WAITING GAMES

Pop...pop, pop.

That dark street.

Two forms crumpled into heaps on cold pavement.

Blonde hair reflecting a feeble bath of light from an overhead streetlamp.

Unseeing blue eyes staring at nothing through a cloud of death.

Gone.

Just an empty shell.

Lost forever.

"TES-SA!"

"Mac, wake up!"

Duncan MacLeod awoke with a start and instantly sat up. The sweat pouring from him hit the cool air when the blanket fell away, sending him into a fit of shivers. Total disorientation. No idea where he was or who the person was who had shaken his shoulder to awaken him. As his head cleared and awareness returned, his nightmare quickly faded away as most nightmares do, only a glimmer of what had frightened him remained.

"Are you okay?"

Amanda. He couldn't see her but he heaved a breath of relief and relaxed a notch when he recognized her voice. Using the sheet to wipe the sweat from his forehead, he answered, "Yeah," then slowly sank back to the mattress.

"You want to talk about it?"

He felt the bed shift and then she was there, draped across his chest, stroking his cheek. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close.

Amanda. They had said more things to each other in the past few days than they had in all the centuries of their acquaintance. Maybe that was why he had dreamt about Tessa. After twelve years, he'd finally committed to marriage and immediately, Tessa had been taken from him. And Anne. He'd resisted the idea of fatherhood his whole life but especially since the Lakota tragedy until Anne. And then, once he'd committed himself and had grown to cherish the idea, the chance had been snatched away as abruptly. Maybe his subconscious was warning him, Anybody you love is doomed. Beware. Anything you want, you can't have. Protect Amanda.
 

Amanda's lips began to roam across his chest. "Maybe if I kiss it, it'll get better," she muttered seductively then squirmed against him. When that got no reaction, she lifted her head and looked directly at him, trying to see his face in the dark. "Come on, MacLeod, you killed the bad guy, our existence is no longer in jeopardy and tomorrow the sun will rise. What's bugging you?"

"Nothing."

Amanda abandoned her attempts to seduce him and sat up. "Bullshit. You're tense in all the wrong places, my dear. Something's wrong."

Duncan leaned over and flipped the switch on the nightstand lamp, immediately illuminating the barge in a soft yellowish glow. "It's not important." In an effort to change the subject, he asked, "You hungry?" Then he climbed out of bed and slipped on a pair of sweatpants.

"Ooh, goody," she exclaimed, giving up on finding out what was bothering him for the time being. "A midnight snack." Wiggling into his matching sweatshirt, she started to follow him toward the kitchen area. "Can I eat crackers in bed?"

"I don't love you that much, Amanda," he teased.

"Oh, pooh. What about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

"The best I can do is ham and butter on a baguette which you will eat over the table and not in bed," he answered, his head buried in the refrigerator.

"But I could have so much fun looking for crumbs, Duncan," she complained from the chair she'd taken at the table.

"You really are insatiable, aren't you?" he laughed as he brought out the fixings for sandwiches.

"I don't think so. I fell asleep, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but the second you woke up..."

"I can't help myself, you're just so much fun to play with. Just thinking about you makes me hot."

"Maybe a beer'll cool you down," he stated as he tossed a can in her direction.

"I'd rather have wine," she complained after deftly snatching the can out of the air.

"You finished it. Be happy we have beer. The way Adam guzzles it, I'm surprised there's any left."

"Party pooper. How could you run out of wine?"

"Because you've been staying here, that's how. We'll go shopping
first thing in the morning."

"I love shopping," Amanda declared as she grabbed the baguette and, using the knife he handed to her, sliced it down the middle. "Maybe we could buy you a new bedspread."

Duncan cast a quick glance at the comforter that Tessa had bought years ago. "What's the matter with the one I've got?"

"It's boring," she explained. "You need something with a bit more color. Something to motivate you to wake up happy."

He took the sliced bread and began to butter both sides. "Anyone who wakes up happy is crazy," he stated matter-of-factly.

"It takes you hours to become civil, Duncan. Maybe if there was something cheerful to greet you, you wouldn't be so grumpy."

Duncan grew suspicious. Practically everything that came out of Amanda's mouth was subject to three or more interpretations. Number one, what did she really mean? Number two, how would it benefit her? And number three, how would it make his life a living hell? Over the years, he might have succumbed to her charms a time or two but he'd never really learned to trust her. And with good reason. After all, look at this latest mess she'd gotten him in to.

"Okay, Amanda, you've set the stage," he said, warily. "If you spit it out quickly maybe it won't hurt me as much."

"Hurt you?" she inquired, the perfect picture of innocence. "Why would I ever want to hurt you?"

"I've yet to figure that out but you seem to manage it, and on a regular basis, too."

Amanda put down the sandwich he had handed to her, got up and walked over to a spot directly behind him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pressed her lips to his left ear. "I don't mean to, Duncan. It just happens. You're my best friend. Who else do I have to bring my troubles to?"

"I'm honored, now out with it."

"Can I stay here awhile?" she asked, her big brown eyes pleading even though he couldn't see them.

"Isn't that what you've been doing?"

"Yeah but with the crisis over, I thought you might want me to leave."

Duncan swiveled around in his chair to look at her. "Have I ever kicked you out?"

"Not exactly, but there was that time you refused to let me in."

"What happened? Did you forget the mortgage payment and the bank foreclosed?"

"You know I never buy my places."

"Okay, you forgot to pay the rent. How many months did it take for them to evict you?"

"Five," she admitted. "But I was going to leave anyway. I never did like that condo. Too dark and dreary. I was depressed all the time." She let go of him and moved back to her chair. This time he could see her pleading, doe-like eyes. "So it's okay if I stay here awhile?"

"For awhile," he acquiesced. Wishing that was all she wanted, Duncan knew by her expression that she wasn't quite finished yet. The way she kept chewing on her lower lip and toying with the sandwich warned him that the other shoe was about to drop.

Amanda had insatiable appetites for other things besides sex. Adventure. Danger. A well thought out con, to which he'd fallen victim a time or two. And food. Food of any and all varieties were high on that list, exchanging rank only with sex. If she skipped an opportunity to eat, that was usually a good indication that something was bothering her and she still hadn't taken a proper bite of the ham sandwich.

Duncan watched as she shredded off a piece of meat that had been hanging outside the edges of the bread and left it dangling from her fingers while she inspected it carefully.

"Okay, Amanda," he began, his patience at an end. "What is it?"

"What's what?" she replied, still pushing the envelope with the coy act, but when she tore her attention from the strip of meat and looked at him, she could see that she might have taken the role a little too far. Steam wasn't exactly coming out of his ears but his nostrils were flaring and his brow was furrowed. "Oh, okay," she gave in. "I'm having a little problem with the IRS back home."

Duncan put his sandwich down and took a deep, calming breath. It wouldn't do to blow up until all the facts had been pried out of her. "Little problem like you owe a few bucks in underpaid taxes or little problem like you haven't filed in twenty years and they finally caught up with you?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I've been filing every year like a good little girl but I got audited. Duncan, have you heard of an Immortal being audited? It was a nightmare. I couldn't exactly explain all my assets. I didn't think they'd go for 'excuse me, sir, but I acquired that waaay before the Internal Revenue Service was in existence and I don't think that should be subject to income tax.'"

"How did they find out about that kind of stuff if you've been careful?" He eyeballed her dubiously. "You have been careful about what you run through the bank, haven't you?"

