Chapter Twenty-two

Methos laughed as Duncan jumped back from the python's gaping mouth. They'd managed to corner it before it escaped out the nearest hole in the roof, but the snake didn't seem terribly keen to be dinner. Understandably.

"It's not funny," Duncan told him sternly, the flicker of humor around his mouth belying his tone. "This is how I ended up dying in front of Mpande."

The snake's head swung into reach and Methos caught it in both hands, hanging on tight despite its writhing. "What? A python? Come on, MacLeod."

"No. A bloody Forest Cobra," Duncan shot back, grabbing the snake's tail from where it was still wrapped firmly around a rafter.

"Ouch. Nasty."

"You could say that. You know he nearly buried me?"

Okay, it wasn't really funny, but Methos couldn't help smirking. "That would have been inconvenient."

"Just slightly."

Methos turned his full attention back to the snake at hand. "You got it?" Damn, these things were big. Methos pulled hard on the business end of the heavy snake, trying to keep the head pointed away from himself, and looked across at Duncan.

"Yeah."

Methos tightened his grip around the snake's neck as he prepared to pull it down. The creature's skin was soft and warm under his fingers -- hard muscle flowing beneath the surface; it really was a beautiful thing, and if he hadn't been so damned hungry he might have hesitated to kill it. But, as it was.... "Shit! Watch out!" he yelled as foul-smelling python piss fountained out at them.

They let go, just managing to avoid the stream, though the room now stank worse than ever. Methos looked at Duncan and sighed, time to start over.

***

Duncan lifted his hand from the heat of Mpande's forehead and stood up. Mpande was still sleeping, though he'd roused a little as Duncan checked on him, but not for long, dropping back into the deep sleep he'd been in since they'd arrived. He didn't seem any worse, and that was a good thing, but it wasn't enough to displace the worry. With a last look over Mpande's sleeping body, Duncan went back over to the fire and sat down next to the sticks he'd been carving into skewers for the past half-hour.

Methos looked up from where he was turning six feet of snake into dinner. There was a smear of blood high on his cheekbone adding to all the other dirt and grime that decorated him, and he smelled appalling, but he shot Duncan an uncomplicated smile as their eyes met and suddenly none of that mattered a bit.

Duncan smiled back.

Methos held the look for a moment, then his lashes dropped down to veil his eyes and he went back to his work. "How is he?"

"The same."

Methos nodded. There really wasn't much either of them could say anyway. "Ever eat snake in China?" Methos asked while Duncan watched his graceful, bloody hands.

Duncan remembered it well. "Dragon and Tiger Fight? In Guangdong?" The dish had sounded distinctly odd way back when he'd first eaten it, but right now it sounded delicious, even if it was braised snake and leopard.

"Mmm...." Methos managed to agree and sound wistful all at once.

"Oh yes, I remember," Duncan said. "Made a damn fool of myself asking where they got the dragon from."

Methos snickered and Duncan made a face at him. "I heard a story you had a snake adventure of your own," Duncan said, unable to suppress a sneaky grin.

"Back at Lafabo?"

"Yeah. You're quite the legend," Duncan teased.

"Don't believe everything you hear," Methos shot back darkly.

Duncan picked up one of the skewers and began to thread chunks of meat onto it. He wasn't finished playing with Methos, though. "Really?" he went on. "I heard it was a Gabon adder, or was it a puff adder? Maybe it was a black mamba." Methos narrowed his eyes and Duncan blinked innocently. "No?"

"Not exactly."

Duncan looked at him expectantly, waiting for the rest and enjoying the banter out of all proportion to the actual humor.

Methos rolled his eyes and sighed. "It was a lizard."

Duncan couldn't help himself, he hooted with laughter, almost dropping the skewer he held. "A lizard?" It was too funny. "How on earth did that translate into being bitten by a snake?" He managed to dampen his laughter into a muted chuckle in deference to the sick man lying close by.

"It was a big lizard, okay?" Methos' mouth twisted, but Duncan didn't miss the humor in his eyes.

"I'm sure it was."

"I stepped on it on the way to the latrine."

"Where you were going to drain your lizard."

That did it. Methos dissolved into helpless laughter and Duncan found himself unable to resist joining him. It wasn't the funniest thing he'd ever heard, but it felt so damn good to be laughing, to hear Methos laughing, that it didn't matter a bit. Duncan wanted to tell him that, but between their gales of laughter, he heard Mpande moan.

