Updated Part

TITLE: Misconceptions
AUThOR: Diana Williams
FANDOM: Highlander
PAIRING: Duncan/Methos
RATING: NC-17

CATEGORY: Angst, Romance, Mpreg
SPOILERS: Yep, just about any Highlander episode with both Methos and Duncan, especially the Horsemen shows and everything after that.

NOTES: You know, I was thinking about that double Quickening, and I had the oddest thought.... WARNING - this is a WIP, which means I don't know when it will end. It'll eventually be up on my website, once I have a name for it.

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Chapter One

It all began in Bordeaux.

Oddly fitting, Duncan was to reflect later, but at the time he was completely unappreciative of the unique circumstances unfolding around him. All he was aware of was the fading sound of angry footsteps and the muted sobs from the man kneeling on the floor below him. Duncan would have liked nothing more than to walk away himself but he knew that he couldn't do that any more than he could allow Cassandra to take Methos' head.

And so he pulled himself together and secured his sword, then hauled Methos to his feet and away from the decaying sub base. Returning to his hotel, he was relieved to find that Cassandra had packed and left - he'd had enough confrontations for one day. And right now, the oldest Immortal needed him more than Cassandra did.

Methos was clearly at the end of his rope, barely managing to stay on his feet. Duncan stripped him down and thrust him into the shower for a quick wash, then tucked the exhausted man into bed. Finally reaching the end of this horrendous day, Duncan got his own shower and room service for one - Methos didn't even rouse at the smell of food, for which Duncan was also relieved. He couldn't handle another one of their talks at the moment either.

His earlier ire at the oldest Immortal was fading fast, especially since it was now patently obvious that Methos had tried to push him out of harm's way that afternoon in Seacouver. The day Duncan had told him that they were through. Methos had pushed every one of his buttons and Duncan had responded just as the old man had expected him to, had jumped through every one of his damned hoops. And in the final battle, despite Methos' own fears, he had come down on Duncan's side and helped him defeat the other Horsemen.

Duncan didn't know whether to kiss the old man or spank him, although the latter was getting a strong vote at the moment, especially since Methos was sprawled in the middle of Duncan's bed, snoring loudly. And Duncan was too tired to go about getting another room, so he stripped down to briefs, shoved Methos over to one side of the bed and crawled in. He'd deal with everything tomorrow.

Sometime in the early morning, he drifted awake to the muzzy realization that his bed partner had moved closer during the night. Right up against him, as a matter of fact, with Methos' back pressed against Duncan's chest. His own arm was draped over Methos' body and he sleepily nuzzled at the back of the other man's neck. A low moan encouraged his already Quickening-eager libido, and he felt his cock hardening.

"Methos?" he murmured as he rolled up onto one elbow, his lips tracing a path along Methos' collarbone. Another moan was his only answer as a naked ass pressed back against him, and he groaned in reply. He fumbled to release his erection from the confining briefs and pressed up against Methos' firm backside. His hand snaked over the firm belly to discover that Methos was just as hard as he was, and he grasped Methos' cock firmly. Another groan, and Methos was pressing back against him so hard that Duncan thought he'd come from the pressure alone.

"Inside me," Methos gasped, pulling his knee forward to give Duncan access. "Please!"

The words blazed a path through Duncan's soul. He had had male lovers in the past, and he had wanted Methos almost from the moment they first met. He had suspected that Methos felt the same way - all that flirting and innuendo had to have meant something - but somewhere along the line they had lost their way and Duncan had been certain it would never happen. Now here was Methos, offering him what he had wanted for so long, and Duncan didn't hesitate.

Pausing only long enough to grab the massage oil he had left on the nightstand the day before, he oiled himself up and then eased a finger into his new lover's body. Methos opened readily, eagerly, and a few minutes later Duncan was sliding inside the other man. He groaned at the delicious sensation of tightness and thrust steadily, delighting at the way Methos pushed back to meet him. His hand jacked Methos' erection faster, in time with his increasing thrusts, and it wasn't long before he heard the other man groan and felt his body shudder. Duncan's own climax hit at the same time, an incredibly intense one that seemed to shake his body apart, like that earlier Quickening that they had shared. He could barely catch his breath as he sagged against his lover's body, and he was certain that Methos had passed out completely.

Duncan slowly eased out of Methos' body and flopped on his back, grinning stupidly at the ceiling. It had taken too many years and too many arguments and confrontations, but they had finally stopped dancing around their mutual attraction and Duncan was damned glad of it. He lay in bed for a long moment, relishing a future that had Methos in it as his lover.

Duncan couldn't lay there too long, though. His body was still tingling all over, oddly keyed up, begging for motion of some kind. If Methos had been awake, he would have instigated other love-making session, but a glance over at the other man confirmed that he was still out cold. Duncan rolled up onto one elbow again and smiled lovingly down at the sleeping man. There were shadows under the oldest Immortal's eyes, proof that the past few weeks had been as painful for Methos as they had been for Duncan. Probably moreso, the Scot thought with a shudder, as a sudden empathy washed over him. Having a nightmare from your past suddenly come back to life, without anyone to turn to for help - Methos had tried to turn to him, though. Duncan would have bet his life that Methos was coming to him for help that day in the dojo, the day Cassandra had confronted him. If only he had listened.

He sighed. That was all water under the bridge now. The important thing was that it was over, that they were together. And right now, Methos needed sleep, not a broody lover hovering over him.

Duncan hauled himself out of bed and fetched a clean cloth from the bathroom, cleaning his lover carefully. He was concerned that Methos didn't wake but, since the other man seemed to be simply sleeping, Duncan let him be. He showered and dressed, pulling out spare clothes for Methos to put on when he woke, scrawled a note to the other man, and went out in search of breakfast and exercise.

*******************

Methos woke in the late morning hours, alone, the odd tingling in his body reminding him of the Quickening he had shared with the Highlander the previous day. He flopped on his back and tried to ignore the sensation but it wouldn't go away so he finally threw back the covers and staggered into the bathroom to relieve his bladder.

A little more awake, he took in his unfamiliar surroundings with a frown. He couldn't remember anything after taking Silas' head except that bloody Quickening, but it was obvious that he was in the Highlander's hotel room. And he was naked. Had it been anyone else's room he would have been worried, but it was obvious that the Boy Scout had merely hosed him off and put him to bed for some much needed sleep. A neatly folded stack of clothing on a chair caught his attention, as did the note on it. It was from Duncan, of course, letting him know that his previous clothing had been unsalvageable. The Highlander had gone "to clean up", asking Methos to meet him at the same church at noon.

He sighed; obviously they still had issues to resolve and Methos wasn't looking forward to it. But at least the Highlander hadn't taken his head.

Suddenly hungry, he put in a call to room service, charging it to Duncan's room. A hot shower followed, and he stood under it for what felt like hours. Kronos' haven had lacked most of the modern conveniences, and Methos felt like he hadn't been clean in months. After soaking under the hot water for a long time, Methos reluctantly acknowledged that there was business to be handled today. He soaped up, rinsed off, and went to put on the clean clothes Duncan had left him.