"Usually, but there was this lovely necklace that I just had to have..." There were those pleading doe-eyes again. "How was I to know what that form was the bank gave me to fill out when I wanted a cashier's check for fifteen thousand dollars?"

"You filled it out?" Duncan jumped to his feet and started pacing around the small space. "I can't believe you filled it out. Any idiot knows not to fill out one of those forms," he fumed. "That's how they catch drug dealers. Never conduct a transaction anywhere or with anyone that involves more than nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars."

"Well, it's not like we have a manual to follow. How was I to know? I got a little suspicious when they had me fill out another one when I wanted the matching earrings."

"You filled out two of those forms?" Duncan sank down onto the couch in abject defeat. Dreading the answer to his next question, he still went ahead and asked it. "What did you tell the auditor when he brought them up?"

Amanda carefully placed the sandwich on her plate, picked up their beers and joined him on the couch. Snuggling up next to him, she rubbed the side of her head against his chest like a cat trying to earn favor. "That bully had me so flustered, I didn't have time to think," she lamented.

"You never have time to think, Amanda. Even if you did, you wouldn't. So, what story did you fabricate?"

"I told him I borrowed it from you," she blurted out then squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for the explosion that was sure to
follow.

"YOU WHAT??!!" Duncan more than jumped to his feet this time. The action more resembled a bomb bursting under his butt which sent him into outer space. As he touched down, he began a herky-jerky tour of every free inch of floor space that he could find. Back and forth, pause, scowl, back and forth. "I can't believe you did that," he bellowed during one of those scowl/pause periods. "Why'd you have to bring me into it? Now I'll have the IRS on my tail."

If Amanda didn't know him better, she would have feared for her safety, he was that angry. But she did know him and had every confidence that, once he calmed down long enough for her to explain, he'd see there really wasn't a problem. "I told them it was loan. And the guy was so nice about it, reminding me not to forget to deduct the interest next year. Wasn't that sweet?"

"Oh yeah, real sweet, telling you how to write it off while sharpening his claws for me. I can't believe you did that."
 

"You don't have to worry, love," she consoled as she stood up and tried to follow him around. "By the time he left me, I don't think he was capable of remembering much of the conversation."

He stopped so abruptly that she collided with his back before she could bring herself to a halt. "You seduced an IRS auditor?" he asked incredulously.

To keep her balance, her hands had grasped onto his bare back. Just feeling the corded muscles beneath the soft skin sent her heart into a tailspin. "On such short notice, it was all I could come up with," she rationalized. Her hands began to slowly work their way toward his chest and belly while her mouth started to wander. God, he felt good and she couldn't keep herself still. "But it wasn't one of my more successful conquests," she whispered into his ear.

Duncan tried to wriggle out of her trap but she started teasing his earlobe, something she knew from experience would affect him. True to form, his attempt for freedom turned into a halfhearted effort. "What happened?" he managed to ask as he began to work his way toward the bed.

"Well, part of him was willing," she whispered then dropped her hand to the front of his sweatpants as they walked. Satisfied with the results, she wrapped her fingers around his erection poking through the material. "But it just wasn't the right part. The poor man just couldn't get it up, but you never have that problem, do you, Duncan?" Immortality sure does have its fringe benefits, she thought as she let go of him so he could get undressed.

Thank goodness her plan was working, otherwise, she'd be spending a cold night on the banks of the Seine. Men are so easily manipulated. Once the blood leaves the brain to pool in other places, they completely lose the power of coherent thinking. Not to say she wasn't looking forward to a night of making love with Duncan MacLeod. Never. He was the best lover she'd ever had the pleasure of being with, even after almost twelve hundred years' of experience. It was just, although she expected or wanted more, sometimes he behaved just like a man.

He laid her down on the mattress.

Oh, yes, just like a man, she delighted as his hungry mouth started to devour hers while he groped for the hem of her sweatshirt. Ah, wonders, as he caressed her bare shoulders with his lips while his callused palms abraded her breasts. Oh, baby, as he flickered a nipple with his warm tongue...

What? He'd stopped. As abruptly as the sensations had started, they had ceased. Amanda forced her eyelids open and met a steady, total cognizant gaze. Slowly, a beguiling grin spread over his face.

"I'm not that naïve," he proclaimed through his smile. "Nor that hard up, Amanda."

"How could you be?" she asked with just the right amount of indignation. "I've been here for over a week."
"You know what I mean. I just want to make sure you understand."

She forced her muscles to respond and sat up fluidly, as though nothing at all was amiss. The fact that her entire body was humming with anticipation could not be revealed to him at any cost. A girl could lose her edge if she let it be known that his mere touch sent her into spasms of delight. "Understand what, Duncan?" she asked, the perfect picture of expectant enlightenment.

He tantalizingly feathered his hand downward over her body and stopped at a spot right inside her left thigh. Gripping her momentarily, he started kneading her flesh and working his way upward.

Unable to control herself, Amanda arched her body into his touch and exhaled a sigh of satisfaction when he didn't pull away.

"I won't be manipulated with sex, Amanda, and you should know better than to try." He grazed his lips over her eyebrow then pulled back to regard her squarely. "You, on the other hand, are like putty under my fingers," he stated tenderly then his fingers delved into the warm, moist folds.

Amanda drew a short, sharp breath as those expert fingers slipped into her and, drawing on her moisture, he set up a rapid, teasing stroke. Within seconds, he adeptly brought her to climax.

Before she could gather enough sanity to confront him and call him every derogatory name she'd ever learn over her eleven centuries of life, the phone rang.

"MacLeod."

"Mac, it's Joe."

"Joe." Ignoring Amanda's attempts to grab the receiver so she could hear too, Duncan sat up then relaxed against the shutters. "I thought you'd be on your way back home by now." He swatted her hand away again and settled in for a long, friendly conversation.

"Thought I'd do a little sightseeing before heading back. Don't have much of a chance to get to France these days."

"Well, before you leave, let's get together for lunch. Is Adam still around?"

"Yeah, but he's real busy working on a little crisis control, which brings me to the reason why I'm calling you. Have you heard from Richie recently?"

Duncan stared through the porthole and fixed his eyes on the night lights of Paris. Would there ever come a time when thoughts of Richie wouldn't bring worry? Thank God the young man had been long gone from France during all that Kalas business. "A couple of days ago. Why do you ask?"

"I just heard from Mike that an Immortal's been giving him some trouble. Thought you might want to know."

Fear tightened like a belt around Duncan's chest and he sat up straight in response. "Who?"

"Guy by the name of Felix Klamath. Do you know him?"

"Never heard of him. What do you have on him?"

"Nothing. Nobody's heard of him on this side either. I suspect he's new and out head-hunting."

"Yeah, but where'd he get Richie's name?"

"You got me. Give Rich a call, maybe he can fill you in. I gotta go. Adam's taking me out for drinks. Sort of our last hurrah before the rest of the shit hits the fan. Say hi to Amanda for me."

"Hi, Joe. Bye, Joe," Amanda shouted back before Duncan replaced the receiver on the cradle. "That was rude," she chided. "Maybe I wanted to talk to Joe."

Duncan ignored her as his fingers quickly punched out Richie's number in the States.

"Hi..."

"Richie?"

"...this is Richie. I'm not here but, smart guy that you are, you probably figured that out already..."

"Damn."

"...You know the routine. Ciao."

"Try the dojo," Amanda suggested while glancing at the wall clock that displayed one a.m. "It's only four o'clock in Seattle."

Duncan flashed her a thank-you glance before his fingers started dancing across the telephone keypad.

"Dojo."