They both turned and Methos got up quickly. "I'll go," he said. He picked up a gourd and quickly washed the blood from his hands.

Duncan watched him go, the amusement fading fast in the face of reality. Methos knelt beside Mpande, deft hands brushing over his face, feeling his pulse, opening his eyes to peer into them.

"Mac?" Methos called softly. "Bring some water, will you?"

Duncan lay the skewer down on the outspread snakeskin with the rest of the meat and took a gourd over to Methos and Mpande. Mpande was awake when he reached him and asked, "How're you doing?" as he handed Mpande the water.

Mpande took the gourd and drank greedily before he answered, "I'm okay, ou maat." His voice was uneven and rasping. "Bit more...sleep, some of that old nyonka over there, I be right...right as rain. Still gotta get...you pansy asses outta here." He drained the rest of the water and fell back against the mattress, looking exhausted.

Duncan shot a look at Methos, raising his eyebrows questioningly -- asking without words whether Methos thought Mpande would indeed be 'right as rain' in the morning.

Methos shook his head. No, Duncan hadn't thought so either.

Mpande closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply once more, falling back into sleep, Duncan hoped. Methos stayed kneeling by him for a little longer, tension and concern clear on his face. Duncan wanted to ask him what he thought of Mpande's chances, but it wasn't the time or the place. Especially if the news was as bad as Duncan feared.

Eventually Methos rose and Duncan followed him back across to the fire. "Come on, let's get this gourmet feast underway," Methos said as he went back to preparing the snake meat.

Duncan raised his eyebrows a little at the description, but said nothing and returned to his work. It didn't take long for the rest of the snake to be turned into kebabs. They held them over the fire as the meat turned white and then browned at the edges. It didn't smell half bad either. Duncan found his mouth was watering as he waited for them to cook.

Finally, he judged the two he was holding were done and took them over to Mpande. He held the two sticks in one hand and gently shook Mpande's shoulder with the other. "Hey, Mpande, wake up. Food's ready."

Mpande stirred and turned onto his back, squinting at the ceiling. He was sweating again and pain was etched in the long lines beside his mouth and the furrows on his brow. Duncan had cared for too many wounded soldiers not to recognize the look of someone in pain who was trying to hide it.

Mpande struggled to sit up; Duncan itched to help him, but he knew better. Instead, he waited silently until Mpande was up and leaning back against the wall, his face gray and damp with sweat. His hand shook as he took the skewer from Duncan, but he did take it and ate with dogged determination. Duncan hovered close by; he couldn't help himself, though he knew Mpande would resent the attention.

Eventually, Mpande swallowed the last mouthful and handed the stick back to Duncan. He went to hand him the other, but Mpande shook his head and waved the food away with a muffled groan. Duncan let it go at that; he wasn't going to push it. Mpande had done all right to get the food down that he had. And even the small amount would do him good. Duncan told him to get some more rest and then went back to the fire.

Methos was eating when Duncan sat down; he made a small, relishing noise as he finished off one kebab and tossed the stick in the fire. Duncan bit into the one he held and had to agree -- it was better than he'd thought it would be, though a little bland. But it was food -- more importantly, protein -- and it was hot. That went a long way towards excusing its other failings as far as he was concerned.

Outside the rain began to fall harder, hammering against the iron roof like a million nails and drowning out any hope of conversation. But it was surprisingly intimate, Duncan found, sitting by the fire, eating with Methos, enclosed by the four walls and the sounds of the rain all around them. He smiled to himself, oddly content, dropping his gaze when Methos looked a question at him. Time enough to talk later.

They ate as much as they could and cooked what they could not, with no way to keep it there was little else they could do. There would be a little for the morning at least, but beyond that, they would have to trust to their own abilities, and luck.

Duncan groaned and threw the last skewer on the fire, grinning at Methos as he did the same. Despite the mild discomfort in his over-full stomach, it felt good to have enough to eat when so much was so uncertain. He wiped his greasy hands on the sides of his pants and leaned back, just watching Methos in the firelight and not bothering to make any secret of it.

Methos was dirt-smeared -- although not as filthy as Duncan was sure he was himself -- still far too thin, and a straggly little beard was taking over his chin and upper lip. He should have looked like shit. But the sight of him just made Duncan want to grin like a fool. Despite it all -- despite the arguments and problems, despite the wide gulf between their ways of seeing the world, he couldn't imagine a life without Methos in it. He didn't want to.

