Duncan returned then from his forest visit. "What are you grinning about,
Adam?" 

 "Nothing - just contemplating spending some time in your company in the
back of the truck. I agree with Peter, it will be better for Ray to ride
up front." 

 The plan was that they would reach the river set off point by lunch,
break there and then travel up river for four hours. They would spend all
day on the river the following two days, and then the rest of the journey,
fortunately only a few hours, would be made on foot. Peter was to remain
with the boats while the rest of them made their way to the cave. 

 The journey was more scenic, but harder going, the road being simply a
dirt track and heavily potholed. Even as his kidneys protested yet another
violent thump, Methos still thought the peace and quiet was worth it. They
made good time, none the less and reached the river before noon. Adam
helped Ray out of the truck. "Have fun?" he asked 

 "Oh, yeah," Ray said enthusiastically. "He's cool. We had a lot to talk
about." 

 They unloaded the truck. The driver was to head half way back down the
road to the city, and stay at a longhouse there, returning in a week to
pick them up. He left straight after their brief meal. "Are you sure we
can trust him?" Duncan asked. 

 "If he doesn't come back, I'll kick his arse all the way to Brunei,"
Peter promised. "He's a good bloke. I reckon it'll be all right. Besides,"
he said with a grin, "I've still got half his money." 

 The humidity was crippling, but they were well shaded. Their biggest
problem was going to be the overhanging trees. Ray found it all utterly
fascinating, and even Methos had to admit the forest was beautiful.
Hornbills and monkeys filled the air with their calls, and other birds,
snakes and fish were abundant. The trees were hung with weird fruits,
which dropped into the water - and on occasion, one or other of the canoes
- without warning. Peter pointed out one with particularly large fruits.
"Steer clear of those buggers, Dunkie - one of those hits you dead centre
and you'll sink." Peter took Ray in his canoe, Methos and Duncan had the
other, but they travelled close enough to converse easily. If you kept him
off personal enquiries, Peter was indeed a fund of knowledge, and Methos
was grudgingly respectful of the flow of information, which made the hours
pass very quickly indeed. "Will it be this easy all the way?" Methos asked
their guide. 

 "Pretty much. I've been along here several times with film crews. Because
of it being the wet season, we can ride all the way. In the dry, you
sometimes have to get out and go overland." It being the wet season, they
were resigned to getting wet, and indeed they did. 

 "You should feel right at home, MacLeod," Methos said as he huddled under
a waterproof. "All we need is a few sheep." 

 "Baa," Duncan shot back. 

 The rain continued for several hours, and it was still raining when they
reached their campsite. All they could do was erect their tents and wait
out the rain.  

 The next morning Peter waited until Ray went to use the latrine before
confronting the two others. "We'll have to turn back, guys. Ray's sick,
and I can't risk him getting worse up river." 

 "He's not your concern. We go on," Methos said firmly. 

 "No way. He was bad yesterday, and he's worse now. Might be dengue, might
be something else. Not something you want to bugger around with." 

 "He'll be fine." Methos turned to walk away, but Peter grabbed his arm. 

 "Listen, mate. Your boyfriend's sick. For all I know he's dying, but one
things for sure - things can get real bad, real fast in the tropics, and
I'm not gonna have someone die on my trip. Not if I can help it." 

 Methos glared at him. "Look, you baboon. Ray is my responsibility, and I
will decide if he's able to go on. This is for his benefit, not mine. Now
unless you want to lose that arm, I suggest you move it, right now." 

 Peter did so with obvious disgust. Duncan had watched the whole scene in
silence but turned to face Ray as he came back to the camp. 

 "What's going on, guys?" 

 Peter answered before the others could. "Ray, I don't know what's wrong
with you, but I think we need to get you back to town and to a doctor." 

 "I'm okay, honest. I know what's wrong ..." 

 "Jesus, mate - you don't have AIDS, do ya?" 

 Methos rounded on him. "Oh so this is what this is about - your lovely
homophobic prejudices? Trying to dump the shirtlifter before you catch
something?" 

 Peter bristled. "Back off, Pierson. My only worry is that if Ray has
AIDS, this is about the last place - the last country - you want to be
in." The two men glared at each other 

 Ray intervened. "I don't have AIDS, and I'm not contagious. You don't
have to worry." 

 Peter ignored him and shouted at Methos. "What sort of mongrel do you
think I am? I just don't think someone as sick as you are should be out
here in the jungle. I don't know why your friends are dragging you around,
but you don't have to go with them. I can take you back right now. Don't
let them bully you, mate." 

 In other circumstances, Methos would have laughed at the idea of poor
little downtrodden Ray, but Ray didn't think it was funny. "Look, pal. I'm
a cop, and an adult. I can make my own mind up, all right? I'm here
voluntarily, and I'm telling ya - we go on. Good enough for ya? If I die,
I die. You don't have to worry about it." 

 "You're out of your fucking minds, all of you." 

 Duncan decided it was time to intervene. "Peter, listen to me. I know it
looks bad, and unfortunately, we can't give you any explanations. All you
need to know is that Ray's welfare is our first concern, and the best way
you can help is to get us to where we need to go as fast as possible. It's
important." 

 Peter stared at him for a long time. Methos had some sympathy for him -
Ray really did look like shit this morning, and it would only get worse -
but at the same time, every hour they spent arguing with this idiot, the
worse he would get. But finally the Aussie backed down. "Okay, we do it
your way. But if Ray dies, I'm gonna be reporting this to the authorities.
You better not be fucking around with his life." 

 "We aren't, and we appreciate your concern," Duncan said in a
conciliatory tone. "Can we start off?" 

 Peter kept Ray with him, but there was none of the pleasant banter and
travelogue of the previous day. The hostility emitted by the Australian
was almost palpable, but couldn't be helped. The idea of trying to explain
to this bright young man the whole concept of Immortality, let alone the
ukaska, was far worse than enduring his censure, and would waste valuable
time. After a couple of hours, Methos noticed that Ray was starting to nod
off in the boat ahead, and urged Duncan to catch up so he could shake his
lover awake. "Stay awake, Ray." 

 "For fuck's sake, Adam - can't you let the poor bugger sleep?" Peter said
with disgust. 

 "If he dozes off, he'll start to hallucinate, and will probably tip you
out into the river. Do you think that will do him any good?" 

 "What the hell is wrong with him?" 

 "Do you two mind not talking about me as if I'm not here?" Ray complained
from underneath the hat he was using to shield his face. "Peter, they
can't treat it, and it's no one's fault, okay. Back off. You think I'm so
dumb I'd let these two hurt me?" 

 "No, but I've seen terminally ill people do some weird things thinking it
would cure them." 