"Richie." At the sound of the familiar voice, Duncan released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Mac, what're you calling for?" Even over thousands of miles of telephone lines, MacLeod could hear tension in the younger man's voice. "Geez, it's gotta be, like really late there."

"I just got off the phone with Joe. He told me about some trouble you're having. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. You ever heard of an asshole named Felix
Klamath?"

"No. What does he look like?"

"Big dude, about six four, two seventy-five. Dirty blonde hair and rotten teeth. Typical low-life, druggie scum. Claims he found me in the yellow pages under the heading of loser but he's gonna be the one to eat it." The Richie Ryan bravado lost little impact over the telephone.

"Watch yourself, Rich," Duncan instructed, still the teacher. "Don't get cocky, he's got a longer reach than you have by a good six inches. Keep moving, you're lighter than he is. Your only advantage will be to tire him out. I'm on the next plane out of here."

"Don't, Mac." It was a command, not a request, something the younger Immortal had never attempted before. He'd cajoled, he'd whined, he'd sweet-talked but he'd never commanded and the fact that he'd done so slowly dawned on the young man. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded, " he apologized. "It's just, I'm meeting him at ten. That's only six hours from now. It'll take you at least twelve to get back here, if you can get a flight in the next ten minutes. But all that's immaterial because it's my fight, Mac, not yours. This guy has nothing to do with you. He doesn't even know who you are."

"Richie..."

"If I win, you'll be the first person I call and it'd be a lot easier if I don't have to figure out which plane you're on. And, if I don't call, well, you'll know that I lost and you'll take his sorry ass for me. Right?"

No response.

"Right, Mac?"

Duncan forced the words past the constriction in his throat. "Right, Rich." He didn't feel Amanda's hand, rubbing tenderly up and down his back. He didn't see the interior of the barge through the watery sheen that blurred his vision. His attention was focused on only one sense, hearing. Hearing Richie saying good-bye for what could be the last time. Hearing the click as the connection between mentor and student, friend and friend was broken. Hearing his own heart pounding against his ribs in a frantic rhythm. Hearing his own moan of helplessness escape his lips.

"He'll be fine," Amanda offered, even though she didn't know the particulars. All she could tell by Duncan's posture was something major was afoot, it involved Richie and by default, would soon involve her. "You trained him well."

"Sometimes, that's not enough," he proclaimed resignedly then got off the bed. Reaching for his sweats and putting them on, he announced, "I'm going out."

Amanda knew better than to follow right away. However, the moment he was out the door, she hit the re-dial button on the telephone.

Duncan was well aware that he should have prepared himself better for this day. He shouldn't have allowed the punk kid into his heart. Born in an age of computers and automatic weapons, Richie Ryan had neither the skill nor the warrior instinct to survive the life of an Immortal. Taking in the redhead had been a fool's errand and now he would pay. And he would pay dearly. The emotional price would be as overwhelming as when he'd lost Tessa.

Richie was the son he'd never been allowed to have, the sometimes eager, sometimes reluctant, recipient of the over four hundred years' worth of experience that the Highlander had to offer. There had been rocky times, harsh words had been lashed out in anger or frustration by both of them but they had always been exchanged with an underlying love, a love that had never been fully expressed, which was an exact duplication of unspoken emotion between another mentor and his student. Connor and Duncan.

Since Duncan was the connecting factor between both relationships, he feared this inability to be open about feelings rested with him. Had he always been unable to say how he really felt about a person? Had Little Deer or Anne or even Tessa ever wondered if his declarations of love were merely empty statements, that he wasn't capable of real emotional commitment?

That was certainly the case with Amanda. Impending doom hadn't even allowed him to fully open up to her, their exchanges only implied, never really said outloud. What kind of emotional cripple had he turned in to?

Looking up, he noticed the Eiffel Tower in the distance, lit up like a Christmas tree. For him, it would forever be a symbol of the battle between good and evil but had he really represented good? He killed. He watched and helped others kill. When properly analyzed, his entire life boiled down to only a matter of survival. Kill or be killed. There can be only one. What was the point? And now Richie could become just another statistic, another fallen Immortal in the Watcher annals and there wasn't a damn thing Duncan could do about it.

"It's cold out here." Amanda's voice from behind broke into his thoughts. "Put this on."

He hadn't noticed his exhalations blowing like steam from his nostrils until she mentioned the cold. He took the coat she offered and shrugged into it. "Do you ever wonder why, Amanda?" he asked sadly.

"Why it's cold or the general meaning of life?" she responded flippantly.

That brought a small smile to the corners of his mouth. "The general meaning of life. The purpose of immortality. Why some people are while most aren't?"

She put an arm around his waist and pulled him close. "I've had occasion to but not recently. I came to the conclusion a long time ago that whatever is, is and whatever isn't, has yet to be and I can't worry about something I have no control over. I don't know if we Immortals were put on this earth for a reason other than as pieces in a grand cosmic chess game but that's how I see us. The Game. Two sides of a board with a series of checks and checkmates. It's warped, I know, but it's the only way I can get through from one day to the next.

She stopped to study him for a moment. "He'll be okay, Duncan. You were a great teacher."

"I feel so helpless," he admitted.

"Even if you were there, you wouldn't be able to do anything."

"I know."

"So, let's go back to the barge." She pulled away from him and wrapped her arms protectively around herself. "I'm freezing my tits off."

As they strolled back, arm in arm, a gentle rain began to fall, cleansing only the outer layers of filth that covered the world. The inner squalor, as always, remained unaffected.

Upon their return, knowing they'd both lost their appetites, Duncan wrapped up their barely touched sandwiches and put them in the refrigerator. Amanda, meanwhile, brought out a bottle of brandy, two snifters and set them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Come on, MacLeod. Let's drink a toast to the Game Masters. If it weren't for them, we never would have met."

Duncan poured the drinks before joining her. "Adam has a thing for you." Anything, any topic of conversation that would keep his mind off of Richie.

"Does he now?" she asked, giving the impression of honest interest. "Well, that's cute." She paused. "He's cute." After taking the offered glass, she walked her fingers down Duncan's thigh. "But he's not my type."

"I didn't know you had a type."

"Oh, but I do," she purred. "And I have for a very long time." She sidled up to him and nestled her head into the curve of his shoulder. Regarding him pensively, she took a slow sip of brandy. Leaving the snifter pressed against her lower lip, she exhaled a long sigh then said, "I really meant all those things I couldn't quite verbalize, you know?"

"I know," he answered as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

"I think I fell in love with you the first time I met you," she admitted. Then turning her head upward to look at him, she added with a smile, "Crafty barbarian that you were."

"Was that before or after your stole my gold?" he teased.

"Oh, I believe it was while I was stealing it. If you recall, you had the most interesting reaction." She laughed. "I've never had a man respond quite that way to being robbed."

"I was so young and so naïve."

"I miss your accent."

"I dinnae have an accent," he stated in a perfect brogue.

"It made you seem so much younger and much more innocent."

"I was cocky and long past innocent."

"Brash but totally predictable, even then."

"Is that a fact?

"Yes, and you were adorable."

"Amanda, I've been called a lot of things over the years but never have I heard the term adorable."

"But you were, with your accent and your Highland bravado and your devil-may-care attitude."

"How come you remember so much. As I recall we got so drunk we ended up passing out on the street outside the tavern."

"Not quite, my dear." Amanda sat up, placed her snifter on the coffee table then returned to her former position, only slightly altered in order to face him fully. "You got so drunk you passed out. Rebecca and I were perfectly sober when we hauled you back to our place."