A wide yawn caught Duncan almost by surprise. He was exhausted. But he made himself get up and begin to clean up the snake's remains, rolling the elongated innards into the skin and set the slimy bundle in the furthest corner from where they'd be sleeping. They could decide what to do with them in the morning. The rain still pelted down outside and Duncan went to the door, needing to get the muck off his hands.

He held his hands out under the wall of water falling from the sky and rinsed them off. He only wished the rest of him felt as clean. The rain flowing over his skin was tepid, almost warm, and it gave him an idea....

Duncan was about to walk out into the deluge when he felt Methos step up close behind him and his hand settled on Duncan's shoulder. Duncan turned to look at him and Methos looked back questioningly. The noise of the rain on the roof was still too loud to allow speech, so Duncan settled for tilting his head in the direction of the outside and smiling invitingly. Methos shook his head and stepped back, but Duncan caught his hand and before Methos could pull away, or make any kind of protest, Duncan had them both out in the rain.

Methos' hand slipped from his with the rain pouring over them both, but he didn't move away. Instead, he raised his face to the black sky and let it wash over him, dropping his head and shoulders back in a single sensuous motion. He rubbed his hands over his face and lifted his arms high, letting the torrent wash over him. Duncan squinted through the deluge as he watched him, backlit by firelight glowing through the open door.  Blurred by the rain, Methos looked other-worldly, wraithlike -- as if he could fade away into the darkness altogether.

The thought of losing him again sent a small, sharp pain darting through Duncan's chest and he eased it the only way he knew how -- he stepped up close and took Methos in his arms. He half-expected to be pushed away, but Methos surprised him, molding the length of his body along Duncan's and wrapping his arms tightly around him. His skin was cool, his clothes soaking through just as Duncan's own were, but Duncan could not make himself let go. Not when holding on felt this good.

The muscles of Methos' back were taut under Duncan's hands and he massaged them slowly, feeling them begin to ease. He was startled again to feel the motion mirrored on his own back and lifted his head from where it rested on Methos' shoulder, looking into his face. It was hard to see with the water still blurring his sight, but it seemed that Methos was watching him just as closely, waiting for him to make the next move.

Anticipation firing his blood, Duncan did just that. He slid one hand from Methos' back and brought it up to cup the side of his face, stroking the remaining dirt away, less surprised now when Methos copied the movement. And when Methos' fingers traced gentle lines along the side of Duncan's face, he followed the lead, stroking the silky-wet skin as if they had all the time in the world. He could barely feel the rain, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was drenching him, but it didn't matter at all when Methos was tracing lines of fire down his face and standing pressed up hard against him. Hard.

God, he was hard.

Duncan let the hand at Methos' back slip down to the high, hard curve of his ass and pulled him closer still. Methos' cock was rigid in his tattered pants, throbbing against Duncan's. And he was shaking -- or Duncan was -- he wasn't sure where he began and Methos ended, only that the tremor ran through them both. Something else that didn't matter, Duncan found as Methos' hand began to caress his ass.

Then Methos' hand on his face was tilting him, angling him as he leaned in closer, his breath catching in his throat. Duncan opened his mouth as Methos' lips reached him and he swallowed a gasp as a hot, slick tongue darted against his, the kiss turning slow and deliberate and infinitely inflammatory by degrees. Duncan moaned into Methos' mouth as the heat spread through him. Their bodies hadn't forgotten -- hadn't ever forgotten how perfectly matched they'd once been. Still were, even if their hearts and minds were at odds. Duncan put it aside with all the other things that didn't matter.

A deep shiver ran through Methos' body then, so violent Duncan knew it hadn't come from him. He was cold and they were still standing in the pouring rain like a pair of fools. Duncan broke the kiss, nipping his way along the strong line of Methos' jaw to his ear and said, "Come inside, I'll warm you up." Visions of just how he could make Methos warm made Duncan tug him impatiently back into the house, before Methos could answer.

He didn't need to speak any answer. Methos' desire was all too clear in the reluctant way he removed any part of his body from any part of Duncan's. Lust burned. It was only a small, sane part of Duncan's mind that kept him moving all the way into the house instead of stopping where they were and making love up against the nearest solid object. He wasn't even sure why that was a bad idea.

As it was they kissed for a long, long time with Duncan's back pushed against the hastily closed door, kissing as if they were trying to climb inside each other. Methos' skin was chill beneath Duncan's fingers, but he could feel the blood rushing to the surface, warming as he grasped and stroked and wanted.