 "Well, I'm not one of them. Just cool it, the lot of you. Jeez, if we was
back in Seacouver, I'd be locking you all up for a few hours to make you
see sense." 

 "You could always try, junior," Methos said. Peter seemed to accept Ray's
assurances where he had not those of Methos and Duncan, and after lunch,
was in a slightly more talkative mood. Ray still had a million questions,
and interest made up for actual energy in his tired face. Methos knew the
younger man was struggling - things were moving downhill faster than
before, as he'd feared - but equally he knew he wouldn't give up. All they
had to do was convince their guide not to turn tail now they were so
close. 

 Peter seemed to have decided that Ray's well-being was his personal
responsibility, and the cop bore the burst of solicitude and
protectiveness with as much grace as he could muster - which wasn't much.
Methos had to endure a long mumbled rant against the Australian when they
finally retired to their tent, but at least Ray accepted it was better
than Peter turning tail on them. They both knew that he had the same goal
as the other three - just the wrong idea of how to achieve it.	

 It proved difficult to convince Peter to let them go on alone to the
cave. "Look, you guys - you don't really know the way, and Ray's in such
bad shape, you could do with the help." 

 "We appreciate the thought, honestly," Duncan said, "but it's important
that you stay here. If we're not back by the morning of the third day, you
head on back." 

 "I can come after you." 

 Methos intervened "No! Peter - please. Just accept our word for it. If
we're not back in three days, then we'll all be dead and there's nothing
we can do about it. But you really must give your word not to come after
us." He pulled an envelope out of his jacket. "If we don't come back, this
is the rest of your payment, and a bonus for your good work." 

 "You think this is about fucking dosh, you drongo?" Peter said angrily,
disgust clear on his handsome face. "You're heading into wild country
there, and you've got a sick man with you. Come on, let me come - I
promise to keep whatever it is you're doing secret." 

 "I'm sorry, Peter. It isn't a matter of secrets - it's a matter of your
own safety. All of us, including Ray have accepted the risk. You have a
girlfriend and a family waiting for you back home. You have a duty to go
back to them." 

 The young man finally nodded, but his expression as he watched them head
off told Methos that he thought he was watching three dead men walking. He
could well be right, Methos thought bleakly. 

 If it wasn't for the danger to the mortal, Peter's assistance would
indeed have been welcome. The numbness in Ray's feet made walking
difficult for him, and Duncan had a more or less permanent hold on him, to
Ray's obvious chagrin. After Methos and Duncan both told him to stop
apologising for holding them back, he fell silent, and Methos could tell
it was only partly because he needed all his energy just to progress. He
was probably thinking the same as Methos, wondering if he would make it
down into the cave and through the system to the home of the ukaska before
his energy just wore out - and what would happen if it did. It was tough
going - Methos cleared the path, Duncan followed behind half carrying Ray.
They'd cut their packs down to the barest minimum, but it was still quite
a burden. They could at least leave the climbing gear behind on the return
trip. Methos had to navigate by compass alone, since there were no
landmarks, but after five hours, when he was going to call a halt anyway,
there the caves were - or at least, the limestone plateau up which they'd
been climbing. Ray collapsed onto his back, mindless of the bugs on the
ground. Duncan quickly made lunch while Methos surveyed. The entrance was
close by. "We'll need to use pitons to anchor the rope - no trees. You
sure you know how to do this?" 

 "Isn't it just a little late to be asking me that?" 

 "Never too late to have a nervous breakdown." He knelt down beside Ray.
"How are you doing?" 

 Ray clasped his hand, but seemed too tired to speak. Methos knew if they
didn't get this damn thing out of his head soon, the man would die from
exhaustion. The question was - would it be permanent? Methos didn't like
the odds that it wouldn't be. He stroked Ray's face gently. "Soon. It
won't be long. Sit up and eat." 

 Worryingly, Ray couldn't even do that, and Methos had to help him hold a
cup of water which was all he would take. "Duncan, you'll have to carry
him down as dead weight - can you do that?" 

 "Do we have a choice?" 

 "Not quite the resounding 'yes, of course, in my sleep' I was hoping for,
Mac." 

 "Sorry, Methos. It's been a while, and I don't know the layout." 

 They decided to leave most of their gear up top - if they were forced to
stay in the cave overnight, they would just have to rough it. Duncan got
harnesses on them all, and attached Ray to him. By now the younger man was
almost completely out of it, and no help at all. Duncan would go down
first with his precious burden, Methos after, with his own valuable parcel
- the vessel with the life force in it. Not for the first time, Methos
blessed Kem Lo in his mind for using a metal pot - a pottery one could
easily have been broken by now. They put caving lights on their heads and
Duncan began his descent. 

 As Methos followed, the first impression was the smell. And the noise -
rustling. Looking up, he realised they were hardly alone in the cave -
there were thousands of bats roosting on the vaulted ceiling. Oh fuck, he
thought, remembering that David Attenborough special he'd watched years
ago. That probably meant - oh yes, cockroaches. He was infinitely glad his
squeamish lover wasn't awake for this as they trudged through the bat
guano and the millions of invertebrates infesting them. The smell and the
ammonia was almost overpowering, but there was a slight breeze blowing,
which meant there must be another entrance to the cave system somewhere.
The layout was in fact not complicated - there were many caves to explore,
but the one they wanted was not too far distant. Fortunately the bats only
roosted in the first chamber, and although the air was less fresh the
further back they went, it was slightly more breathable. They had to make
a second descent down a narrow tunnel. Again they fixed the ropes with
pitons, and Duncan went first with Ray. Methos waited until they cleared
the tunnel, but as the descent began, he heard Duncan shout. "What's
wrong?" 

 "He's trying ... fuck! Ray, don't!" The rope jerked around - the two men
seemed to be struggling. Methos could only watch helplessly - he could see
the dancing light of Duncan's helmet torch as the Scot moved around, but
couldn't see what was happening. Then, sickenly, the rope went slack as
Duncan yelled, and then there was an impact - a horrible thud. Methos knew
they had fallen. He quickly attached himself to the dangling rope and
lowered himself down the long tube. It was every bit as bad as he feared -
they'd fallen over fifty feet, and Duncan was quite dead. Ray had landed
on him, but was clearly badly injured. Feverishly Methos worked, getting
the pot out of his pack and kneeling by his dying friend. "Ray? Can you
hear me?" 

 Ray's eyes half opened, but closed again, his breathing already starting
Cheynes-Stokes rhythm. "There's no time - I have to go inside with you
now. Try and concentrate. Go to the beach." He closed his eyes and forced
himself to go into a meditation, one hand on his lover's face, the other
on the pot. 