"You what?"

"It's true, Duncan," she told him, dead-pan serious. "We had lots of fun with you and when we were finished we hauled you back to the street and left you."

"You're kidding, right?" He asked, lifting one eyebrow quizzically, not quite believing her while not totally disbelieving her.

"Are you worried, Duncan?" She placed her palm against his stubbly cheek. "I wouldn't, darling. It happened over three hundred and fifty years ago." Seeing the doubtful expression on his face, she climb over him and straddled his lap. "I'd be more worried about what's going to happen in the next few minutes."

She might have initiated the move but he quickly took over. Grabbing her by the waist, he yanked her to him. "What's to worry about?" he said before taking her mouth in one of those long, hot, wet kisses that took her breath away. His tongue dove past her teeth to the sweet, warmth inside and his lips danced with hers.

"Oh, my, you sure do that well," she exhaled on a whisper when he finally released her. "But why did you stop?" Taking both of his cheeks into her hands, she pulled his face toward hers and returned the favor.

His entire body instantly stiffened, followed by a shudder that wracked through him and Amanda instinctively knew he was thinking about Richie. Bound and determined to help him through the next six hours, if it was the last thing she ever did, she picked up his hand, gave it a little tug and smiled at him when he looked up at her guiltily.

"Come on, big boy, let's go to bed," she suggested. Never letting go of him, she backed off his lap and stood up.

"You go ahead. I think I'll stay up for awhile."

She bent over him and, placing her hands on his shoulders, she gave the corded muscles a squeeze between her fingers and her thumbs. "You just single-handedly saved the life of every Immortal. You preserved the sanctity of the Watcher organization and you rid the world of one its greatest evils."

She was undaunted when he tried to shrug her off, tightening her grip on him in response. "I know, I know, all in a day's work for Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, but, sweetie, as broad as these are, why doncha give 'em a break for a change?"

His soulful brown eyes pleaded silently.

"I know, Mac," she sympathized. "But you've done all you can. You trained him well and you taught him all the tricks, now it's up to him. You can't fight for him and worrying about him isn't going to help. He's a smart, agile kid. He'll be okay."

"And if he isn't?"

She chuckled softly and dropped her hands to his chest. "Has anyone ever told you that you're one helluva control freak? You're eight thousand miles away. There's nothing you can do.

"Now, I'll offer you two options. I can stay here and help you pass the time the best way I know how or I can leave and you can brood and worry all by your little lonesome." When he didn't answer right away, she started to massage him through the material of his sweatshirt. "Time's almost up, Mr. MacLeod," she coaxed. "Behind door number one you'll find a trip or two or three to paradise or, if you choose door number two, you'll find your own personal sojourn in hell. Which one'll it be?"

Without exchanging a word, an expression of capitulation washed over his face and she greeted it lovingly. She reclaimed his hand, straightened up and pulled him to his feet. "You know, big guy, you're not as dumb as you look."

"Thanks," he deferred as he allowed her to lead him to the bedroom.

They stopped at the foot of the bed and stared at each other for several seconds, neither one of them sure who should make the first move.

Amanda broke the spell when she gathered the hem of his shirt in her fists and peeled it off of him, inside out, but he continued to stand like a statue. "This isn't a punishment, Mac. Quit acting like it is."

"Sorry. I guess I'm not in the mood."

She reached out and tantalizingly circled around his left nipple with a fingernail. "Give me a minute, you soon will be."

He pressed his hand over hers to still it. "Pretty confident, aren't
you?"

"With most men, usually, but with you, always." Using her free hand, she repeated the motion along the sensitive skin behind his right ear. "You forget. I know where all your buttons are." Her efforts were rewarded when she saw the goose bumps rise on his skin. "And," she added, "After what you did earlier, I owe you." A devilish grin lit up her face.

Closing the gap between them, Amanda replaced her finger with her mouth and gently laved the spot with her tongue. He tasted like rain and smelled like the forest, all woodsy and clean, a scent uniquely his own. Slowly, she started pushing him backward toward the bed, until the edge of mattress caught him behind the knees and he was forced to sit.

"Right where I want you," she gloated and, kneeling down, she pulled off his wet running shoes. In his haste to leave earlier, he'd forgone socks and now his damp feet were cold to the touch. Rubbing them briskly between her palms elicited a moan of contentment. "You are so easy, MacLeod," she teased.

He smiled down at her then ruffled the hair on the top of her head. "Not as easy as you, my dear," he reminded her.

"That was dirty pool," she huffed, remembering how easily he had manipulated her. "It doesn't count."

"When did we start keeping score? I didn't know this was a competition."

"Everything with you is a competition."

"Not everything," he disagreed and reached for her.

Amanda adeptly dodged his hands. "No-no-no-no-no-no," she sang as she settled back on her haunches just outside his arm span. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm the one in charge here. You just keep your hands to yourself till I tell you otherwise." She eyeballed him critically. "And if you can't exhibit a little self-control, I'm sure I can find a way to help you." Picking up one of his discarded socks, she waved it around menacingly.

"You wouldn't," he dared.

"Try me, buddy."

"You couldn't."

She moved so fast, he didn't have time to react. One second they were staring each other down and in the next, she had a firm yet harmless grasp around his testicles. "We can do this my way or we can do this my way," she challenged coyly. "Which one'll it be, Highlander?"

"You're not leaving me much choice," he submitted while squirming uncomfortable under her grip. "I guess it'll be your way."

"Ooh, baby," she cooed and started massaging him provocatively. "I always knew you were a smart boy."

Duncan closed his eyes and, giving in to her ministrations, he shifted slightly to allow her better access. "I thought you said I wasn't as dumb as I look," he groaned.

"That too." She laid a hand on his stomach and, ever so slowly began working her way downward with light feathering strokes, teasing the short hairs that grew beneath his navel, passing beneath the elastic waistband but avoiding the erection that laid against his lower belly.

He squirmed, trying to put his penis under her fingers, but she darted away, reaching instead for the waistband and giving it a tug. "Let's get rid of this. It's ruining my form."

Duncan, more eager than she to get rid of the interfering sweatpants, moved to strip them off.

"I don't remember telling you you could move," she informed him, her tone feigning impatience.

"Ach, come on, Amanda," he complained. "I've been moving and you didnae say anything."

"Oh, what fun," she mentioned offhandedly then pulled his pants off. "I can tease the brogue out of you." And she did just that by lightly running her tongue up the underside of his shaft, stopping just short of the tip.

His whole body bucked in response. "'Tha' isnae teasing, it's mair like torture." Unable to stop himself, he again reached for her.

Grabbing his wrist, she gave it a yank and scolded, "That's one transgression too many, MacLeod." She jumped to her feet, dashed to the chest of drawers and brought out two articles of clothing, one of which was a tee-shirt and the other, a pair of silk boxers. "Present from one of your lady friends?" she asked, waving the checked shorts above her head.

He brought his elbows under him in a move to sit up.

"Don't you dare get up," she warned. Slowly advancing with her eyes fixed on the head of the bed, she let out an exasperated sigh. "We definitely have to go shopping. You don't have a headboard." She flicked one of the shutters closed in disgust. "How am I going to make this work without a headboard?"

Duncan skeptically checked above his head. "Just what do you have in mind?"

"Use your imagination, dear," she offered then grabbed his right hand. Climbing over him, she wrapped one end of the tee-shirt around his wrist then took the other end and tried to weave it through the shutters behind the bed.

"I thought you said this wasn't a punishment," he reminded her, resisting the temptation to reclaimed his arm, a feat he could have easily accomplished if he'd wanted to.