The rain had eased at last to a dull patter, fat drops exploding against the iron roof one by one. He could hear every sound Methos made now, each savoring hum, every breathy moan. Heat was burning through him, searing him with the rocking of Methos' body against his and the hot, slick demands of Methos' mouth. Until the second Methos pulled away, gasping and wide-eyed. Duncan had the question, 'What?' on his lips until he heard the faint, distressed sounds from across the room. Mpande.

Methos was out of his arms and across the room before Duncan could think. By the time Duncan caught up to him, Methos was kneeling beside Mpande, frowning as he laid a hand on his forehead. "More water, Mac," Methos said, urgency underlying his words.

Duncan strode across the room and brought a gourd back quickly, his arousal dying back to a memory. He knelt beside the mattress and tipped the gourd so Mpande could drink while Methos held his head and shoulders up. He coughed a little, but got most of the remaining water down.

Methos still looked worried as he let Mpande lie down again. "It's not enough, Mac." He paused for a moment, his frown deepening, then said, "Give me your shirt."

Duncan didn't hesitate; he pulled the torn t-shirt up and over his head and handed it to Methos without a question. He had an idea what Methos wanted it for. As Methos began to use the wet shirt to sponge over the sick man's face, neck and shoulders, Duncan picked up the empty gourd and took it outside to fill.

The water still trickling from one corner of the unguttered roof made a handy spout at which to fill the container. It didn't take long to fill to the brim and Duncan took it back inside. Methos was still beside Mpande, but the rigors had eased, at least for the moment. Methos went on sponging him, sparing Duncan a quick, grateful look as he set the water down.

"Can I help?" Duncan asked, sitting down beside them.

"Got any aspirin?" Methos answered under his breath.

Duncan was sure Methos knew how unlikely that was. Instead, he said, "Have you looked in his pockets?"

Methos apparently hadn't, because he immediately began to rifle through the many pockets of Mpande's bush jacket. His search revealed a clasp knife, matches, a length of twine, clips for the Browning, the anti-malaria tablets, and finally Mpande's plastic-wrapped stash, which earned a wry grin from Methos, but wasn't actually what they were looking for. Methos put it all back and sighed. "It was a good thought anyway."

"I'm sure he did have some, it was just with our gear."

"Which is gone with the girl," Methos finished for him.

Well, yeah. "You should go dry out by the fire," Duncan said, noticing the goose-pimpled flesh on Methos' arms. "I can look after Mpande. He seems like he's settling again."

"Yeah, I think he'll sleep soon, if he isn't already." Methos got up and dropped the damp t-shirt in Duncan's lap. "Thanks," he said as he walked back to the fireside.

Mpande's face was still hot and dry beneath Duncan's fingertips as he began to sponge him down, moving the cloth in his hands as each section dried on the hot skin. He was still, his breathing slow and steady, and Duncan hoped his pain was easing.

Duncan looked over to where Methos was drying himself by the fire and his breath caught in his throat. Methos had taken off his clothes and was standing close to the fire, completely nude. Pale and beautiful. God, he was beautiful. Duncan swallowed hard over the lump in his throat and turned away, willing his renewed arousal to subside.

But it was damned hard.

***

Much later, when he was sure that Mpande was sleeping and his fever had subsided a little at least, Duncan got up from the mattress and went back to the fire. His trousers were still a little damp from the rain and he hadn't bothered to put his t-shirt back on, even though it was fairly dry now. But Methos was dressed again, having dried his khaki t-shirt and fatigue pants by the fireside, except that he'd used his machete to cut the ragged legs from the pants, leaving him with mostly-intact shorts. The sight of which did nothing for Duncan's control of his libido. All he could think of how those long, well-shaped legs felt between his own, as Methos....

He breathed deeply and clamped down hard on his self-control. "Time we got some sleep," Duncan said quietly, unsurprised at how rough his voice was.

Methos looked at him, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dwindling firelight. "Yes."

"Can I hold you?" The words were out before Duncan had time to censor himself, but he couldn't regret them.

Especially not when Methos looked at him like that and said, "Yes."

Duncan dowsed what remained of the fire and shut the rear door they'd left open for ventilation. It was still a little smoky in the room, but the strong breeze gusting through the propped-open shutters would soon take care of that. When he was done he found that Methos had already curled up on his side on the fire-warmed ground.