 He found himself on the beach, only the curve of the coastline allowing
the initial recognition. During the last few centuries Methos had tried to
avoid being where the wars were, but this place looked like it had been
thoroughly shelled. The white expanses were marred by huge craters, each
pit edged by a splattering of wet sand. Trees and plants were laid flat,
stripped of flowers, remaining leaves already withering to dead brown. 

 He heard a cry from inland and saw Ray struggling among the fallen
trunks, hands gripping a dark shape that writhed at his chest. And Ray was
clearly losing, the thing wriggling loose in his grip, attacking with
vicious claws that shredded flesh until he sank to the floor under the
assault. Methos ran as fast as the clinging sand would allow, suddenly
aware of the weight of his Ivanhoe in his hand. He scrambled over the
dying trees to find Ray lying motionless with the black creature huddled
on his bloodied chest. "Get the fuck off him!" he screamed, swinging the
sword around in a low, rapid slice that sent the ukaska sprawling across
the sand. Still in one piece, it flipped itself upright and skittered
towards him, wailing. "Get back, you bastard!" He walked forward, menacing
the beast with readied weapon until he was between it and Ray. He had the
pot in his free hand. He pulled the bung out with his teeth, and tossed it
forward. "Feed on that!" 

 The ukaska inched forward. A silvery fluid had leaked a little out of the
pot and it slurped at it, then stuck a claw into the hole, trying to get
more out. "If you want the rest, you have to get inside." Methos prodded
the thing with his sword. It growled but didn't move. Could he pick it up?
It had teeth, so there must be a back to its head. He lunged and grabbed
at it. Wrong - the thing sunk its teeth into him. The pain was
indescribable - he felt like his arm was on fire. Ignoring the agony, he
picked up the pot, and thrust the thing at the apparently too small
opening of the pot. To his astonishment, the ukaska actually went in
partly, and he jammed the rest of it inside, before replacing the bung and
ramming it tight with his sword hilt. He knelt a moment. Was that it?
Truly? 

 Ray. He ran back to the young man's body. "Ray - it's over, I've got it."


 Ray opened one bloodied eye, and tried a weak smile. And then he died.
Methos found himself back in the cave. The corporeal Ray was dead too. Was
it all a dream? The real pot's bung had been sealed with wax at the
monastery, and now Methos could see the seal had been broken. It must have
worked. It had to have worked. He had no time. The cave they sought was
just a little way on, and he would have to go alone. He found the little
trench shovel they had planned to use. Duncan was still dead, but Methos
knew he would revive. The question was - would Ray? 

 He put those thoughts aside, and moved ahead. The cave entrance was just
a hundred metres away. He moved cautiously. The air here felt dead, devoid
of any life or any sign of life, and he knew there would be no bats here,
not even a roach. The ukaska would have taken the life out every living
thing before it had been released. The cave itself was quite ordinary -
except for the utter lack of vitality. Even the light from the torch
seemed to falter, but Methos knew that had to be his imagination. There
was an altar there - probably erected by the shaman who had died to trap
the thing a thousand years before. It seemed as good a spot as any to dig
a hole, which he did. Then he placed the pot inside the deep hole, making
sure the bung was good and tight before he did, and then covered it up,
smoothing the soil to remove any trace of his presence, and tamping it all
down. He knew the thing would be released again one day. He just hoped it
was nowhere near him when it got loose. 

 Duncan was awake and looking morosely at Ray's corpse. "Did you do it?" 

 "I think so. What happened?" 

 "He started to fight me, and then he released the rope. I couldn't stop
him. I'm sorry, Methos." 

 "Let's get him out of here. This place gives me the creeps to end all
creeps." 

 Methos resolutely tried not to think about Ray not reviving, handling his
corpse impersonally as they hauled it up the shaft, through the cave
system and out into fresh air. There was still no sign of him coming back
to life when they got up top. "It's taking too long, Methos," Duncan said
worriedly. "He should have come back by now." 

 "He was very weak. Give it some more time." 

 "How long?" 

 "As long as I think he needs, okay?" He looked at the Scot fiercely, who
backed off. 

 They decided to make camp where they were, even though there were still
some hours of daylight left. The idea of carrying Ray's body through the
jungle appealed to neither of them - but nor did leaving it behind. Methos
insisted on sharing Duncan's tent and using the other to store Ray's
corpse - if he were going to heal, he didn't need the extra injuries
inflicted by carrion-eaters in the night, but the idea of lying next to
his body seemed too much like a reproach for his possible failure. 

 He spent a troubled night, and Duncan comforted him, or sought comfort,
he wasn't sure. He hoped by some miracle, he would wake and find Ray
smiling at him, but in the morning the body lay as broken and unresponsive
as ever. "I guess that proves it, Mac. He's dead dead. We should bury him
and go on back." He tried to sound as matter of fact as possible, even
though he was screaming inside. Later. There would be time to grieve
later. 

 "Methos, are you sure he'd dead?" 

 "Well, let's see. Not breathing, no heartbeat - I left my portable EKG
machine in my other pants - but yep, I think he's dead. He's not playing
possum." 

 "Don't you think there's something odd about this? It's thirty five
degrees or thereabouts, and by now, he should start to stink, at least.
But he just looks like he's asleep." 

 Methos took a closer look. Duncan was right - there were no signs of
putrefaction, and now he came to think of it, the man hadn't appeared to
suffer from rigor mortis. That should be physiologically impossible. "I
grant it's odd, but we don't know a lot about dead Immortals - I've never
hung around long enough to find out what the body's like after 24 hours,
have you?" 

 "They rot like everyone else, I assure you." 

 "So, what's the solution? For all intents and purposes he's dead, and if
he was going to revive, he would have done it by now." 

 "What if he doesn't want to come back? You said he was chewed up pretty
good - and he's had a hell of a time lately. What if he just wants to stay
inside his head where he can't be hurt anymore, or hurt anyone else?" 

 "You're saying he's psychosomatically dead? That's crazy, MacLeod." 

 "Crazier than ukaskas? Crazier than Immortals? Crazier than you imagining
that you've put an elemental force in a jar, and have it happen for real?"


 "What should I do?" Methos asked helplessly. 

 "Go and see if he's still there." 

 "But when he died, the beach disappeared." 

 "What if it disappeared because you'd finished what you came to do? What
have you got to lose?" 

 Hope? Methos thought. If this was a dead end, he thought he would lose
the will to live - to have come so far, suffered so much, and to fail now.
He sat cross-legged and Duncan sat opposite, across Ray's body. Methos
took one cold hand in his, closed his eyes and began to enter the trance. 