Feeling oddly naked without his coat and sword, neither of which appeared to be in the room, he went to meet Duncan at the church. Duncan was waiting for him in the cemetery outside and, upon sighting him, gave him a blinding smile. Staggered by this greeting after the way their last few meetings had ended, Methos paused and his eyes narrowed as he briefly studied the other man. Duncan was obviously still feeling the effects of the shared Quickening, and Methos could feel himself being drawn to the other man as well. Methos would have to be careful or the two of them would be in a hell of a mess. Talk, he decided, taking a deep breath, then get the hell away from the Highlander until the effects had a chance to settle down.

He continued walking over to the Scot. Duncan gave him an uncertain look, as if trying to gauge his mood, and gestured at the items on the bench beside him.

"I had your coat cleaned. And I went back to Kro - to the base and fetched your sword and wallet."

Methos nodded briefly. "Thanks."

Duncan looked at his lover, puzzled. The man was holding himself stiffly, as if he might fall to pieces at any moment, and Duncan wanted nothing more than to take Methos into his arms and offer him comfort. He didn't move closer though, instinctively knowing that his offer would be rejected. Methos wasn't accustomed to leaning on anyone else and, until Methos got used to the fact that Duncan was here for him, Duncan was just going to have to give him the space he needed. Any hint of pressure and the oldest Immortal would just disappear, and now that things had changed between them, that was the last thing Duncan wanted. So he watched as Methos put on his coat and secured his sword, and instead of talking about them he talked about the Horsemen and Cassandra.

"One of a thousand regrets," Methos said finally, walking off. And as Duncan slowly followed him, he had the sudden chilling thought that last night had been regret number one-thousand-and-one.

Chapter Two

Methos was in a foul mood. For the past month since Bordeaux, Duncan MacLeod had been impossible. Either the man was in Methos' face, wanting to talk about what had happened at Bordeaux, or the man was giving him the cold shoulder. And now here was Amanda, waking him out of a dead sleep, going on and on about how Duncan was trying to get himself killed. Looking to him for answers, for guidance, when it was all he could do to keep himself from losing what little he had managed to eat the previous day.

At the moment, Methos irritably wished Keane would just get it over with and put them all out of their misery. At least that way he would be able to go back to bed and get the sleep his body was desperately craving.

He sighed and sat down in his favorite chair, nursing a drink in his hand, watching Amanda as she paced and worried. Damn the Highlander - he got under all their skins and wound himself around their hearts, making them do things that were absolutely asinine, not to mention potentially life-threatening. Like him, promising that he would go talk to Duncan and try to keep him from getting himself killed.

He sighed again. He needed a vacation, far away from troublesome Highlanders and their problems. Bora-Bora was definitely starting to look good.

********************

Duncan MacLeod was in a foul mood. During the past month since their return from Bordeaux, Methos had gone out of his way to avoid the Highlander. Considering what had happened between them, it was infuriating and exasperating. And painful.

Duncan couldn't help acknowledging that Methos had every right to be angry with him - he hadn't been much of a friend when Methos had needed him to be one. He had misunderstood, judged, accused without really knowing the facts. The appearance of a ghost from Duncan's own dark past had made him realize that none of them were perfect, that he, too, had made mistakes and should be the last to judge Methos.

Even more damning, it was clear from the fact that Methos hadn't said anything about that one night they had spent together that he didn't want to pursue a more intimate friendship. He had felt a flair of hope when he felt Methos' presence in the gardens, had realized that Methos was worried about him. Worried enough to shoot him in the back to keep him from fighting Keane. But then Methos had walked away from him, angry again, and Duncan knew that the situation between them was far from resolved.

At least Keane had been appeased and sent on his way, Duncan thought with a sigh. Deciding that spending another night brooding on the barge wasn't a good idea, he put on his coat and went to Joe's.

********************

Methos clung to the porcelin in front of him as his stomach lining threatened to liberate itself from his body. His knees ached from kneeling on the floor, his throat was raw from vomiting, and his entire body throbbed with pain. If a Hunter had walked in his front door at that moment, he would have gladly offered his head. Anything to stop the pain.

After a few more minutes huddled on the floor, he decided that his stomach had decided to settle down - for the moment, at any rate. He dragged himself to his feet, washed his face and rinsed out his mouth, and staggered into the kitchen in the faint hope of finding something to drink that wouldn't make him nauseas while he figured out his problem.

What was wrong with him was obvious - he hadn't been a doctor for over five hundred years without learning a few things. How it had happened was also not in question, since he was one of the few Immortals living who had witnessed this phenomenon. Who was also not in doubt - there was only one Immortal that Methos could have formed the necessary bond with. And when - the only time that it could have possibly happened was during those missing hours, between the actual shared Quickening and the next morning when he woke up in Duncan's bed. Naked and alone.

Methos' blood began a slow burn. Sometime during that night, the Highlander had done something that Methos hadn't thought him capable of doing, not even during that Dark Quickening. Duncan had taken advantage of Methos' helplessness, had forced himself on Methos. Had raped him. And then hadn't even had the decency to be there in the morning to explain. Hadn't, in fact, mentioned the incident during the month that had passed.

Methos ground his teeth together and went in search of his coat and his sword. He'd teach that impudent Highland whelp a well-deserved lesson.

*****************

Duncan was sitting in the empty bar, nursing a beer, when the sense of Immortal presence and the sound of the door suddenly slamming open startled him. Before he quite knew what was happening, he had been spun around, his back pressed against the bar with a sword at his throat. A sword that was wielded by a very pissed-off looking Methos.

"You bloody bastard!" Methos snarled.

Duncan held his hands up to show he didn't intend to fight. "Methos? What did I do now to piss you off?"

Methos pressed closer, the edge of the sword biting into Duncan's neck "You know bloody well what you did! I should take your head for that!"

Joe had come around the corner of the bar, his pistol in his hand. "Hold on a minute, Methos! Whatever Mac has done, I'm sure he can explain - "

"What he's done?" Methos said with a bark of laughter. "Why don't you tell Joe what you've done?"

"I would if I knew," Duncan said. He didn't like the look in Methos' eyes; the Immortal was angrier than he'd ever seen him.

Methos snorted. "I suppose I should be even more insulted that it wasn't more memorable, but then, considering the number of bed partners you've had, I suppose one more was hardly noticeable." He saw the dawning light of understanding in Duncan's eyes and a twisted smile crossed his lips. "Ah, I see that it is starting to come back to you now. So why don't you tell Joe about how you took advantage of an unconscious man? How you forced your way into his body? How you raped him?" He spat at Duncan.

Duncan's body went rigid. "It wasna rape," he said, his eyes not moving from Methos', even as he heard Joe's sharp intake of breath. "You were willing - you asked me to take you."

