Disclaimers:  In part 1.
Rated:  NC-17 for enthusiastic m/f sex and for, um, highly implied m/m sex?  Well, m/m fantasies?  Oh, just read it.  You'll know the good parts when you get there!

"Aidan.  We're here.  Wake up."  Duncan gently shook her shoulder, noticing that the collarbone no longer looked broken and the swelling in her hands had gone down dramatically.

"Hmm?  Oh, Duncan.  Where are we?"  She automatically pushed with one hand to straighten up in the seat. Not all the stress fractures had healed yet, and white agony shot across her arm as she drew a slow breath against it.  Her face shifted to an expressionless mask until she controlled the pain.

"My place.  Come on,  you need a shower and some food.  Your arms up to it?"

"For something as light as soap or my hair?  Yes."  She sat up more carefully this time, pulling up with belly muscles instead of arms, and opened the door of the vehicle.  Once at the dojo she waited for Duncan to let her in, all too aware that sweatpants didn't have pockets.

He followed with her duffel bag, opening the door for her and waving her up the stairs.  Aidan commented, "It's almost a pity Rich had a hot date tonight.  Wouldn't hurt him to see what can happen when you run into someone stronger than you are."

"All my film's in the freezer.  Sorry," came his sarcastic, irritated response.  As they stepped into the loft, Duncan set her duffel bag in the kitchen.  "Do you need help with the shower?"

"No, but may I borrow some dry sweats when I get out?"  Aidan carefully peeled her sweatshirt over her head and checked her arms; they only sparked now instead of looking like a Jacob's ladder.  "Well, that's healing nicely.  Good."

She glanced back up at Duncan, rueful and apologetic.  "I am sorry, Dhonnchaidh, both times I've taken a challenge in this town you've had to get me home again.  I don't usually have this problem, believe it or not."

"Aidan, I don't mind doing it; I hate that you need it.  Next time, I get the challenge, all right?"  Something in the way she had worded that nagged at him as he set out clean towels in the bathroom for her and started the hot water.  "Have you taken a challenge since I met you that I don't know about?"

Still dropping hair pins on the side of the sink, she replied without looking at him.  "Two young women in Toronto.  They were neither old nor good."

"I hate taking quickenings one after the other.  They leave me with a hell of a headache."  Duncan scooped up the damp sweats.  "All right, take your time.  We'll talk when you get out."  She nodded and stepped into the shower to adjust the water temperature.

Duncan dropped the sweats and her wet clothes in his washer, set it and made a mental note to turn it on when she got out.  After dropping a wool robe and some thick socks in the bathroom for her, he headed back into the kitchen, thinking and planning as he went.  Working quickly, he started some soup warming, lacing it liberally with spices and cooking wine, then heated water for tea.  Picking up the phone, he hit the speed dial for Joe's house.

"Dawson."

"Joe, it's Duncan.  Did you know there was an immortal in town, name of Ned White?  Had definitely seen one too many biker thug movies?"

"Yeah, I heard.  What about him?"  Dawson settled back in his chair, the new Easy Rawlins novel open across his lap.

"He should have stayed home.  Aidan took him in the rain about half an hour ago."

There was brief pause before Joe muttered, "I knew I should have gotten money on it."  While Duncan was still trying to sort that comment out, the mortal continued, "Right.  Did you see any other Watchers?"

Duncan laughed at the thought and kept mixing herbs for tea.  "Joe, I could barely see the fight and I was fifteen feet away.  They were fighting in the light from the Range Rover.  It looked like some of Connor's stories about fighting the Kurgan -- they just stood there slamming away at each other until she shammed exhaustion and gutted him."

Joe thought about that for a long second and frowned at the images his too-vivid imagination conjured.  "How convincing was it?"

Now it was Duncan's turn to pause.  "Too convincing.  She terrified me.  I thought she was going to lose her head.  Aidan's all right, though.  She'll be there in the morning."

Joe sighed.  "I take it she's not there?"

"She's soaking the aches out in the shower.  Stress fractures all along the hands and arms, some cracked ribs I think, and a pulled hamstring at the start.  Nothing to worry about now, Joe, she's fine."  Duncan pulled bread out of the fridge and started applying butter and garlic to it.

"Fine?  Saber and main gauche versus tulwar in the rain?  Jesus, MacLeod, tell her I said to use a claymore next time."  Joe knew he sounded peevish and irritable, but damn it, she looked too small to be taking on a bruiser like White.

"I'll tell her, Joe, but she used one of her old scimitars.  Trust me, I was glad, too.  Anyway, I figured you'd want to know what happened."  Finished with the bread, he wrapped it in aluminum foil and shoved it in the oven to heat.

"Yeah.  Thanks, Mac, I appreciate it.  I'll let you know what his Watcher thought happened, assuming the guy could even see anything.  Give her a hug for me if you get the chance, and tell her one of these days would she warn me when she's taking a challenge?  It would be a lot easier on my nerves than these, 'oh, by the way' conversations."