 He was back on the beach, restored to its former beauty with no evidence
of the devastation that had been here. Ray was sitting below one of the
trees, staring out at the ocean. He wanted to shout for joy, but all he
said was, "So there you are." 

 Ray smiled at him. "Oh, hi. You got rid of that thing?" 

 "I did, but you didn't come back." 

 Ray looked puzzled. "I'm here. That's enough." 

 "No, Ray, it's not. Your body is currently lying dead near the cave,
which either means we'll have to bury you, or carry you back thirteen
kilometres between us. It's time you went back." 

 "No, it's better here. It's nice. Why don't you stay?" 

 "Because this isn't real." 

 "Real enough." He got up and kissed Methos on the lips. "So's that. It's
all I want." 

 "What about your job? Your parents? Me?" 

 "Don't need the job if I'm dead. Mom and Dad will die sometime anyway,
and you can always come visit." 

 "You're serious," Methos said, shocked. 

 "Sure. This is the life, don't you think?" 

 "It's not life at all, Ray. It's just an imaginary scene. What am I
supposed to do? Prop your body up in the corner, and excuse you to
visitors as something I picked up in my travels?" 

 "Whatever you want," Ray replied, serenely. "Doesn't make any difference
to me." 

 "Ray, you have to come back. Duncan misses you, Joe misses you. I miss
you." 

 "But you're here, Adam. Duncan can come visit, if he learns how. Joe will
understand." 

 "No, I don't think he will. Nor do I. You've given up, taken the coward's
way out." 

 "You think, lover?" Ray's face turned hard. "You think it was easy being
eaten alive? Living like I have been? Think that life's just so easy for
me? I'm not smart like you, Adam, or good looking like Duncan. Life's just
one long battle for me, not like you two. And in the end, what do I have
to look forward to? Decades of working my ass off just to save up for my
never-arriving old age, until some fucker takes my head? Maybe even you -
if the Game comes down to you, me and Duncan. This way, you never have to
choose." 

 "What do you want, Ray? Do you want me to beg? Because I won't. Because
in the end, you're right - there can be only one. Everyone else dies, even
Immortals. When you were mortal, you accepted it, but now you could live
for centuries, suddenly death's a burden? I thought you had balls. The man
I love does. I don't know who you are. I'd rather remember the man I knew
before." He turned and walked away. 

 "Where are you going?" 

 "Back to the real world. To grieve, and to move on. Goodbye." 

 He kept walking, never looking back, until the beach faded, and he was
looking into Duncan's concerned brown eyes. "Methos? Did you find him?" 

 "I found someone. Leave me alone, Mac." He stood up and started to walk
across the plateau until he was about a kilometre away from the camp. Then
he knelt down, put his face in his hands and wept. Time to grieve, time to
accept his loss. Time to start again. Time to mourn a bright soul. 

 He didn't know how long he knelt like that. He ran out of tears long
before he ran out of emotion. Eventually he rocked back off his sore knees
and sat. The sun was getting high in the sky, and the heat was unbearable,
but not as hard as his pain. He would not take Ray's body back. He would
leave it here in the forest, where Ray had loved it. To bury it was
obscene, but to take a corpse back to his Seacouver home was ludicrous. A
hand rested on his shoulder, and he realised that he had overlooked the
Presence in his grief. "I won't be long, MacLeod." 

 "I'm not Mac, and do you mind if I wait with you?" 

 "Ray?" He looked up. "Ray!" The  blue eyes blazed with miraculous
life. 

 "I got lonely. And, um. Yeah. The stuff you said about Joe and the rest.
Forgive me?" 

 "Forgive you! I might just skin you alive, you little shit!" But he rose
and wrapped his lover in a hug which told him that he would never let him
leave again like that. "How could you do that to me?" 

 "I was afraid. It's been a tough few weeks, Adam. I'm sorry." 

 Methos ruffled his hair. "Forgiven. How do you feel?" 

 "How do I look?" 

 "You look good enough to eat." 

 Ray touched the tear marks. "You were crying for me." 

 "I thought I'd never see you again." 

 "And now?" 

 "And now, I want to get out of this bloody jungle and go home. With you."


 They walked slowly back, hand in hand. Duncan was grinning like a fool.
"Now there's a sight for sore eyes." 

 "Can't wait to get a good night's sleep on my own for a change." 

 "Hey!" Methos protested. "You mean we went through all that so you could
sleep alone?" 

 "Well, no offence, but Duncan's a bed hog, and you wriggle ...." Ray's
broad grin made Methos realise he was being teased. 

 "So which is worse, the bed hog or the wriggler?" 

 "Um, can I take the Fifth on that?" 

 "I think you'd better, Ray," Duncan said, smiling. "I'll overlook the
insults this time, since I don't believe a word of it. Amanda never
complains." 

 "Amanda knows which side her bread is buttered on," Methos said dryly.
"Speaking of bread - I missed breakfast. Can we make the river by
nightfall?" 

 "If we hurry. Half an hour to eat, no more." 

 Methos found he couldn't get enough of touching Ray or looking at him,
and was inseparable from him for the entire hike back, which went
considerably quicker since Ray was moving under his own steam this time.
Peter's face when he saw the restored Immortal was priceless. "What the
fuck did you guys find? The fountain of youth?" 

 "No, just the will to live," Ray said, shaking the outstretched hand, and
matching the Australian grin for grin. 

 "Geez, I never thought I'd see you buggers again." 

 "So we're forgiven now, I take it," Methos said without a smile. 

 "I guess so - I mean, since Ray's fit and healthy ... maybe one day
you'll tell me what you did." 

 "'Fraid not," Methos said. "But trust me, it's not as interesting as you
think."  

 The worry of their mission gone for good, Methos found he could actually
enjoy the trip back and appreciate the wild beauty of the place. Ray's
enthusiasm was undimmed, even increased, and Peter seemed to bloom under
the barrage of questions, even going so far as to offer to take Ray on his
next trip if things worked out. 

 Their flight got into KL at sunset, and all three of them were tired,
hungry and sweaty when they reached the hotel. They also looked and
smelled like they'd spent two weeks in the bush with inadequate washing
facilities and too few changes of clothes. Only the fact, Duncan was
certain, that Methos had booked the most expensive room in the most
expensive hotel in the city, and had been there before, stopped the
manager turning them away. And even that wasn't enough to protect them
from some very haughty looks. He and Ray hung back, letting Methos
register them all and collect the keys, and arrange for their stored
luggage to be sent to their rooms. Then he trailed after the Ancient and
Ray who was still full of pep even after the long day. It really wasn't
fair how the youngster had bounced back from the ordeal so fast, leaving
Duncan to feel every one of his four hundred plus years. When they got to
Methos' and Ray's room, Duncan put out his hand. "Let me have my key,
Methos. I'm for a shower, now." And the minibar, and maybe even another
shower, he thought. 