"Funny that I don't remember that," Methos snapped. "I remember the Quickenings and then waking up naked in your bed. And - oddly enough - I was grateful that it was your bed, thinking that you were too honorable to have taken advantage of me!"

"You were awake, I swear!" Duncan said desperately. "I said your name, and you spoke to me, asked you to be in me."

Methos snorted. "I was out of my bloody mind, MacLeod! I would have had to be, knowing what could happen!" He stepped back, tossing his sword on the counter. "I've changed my mind - I don't want your damned Quickening. I've got too much of you already inside of me without that." He turned away, slumping into a chair.

Duncan was bewildered by the sudden change in moods. "Methos? What do you mean?"

"I mean," Methos said, giving Duncan a look that would have peeled paint, "that I am pregnant."

end of Chapter 2

Chapter Three

Methos' words echoed in the bar for a long moment, as the two other men stared at him in shocked disbelief.

"You're what?" Duncan asked. The thought that he had somehow forced his friend to have sex with him had his stomach in knots, and he could hardly comprehend what Methos was saying.

"I'm pregnant. You know - knocked up, bun in the oven, up the duff, in the pudding club. Stop me when this penetrates your thick head."

Joe slid down into a chair. "But Methos, disregarding the fact that you're a man - you are a man, aren't you?"

Methos glared at Joe. "What do you mean - am I a man? Don't I look like a man to you?"

"Yeah, but you looked like a Watcher to me for ten years, and I was wrong about that!"

Methos closed his eyes and snarled, "Fine. You don't believe me, ask MacLeod. He's seen me in the all-together."

"Don't get testy, old man," Joe said, not able to repress a grin. "But disregarding that fact, there's another fact that I'd like to point out - Immortals can't reproduce. So even if Mac - you know - " he gave Duncan a semi-embarrassed look, "he'd be shooting blanks so you can't be pregnant."

Duncan gave his Watcher a scathing look as he risked sitting down at the same table since Methos no longer seemed to be homicidal. "Thanks a lot, Joe."

"Always ready to help out a friend, Mac," Joe returned.

Duncan looked at the old Immortal in concern. "Are you sure?"

Methos gave him another deadly look. "No, I always spend my mornings hugging the toilet."

"Considering how much you drink, I wouldn't be surprised," Joe said dryly, and Methos glared at him.

"Methos," Duncan said with painful intensity. "I'm sorry if I misinterpreted your signals that night." He winced at the glare Methos gave him. "And I'll do anything I can to make it up to you. But Joe's right - you're a man and Immortals are sterile. You can't be pregnant."

Methos gave him a look combining exasperation and condescension. "And this is based on your vast four-hundred-year knowledge, right?"

"Noh, dammit!" Duncan said, losing his temper. "It's based on common sense, man! You canna be pregnant!"

Methos pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. "Hello. Can you tell me if Dr. Fremont is in his Paris or London office this week? Paris? Would he be available for a consult? Tell him it's Dr. Ben Adams. Yes, I'll wait." He was silent for a moment, not looking at the other two men. "An hour? Yes, I think I can make that. Thank you very much."

Closing his phone, he looked at Duncan as he stood up. "Coming? Julian's office is across town - we'll have leave now to make it in time."

Duncan stood up quickly. "Where are we going?" he asked uneasily, wondering what Methos was up to now. The feeling that he was the butt of one of Methos' jokes was starting to war with the earlier sick feeling in his stomach. In fact, this had Amanda's fingerprints all over it - obviously revenge for the whole Keane incident - and when he got the two of them in private, he was going to make them very, very sorry.

"You want proof; I'll give you proof," Methos said cryptically, heading towards the door. "Coming, Joe?"

The Watcher stood, grinning from ear to ear. He'd figured out that it was a practical joke, too, and decided that Duncan deserved it after what he'd put them through. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

*******************

An hour later, they were walking into an elegantly outfitted doctor's office on the upscale side of the city. Methos conferred briefly with the receptionist, then stood looking at the pictures on the walls, pointedly ignoring the other two men. Duncan and Joe exchanged an uneasy look - this place felt like a real doctor's office but Amanda had been known to go to great lengths for a joke. A few minutes later, Duncan stiffened and turned towards the door that lead into the main offices, and Joe looked over, expecting to see the Immortal woman grinning at them. Instead, a handsome man who looked to be in his late thirties entered.

"Ben!" he said with a smile, his hand out to shake Methos'. "It's been a long time - too long. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I'm afraid that I'm in need of your - unique knowledge," Methos said, returning the handshake warmly.

"And these two gentlemen are with you?"

Methos nodded briefly. "Joe Dawson and Duncan MacLeod."

Julian Fremont held out his hand. "Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod?" he asked with a smile. "I've heard about you. Mr. Dawson." He gestured towards the door he had come out of. "Shall we go into my office? We can talk privately there."

Once they were in the office, Julian perched on the corner of his desk and smiled at Methos. "Now Ben, what can I do for you - it is still Ben, isn't it?"

"Actually, it's Adam Pierson now, but they know about my real name, too," Methos said. "And I need you to run a blood test on me."

Julian frowned. "Looking for -?"

Methos sighed. "A month ago, Mac and I shared a Quickening - two Quickenings, actually."

"Ah," Julian said, nodding in understanding.

"And I raped him," Duncan said bluntly.

Julian looked keenly at the Highlander. "Mr. MacLeod, if you're aware of the effects of a shared Quickening, then you know that rape is impossible."

Methos tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. "He doesn't know anything about it."

Julian gave Methos an amused look. "And you didn't tell him anything, did you? Still the same loveable, manipulating bastard as always?"

Methos smiled briefly, still staring at the ceiling. "I try."

"You're the last one I would have thought this would happen to," Julian said frankly. "This MacLeod must be pretty special."

Methos flushed but didn't say anything. Exasperated, Joe said, "Would you two please tell us what the hell is going on here? Why Me- Adam thinks he's pregnant?"

"Let me get the blood sample first so we can see where we stand," Julian said. "Make a fist, Adam."

Methos made a face but obligingly held his arm out. Julian expertly drew the blood, labeled it, and took it down the hall to the lab. When Julian returned, he said, "We should know something shortly."

Duncan frowned. "This is some kind of joke, isn't it? Amanda put you two up to this, didn't she?"

Julian shook his head. "This isn't a joke, MacLeod. It's serious - deadly serious."

"Skip the drama, Julian," Methos said sharply. "The facts are simply this: under certain circumstances, when two Immortals share a Quickening and then have sex, it is possible for one or both of them to become pregnant. In other words, 'wham, bam, thank you very much, MacLeod'."

Julian gave Methos a reproving look, then looked back at Duncan. "It's more complicated than that. First of all, the 'window of opportunity', so to speak, is very short - no more than twelve hours. And there has to be a connection, a bond, between the two parties involved, which is why rape is impossible. Given those circumstances, if penetrative sexual intercourse takes place during this time, then pregnancy always occurs. No matter the gender of the two parties involved."