"Oh, pooh, there's too much material," Amanda muttered to herself. "It won't fit." She stopped trying to force the bunch between two slats and turned a beguiling smile toward Duncan "I don't suppose you have a long scarf?"

His shock and surprise that she would even think that he'd help her plucked the power of speech right from his lungs. He could only give her a dumbfounded look.

"Oh never mind," she said disgustedly as she climbed off the bed. "I'll find something myself." The search took awhile. After rummaging through every dresser drawer, both nightstand drawers and the big trunk, she finally found a long, white, silk scarf draped around the collar of Duncan's formal overcoat hanging in the closet. Turning back, she started sashaying toward him. "This will do very nicely."

"Be careful with that. It was a gift from Tessa."

"Oh, how apropos," she replied with glee while taunting him by slowly dragging the silk over her palm. "She, of all people would agree with this wholeheartedly." Amanda crawled back onto the bed and straddled his stomach. "After all, she spent thirteen years with the control freak from hell. She's probably cheering me on at this very minute." Tying one end of the scarf to his right wrist, she threaded the other through the shutter slats and wove it around to the other side. Pulling it taut which brought his right arm over his head, she forced his left arm up and tied the loose end around his wrist.

Other than the fact that he was intrigued, Duncan had no idea why he was submitting to this but he was, and with complete docility. "This is a side of you I've never seen before," he mentioned cautiously.

I've never had to keep you distracted for six hours before, she thought. I couldn't kill Kalas for you but I can do this. "Well, I figure since our relationship has turned this major corner, so should our sex-life." She twisted around and regarded his bare, and still free legs. Deep in thought, she brought a forefinger up and tapped it against her temple a couple of times. "I don't suppose you have any more scarves." She swivel back and gave him a beatific smile. "Do you?"

"Amanda, you've already got me trussed up like a Christmas goose," he grumbled. "What more do you want?" He tested the bonds and discovered the more he tugged on them the tighter they became.

"Manger knots, dear. Good for something besides horses. The more you fight them, the more unforgiving they become." She flaunted her control by toying with the loose end dangling from his left wrist. "Yet, if I pulled this, you'd be free in a second."

"I know what a manger knot is. The question is, how long are you going to keep this game up?"

"Oh, I don't know." She tried to convey disinterest but had a real difficult time suppressing the mirth bursting to get out. "Probably as long as you are." She passed her hand behind her and ran her fingers teasingly up his erection. "Up, that is."

"Criosda, you are treading a very thin line."

"I know," she acknowledged. "But I've been wanting to do this for such a long time. I just never thought I'd get away with it." She leaned down and took the point of his chin into her mouth. His beard tickled her lips and tongue but it was not an unpleasant sensation.

Slowly, she worked her way along his jaw and down to his neck. He immediately tensed. "Funny thing about we Immortals," she observed. "Pretty much all of us have this same reaction but if you can't trust me, Duncan, who can you trust." And she lingered in the curve of his neck, gently suckling on the soft place where she could feel his pulse beating

"Whoever said I trusted you?" he asked, surprised that she could even consider that a possibility

"Oh, relax," she instructed. "I guarantee, you're going to like this. I swear, you'd bitch if you were hung with a new rope." And she nipped the skin of his throat lightly.

He chuckled. "I have been and the experience taught me that the old ones are much better."

"Well, we finally agree on something." She climbed off of him and laid down alongside his length, bringing her leg up to rest on his thigh. Idly curling his chest hairs around a finger, she turned reflective and asked, "Which brings up another strange topic. Have you ever sat down and tried to count how many times you've died?"

One of his eyebrows lifted curiously. What a strange subject to bring up when he was totally naked and tied to a bed. "No, but I'm guessing you have."

Her finger skirted closer to his nipple. "Once. I believe I got up to about fifty-three then gave up." She changed positions and switched to her mouth, pressing light little kisses all around his chest. "It was too depressing and I hadn't even gotten to the Renaissance yet."

Duncan's whole body suddenly jerked. "If you don't pay attention to what you're doing," he warned through clenched teeth. "You'll suffer your last one before we hit the new millennium."

Looking down, she noticed her knee was digging into his groin. "Oops. Sorry. Want me to kiss it to make it better?" She turned back to watch his face as she reached down and let the weight of his scrotum fill her hand.

His eyes fluttered closed and a deep moan rumbled up from low in his chest.

Without warning, she instantly became overwhelmed by the depth of emotion she felt for this man, this gentle, courageous, noble man who, no matter how wrong she was or whatever mess she got herself into, protected her and did his best to keep the world's ills at bay. He might complain about it, which he did incessantly. He might lecture her about it, which he did ceaselessly, but ever since she'd known him, he'd always come through for her. And, if she lived for a thousand more years, she'd never find a way to repay him.

"I love you, Duncan." The words effortlessly whispered from her soul like a prayer and once they were out, she couldn't stop the torrent of need that surged through her. A need to show him that the words she hadn't been able to utter before now without jest were the absolute truth. That no matter how many times she'd said those words to others, until now they had been meaningless. That the sentiment didn't even come close to adequately describing the tightening in her chest when she thought about him or the wealth of emotion boiling up from the inside that made her want to cry out from the sheer pleasure/pain of it.

Duncan had no idea what had caused the change but within a heartbeat, the atmosphere had shifted from playful to something of a serious nature, completely atypical behavior for Amanda. Knowing how uncomfortable she could be around open displays of what she defined as mush, and seeing the tears about to spill over from her lower lids, Duncan decided the situation called for a little levity.

He cleared his throat in preamble, gave her a wicked smile when he finally had her attention, then jerked on his bonds. "Um, was there a purpose to this or were you just seeing if you could do it?"

Amanda sat up and nervously swiped her eyes. Nobody knew her as well as he did. Nobody, but he, understood the reason for the carefree facade she presented to the rest of the world. If you pretended you didn't care, no one would know they could hurt you. But deep down there was a vulnerable woman who felt pain keenly and only he knew how much she hated when that weakness came to the surface.

She swallowed her tears and forced herself out of the melancholy. There had been a purpose to this little game, keep Duncan distracted with a little mindless passion, but if she got emotional, he would too, and knowing him and how his brain worked, that would lead back to Richie. "A little of both," she answered, her smile a tad bit forced at first but quickly changing to genuine as she perused his form stretched out on the bed.

"You really are something to look at," she marveled while working her eyes and fingers down the underside of his left arm. Her fingers, featherlight on the fine skin, traced the curve of bicep as he tensed and then lingered over the sensitive are just beneath his armpit. He twitched slightly as, grinning at him, she teased the taut lines of muscle on his flank as she worked her way downward to his hip.

"Yeah, well," he began, his eyes jumping back and forth between her face and the rest of her which was still fully clothed. "Right this second, I'm feeling just a wee bit underdressed. So unless you're planning to draw a picture, would you mind doing something about it?"

"Poor Duncan." She pursed out her lower lip in mock sympathy and circled his hipbone. "What do you suggest?"

"Oh no you don't. This was all your idea and, even if it wasn't," he pulled against the scarf again, "I'm not really in a position to do anything. But please, whatever you decide, do it quickly, my arms are about ready to fall off."

"You know me better than that," she chided and started unbuttoning her dress ever so slowly. What foresight she'd had, putting her own clothes back on again after talking to Richie.