 "This is your room, MacLeod." 

 "And where are you two sleeping?" A dark suspicion grew. Methos pointed
at the same door. "You trying to economise, old man?" 

 "Of course. No need to spend more of your money than we need to." 

 "My money!" he spluttered, his fake indignation carrying them over the
awkwardness of what Methos had announced. Ray seemed perfectly calm about
the whole thing, and damned if Methos was going to show him up as a gauche
prude in front of the youngest of them all. "Well, for that, I get the
first shower." 

 "Be our guest," Methos said smoothly, with a little smirk, already
turning to pulling clean clothes out of the suitcase that they had left
with the hotel for just this purpose. 

 Duncan went in the bathroom and scowled at his scruffy appearance. They
had bathed while on the trip, but one could never get entirely clean -
only hot water and lots of soap could do that, and his hair needed a good
shampooing. The water stream was delicious, and he just stood under it for
minutes, enjoying it, letting it ease kinks he didn't know he had. He
didn't hear the door open, but the Presence startled him - but not more
than the shower curtain being drawn aside and a naked Ancient stepping in
with him. "Methos!" 

 "Calm down, Mac - I thought I could scrub your back." 

 "What do you think you're playing at? Ray's...." 

 "Completely relaxed about it," Methos said smoothly. "Duncan - it's his
idea. We wanted to do something nice for you. Do you mind?" The old man
was smiling, but clearly wanted permission to proceed 

 Duncan's mind raced with all Methos' statement implied. "No," he said
eventually. "No, I don't. But just for tonight - I'm not into permanent
threesomes." 

 "Damn," Methos said ruefully, a smile dancing around his hazel eyes as he
picked up the complimentary shampoo. "We'll just have to make the most of
it, then." He poured some of the gel onto the top of Mac's scalp, then
began to massage it in, using the strength of his long fingers to
skilfully work the muscles and the hair. Duncan wrapped his arms around
the Ancient, and let him work. Methos felt good in his arms. Soft, fine
skin, a muscular body. Methos pulled Duncan's head onto his own shoulder,
then adjusted the shower spray to rinse his hair off. Duncan lifted his
head, looked into those deceptively young eyes, and kissed Methos' tidy
mouth gently. The Ancient closed his eyes in pleasure. 

 "Now let me," Duncan said. He took the shower gel and lathered up Methos'
chest, spreading the foam out to his armpits, and down to his groin.
Methos stood with arms out, a faintly arrogant smile on his lips as if to
say this was only what he deserved, and Duncan wondered how many times
body slaves had had the task he was eagerly performing - and how many of
them had found it so pleasurable. Methos' hardening length betrayed his
real interest in the proceedings, and he turned suddenly, so that Duncan's
hand rested on his backside. 

 "You're not done, Highlander," he purred. Duncan knew what he was being
invited to do. If Ray was really okay with this ... he'd long wondered
what it would be like to have the old man, and now was his chance. He put
some more soap on his hands, and rubbed his slick fingers in Methos'
cleft, making the old man bunch his fists. 

 "Like that?" he asked unnecessarily. 

 "Yes," Methos said, apparently between clenched teeth. "Please, Mac." 

 Duncan's hand slipped lower, and massaged gently over Methos' hole, just
teasing it. Methos pushed his ass back and spread himself a little more.
The Scot pushed a slippery finger in, which made Methos groan, and as the
finger probed and thrust, Methos made delightful little jerking movements,
at each of which, Duncan's cock got a little harder. He gripped Methos'
shoulder. 

 "Do you want me here, like this?" 

 "Yes, Mac. Do it now - it's okay," Methos said softly, the need plain in
his voice. Duncan removed his finger and applied more gel, soaping his
cock. Not ideal, but needs must - and they both needed. He put his cock at
Methos' entrance, wondering if the old man was ready for this. "Please,"
Methos sighed, and he thrust in. They both groaned quietly, a little pain,
a lot of pleasure. Methos braced himself against the wall, and as the
water beat down over both of them, Duncan took his friend hard, angling
for the prostate, knowing he'd succeeded by the way Methos squirmed. He
wrapped his arm around Methos' waist, pulling him closer, and with his
free hand, tormented a nipple, biting into the old man's shoulder as he
rode him. He could hear how Methos was clamping down on his desire to
scream with pleasure, throaty noises, whimpers and groans being all that
he came out with, but his body was urging Mac to do it faster, do it
harder. Mac left the nipple alone and put his large hand around Methos'
slippery cock, and then Methos did cry out, briefly. He stroked the length
firmly, then slowed his thrusts, making them deeper, harder, pausing
between each, making the sensation almost unbearable for both of them. He
could feel Methos start to tremble as his orgasm built. "Mac - Gods,
please. Just finish me." That desperate neediness in Methos' voice was
quite possibly the most erotic thing Mac had ever heard, and it tipped him
over. He slammed into Methos' thin body, careless of whether he was
causing pleasure or pain, just wanting, needing to come, and his climax
tore out of him. Methos groaned, and his cock pulsed, the semen hot on
Duncan's hand before being washed away by the still flowing water. Duncan
stayed inside him, holding him up, and nuzzling his neck, until the old
man shifted and moved away. Duncan eased himself out, washed quickly then
turned the water off. 

 Methos twisted in his arms and looked at him gravely. "Okay?" He looked
so young, Duncan thought. Wet lashes brushed against skin so smooth and
white that marble would have looked coarse next to it. 

 Duncan kissed him, on the lips and on the forehead. "Better than okay."
He snagged a towel and began to dry his old friend reverently, taking the
time to really look over his sleek companion, to regret a little the limit
he'd set on this, but knowing it was the right thing to do. When he was
done, Methos took another towel and dried him. Then he stood, looking at
the Scot with an evil grin. 

 "Just one night?" he said with a lifted eyebrow. 

 "Yes," Duncan said firmly, then whacked the firm ass hard as Methos
turned to leave the room. Methos turned, startled and annoyed. "You could
always return the favour - later," he said, letting the seduction drip
into his voice. That got him another, bigger grin. 

 Duncan was slightly shocked to find Ray, naked and obviously aroused,
lounging in the armchair waiting for them, his long body as languid as a
cat's and twice as pettable. "Started without me, guys?" Methos walked
over, knelt and pulled his lover's head towards him for a kiss. "My turn,"
Ray said, letting Methos pull him up, and then leading him into the
bathroom. Duncan sat on the bed, and wondered if he'd just fallen through
the rabbit hole. 