Both Joe and Duncan looked stunned. "Why haven't I heard of this before now?" Duncan asked.

"Yeah," Joe said. "There's no record - " he paused, realizing what he was just about to say.

Julian smiled. "There's a very good reason for the secrecy, MacLeod. And Watchers don't know everything, Mr. Dawson - or need to know."

Joe's eyes narrowed. "You know about Watchers?"

Julian looked amused. "Of course. One of the first things Methos taught me when I became his student - almost two thousand years ago."

Duncan blinked. "You're two thousand years old?"

Julian nodded. "I was a physician in Rome before my First Death. And as I said, there are good reasons for the secrecy. If it got out, there'd be some Immortals who would try to create armies of their own progeny, though I doubt that would work."

"Why not?" Joe asked, staggered by the implications.

Julian glanced over at Methos, but he was staring silently at the ceiling again. "Because of that bond I spoke of earlier. It has to exist before the shared Quickening - a very close bond, not necessarily sexual. The kind of bond where two Immortals are willing to give up their lives for each other. You'll have to admit that this kind of relationship is extremely rare between Immortals, even if they are lovers."

Duncan nodded. Even among the pairs that he knew, there was more of a tendency to revenge a lover's demise rather than die in their place.

"It has to exist because, for the duration of pregnancy, the pregnant Immortal's normal healing energies are involved in sustaining what is, essentially, an abnormal extension of themselves - the child. The host's own healing power is drastically diminished - "

A cold hand clutched Duncan's heart. "How diminished?"

"A simple cut can take hours to heal. Death can take several days to recover from, depending on the severity of the mortal injury, and can have lingering effects. In addition, taking a Quickening can be highly detrimental to the fetus, resulting in permanent damage and even termination," Julian said frankly. "Because of this, it is vital that the other Immortal be prepared to protect his partner and child - to the death, if necessary."

"You're exaggerating," Methos said impatiently. "You told me that Viviane lost her husband before they even knew about the child, and she managed just fine on her own."

"Viviane spent the entire time on Holy Ground," Julian reminded Methos. "And that was fifteen-hundred years ago. Not to mention she nearly lost the boy when that Saxon wanted a bit of a sacrifice."

"That's beside the point," Methos argued. Duncan thought the two were going to be sidetracked by the argument but then the intercom buzzed.

Julian picked up the phone and listened for a moment, thanked the nurse on the other end, and hung it up. "Well, it's official. Congratulations, old man - you're going to be a mother."

Methos glared at him. "Very funny. What in hell am I going to do now?"

Julian moved behind his desk, scribbling something on a pad. "First of all, you need to eat more - you're way too thin right now. If nausea is bothering you, here's a prescription that will help. Second, I'll expect to see you in here every two weeks, just to make sure that everything is going well. Miss an appointment and I'll track you down personally and make you sorry - and you know I can do it."

Methos made a face and took the prescription. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"And you can make me suffer for that later," Julian said with a grin, then added kindly, "Go home, Methos. You look like you could use the rest." His eyes flicked briefly to Duncan, conveying an unspoken message, and the Scot nodded in response. Methos snorted and headed out the door. "Mr. Dawson, a pleasure meeting you - and I don't believe that I need to emphasize the necessity of keeping this a secret?"

Joe and Duncan exchanged a look and Joe said, "I never heard a word that was said in here."

"Thank you." As Joe followed Methos, Julian said quietly, "Mr. MacLeod, a moment of your time, please?"

Duncan paused. "Of course." He felt a little uncomfortable alone with Methos' former student, knowing how he would feel if he heard someone had wronged Connor like he had done Methos, and was surprised to feel a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Mr. MacLeod," Julian said quietly. "You had no idea what could happen, the compulsion is very strong, and it just happened. Besides, your brooding won't do Methos any good."

Duncan nodded. "What can I do, Doctor?"

"Be there for him," Julian said simply. "This is going to be hard on the old man - he doesn't deal well with being dependent on someone else. And I was very serious about how dangerous this can be, both for him and the child."

Duncan gave him a wry smile. "I'll do what I can, but I'm not exactly his favorite person right now."

Julian's mouth curved into a smile. "Oh, I expect that he'll milk the situation for all he can, but just remember one thing - it couldn't have happened if he didn't feel very deeply about you."

MacLeod flushed at that but Methos was shouting for him so he couldn't say any more. Exchanging a last handshake with the doctor, he followed the other two out to the car.

End of Chapter 3

Chapter Four

The three men were silent on the trip back across the city. Methos was sprawled in the back seat of the car, apparently brooding, and the other two men decided it was better at the moment to let him be.

Duncan dropped Joe off first and, with a significant look at the silent man in the back, Joe told Duncan to call him later. Duncan nodded in acknowledgement then headed towards Methos' apartment. Methos seemed to come back from wherever his thoughts had taken him as Duncan parked the car out in front of the building, hurriedly getting out of the car.

"Thanks for the lift, Mac," he called out, heading towards the stairs. "I'll see you around - maybe at Joe's tomorrow night."

Duncan ignored the attempted brush-off, following Methos into his apartment. "We have to talk," he said, shutting the door behind him.

Methos crossed his arms defensively across his chest and glared at Duncan. "WE do not have to do anything. YOU, on the other hand, have to get out - preferably before I throw something pointed at you."

Duncan ignored the comment. "The first thing we have to decide is whether you're moving onto the barge with me, whether I'm moving in here, or whether we should just look for another place."

Methos gaped at the Highlander. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No. Getting a larger place would probably be a good idea. Look at both of our places - bachelor fare, hardly the place for a family."

"Fam - " Methos glared at Duncan. "We are not a family, and we are not going to be a family! If you think for one moment that just because you knocked me up it means that I'm going to happily settle down with you as Mrs. Duncan MacLeod, then you've got another think coming!"

"I think nothing of the sort," Duncan said quietly. "The fact of the matter is that this is my fault, and I'm going to do my best to take care of you until the child is born."

Methos threw up his hands in exasperation. "Great! The one thing lacking in this whole mess - Scottish guilt and a full-out MacLeod brood!"

"Methos - "

"I can bloody well take care of myself, thank you very much! Been doing it for five thousand years without your help, and doing a damn fine job of it, too!"

"Methos, you heard what the doctor said. In your condition, you can't risk taking a Quickening."

"And I went without taking one of those for two hundred years!" Methos pointed out. "In fact, I was doing damn fine until a certain nosy Highlander came poking into my business!"

"You were lucky," Duncan said crisply. "You can't count on being able to shoot all your challengers, or on running away from them."

"So you plan on taking all my challenges for me?" Methos snapped. "No, thank you very much, Highlander. End of discussion, and don't let the door hit you in the arse on the way out."

"Methos - "

Methos turned on the Highlander, intent on reaming him, but the sudden movement made his stomach lurch. "Bloody hell!"