Duncan chuckled at the irritated tone of voice.  "Will do, Joe.  Hug first then scold.  Got it."

"Hey, you might try it sometime yourself.  Makes differences of opinion a lot easier to get through."  Joe chuckled on the other end of the phone.  "Thanks for the call, Mac."

"Take care, Joe.  And you're welcome.  By the way, what bet did you neglect to nail down?"

After a long silence at the other end of the line, Joe chuckled, sounding a bit guilty.  "I looked this guy's record up earlier this evening when I found out he was in town.  His Watcher said he had a temper, a foul mouth and no brain. Thought maybe I could get odds on him living through the week in Seacouver, between you, Rich, and Aidan.  Sorry, Mac."

To Joe's surprise, Duncan laughed.  "You know, if I'd known about it, I'd have given you some money to put down on that bet.  Just don't let me hear you bet against us!  Have a good night, Joe."

After he hung up, Duncan looked around the kitchen and decided soup and bread would do, as tired as she was. With the free time until the food was ready, though the Scot found himself considering another phone call.  On the one hand it was....  God, five AM in Paris.  On the other, Duncan knew he wouldn't want to hear about a challenge to a friend from gossip and have to wonder.  The Watcher grapevine might well reach Methos there before Duncan woke up in the Seattle morning.

"Oh, why not?  It'll make up for some of the times I've come in and found a new roommate all of a sudden."  Pouring some of the hot water into a small teapot, the Highlander let some Darjeeling steep for himself while he dialed another number from memory.

After three rings, a harsh, annoyed voice spoke in French.  "Someone had better be dead, or whoever you are, you will be."

Duncan grinned at that and sat down on one of the stools.  In English he replied, "Well, I was calling to tell you someone was dead and you shouldn't worry about it -- but if you really don't want details, I'll hang up."

A trenchant silence sat on the other end of the line.  After a moment, Methos commented, "MacLeod, it's five in the bloody morning; I went to sleep an hour ago.  Subtlety is better suited to story-telling.  Give me some facts.  Who's out of the Game?"

Duncan sobered at the controlled tone of voice.  "Adam.  Take it easy.  Aidan's fine, I wouldn't break bad new to you like that.  She took a challenge tonight and won, but it got nasty.  I wanted to call and tell you before you heard anything from the other Watchers in Paris."

"Mac, I'm out of the Watchers, remember?  I'm the one who just woke up."  Methos sat up in bed, settling pillows behind himself, and started to wake up again.  Talking to the Highlander was an unexpected pleasure.  They didn't call each other often, not even for things like this.

"I know you're out, but are you really telling me they don't stop by the bookstore occasionally?  You know, ask you to track down rare volumes for them, and maybe trade shop talk and office gossip?"  The Highlander tried to make sure his voice conveyed the grin his friend couldn't see.

"I suppose I could tell you, but neither of us would believe it.  How outrageous a fight was this, MacLeod, that they would tell me about it?"  Methos kept his tone easy and ironic.  The Scot would never draw out a conversation like this if there were bad news involved.

Duncan replied calmly, "I'll give you the details, then I'll tell you the joke.  A new immortal named Ned White came to challenge at the dojo; Aidan and I think he'd maybe been in the Game two years.  Aidan was there, I wasn't, she took the fight.  He used tulwar; she pulled out an old scimitar for this.  They pounded on each other in the rain for a while, then she managed to win."

"In the rain, MacLeod?  What was she thinking?"  Methos sat bolt upright, appalled.  "Managed to win?  Come on, Highlander, out with it or I tell Joe that you've always secretly loathed haggis."

"Well, it wasn't storming when we set the time for the fight.  And managed to win covers it; she slipped the first time she tried to maneuver.  It came down to brute force until she deliberately went down to make him change his attack angle.  Then she came up off her knees, gutted him and took his head."

Duncan paused and waited for Methos to start to speak before cutting over his voice to say, "And haggis I can take or leave, but I'll admit to actually liking Yorkshire pudding."

Methos smiled on the other end of the line, but part of his mind was supplying the details behind and around Duncan's words.  "And the joke?"

"Picture this.  The guy looked like a Hell's Angel going to seed who'd stumbled into a punk rock beauty school..."

"The image alone is enough to make you nauseous," Methos commented.

"... and he came to Seacouver, my dojo, to challenge Connor."  Mirth ran through Duncan's voice, his sense of humor surfacing again now that it was over.

Methos chuckled despite himself.  "Connor's only been in New York, what, two centuries now?  I take it the man was a poster child for brain donations?"

"He was walking proof that immortality goes to morons and geniuses alike.  So how's Paris?"

"Hot, damp, dark.  Seacouver?"