He couldn't wait any longer. Duncan got down behind Methos, lying down and spooning himself around the long, slim body. Methos eased back into his embrace, wriggling, just a bit. Duncan bent one arm beneath his head to pillow it and slid the other around Methos, holding him firmly against his chest while Methos' fingers tangled with his. He was buzzing with almost equal parts of arousal and exhaustion, but, for the moment, the exhaustion seemed to be winning. Duncan brushed a single lingering kiss to the side of Methos' neck and fell asleep.

***

He blinked himself awake in the darkness. Methos was moving restlessly in his arms, groaning faintly. Another nightmare, perhaps. Duncan held him closer, rubbing his hand across Methos' chest, trying to soothe him back to sleep. The sounds of his distress were small, almost inaudible, his movements contained, as if even in his sleep he tried not to call attention to himself.

Something about that touched Duncan deep inside and he pressed his lips to Methos' hair, shushing him under his breath. The friction of Methos' body against his own had him hard and aching, but it wasn't the time or the place. Damn it to hell. He gritted his teeth against the urge to bare their skins and sink deep into Methos' heat, letting the consequences take care of themselves -- but he didn't.

Not even when Methos' movements changed; the vague struggles becoming rhythmic by degrees, thrusting his buttocks back against Duncan's groin, the invitation unmistakable.

"Methos?" Duncan whispered, close by his ear. The movements didn't stop; if anything they became more intense. "Methos? Wake up."

Methos' hand slid over Duncan's hip and gripped his butt, pulling his groin up closer still to Methos' ass. Apparently Methos was awake after all, and knew exactly what he was doing. "Fuck me," he breathed, as if there'd been any doubt what he wanted.

Duncan hadn't thought he could get any harder, but apparently he was wrong about that too. The friction of his pants against his cock was almost more than he could bear, and his hands shook like he was the one with the fever and not Mpande.

Shit. He couldn't believe he was contemplating -- hell, was about three heartbeats from -- making love to Methos with a sick man only feet from where they lay. "Come here," he said instead, encouraging Methos to roll over in his arms so they lay face to face. Methos' lips sought his, his hand coming up to cup the side of Duncan's face and bring him close, but Duncan resisted, laying his own hand over Methos'. "We can't...not now." He could hear the regret in his voice and hoped Methos heard it too. "Just let me hold you." He lifted his head and kissed Methos' eyes closed, brushing a kiss across his forehead like a blessing.

Duncan heard the reluctant sigh as Methos settled down against his side, his head pillowed on Duncan's chest. "I really hate it when you're right -- did you know that?" he whispered as he made himself comfortable.

Duncan smiled in the dark. He had noticed that actually. It was something they could work on.

***

"I think I should go and try to find a vehicle -- you two should stay here."

Methos almost choked on the leftover snakemeat. "What?" They were sitting by Mpande's side with the morning sun streaming through the open doors and the heat making the damp air feel like steam as they talked over their plans for the day. Mpande was no better, and yes, moving him was a really bad idea if it could be avoided, but Duncan haring off on his own into who-knew-what was an even worse one. Methos could feel things spinning out of control again. "No way."

"Methos will you just listen to me?" Duncan had that persuasive tone in his voice and the 'trust me' look in his eyes.

But Methos wasn't buying it. "Why don't you try listening to me for a change?" he snapped. "You can't go off out there by yourself. It isn't safe. You haven't a damn clue where you're going and no idea what you'll do when you get there."

Duncan's jaw firmed and Methos knew he'd pushed too hard too fast, already. Damn. "I can read the sky and the stars and the land just as well as you can. And I've at least seen a detailed map of the area. I'm not about to go out there and get lost. And with Mpande out of action, what bloody choice do we have?" Duncan growled.

Methos knew what Duncan was saying was right. Not that he was going to admit it, or that he liked it one little bit. Where the hell had all his choices gone these days? "How long do you expect me to wait when you don't come back?" he spat.

"I will be back, I promise," Duncan told him, reaching out to take Methos' hand, sudden understanding on his face that made it all the worse.

Methos snatched his hand away. "You can't," he said, unable to keep the chill from his voice.

Duncan's face fell, his eyes turning wide and sad. "There's no other way. You need to stay here with Mpande and I have to go do this. I have to...."

"Fine. Go then. I'll wait two days, then if you aren't back, I'll drag Mpande out of here any way I can." Methos clenched his hands into fists, his ragged nails digging into his palms with the effort of keeping his temper -- and his fear -- under control, but it was a near thing.

Duncan's brows drew together. "Better make it three days, just in case."