He made it into the bathroom in time to throw up what little he had managed to eat earlier, his stomach continuing to heave distressingly until he thought he would vomit up the lining. He was barely aware of the strong arm bracing him as he hung over the toilet, or the hand moving in soothing circles over his back, but when the worst of the nausea had passed, he was grateful for the cup of water that appeared in front of him. He rinsed out his mouth, then sighed contentedly as a cool cloth wiped down his face and neck.

"Better?" Methos managed to nod. "Good. Then let's get you into bed and I'll go get that prescription filled for you, all right?"

Methos wanted to protest that he could take care of himself, that he didn't need any help, but as the Scot helped him up from the floor, his legs wobbled distressingly. He couldn't resist the strong arm that wrapped around him and guided him over to the bed, not without taking a nosedive and looking like a fool. And he didn't protest as Duncan stripped him down to T-shirt and shorts - it was too much of an effort, and he needed to save his energy for further confrontations. Besides, it felt good to slide down under the covers and curl around the pillow. He was so tired, and between the nausea and the nightmares, he had hardly slept during the past week. Methos allowed his eyes to drift shut.

"This doesn't change anything," he said sleepily. "I'm still mad at you."

"I know," Duncan said softly, picking up the scattered clothes and putting them in the laundry.

"And I am not moving onto the barge. I hate the water."

"I know," Duncan said, looking through the cabinets in the kitchen and frowning at the bleak state of affairs. Mentally, he began composing a shopping list, trying to think of what exactly an expectant 'mother' should be eating at this stage. Fruits and vegetables, of course - and would Methos actually eat a salad or throw it at his head? Milk - he was certain about that. And what about meats? Dr. Fremont could probably give him some guidelines - he'd have to call him in the morning and see what he recommended. He suspected that Methos would need a vitamin supplement so he could discuss that with Julian at the same time. And maybe while he was out picking up the prescription he should pick up one of those pregnancy books, too. Anne had raved about one of them; the title escaped him but it was something like "When You're Expecting". He expected the clerk in the bookstore would know what he meant.

"Not enough hot water." Methos was still talking, and his voice was cross. "I like lots of hot water."

Duncan couldn't help grinning at that. "I thought cats hated water."

Methos opened his eyes and frowned at Duncan. "Huh?"

"Never mind," Duncan said soothingly. "Go back to sleep."

"I don't have a cat," Methos said huffily, allowing his eyes to slide shut again. "Thinking of someone else."

"Sorry. My mistake." He opened the fridge, shaking his head as he saw it was nearly empty. A half-empty carton of milk with a questionable expiration date was tossed into the trash. The remaining two beers of a six-pack joined it, and he could hardly wait to hear what Methos would say about that. More items were added to the mental list.

"Damn right," Methos muttered, more than half asleep. "Mistake.should have known better."

There was silence after that, and Duncan glanced over at the bed and saw that Methos was finally asleep. He stood beside it for a moment, looking down at the man who looked so impossibly young when he slept, and brushed a lock of hair away from Methos' face.

"Ah, Methos," he said softly. "Not a mistake. You'll see - it'll all turn out in the end."

There was no answer from the sleeping man - not that he expected one. Grabbing the keys for the apartment and his car, he headed off on his errands.

End of Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Methos woke to an apartment in semi-darkness, the awareness that he was not alone, and the scent of food cooking. The latter was enough to make his stomach lurch, despite the fact that it was empty, but before he could think about making a dash for the bathroom, Duncan was at his side.

"Eat these. No, don't sit up. Just eat them lying down - slowly."

Methos glared at the Highlander but he took the offered crackers and ate them slowly. It wasn't easy to choke down the dry wafers but the Scot was watching him like a hawk and he had the feeling that the man would force-feed him if necessary. Duncan made an approving noise when Methos finished the last one and helped him sit up before handing him a capsule and a glass of water.

"This should help, but the pharmacist said you'll need to give it about half an hour before you try doing handstands."

Methos gave him a sour look. "Very funny." He glanced over at the couch, noticing that a hastily discarded book sat on the cushion. "Made yourself right at home, I see."

"I figured after all the times I let you crash at the loft and the barge that you owe me," Duncan said tranquilly, carrying the glass into the kitchen and checking on the progress of dinner.

"I owe you? I wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you!" Methos said indignantly.

Duncan sighed and turned back to face the older Immortal. "I know that. And I don't know how many times I can say that I'm sorry about what happened." Thinking that his words might not have come across right, he said hastily, "Not that the sex was anything I regret - it was incredible. Just that I'm sorry you don't remember, that you think I would rape you." He paused. "You don't really think I would do that, do you?"

Methos' eyes were inscrutable as he stared at him from the bed. "Why not? You find it easy to believe that I could be a rapist."

Duncan shook his head. "Maybe at one time, but not now, not the Methos I know." He lifted his head and met Methos' eyes squarely. "Times were different. You were different."

Their eyes met for a long moment, and then a reluctant smile curved Methos' mouth. "Whatever you're cooking smells good."

Duncan smiled broadly, relieved by the sudden lessening of tension in the room. "It's a chicken casserole."

Methos blinked in surprise. "I didn't think I had enough supplies on hand for a casserole."

"You didn't. I did a little shopping while you slept."

Duncan's innocent tone aroused Methos' suspicions, and he flung back the covers and got out of bed. He opened the cabinet doors and stared at the overflowing contents. "A little shopping? Did you leave anything for the rest of Paris?"

Duncan shrugged. "You're going to need a lot more food now that you're eating for two."

Methos gave him a quick glare. "Don't remind me." He opened the refrigerator and whistled. "Mac, I think you went a little overboard." Then his eyes narrowed and he looked around at Duncan. "Where's my beer?"

Duncan cleared his throat. "About that - um - I did a little reading, and I talked to your doctor friend."

Methos advanced on Duncan and the Highlander backed up slowly. "Where's my beer?"

"And he wants you on a strict diet, one that includes a lot of juice and water and milk."

"Where's. My. Beer?"

Methos continued to advance until Duncan was pinned against the wall. "I threw it out."

"You - " Methos stared at him, aghast. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"You can't have alcohol while you're pregnant. It's bad for the baby."

Methos' eyes darkened. "I'll tell you what would be worse for the baby - his 'mother' being in jail because he killed his father!"

Duncan ducked away, raising his hands in a placating manner as he retreated before the furious Immortal. "I'm serious, Methos. Even moderate drinking could cause birth defects - fetal alcohol syndrome. You know about that, don't you?"

Methos continued to advance. "What I know is that because *you* couldn't keep it in your pants, *I* have to go without beer for - how long?"

"Eight months."

"Eight *months*? You have got to be joking!"

Duncan decided to get all the bad news out at once. "And you can't have caffeine either."

Methos halted, an appalled look on his face. "No coffee? Oh, you are such a dead man when I get my hands on you, MacLeod!"