 The two men were in the bathroom long enough that Duncan was sure Methos
had got lucky again, and the smiles on their faces when they finally
emerged confirmed it. Duncan was dressed, which surprised Methos. "I don't
know about you two, but I'd like to go out for dinner. Any preference?" 

 After nearly three weeks in the jungle, Duncan was sure they would opt
for a sit down restaurant meal, but when Ray, somewhat hesitantly,
suggested returning to the food court of their first evening in the city,
Methos acquiesced readily. The informal mood suited them all, and the
heightening sexual tension between them sparked like little Quickenings
all evening, as Duncan was offered bites of one or the other's food,
shared drinks, brushed thighs as they sat. It was strange, but it was
fitting, he thought. They had been as intimate as lovers for weeks, shared
life and death more closely than lovers, and even though he knew this
could not, would not be repeated, he was grateful that they had gifted him
with this. He only hoped that spending the night with two such beautiful
men wouldn't spoil him for the rest of his long life. He wanted no regrets
to come from this. 

 They opted to walk back to the hotel, the sultry heat of the night more
bearable than the day's blistering temperatures, and none of them
particularly relishing heading back to a still wintry Seacouver. "Man, I
could stand a lot more of this," Ray said regretfully. 

 "Will you come out on Peter's next trip, as he asked?" Duncan wondered. 

 "Don't see how I can," he said sadly. "No way will I be able to get more
time off this year, maybe not even next." 

 "Perhaps it's time to change jobs," Methos said, thoughtfully. 

 "Maybe. I didn't even get to say good-bye to my little girlfriend." 

 Duncan had to think before he remembered the little monkey that had been
so enamoured of the cop. He put his hand on Ray's shoulder and squeezed.
"Dinna fash, lad. You'll live a long time, have plenty of adventures." 

 "Already had more than I ever thought I would, thanks to you two." 

 "You think this was an adventure?" Duncan asked, slightly surprised.
Methos was smiling enigmatically at them both. 

 "Sure - it was good enough for Indiana Jones, wasn't it? And it wasn't
all bad. Tonight's gonna be good, isn't it?" Duncan's cock throbbed at the
sudden change of tone. 

 "Shall we walk faster, lads?" 

 Methos grinned wider and led them with his long swinging strides. 

 Duncan felt strangely shy once they were back at the hotel room and ready
for bed, a sensation he was quite unused to. He was, after all, a highly
accomplished bed partner and well used to taking the lead in the bedroom-
but he'd never had a five thousand year old lover before, nor one who was
apparently psychically linked to the other. Methos read his mind. "Let it
go, Mac. You're not in charge for the evening. You can trust us." 

 Ray walked over to where Duncan stood, uncertainly, in the middle of the
room. He put his hands on Mac's shoulders and looked into his eyes. "You
do want this, don't you, Duncan? Don't want you to do anything you don't
like." Ray was, he found, a little unsure, and that steadied him. He was
good at reassurance. 

 "Aye, lad, I do want this, and thank you." Strange, he thought. He'd been
sleeping with this man in his arms for weeks, and yet he'd never really
looked at him closely before. Never really noticed the tanned, roughened
skin, so unlike his lover's, the intensity of the blue eyes, with the same
thick fringe of lashes which made him look so curiously vulnerable. And
utterly edible. Duncan made his invitation plain, using the smouldering
look that had broken a thousand female hearts. Ray accepted, kissing him
gently on the lips, and letting his hands slip down to Duncan's waist,
before undoing his belt buckle and unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks.
Ray palmed his erection through his boxers, and Duncan pushed into his
hand. "It's all right, Ray," he whispered, and as Methos watched, he
kissed the young man again, holding himself hard against the exploring
hand which slipped inside the waistband of his underwear. Duncan jerked
reflexively as warm, callused skin met his own straining heat, then rubbed
up and down slowly, slipping down to cup his balls carefully. He moaned
against Ray's mouth, which opened to his questing tongue. Ray's other hand
was on his ass, squeezing and kneading, pulling him close. He drew back
reluctantly and looked over at the Ancient, whose eyes were glittering in
the low light, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps ...." 

 "Mmmm," Ray agreed, stepping back a little so he could kneel and undo
Duncan's shoes, take them off and remove the slacks and boxers. He led
Duncan over to the bed and sat him down. 

 "You planning on joining us, Adam?" Ray asked. Methos stood and
stretched. He'd already removed his shoes, and now as his lover and his
friend watched, he put on a little show, slowly removing one item of
clothing at a time, running his hands over his bared nipples and his groin
as they were revealed. 

 "Bloody hell," Duncan said sotto voce. "How do you stand it, Ray?" 

 "He kills me regularly, Mac," Ray said with a grin. "Hurry up, Adam."
Methos flicked the shirt off which was all that was left and then knelt
before Duncan, putting his face in his groin and nuzzling there. As Methos
licked at Duncan's erection gently, Ray stood and stripped himself,
returning to the bed and sitting behind Duncan so he could ease his shirt
off, tossing it onto a chair, before laying the Scot on his back, his legs
still hanging over the edge of the bed with Methos never slowing in his
attentions. Ray claimed Duncan in a long, hungry kiss. "Want to fuck your
pretty mouth, Duncan. Can I?" he asked huskily. Duncan nodded, and Ray set
him free. He straddled the Scot, raised up on his knees, his cock bobbing
near Duncan's lips. Duncan flicked out a tongue and swiped the velvety
head, making Ray jumped a little. He grinned, then came back, lowering
himself carefully. Duncan took Ray's cock in eagerly, and suckled for a
bit, before Ray pulled out. 

 Duncan made a face. "More?" Ray asked, looking at him and smiling, then
lowered himself again, this time so the whole of his cock was in Duncan's
mouth. Duncan relaxed his throat, a skill learned long ago for which he
was grateful. For all the dominance the act implied, Ray was gentle and
careful, never pushing too hard or too fast, never demanding too much
concentration, which was good since Methos was the very devil himself,
working Duncan's own cock mercilessly, regardless of what was going on at
the other end. 

 Duncan was awash with sensation - the feel of one man's mouth, the other
man's cock. The taste, the smell - Methos' hands on his hips, Ray's hands
in his hair, twisting it, tugging it, massaging the scalp. Little sounds
of pleasure from all three of them. He wondered, with the tiny amount of
rational thought left to him, why he hadn't come yet - he was so close -
then he realised Methos was holding his balls, holding back his climax,
and he was grateful, for he wanted this to last. The rhythm Ray had set
up, he felt he could take all night, but he could feel Ray's cock
thickening, pulsing and knew that the younger man would not last that
long. He worked his throat, and hummed a little on the upstroke, which
made Ray shudder. Methos released Duncan's balls, and now he could come,
sucked dry by the oldest mouth in existence, fucked senseless by his two
good friends, coming and coming until his vision darkened. Then Ray
spurted, hot and salty, jerking and shaking, Duncan licking him until he
pulled out. 