The action of seductively slipping a pearlescent stud from a buttonhole then lingering to touch her exposed skin was much more enticing than peeling an oversized sweatshirt over her head. And seeing his reaction to her little striptease, with the sweat starting to glisten on his forehead, definitely made it worth the effort. Ah, yes, making love to Duncan while in complete control for the first time in their relationship was something to be savored and now that she was back on track, she had every intention of driving him crazy. "I may bungle everything else," she purred. "But when it comes to sex, everything I do is carefully planned." She let gravity take the dress from her shoulders to pool around her waist.

Duncan swallowed nervously.

"Like what you see?" She stood up on the bed, shimmied out of her underwear and dragged them and the dress across his upper thighs before dropping them on the floor next to the bed. Turning back, she casually glanced down at his erection then crossed her arms under her breasts. "I guess you do." Her tone couldn't have sounded more disinterested.

"Damn you, Amanda," he cursed venomously. "Untie me."

She bounced down to her knees near his feet, turned her back toward his face then, after wiggling her butt at him, she bent over and started nipping at his big toe. "In due time," she replied sweetly then started a series of kisses up his leg.

Displaying rare patience, she drew her tongue over the curve of his calf, teasing the tender skin behind one knee and then lingering to nip and suckle it for a while. Duncan groaned his frustration and tried to squirm away from her. He only succeeded in encouraging her to shift her attention to the muscles of his inner thigh where she dawdled for a time.

"Forget about the millennium," he threatened and tested the scarf for about the millionth time. "You're dead the second I get out of this."

"Idle threats, Duncan," she laughed. "You'll thank me when I'm finished."

He took in a full look at the view she was offering to him then fixed his eyes on the ceiling. Exhaling a sigh of exasperation, he muttered, "If I'm not dead by then."

She tsked and gave him a reproachful look. "Contrary to popular belief, I highly doubt that a man's ever died of terminal frustration," she stated. "But look at it this way." She turned around, climbed over him and settled herself between his legs. Looking up at him speculatively for a second, she grinned wickedly and ran her nails lightly up the inside of his thighs. He twitched and shot her a baleful glare, encouraging her to continue the torture over the sensitive skin of his lower belly, very careful to skirt his erection, before she relented and leaned down to wrap her lips around one of his testicles. She sucked on it for a second then glanced up at his face. His eyes were closed, the sweat was dripping off of him and he groaned a protest when she'd stopped. "If you're the first, you'll be dying happy. And, when you wake up, we can start all over again."

"A knife through the heart would be less painful," he croaked.

"But not nearly as much fun." She leaned in again and paused just above him - her breath teasing along his entire, painfully hard length. Still not quite ready to let go of this entertainment, she teased him with a couple of very light flicks of her tongue, each one making him twitch and strain towards the welcome of her mouth, and each time she drew back out of reach. Duncan gritted his teeth again, determined not to beg, or worse, whimper. But he couldn't take much more of this.

"Amanda." It was both a plea and a warning and she ran her hand up his thigh and curled it around his penis-leaning in to run her tongue over the tip. "There, there, " she cooed. "Feel better now?"

He lifted his head and glared at her.

She demurred. Generally, Duncan was a patient man but maybe she'd carried this teasing a little too far. Straddling his hips and guiding him, she slowly lowered herself onto him.

She'd toyed with him for far too long. Between that and the effects of the Quickening he'd taken earlier, he couldn't wait for her. The fact that he was still tied up to the shutters and couldn't take full control slowed him down somewhat and maybe if his hands had been free he would have been able to bring her with him but as it was, he came quickly and long before she was ready.

Once his head cleared and his breathing returned to normal, he realized that tingling sensation coming from his hands was the feeling of the circulation returning to his fingers. His arms were finally free. Opening his eyes, he saw Amanda smiling warmly down on him.

"I kinda forgot you were still UIQ."

"That's an interest term for it," he mused while stretching the kinks out of his shoulders.

She slid off of him and sprawled out on the bed. "No, really, I did, Duncan. I'm sorry. No wonder you were so pissed." She paused for a moment then turned onto her side and brought her hand up to lean her head against. "How bad was it up there?"

The idea of glossing over the fight with Kalas crossed Duncan's mind, he'd never been one to dwell on the gruesome details, but something about this last confrontation bothered him and maybe by verbalizing he could discover the reason. "It was too easy," he stated boldly and realized that was what was bothering him. Kalas had been an opponent he'd lost to on more than one occasion, an opponent who had always seemed two steps ahead of Duncan, yet, the victory had been gained with relative ease.

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. Kalas was always better than I was but he seemed off. Nothing I can put my finger on exactly but if I had to guess, it was almost like he wanted to lose."

"Maybe he did. He thought, in the event of his death, the Watcher files would become public. Maybe he figured that was the ultimate revenge against you, not only destroying those you care about but turning your life into a living hell 'cause that's what would have happened if that file got released."

Duncan gave a soft chuckle. "That's not what you said the other day. If I may, you mentioned something along the lines of, quote, we've survived witch hunts before, end quote."

"I lied." Her expression changed into one of abject horror. "Do you know what would happen if they knew about us?" The very thought of massive beheadings releasing hundreds of Quickenings that would home in on those Immortals awaiting their fate was overwhelming. "It would make the Reign of Terror look like a garden party."

"There aren't enough of us to make that analogy."

"I was referring to the fireworks but that brings up another subject. How do we know how many of us are out there? I'll bet there are people roaming around who have no idea what they are and just think they're extremely lucky or very healthy. I mean, look at you. You ran around for years before Connor found you. You had no idea what you were till someone told you."

"What happened to me is totally irrelevant. The world's a helluva lot smaller now than it was then. People move around and if someone sensed another Immortal they'd immediately know it was something other than the twenty-four hour virus."

"Would they? Describe what you feel when I'm around."

Duncan gave her a devious smirk.

She punched him in the shoulder. "Other than horny, Duncan," she scolded. "I'm serious. Don't you feel a kind of tingling all over and you can't honestly determine if it's internal or external?"

"I guess."

"When's the last time you OD'd on caffeine?"

"It's nothing like that," he insisted.

"I know that but if you didn't know what it was, couldn't you mistake it for something along those lines?"

"That'd be one helluva coffee buzz."

"Agreed. Yet, there could be some people who just stay in their own little cocoon and never travel at all therefore, they've never felt another Immortal. Good old Aunt Bea who's never left Mayberry."

"Be serious, Amanda. Don't you think Aunt Bea would notice she's not getting any older? And if she didn't, everyone else in Mayberry would and they'd all start getting a little suspicious. An Immortal might walk around for a few years not knowing what he or she is but eventually," he hesitated for several seconds as a fleeting memory flashed into his brain then fluttered away before he could grasp it fully. "Someone always finds them." Suddenly, with images of Richie filling his head, he turned over on his side, reached for the telephone and picked up the receiver.

"Don't, Duncan," Amanda warned, knowing exactly what he was doing. As she grabbed his side to roll him back over, she glanced at the clock and was disappointed that she'd only managed to keep him occupied for an hour and a half. "He's got enough to think about without you bothering him." She gently took the receiver from him and crawled over him to replace it. "Leave him be."

"But..."

"No buts. I know it's a difficult concept for you to grasp but sometimes your mother hen act gets irritating. You can't protect everyone all the time."

The remembrance of his earlier nightmare came rushing back and he could almost feel Tessa's lifeless body again. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block the picture but the image seemed to be imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. "I never claimed I could," he mourned.

She cradled his cheeks within her palms and tenderly pressed her lips against his left temple. "No, you never have but you're always trying. It is one of the reasons why I love you but sometimes your selflessness drives me crazy."