Duncan dodged, scrambling over the bed to the relative safety of the other side. "Let's talk about this reasonably, Methos. You don't want to kill me. In the first place, think about the mess it'll make, the damage to your books."

Methos stalked him around the room. "Oh, I don't plan on permanently killing you. Just temporarily - say five or six times."

"The blood - you'll never get it all out of the flooring." Duncan feinted in one direction.

"I'll move." Methos pretended to go for the feint but, when Duncan doubled back the other way, Methos was waiting and took him down.

"You hate moving," Duncan pointed out when he could catch his breath, pinned to the floor under the weight of the other Immortal.

"I'll get over it."

Duncan heaved upward with his arms and rolled so that the other Immortal was now pinned. "Methos, be reasonable."

"I don't want to be reasonable. I want a beer!" Methos reached up behind him and grabbed something off the couch, a book by the feel of it. He intended to bean the other Immortal with it but the cover caught his attention. " 'What to Expect When You're Expecting'? Bloody hell, Mac - you didn't buy this!"

Duncan cautiously released the other man since Methos seemed to be past his homicidal urge and sat back on his knees. He'd have to discuss these reactions with Julian Fremont. Maybe there was some kind of hormonal imbalance that was making Methos react violently like this - twice in one day.

"I did," he said, indicating the book. "The shop clerk recommended it and a couple others." He gestured towards the stack of books on the end table.

Methos groaned and covered his face with one hand as he dropped the book onto the floor next to him. "I don't believe this! My life as I know it is over, and you're buying into trendy baby-boomer propaganda!"

"But Methos, there's a lot of good information in these," Duncan protested, picking up the abandoned book. "Look at this - diet, exercises, choosing an obstetrician, minimizing stretch marks - "

"Lovely," Methos said sourly, sitting up. "The things I have to look forward to. Mac, did it ever occur to you that these might not help because they're for *women* and I'm a *man*?"

Duncan gave him a stubborn look. "Pregnant is pregnant. And a difference that makes no difference - "

" - is no difference," Methos finished. There was an expression on his face that Duncan couldn't interpret. "You're really determined to do this, aren't you?"

"If by 'this' you mean that I'm going to be with you, support you, in every way I can, then yes. I'm determined."

"And if I leave town? Disappear?"

"I'll find you." Leaning forward, locking eyes with the older Immortal, Duncan said firmly, "My mind is made up, Methos. I was there at the start, and I'll be there at the end, for as long as you need me."

"Why?" Methos asked, not breaking their eyes contact.

"Because we're friends. Because I'm responsible."

Methos broke contact then, looking away as his lips twisted slightly, and Duncan got the feeling that he had said something wrong. But before he could say anything more, Methos was pushing himself to his feet.

"Right. That casserole smells delicious and I'm starving. Let's eat."

Duncan got to his feet more slowly, a slight frown on his face as he studied the other Immortal. He knew that look, that tone of voice - both were masks that Methos donned when he was deliberately trying to steer the subject away from something that made him feel vulnerable. And he also knew that there was no way he was going to penetrate that brittle shield - not today, at any rate.

End of Chapter 5

Chapter Six

Dinner was a pleasant enough meal, with Methos maintaining a string of idle chatter that did nothing to quiet Duncan's concern. Whatever it was that the Oldest Immortal didn't want him to know, it must be BIG and Methos certainly wasn't going to slip and give away. Duncan had a feeling that there was something more behind Methos' reluctant acceptance of this unexpected situation, and made up his mind to talk to Dr. Fremont in private as soon as possible.

He got his next jolt after dinner when Methos carried the dishes to the sink and said, airily, "No need to help with the washing up, Mac. I can handle this lot. In fact, why don't you just toddle on home and let me have at it."

"Go home?" Duncan said blankly.

"Yes. You know - the barge? The place where you - not to mention countless women - lay your head at night?" Methos said with a smirk. "Dinner was lovely, and I appreciate the shopping, but frankly, I'm not in the mood for company tonight."

Duncan crossed his arms, frowning at the other man. "What are you up to, Methos?"

"Me?" Methos said innocently. "Nothing. I'm going to clean up, have a hot shower, and crawl into bed."

"At eight o'clock at night?"

Methos gave him a look. "I don't know about you, MacLeod, but it's been a hell of a day for me. I intend to sleep for at least fifteen hours - once you get out of here. Unless you want to help me put on my jammies and tuck me into bed?"

"I don't want to leave you here alone," Duncan objected. "What if some Immortal comes along and challenges you?"

"In my apartment in the middle of the night?" Methos scoffed. "Unlike you, I am not a magnet for Hunters. Years can safely pass between Immortal visits to my abode - well, except for your happy little family of troublemakers. I'll be perfectly fine."

Duncan looked doubtful. "I can sleep on your couch - "

"No, thank you very much," Methos said with insincere politeness, and Duncan had to restrain the urge to throttle the irritating man. "Go home, Mac. I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow - but not before noon."

Duncan sighed. "All right." He picked up his coat and shrugged into it, heading for the door. Standing in the open doorway, he turned to Methos. "I want you to lock up behind me."

"MacLeod - "

"I'm serious. I'm not leaving until I hear the door lock."

Methos gave up and crossed to the door, closing it loudly behind the Highlander and snapping the locks on. "There!" he called through the door. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," came the reply through the door. "Good night, old man. Sleep well."

Touched despite himself, Methos leaned against the door and murmured, "You, too, Duncan." Then he stood up and shook himself, scowling as he headed for the shower. "Just because your hormones are running rampant, there's no point in getting sentimental," he snarled at himself. "He told you what this is all about - his Boy Scout code of ethics and nothing more. So act your age, for God's sake!"

An hour later, showered but certainly not dressed for bed, Methos cautiously opened the door to his flat and looked outside. No sign of the Highlander, no sense of his Presence anywhere around. He couldn't find his car keys - MacLeod must have hidden them - but at this time of night he shouldn't have any problem getting a taxi. He locked the door behind him and cheerfully went down to the street to hail a cab.

The club wasn't very crowded when he entered - not that he was surprised by that. It was early and the middle of the week to boot. Joe had apparently finished his first set and was behind the bar now, and he greeted Methos with a smile.

"Adam! Didn't expect to see you tonight - where's your watchdog?"

"Home - I hope. He's been haunting my flat all afternoon and driving me crazy." He watched as Joe popped the cap on a frosty brown bottle and slid it towards him. "Thanks, Joe. You're a lifesaver. You wouldn't believe the kind of stuff Mac wants me to drink."

Joe gave him an amused look. "Wanna bet?"

The warning came too late, and Methos spewed a mouthful of foamy liquid across the top of the bar. "What is this shit?"

"Root beer," Joe said blandly. "Mac dropped off a case of it earlier, just for you."

"Root beer? Are you crazy?" Methos demanded, then changed his tone to a plaintive wheedle. "Come on, Joe! One beer. That's all I'm asking for. Just one."

"Not on your life. Mac would have my head."