 He found himself surrounded by warm flesh, smiling blue eyes on the
right, grinning hazel ones on the left. "Jesus," he said simply. 

 "Baby all worn out?" Methos teased, tracing circles on his chest. "But I
didn't get anything," he pouted. 

 "You came twice this afternoon, what are you complaining about?" 

 "Ah, that was but the hors d'ouevre. This is what I've been saving myself
for." 

 Duncan sat up, turned so he was looking at the other two still lying
down. "I dunno, Ray. What do you think he would like?' 

 "I'd ..." Duncan clamped a hand over Methos' mouth and repeated the
question to Ray. Methos squirmed under his hand. Duncan hoped he wouldn't
bite. 

 "Now that's what I like to see - someone else in charge for a change,"
Ray said suggestively, and Duncan knew that, suddenly, old and young minds
thought alike. Methos' eyes widened as he realised what they were up to. 

 "Have you done that before?" 

 "Not with him - I'm not into being tied up. But I suspect Adam is, isn't
that right?" Ray stroked Methos' face. Duncan released the old man's
mouth. 

 "Thank you," he said sourly, "I was having a little trouble breathing."
He made to sit up, but Duncan forced him down again with a firm hand on
his chest. "Are you two ganging up on me?" 

 Duncan leaned down. "Would you like us to, Methos? Honestly?" he purred,
right in Methos' face. The old man swallowed. 

 "Ye ..yes. Maybe." 

 "You asked me to trust you two - do you trust us?" Methos nodded. "Then
let's have some fun." 

 Duncan stood and rummaged about until he found the tie he'd brought with
him. "This will do. Ray, move him up the bed for me." 

 Methos started to move himself, but was stopped by his lover, who kissed
him. "No, Adam. Duncan's in charge." Duncan watched approvingly as Methos
submitted and let Ray arrange him. 

 "Sit behind his head, Ray, legs alongside." Methos' head was pillowed in
Ray's groin. Duncan drew Methos' hands behind Ray's back, encircling his
waist, and tied them off behind Ray. He got Ray to hook his ankles around
Methos' knees, pulling his legs apart and back, so he was totally exposed
to the gaze of both men. "He's beautiful, don't you think, Ray?" 

 "That's what I've been saying." 

 Duncan leaned in, and kissed Ray over the top of Methos' head. "Of
course, you're not so bad either." He sat back and considered where to
begin. Methos' eyes stared at him, huge in his angular face, the tiniest
amount of apprehension disappearing as Ray started to stroke his face
gently, and play his hand over his lover's chest. Duncan went to the
bathroom and found the hand lotion thoughtfully provided by the hotel, and
poured a little on his hand before taking Methos' cock into it and giving
it a couple of firm strokes. Methos' hips wriggled appreciatively. "Not
yet," Duncan said reprovingly. He straddled Methos' chest, his own
erection just inches from the old man's face. Ray put his hand on it, and
gently pumped, Methos watching, his lips straining helplessly towards the
prize being kept from him. "Do you think I should let him?" Duncan asked
Ray. 

 "Oh, yeah, he's good," Ray said breathily. Methos opened his mouth so
Duncan could sink his cock into it, and it was as well he'd come once this
evening, because the sight of his length disappearing between those red
lips nearly undid him. He forced his eyes up to Ray and they kissed,
Methos trapped between them, Duncan's tongue thrusting into Ray's mouth in
the same pulsing movement as his cock was pushing into Methos' hot mouth.
He didn't want to come, not like this, but with the edge off, he could do
this for a while. My God, he thought, this is going to fuel my fantasies
for years. At last he felt he needed to stop or he would no longer be able
to control himself, and made both men release him. What a picture, he
thought. Ray's kiss bruised lips, Methos' wet tongue flicking hungrily,
his eyes ablaze with desire, both looking at him like a hungry man does a
T-bone steak. 

 He moved down Methos' body, pausing to bend and lick and nip the brown
nipples, to tongue the firm stomach and its inviting belly button. He
knelt between Methos' outstretched legs and put more lotion on one hand,
and the fingers of the other. He gripped Methos' cock, now hard and
bobbing, leaking generously, and pumped, giving the head a little twist on
the upstroke, pleasure and pain combined. Methos strained to move towards
the sensation, pulling against his bound arms, but he was held firm by his
lover. Ray gave him two fingers to suckle, while his free hand tweaked
mercilessly at the hard nipples. Duncan thought he might come just from
the continuous whimpering Methos was making, and he could see Ray's own
cock behind Methos' head was hard again. He pushed at Methos' entrance,
rubbing the lotion in, adding a little more, then thrusting his fingers
in. Duncan found the nub easily, making the old man convulse with pleasure
each time he pushed against it. Methos' face was flushed and sweaty, and
both he and Ray were panting. Duncan knew he could draw this out, but they
did have an early flight, so he took pity. He released Methos just long
enough to put lotion on his own erection, before taking Methos in one
hand, putting his cock at Methos' hole with the other, and thrusting hard.
The old man cried out around Ray's fingers, pushing against the
restraining ties and legs, control completely gone. 

 Duncan was in awe - he'd never seen Methos like this, and from the look
on Ray's face, neither had he. All the usual reserve, the tightly held
command over his feelings and actions, had disappeared, and all that was
left was a creature of pure need and desire, beautiful and wild and under
Duncan's hands to ride for this briefest of times. The long body
struggled, the chest heaving, white visible all around the eyes, and
Methos' head tipped back against Ray's stomach, mouth open, looking
utterly fuckable. Duncan pounded into him, wanting to last, wanting to
come, wanting to do this again and again. His orgasm took him by surprise,
so immersed was he in Methos' reactions and when, seconds later, heat
spilled onto his hand, he wondered what it was, for surely Methos must
have come a dozen times, so aroused was he. Duncan stayed still, stayed
inside, watching Methos calm down, come down, his eyes sated and desiring
- and yes, with love in them for his friend, and his lover. Beautiful. 

 Duncan pulled out, and deliberately left the two men tied to each other
while he washed himself. He knelt again on the bed, leaned over Methos and
kissed him tenderly. "Thank you, old man." 