Stay noble, MacLeod. It's what you're good at.

Delivered as it had with such venomous hatred, the statement had been more curse or sentence than mere observation and now, hours later, he shuddered in response.

Amanda felt the tremor travel through him. "Okay, MacLeod, now what?"

"Nothing." He rolled back over and moved to get out of the bed.

She latched a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Oh no you don't. You're not leaving this bed. You owe me."

The smile he tossed over his back was less than enthusiastic but genuine, nonetheless. "According to my count, we're about even right now."

"That one doesn't count 'cause you tricked me. And I'm not letting you go sit on the couch to pout by yourself for the next several hours. It's payback time."

"I can't, Amanda," he admitted then completed the move to stand up.

She reluctantly left the warmth of the covers and followed him. Sinking down on the couch and wrapping an afghan around her, she quietly watched him replenish the wood stove. So oblivious to his surroundings, she doubted he knew she was in the room with him.

Her assumption was confirmed when, satisfied that the fire was adequately stoked, he spun around and seemed truly surprised to see her.

She lasciviously perused his naked form from top to bottom. "Just admiring the view and all I can say is, whoever's in charge of this Game sure picked a good specimen to bestow immortality upon." She ran her eyes from his broad shoulders, past the finely shaped pectorals to his perfectly proportioned hips then back to his face. She let out an admiring sigh before she spoke. "And I wish I could congratulate the person who killed you the first time. His timing was impeccable."

"You aren't bad yourself," he replied, although she could tell his heart wasn't into the compliment.

He watched her open the afghan wide as an invitation for him to join her but he hesitated. If he accepted, she would take his action as acquiescence and he really wasn't in the mood for more sex. She'd adequately described his state of mind earlier when she'd taunted him with the word "pout." He wanted to sulk. He wanted to indulge in his depression.

He'd just managed, barely, to get past this latest crisis and, before he had time to catch his breath, another had raised its ugly head. That's all his life seemed to be anymore, surviving one calamity only to find another awaiting him around the next corner. What was the point?

He'd only been back in the Game for a couple of years but maybe it was time to crawl back to the cabin and spend some time in isolation. Or maybe the fact that he'd already lived more than five times what a human was supposed to was enough of a reason to end it. Maybe the time had come for him to find a willing Immortal who would take his head. Amanda or Richie. No, it should be Methos.

"Where are you, Duncan."

Amanda's voice broke into his reverie. Looking down at her, he saw her arms were still spread out which totally exposed her naked body to him.

She certainly was something to behold, all soft curves covered by creamy skin. Her firm breasts sloped perfectly to rose-colored aureoles that surrounded nipples made taut by the cold. Her slightly rounded belly led his eyes downward to the triangle of dark hair at the apex of her thighs and he felt his body start to respond as male was meant to respond to female.

All thoughts of self-sacrifice disintegrated as he watched her gaze move from his hardening penis to his face and her expression changed from concupiscence to one he could only identify as loving. Something beside his body stirred at that look and he couldn't resist going to her.

She opened up to him and, without preamble, he slipped inside. The feeling of homecoming was overwhelming as her warm, tight body surrounded his and he lay still for a moment, reveling in the sensation. How could he have considered death when there was still so much life coursing through his veins? How could he have even toyed with the idea when this woman who he loved, no matter how much he tried to deny it, still had so many facets he'd yet to explore?

He felt her body arch under his then suddenly her hands were on his buttocks, forcing him deeper. The nerves in the base of his spine replied to her bidding and he started a slow rhythm.

Quickening be damned, he was going to take her with him this time but that was going to require every ounce of self-control he possessed. Already, he could feel the pressure building way too quickly so he stopped moving and struggled to regain dominance over his body's urge for completion.

Amanda whimpered her disappointment but, knowing why he'd stopped, she wrapped her arms around his head and directed him to her right breast. "It's okay," she consoled while wiping the sweat off his back with the afghan.

Duncan latched onto her nipple and began suckling her while he snaked his hand between their bodies until he reached the place where they were joined. Trying desperately to keep from moving, he slipped two fingers into her moist folds and lightly rubbed her clitoris. Immediately, she began shifting around to put his fingers where she wanted them which caused his precarious control to slip a few notches.

In an effort to keep from answering her and with the sweat now pouring out of every pore of his skin, he concentrated on her breast then her collarbone then her other breast, licking and sucking and nipping. He felt her fingernails scrape into his back then her hands dropped down to his buttocks again. Curving under him and digging her fingers into flesh, she forced him in as far as he could go.

He lost the battle and gave into his body's need to thrust. All coherent thought gone, he plunged into her as the waves of her orgasm contracted through her and around him. Instinct drove him until the muscles in his lower back convulsed, his body stiffened and, surging one last time, he spilled deep within her.

When awareness returned, Duncan wearily lifted his head then searched Amanda's contented expression. "I'm right here," he finally answered her. Dropping his lips to hers, he gave her a little confirming peck.

"Yeah," she confirmed breathlessly. "I guess you are..."

The ringing telephone cut off whatever else she was going to say.

Telephone calls received at two-forty-five a.m. rarely conveyed good news and, as a result, Duncan's chest immediately tightened in fear. Scrambling off of Amanda, he frantically searched for the cordless phone but although he could hear the damn thing, he couldn't pinpoint its exact location. In a fit of pique, he threw an irritated glance toward his housemate, positive that she was the culprit because she was the one who was always forgetting to put the receiver back on the base.

"I swear, I didn't do it this time, MacLeod," she boldly informed him and joined in the search. "I distinctly remember putting it back."

When he finally found the still trilling receiver stuffed into the top left drawer of his desk, he knew that he was indeed, the guilty party. Now, after the fact, he even remembered when he'd shoved it in there; right after his last conversation with Kalas when they'd set up the time and place of their confrontation.

"MacLeod," he announced just in time to hear the click of disconnection. Fighting off the urge to hurl the offending device into a wall, he turned a half-pathetic, half-infuriated look toward Amanda as he pulled the receiver away from his ear.

"Try Adam's," she suggested calmly. "That's where Joe's staying."

"It could've been Richie." He almost sounded panic-stricken.

"Try Adam first. If it wasn't him, then try Richie. Okay?"

While Duncan attacked the keypad like a madman, punching numbers wildly, hitting the wrong ones and having to hang up and try again, Amanda watched in awe. In all the years she'd known him, she'd never seen the cool, level-headed Highlander behave like this, so irrationally and so totally out of control.

Reaching out to take the receiver from him, she suggested, "Let me do that. What's the number?"

"55.63.84.67," he replied, giving up the phone without an argument.

She quickly entered the number and before the connection was made, she handed the device back to him but he didn't take it. Instead, he silently pleaded for her to complete the call. If the news was bad, coming from her might keep the truth removed from reality, even if only for a little while.

Methos did not sound at all like his usual friendly self when he answered on the first ring. "MacLeod, that'd better be you or I'm gonna be pissed at whoever is calling me at this ungodly time of the morning."

"It's me, Adam," Amanda replied. "Did you just try to call?"

"Yeah, where's MacLeod?"

She flashed a quick look at the man in question who stood frozen with dreaded anticipation then turned her attention back to the phone. "He's here. What's up?"

Duncan watched Amanda's face closely for clues during the one sided conversation that consisted mainly of "Uh-huh."..."Yeah."..."I understand."..."Absolutely."..."Okay, I'll tell him." Her countenance was still unreadable even after she hung up the phone.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he grasped her upper arms in his hands and forced her to look directly at him. "Well?"