"I'm begging here, Joe. You really don't want to see a five- thousand-year-old man cry, do you?"

"No dice, pal. Root beer or juice or water, and that's it."

Methos groaned and laid his head down on the bar, banging his forehead against it several times. The tingle of Immortal presence made him pause, but the familiarity and youthfulness of the signature made him relax and he didn't even look up as Richie slid onto the stool next to him.

Richie looked over at the oldest Immortal, still leaning his head against the bar's surface, and then at Joe. "What's wrong with him?"

Joe snorted. "Trust me - you don't want to know."

Richie shrugged and then caught sight of the bottle on the bar and picked it up. "I.B.C. Root beer!" he said in surprise. "Hey, this is the really good stuff - and impossible to find over here. How'd you get hold of this, Joe?"

"Ask Mac - he's the one who found it," Joe said with an amused side look at Methos. "And before you ask for one, it's private stock, just for Adam."

Richie gave Methos a surprised look. "I didn't know you liked this stuff."

"It's an acquired taste," Methos said sourly. "One I'm apparently going to acquire." He took another swallow from the bottle and shuddered.

Richie shrugged again and gave up trying to figure out the old Immortal's cryptic words. Picking up his bottle of beer, he spun around on his stool and looked around the room, and then a smile lit up his face. "Excuse me, guys, but I see an old friend - one I'd like to get acquainted with."

Joe snorted as he caught sight of the redhead that had caught Richie's attention. "Just be careful, kid."

Richie grinned at him. "Hey, what could happen, Joe? It's not like I could get her pregnant."

"Lucky for you," Methos said sourly, and Richie ignored him as he sauntered off in the redhead's direction.

Joe gave Methos a sharp look and picked up a cloth, wiping down the counter. "You sound a little bitter, my friend."

Methos snorted. "Wouldn't you be, in my place?"

"Hell, no. Think of it, Adam - you're going to experience something that practically no other man has."

"Yeah - constant nausea, swollen feet, stretch marks - "

"A new life growing inside of you," Joe interrupted. "Pretty amazing, if you ask me." Methos was silent, studying his bottle. "Mac's happy about it, you know - or would be, if you'd lay off the guilt-tripping."

"Mac's not carrying the bloody thing," Methos retorted. "And he's living in a fantasy world. Mac is picturing some blissful future raising his son or daughter - something that can't possibly happen."

Joe's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Joe! You know what our lives are like! It's hard enough to survive on our own - can you imagine what it would be like trying to raise a child."

"Immortals have adopted children and raised them," Joe pointed out.

"Very few, and none of them have been pre-Immortals. It's dangerous, Joe, for both us and for the child. Can you imagine what Mac's enemies would do if they found out he had a child? And don't try to tell me that he wouldn't give up his own head for the child's life." Quietly, he added, "Why do you think that pre-Immortals are given to mortals to raise?"

Joe straightened. "Are you trying to tell me that this is where Immortals come from?"

Methos shook his head. "Not most of them, no - and frankly, I'm as in the dark on that one as everyone else. I've heard of less than a dozen children like this in my lifetime."

"And all of them were given up for adoption?"

Methos sighed. "Not all of them, no."

"But it's what you plan to do."

Methos shrugged. "It's the smart thing to do. The odds of a single Immortal parent being able to raise a pre-Immortal child without endangering both their lives are very low. And you know that survival is pretty high on my list of priorities."

Joe studied Methos intently across the bar. "You wouldn't have to do this alone, you know. Together you and Duncan would have a pretty good chance."

Methos shook his head. "There is no together, Joe. You know that."

"There could be, if you told him how you feel."

Methos looked up at Joe sharply, his eyes intent on the other man's face. "What - "

"Don't even bother trying to deny it, old man. I've seen your face when he comes in the room."

Methos flushed and dropped his head, staring intently at his bottle as he rubbed his fingers over the raised lettering. "He doesn't know, does he?"

Joe snorted. "Mac? You'd have to hit him over the head with a clue- by-four. Which might not be a bad idea."

Methos shook his head again. "I might have said something before, but not now. You know how Mac is - if he found out how I felt about him, on top of this, he'd probably insist on getting married or some such nonsense."

"Would that be such a bad idea?"

"Yes!" Methos said emphatically. "You know his history - can you honestly imagine MacLeod committing to one person - and a man at that? The romantic in him might be attracted by the idea, but the realist - " he shook his head. "And as for me, I've been married many times, but never to one of us."

"Why not?" Joe asked. "It can't be fear of commitment on your part - you were with the Horsemen for a thousand years, and I saw how you were with Alexa. Oh," Joe said suddenly as the light bulb went on. "I see. You're afraid that you wouldn't be able to walk away, even if it got bad."

Methos nodded, his eyes still on the bottle in his hands. "It took me a couple hundred years to leave the Horsemen, even though I lost the heart for that life long before Cassandra."

"Were you and Kronos - " Joe broke off uncertainly.

Methos snorted. "Hardly. I might have been crazy but I wasn't stupid. He had enough of a hold over my life without adding that to the mix."

"Care to talk about it?" Joe asked quietly.

"Not really." Methos drained the rest of his bottle and set it aside. "Suffice it to say that Kronos found me during a bad time in my life, got me out of a very bad situation. I was grateful, and angry at the world, and he gave me a focus for that rage. After the anger burned out of me, I stayed because I liked the challenge of plotting our next campaign. After that got old, after I got tired of all the death and destruction, I stayed because I couldn't just walk away. And because Kronos wouldn't let me - he always was a possessive bastard." He gave Joe a curious look. "Doesn't it bother you to hear this?"

"I'm not MacLeod," Joe said pointedly.

A slight smile touched Methos' lips. "No, you're not. Thanks, Joe."

Joe smiled. "What're friends for, huh? Speaking of which, you want another drink?"

"Tempting as that offer sounds," Methos said sarcastically, "I'll pass. In fact, I think I'll head home. It's been a hell of a day."

"Want me to call a cab?"

Methos shook his head as he stood up. "I'll walk. It's a nice night and I don't have far to go."

"Adam - "

"Don't lecture me, Joe. That's Mac's job." Joe laughed at that and said goodnight, and Methos made his way out onto the street.

He stood there for a long moment, enjoying the slightly chilly air after the overly warm bar, and tilted his head to look up at the sky. The city lights kept him from being able to see more than the brightest of the stars, but he still took comfort in the sight of them above him. Over five thousand years, the patterns in the sky above him had changed somewhat, but not nearly as much as the world or people around him. He found their presence comforting, a sort of touchstone, even if it made him feel incredibly lonely.

He sighed and shook himself out of his reverie. Somewhere nearby, just on the edge of his senses, was the infinitesimal tingle of Immortal presence, but it was far enough away that he wasn't worried. Pulling his coat closer around his body, he started walking in the direction of his flat, trying to think of nothing important. There was that special-order book he needed to pick up tomorrow, and he'd have to hunt up his spare keys tonight so that he could be out of there before Duncan showed up on his doorstep. And he needed to arrange for the things he'd put into storage in Seacouver to be shipped here -

The sudden flare of Immortal presence caught his attention just as a car screeched to a halt next to him. Methos spun, hand on his sword as he prepared to defend himself, and then his eyes widened as he recognized the driver.