Methos stiffened and met Duncan's eyes with a fearlessness he didn't feel. "Two days. Forty-eight hours. Not a minute more." He knew he was asking a lot, but the reality was that three days really was too long to linger here, for any of them.

Duncan looked away and then back at him. "Fine."

Methos turned away and busied himself with examining Mpande while he listened to Duncan preparing to leave. He was not going lose it over this; he'd already acted like some kind of needy fool last night, there was no way he was going to compound it now. He dragged in a deep breath and focused on the job at hand, shutting out what Duncan was doing. Duncan went outside, but Methos made no comment.

Mpande stirred and woke as Methos checked him over. "What's all the shouting, Doc?"

Methos managed a smile he hoped was reassuring and brushed off the concern. "It's nothing. Just MacLeod being MacLeod."

"Where's he?" Mpande winced as Methos palpated his liver.

"Does that hurt?" Methos asked him. All the answer he got from Mpande was the barest half a nod, hardly a movement at all. It was as much as he expected; Mpande might be a modern man in many ways but when it came to this, he was as much a stoic as his Zulu ancestors.

"Mac?" Mpande asked, persistent as ever, even as sick as he was.

"MacLeod's going to see if he can rustle up some transportation for us."

Mpande frowned. "That a good idea?"

"Matter of debate, really."

"I can walk, man. Shit, I'm okay." He struggled up to his elbows and almost sat up, but his strength gave way and he sank back onto the mattress. "Maybe in a little while...."

"Sure." Methos passed him the watergourd and steadied it for him as Mpande drank. It was going to be a fair bit more than a 'little while' before Mpande was fit to travel under his own steam. But they both knew that, there was no need to belabor the point.

Duncan came back in, his hair damp and curling around his neck, looking fresh and eager to be off, until Methos looked into his eyes and saw the shadows. Methos turned away, closing his eyes over the pain he was sure Duncan would see there.

"I'm ready," Duncan said, his voice even and calm.

Methos said nothing and refused to look at him.

"Don't do this, Methos. Come outside...please. I want to talk to you before I go."

Methos squared his shoulders and stood up. Fine. If Duncan could do this, then there was no reason why he couldn't either. Duncan said his farewells to Mpande and Methos followed him outside.

Duncan spun to face him the second they'd cleared the door. Methos lounged back against the wall and raised an eyebrow at him. "Absolution again, MacLeod? Doesn't it get dull?" Okay, he was an utter bastard, but they all knew that already, didn't they?

Duncan exploded, grabbing Methos and shoving him up hard against the wall. "Damn you! I'm not looking for absolution, for God's sake. I'm just doing what I have to do, for all our sakes. If you can think of a better way to get us all out of this in one piece, I'd love to hear it!"

Methos struggled against the hands that held him, but Duncan wouldn't budge. All the words he wanted to say were forming a logjam at the back of his throat and none of them would come out.

Duncan's expression softened, the grip on Methos' arms easing, and he said, "I will be back, Methos. Believe me."

He leaned in as if to kiss him, but Methos turned his head and Duncan's lips landed on his cheek instead. It was piss-poor self-defense, but right now it was all he had.

Pulling back, Duncan whispered, "Fine. I'll see you in two days. Take care of Mpande -- and yourself." And with that he turned and strode away into the forest.

Fuck. He was such an idiot. "Mac!" Methos called before he lost sight of Duncan altogether. He started to go after him."Wait a minute."

Duncan stopped and turned around to face him, but he stood where he was and made Methos come to him. Methos didn't miss the significance of that. But it was as much as he deserved after the way he'd acted, he supposed.

"Something you forgot?" Duncan asked, his arms folded across his chest.

Faced with actually having to say what he was feeling, Methos paused. "Watch your head, okay?" It was only a fraction of what he wanted to say, but it was a start.

"Always." Duncan looked at him expectantly. "Was there something else?"

I love you, you big idiot, Methos wanted to say, and I don't want to lose you. Just hurry back and don't bloody die, okay? You and I have a lot of unfinished business. Instead he stepped forward and pulled Duncan into a hug, squeezing him hard. "Hurry back," he managed at last through a throat suddenly thick and tight.

"I will," Duncan said, pulling back and taking Methos' face in his hands, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth.

His hands slid to Methos' shoulders, gave them a small squeeze and then he was walking away before Methos could say another thing. Methos stood where he was and watched Duncan until he disappeared from view.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Continued in chapter 23...         Back to Main Page         Back to Contents