"Adam overheard Joe talking to Mike and thought you might appreciate an update. It seems Klamath tried to ambush Richie but your bright, young protégé anticipated the guy's lack of integrity and thwarted his plans." She laid her hands on his forearms and rubbed them a couple of times. "See, I told you there was nothing to worry about. Richie knows what he's doing."

The news that Richie was still alive affected Duncan like a near-miss traffic accident. His knees, turned weak after the adrenaline cleared his bloodstream, wobbled precariously under his weight. To keep from collapsing, he carefully lowered himself to the couch before continuing the interrogation. "What happened?"

"Mike's report was a bit rushed and Adam only had sketchy details but, evidently Felix tried to surprise Richie after the dojo closed by hiding behind a car parked next to the motorcycle. Adam thinks this guy is such a novice he forgot about the little fact the we can sense each other. Richie had him pegged the second he reached the bottom step so instead of taking the bike home, he took the T-Bird."

"He's driving my car?" Once the words escaped his mouth, Duncan had the grace to realize how ridiculous what he'd just said sounded. Only two minutes before he'd been worried about the kid's life and now he was questioning that the young man had used his car. He met Amanda's stern expression with a sheepish one of his own. "So now what? Are they still going to meet at the appointed time?"

"Adam didn't say so I'll assume yes."

Duncan grimaced as he checked out the clock. Four hours. Four hour of wondering and worrying and teeth chattering fear. How would he ever endure them? He started pacing back and forth along the length of the barge.

The phone rang again.

"What now?" Duncan growled into the receiver.

"Mac?" The voice on the other end was Richie's.

Duncan both relaxed and tensed at the same time. "Sorry, Rich. What's up?"

"I just wanted to let you know I had to use the T-Bird. I'm sorry I couldn't ask first but it was kind of an emergency. I promise I won't wreck it and I'll replace all the gas I use before I bring it back."

Duncan couldn't help himself, despite the severity of the situation, he couldn't keep a smile from curling up the corners of his mouth. Once a teenager, forever a teenager and even though the kid's life on the line he was worried about the repercussions of taking "Dad's" car without permission. "You just make sure you're around to re-fill it, okay?"

"Sure thing. I'll call you as soon as it's over. And, Mac..." The younger man hesitated for a second before he continued, his voice choking on emotion as he spoke. "Just in case, I want you to know I appreciate everything you've done for me. Thanks doesn't even come close but it's all I can come up with right now, so thank you."

"Watch your head, Richie," Duncan stated matter-of-factly and, without waiting for a reply, he hung up. Turning toward Amanda, he announced, "I need some air," then, grabbing a robe on the way, he walked out.

Amanda couldn't take anymore of this waiting around and watching Duncan crumble. She'd seen that defeated, helpless look wash across his face before he'd turned to go and it cut her to the quick. Grabbing the telephone, she locked herself in the bathroom for privacy then dialed Adam's number again. It was time to gather some information about Felix Klamath and if it took a swift kick in someone's butt to accomplish this, her foot was going to be the one to deliver the blow.

A kata might do the trick. Clear the head of "what ifs" and "if onlys." Perform a few stretching exercises first, then segued into the ancient ritual, clearing the mind of everything except the impulses that propel muscle and bone and sinew into fluid motion. Concentrate on breathing. Keep the oxygen level up. Inhale, exhale, kick. Feel the life flowing through arteries and veins. Stay in rhythm with each heartbeat. Control. Stay in control. The body is everything. Keep the body fit...intact...complete... Richie.

The sudden image of his young protégé's head laying three feet from his body flashed into Duncan's brain, causing his concentration to break and, as a result, he stepped wrong. Coming down awkwardly, a burst of pain exploded up from a ligament ripping in his knee which sent him crumpling downward in a blaze of agony. He lay there, squirming in misery for several moments but then the phenomenon of his race kicked in and the injury healed itself, leaving him completely fit again. Yet, he remained where he was, oblivious to the cold and wet permeating up from the pavement through his robe as Richie's last words echoed in his mind.

He wondered if he, the righteous Duncan MacLeod, had ever had the decency to come right out and thank Connor for everything the older man had done for him. He strained to remember some event, some setting where the words might have been spoken but he couldn't recall ever uttering them. He had plenty of memories of those times when the sentiment had been implied, when departures had consisted of a nod of the head and the speaking of a name but never had he told the elder MacLeod how much he valued what his clansman had given him...the means to survive, and that thought alone made him shudder.

Pulling himself up, Amanda's words came back to him. "Whatever is, is. Whatever isn't, has yet to be. And I can't worry about something I have no control over." He resolved in that instant that the second he got inside he'd make a call to New York and he'd stop worrying about Richie. There was nothing he could do about the situation anyway. As a teacher, he'd done his job. His pupil, bright, eager and energetic, had paid attention and had learned well the skills needed to stay alive. Duncan knew he'd rarely given the kid credit where credit was due and promised silently that if he saw Richie...no, when he saw Richie again, things would be different.

Amanda met him at the door with a towel and his sweats. Without a word, he shed the robe, let it drop to the floor, and dried himself on the way to the wood stove. After dressing, he finally looked up and saw her beaming at him, a huge smile lighting up her entire face. Whatever secret she was withholding, she wasn't going to be keeping it for very long.

"Richie called," she announced. "It's over."

He cocked an eyebrow in askance then read the clock. The bright LED numbers 3:27 glowed from the face. He couldn't seem to comprehend. The challenge wasn't supposed to take place until sometime around seven. How could it be over? He'd just talked to Richie not a half an hour before.

Amanda saw the confusion play across his face. "It's over, Duncan. Richie's okay."

Duncan allowed his body to fall to the couch then took the snifter of brandy she was offering to him.

Over. Just one little word and all the pressure that had been building for the past few hours was released. He suddenly felt buoyant and optimistic. "How?"

"Felix was waiting for him at the apartment," she explained. "He'd broken in and trashed the place."

"Might be an improvement," was all Duncan said as he took a slow sip of brandy and recalled the condition of Richie's apartment the last time he'd seen it. Clothes, clean and dirty, had been draped over every piece of furniture, dishes had been piled up in the sink and CD's had littered every available flat surface that hadn't already been covered with well leafed through racing magazines.

"Hush, now, Duncan," she chided then, plopping down next to him, she returned to her recounting. "Anyway, when Richie entered the apartment, he felt the presence of an Immortal but no one was inside. The window, however, was open so he followed the intruder down the fire escape and, lo and behold, there in the alley he found Felix Klamath, sword drawn, ready to deliver a killing blow..."

"But Richie already had the rapier out and parried the attack," he finished for her. It was part one of a combination of moves they'd practiced over and over again until the young man had almost screamed out his boredom.

"Yes, then he twirled around..."

"And Felix Klamath became history," Duncan finished again. Part two of the combination that had saved Duncan's head on more than four occasions.

"You're spoiling my story," she whined.

"Sorry," he apologized then leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. On his way back to his side of the couch he grabbed the cordless from the coffee table and started punching numbers.

"He's not home. He's off to Joe's for a well deserved drunk and he's putting it on your tab."

"Good." He continued to dial the phone. Once he was finished, he lifted his arm as an invitation for Amanda to cuddle up while he waited for the overseas connection to click over. She didn't hesitate and quickly snuggled into his warmth.

The phone rang in Duncan's ear.

"I told you he wasn't home. Why don't we get a little shut-eye and call him in the morning."

Duncan ignored her and counted the rings. Five...six...seven.

"What?!"

"Connor?"