"Julian?"

His old friend and former student was giving him a displeased look. "I just spent an interesting hour talking with your friend, MacLeod. Who, by the way, thinks you are safely tucked up at home. Fortunately, I know you better than that. Get in."

Methos sighed and sheathed his sword. "Julian - "

"I said get in! Now!"

Methos gave up and circled round to the passenger side, scowling at the other Immortal as he got in the car. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I was doing it for three thousand years before you were born." Julian just snorted at that and pulled away from the curb, heading for Methos' apartment.

And in the shadows of the street behind them, Duncan MacLeod returned his katana to its sheath, a frown on his face as he considered what he had just seen.

End of chapter six

************************

Julian followed Methos up to his flat and looked around the place curiously. "Not as nice as the last place I remember, but not bad."

"Thanks," Methos said ironically then, as Julian hung up his coat, "Make yourself at home - don't mind me. I certainly wasn't planning on going to bed anytime soon."

"Well, you should," Julian said, unperturbed. "You could use the rest."

"Don't you start in on me!" Methos warned. "I'm on a short fuse tonight - and what brings you here, anyways? Just in the neighborhood?"

"You might say that." Julian settled on the couch and looked up at his mentor. "I was visiting with your friend, MacLeod. Funny that you live in the same general neighborhood, isn't it?"

Methos met his friend's inquisitive eyes, and his own narrowed. "Is it? I moved here because it's close to Joe's club. And what were you and MacLeod discussing - the baby?" His voice was almost sneering. "The new heir to the MacLeods?"

"Actually, he talked about you," Julian said, not paying attention to Methos' bad mood. "He's worried about you, my friend."

Methos frowned. "Me? Why? What did you talk about?"

"Your health. Your safety. And walking home alone at this time of night wasn't exactly the smartest decision you could make."

Methos snorted. "Yeah, well, I seem to be making a lot of errors in judgment lately." He gestured towards his body. "Obviously."

"I agree that it's not like you to make such a drastic change in your life, and since you two obviously aren't a couple, would you mind telling me what happened?"

"What do you mean - what happened? Isn't it obvious? We shared a Quickening and then had sex. One month later I'm throwing up my guts and you're telling me the rabbit died. What don't you understand?"

"You're not impressing me, you know," Julian said mildly. "Unlike MacLeod, I've known you way too long to get caught by one of your tricks. So stop being such a snot, and sit down and talk to me."

Methos glared at him for a moment, then his ready sense of humor surfaced and he plopped down gracelessly on the couch next to Julian. "Damn, but it's good to see you again, Juls!"

"Flattery won't get you out of this. Come on, Methos. I want to know the whole story."

Methos leaned his head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "He came looking for me."

Julian stiffened. "MacLeod was Hunting you?"

Methos shook his head. "Another Immortal - Kalas - was hunting Methos. I was hidden away in the Watchers at the time - lead researcher on the Methos Chronicles - and Joe thought Kalas might come after 'Adam Pierson' for information, so he sent MacLeod to help me." A slow smile spread across his face. "He walked into my flat and he knew me, Julian."

"You mean he knew you were an Immortal."

Methos shook his head, still staring at the ceiling. "No, he knew I was Methos. He offered me his protection - I can't remember anyone else ever doing that. Of course, I said no. Then I ended up offering him my head."

Julian stared at him. "You can't be serious!"

"I am. Kalas was after me and I didn't want him to have me, so I offered my head to MacLeod. He turned me down, refused to let me die." He sighed. "I fell hard, Juls."

"I'm not surprised. He's quite charismatic." Julian got up and walked into the kitchen, bringing back a glass of juice for each of them. Methos accepted his with a grimace but sipped at it. "So why aren't the two of you shacked up together?"

"He doesn't feel that way about me," Methos said shortly.

"He obviously does or you wouldn't be in this 'interesting condition'."

Methos frowned. "Just because we did it once - under the influence of a shared Quickening - doesn't mean a thing. You know that the bond doesn't require a romantic connection between the two Immortals."

"But it helps."

"Believe me, Duncan MacLeod isn't looking for any kind of romantic relationship with me. The day before this happened, he was bouncing the springs with Cassandra, and this past month the lovely Amanda's been occupying his time."

Julian had stiffened at the mention of the witch. "Cassandra? She's not the one - "

Methos shook his head. "No. Another old friend - Kronos."

Julian swore. "I thought that bastard was dead."

"He is now," Methos said flatly. "They're all dead, all except me."

"Silas?"

"By my hand, at the same time that MacLeod dispatched Kronos."

"I'm sorry, my friend," Julian said sincerely. "I know that must have been hard for you to do." Methos nodded silently. "So it wasn't just a shared Quickening, it was a shared double Quickening?" Julian asked curiously. "I've never heard of one of those before now. I'd be interested in seeing what effect that has on - "

"Oh no, you don't!" Methos said quickly. "Find someone else to experiment on!"

Julian laughed. "You are such a big baby! All right, I'll keep my hands off - as long as you behave yourself. I've got a prescription for a vitamin supplement, and a diet plan I want you to follow, and I expect you in my office every other week."

Methos scowled. "I already promised you that. What do you want - a note signed in blood?"

"There's a thought," Julian said with a grin, then said soberly, "Methos, you need someone to support you during this. I'd really like you to work out whatever problem you have with MacLeod."

Methos' face closed abruptly. "None of your business, Julian."

"I'm making it my business," Julian said firmly. "For Gods' Sake, Methos, you don't have to tell the man that you love him, just let him give you the support he so desperately wants to give. And stop tying his nuts in a knot over how the baby came about."

"You aren't going to let go of this, are you?" Methos asked, a resigned tone in his voice. "If I promise to make nice with MacLeod, will you go away and let me get some sleep?"

Julian stood up, smiling. "All you had to do was ask." He went to the door and looked back at Methos. "I want to hear the locks turn when I close this door."

Methos rolled his eyes. "What is it with you two? Did you and Mac attend a special seminar at 'Overprotectors 'R Us'?"

"Just comes naturally," Julian said with a grin. "Remember, get that vitamin prescription filled in the morning, take it easy, and I'll call you with your appointment day and time."

"Yes, Mother," Methos said mockingly, then, as Julian started to leave, reached out to touch his arm. "Thanks, Julian. I really appreciate what you're trying to do."

"Don't mention it," Julian said, smiling, and squeezed Methos' hand. "Just wait till you get my bill and see what I charge for house calls."

Methos laughed and said a final good-night, locking the door securely behind the doctor. Feeling better than he had in days, he crawled into bed and fell asleep.

End of Chapter

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