 "You're ... you're welcome, Mac," Methos said huskily. He rested his face
briefly against Methos' cheek, before sitting up and untying Methos'
hands, lowering them carefully and massaging the wrists. He got off the
bed so Ray could slide free. He watched the younger man kiss his lover,
and whisper something to him. Methos nodded. Ray knelt where Duncan
himself had just been, put Methos' legs over his shoulders, and entered
him quickly. Duncan watched, entranced, as the two lovers' eyes locked
together in a blaze of love and passion as Ray came. He had been too close
to last too long, but no one seemed to mind. He collapsed on Methos' chest
and the old man stroked Ray's hair while his lover recovered. "Come here,
Duncan," Methos said quietly and Duncan came and lay alongside them. Ray
wrapped a lazy arm across Duncan's hips, and Methos turned his head so
Duncan could kiss him, and put his hand on his chest. "No regrets, Mac?" 

 "None, Methos. None at all. Thank you." 

 Ray startled him by kissing his stomach. "Thank *you,* Duncan." Then
Methos twined his fingers in Mac's long hair and pulled him closer. 

 "Yes, Duncan. Thank you from both of us. For everything." 

 The three of them lay like that for a long time. They must have moved,
and they must have cleaned up, for hours later, Mac woke, the middle of an
Immortal sandwich, Methos at his back, Ray in his arms, their hands
clasped across him. At peace, in love, and strong with it, strong enough
to share. 

 Life was good, he thought, drifting back into a restful, dreamless sleep.


 When he woke, he was still encircled. He kissed the stubble-roughened
cheek under his own, then was startled by the warmth of lips caressing his
neck. "Methos?" he whispered, not wanting to disturb Ray who was fast
asleep. 

 "I'm here, Mac." 

 Duncan twisted his head slightly, and found Methos' face above him. The
Ancient touched his lips to Duncan's. "How do you feel?" 

 "I feel good, old friend. Jealous. What you two have ...." 

 "Is rare and fragile and too easily destroyed by too much time together.
It's not easy, Mac." They were both speaking almost subvocally, and Duncan
could feel more than hear the old man's rich baritone in his chest. 

 "Worth it?" 

 "Oh, yes. He's a lovely lad, no doubt." 

 "You two have got to stop talking about me as if I'm not here," another
voice said drowsily, then Mac found himself being watched by a pair of
intensely blue eyes. "Hey, Duncan. You good?" 

 "I'm good. But I think we should get up. " 

 Ray groaned, then brightened. "I just realised - this time, I can sleep
on the flight back, right?" 

 Methos leaned over Duncan to look at his lover. "I think we might be
insulted that all you think you want to do in our company is sleep, but if
that's your pleasure, you go right ahead." 

 "Mmmm, well if we can't do anything else together any more...." Ray's
eyes looked at the two older men mischievously. 

 "Do not tempt me like that, Ray," Duncan said firmly. "It's not fair. You
two have something special, and I don't want to interfere. I do have my
own interests, you know." 

 "I know, but there's no rule that says we can't share occasionally,
right, Adam?" 

 "None at all, infant. Certainly if these circumstances repeated
themselves..." 

 "You mean when your lover is possessed by a demon and we have to spend
weeks in the jungle finding a way to save him," Duncan said dryly. 

 "Exactly .... or ... if you just asked ... I don't think I'd mind at all.
You?" Methos asked his lover. 

 "Nope. Duncan?" 

 Duncan sat up, dislodging his two tormentors. "Enough. I get the message.
Let's just say I owe it to Joe's peace of mind and the female population
of the northern hemisphere not to indulge too often." He smiled at the two
men, who had taken the opportunity his movement gave them to twine around
each other and were now looking at him with identical creamy cat grins. 

 "High days and holidays, MacLeod?" Methos said sweetly 

 "Maybe birthdays too." 

 "St Andrew's Night?" 

 "Burns Night." 

 "Of course." 

 "Fourth of July and Thanksgiving," Ray contributed. 

 "You're gonna wear me out," Duncan mock complained. He bent and kissed
each smiling face solemnly. "And that's fine. Come on, breakfast."  

 They allowed themselves two nights back in KL to recuperate completely,
and Ray went back to visit his primate girlfriend, before they boarded the
plane for the long flight home. Mac emailed Joe and put him out of his
misery of worry, and it was a very light hearted trio who sat back to
enjoy first class accommodation for the flight. There was just one
lingering matter and Methos suspected he knew the answer to that. Ray
looked through the film selection and announced with disappointment that
he'd seen them all on the flight over. Duncan was immersed in a book.
"Ray, want to hit the beach?" 

 Ray looked at him, puzzled, then understanding dawned. "Okay - last one
there has to bring the towels." 

 They closed their eyes. 

 They sat together on the open shore, letting the surf wash at their toes.
But Methos was aware that the water didn't leave his feet damp and the
sand had lost its grittiness, replaced by a softer, more woollen texture.
The breeze that played around them, softly cooling, didn't make a sound
among the trees. 

 Ray looked over at him, smiling gently. "This is great, huh? We got
something good out of that crappy mess." 

 Methos shook his head. "It isn't going to last, you know." 

 "What isn't?" Distress showed openly on Ray's face. 

 "All this." Methos waved a hand at their surroundings. "This place, being
here together this way." 

 The tension eased out of Ray's frame instantly. "For a second there I
thought you meant us." 

 Methos placed a hand on Ray's cheek and kissed him softly. "No way,
you're stuck with me as long as I've got any say in it." 

 Ray grinned back at him. "Good, I was planning on keeping you around a
while longer." He rested his head lightly on Methos' shoulder. "So what
makes you think we'll lose this?" 

 "I can tell it isn't real now. I know I didn't really just kiss you." 

 Ray peered up at him, puzzled, and Methos wondered how he could twist his
neck round at that angle. "Feels the same to me." 

 Methos shrugged. "It's your place, remember, not mine. I'm only here
because of the link between us and I imagine that most of its strength
came from the ukaska. Now it's gone, the connection will fade until we're
barely aware of it, like before." 

 "So we're not gonna be able to do this for much longer." 

 "Probably not." 

 Ray nestled in against him, one foot scraping patterns in the wet sand
that were erased by the next wave. "You can't feel me now?" 

 "I can feel something, but you just don't feel quite like you." 

 Ray looked up at him again and sighed. "Let's go back." 

 They opened their eyes on the plane and turned to look at one another.
Duncan peered across from the far side of Ray, amused. "You two are going
to freak people out if you keep doing that." 

 Ray turned his gaze briefly towards the Scot. "Nah, that was the last
time, I think." He smiled at Methos. "The real world's more than good
enough." 

End Nine Lives by Phelis: andromeda_girl3@yahoo.co.uk

Author and story notes above.