The wry, sardonic voice on the other end of the line eased some of the worry in Duncan and he replied in the same tones, "Cooler, damp, also dark.  Thunderstorm in progress.  Been stocking in some beer.  You coming over here any time in the next month?"

"No, I don't think so.  A little too far out of my apparent means, MacLeod.  I'm just a book-dealer with a taste for jazz and blues who occasionally has good months.  You heading over here this fall or did they talk you into teaching classes again?"

Duncan settled back against the counter and poured a mug of the sweet, strong tea.  "No, I told them my other job needed some attention.  I'll be over in about a month, work on some acquisitions for Connor's store, check out a few things I'm interested in.  Gina and Robert want me to come appraise their estate for tax purposes.  That'll take a month at least, and they have to pay me well or the French government won't believe a form of it."

Methos chuckled at the idea.  "Let me know when you're coming in and I'll pick you and Joe up at the airport.  But I am not going near Gina de Valicourt.  No way, MacLeod.  The woman's dangerous."

"Of course Gina's dangerous, she's Italian and female. As if you can talk, after training Aidan.  Besides, Gina likes you.  She told me so."  He sipped at the tea, smiling.

"What do you expect, MacLeod, I'm likable.  It's a gift.  But she's still unpredictable and dangerous; she's Italian and female.  By the way, you might want to consider doing something like upgrading Joe's ticket when you head over.  Coach plays hell with his stumps on that Atlantic flight, but he'll never admit it."  Methos went ahead and sat up, scooting back against the headboard of the bed as Duncan thought on the other end of the line.

"Is he having trouble with his legs, money, or both?"

"Not trouble, exactly, just a temporary inconvenience.  Fair chunk of money the Watchers owe him is tied up in paperwork, so he's got a cash flow problem.  I think they see him as too radical for their tastes, and hope to apply a subtle pair of thumbscrews."

Duncan snorted.  "The only thing that'll do is piss him off into quitting again.  Idiots."  He heard the water cut off in the shower and reached out to stir the soup again.  "Shall I let you get some sleep, or did you want to say hi to Aidan?  She's getting out of the shower."

"She's over there?  Or are you at her place?"

"We're at my place.  It was closer, and I knew what everything in my refrigerator was."

The familiar sardonic tone came through loud and clear.  "Nice to know she still doesn't eat before fights.  Just as well, even we can be inconvenienced by peritonitis.  But I suppose I can stay awake for a while yet and talk to her at least."

"Good, I'd hate to have to wipe up blood when she catches up with us in Paris.  Now that that's settled, what have you managed to steal from estates lately?  Pardon me, acquire at discounted prices?"  Duncan grinned at the thoughtful pause on the other end of the line.

"Not stolen, Mac, the police frown on that.  Although I did buy a Czech Book of Hours from Amanda, absolutely gorgeous illumination.  Should be able to turn a lovely profit on it after I validate its origins."

Aidan heard Duncan's chuckle before she came through the bathroom door, and smelled tomatoes, beef and garlic.  "Oh, you mean after you decide what country not to sell it in?  Yeah, I bet you will.  She does acquire the most gorgeous stuff."

"Practice, MacLeod, practice.  Other than that, I have my eye on a York estate sale coming up in a couple weeks, and Rich bought three boxes of books from a college student while he was here.  I found an autographed first edition Mark Twain, and I'm only partway through the first box.  He does have good instincts for this sort of thing."

Duncan saw Aidan settle onto the stool next to him and poured hot water over the tea he had put together for her.  "Yeah, but not for cars.  Motorcycles, sure.  So, did you want to talk to the wet rat over here?"

Aidan thumbed her nose at him.  "Wretch, rapscallion, perfidious Highland kern.  Who is it?"

On the phone, Methos commented, "No, MacLeod, that's drowned rat.  Although with that nose of hers, maybe it should be drowned cat?"

"A lot of room you have to talk about noses--"

"Oh, it must be Methos," Aidan broke in.  Duncan grinned and nodded at her.

"Cheap shot, and predictable besides.  Hand her the phone, would you?"  Methos took the comment in stride; his nose had always been his most recognizable feature.

"I'll let you know when I'm headed that way.  Here you go."

Methos hastily called, "MacLeod!"

The Scot put the phone back to his ear, halted in mid-motion.  "Yeah?"

"Thank you for calling.  I appreciate it."

Duncan shook his head, bemused.  "What was I going to do, let you hear the story from someone else later and worry?  Give me some credit.  But you're welcome."

Aidan took the phone, commenting, "He doesn't take thank you's very well, does he?  How are you, love?  Why are you awake?  It's what, five in the morning there?"

"I'm talking to you, therefore I'm awake.  And I see you can still do timetable conversions."  Despite the sarcastic comments, he couldn't keep the pleasure out of his voice.

"Of course I can.  I learned time-keeping earlier in my life than you did, oh most..."

"Finish that and I go back to sleep, Edana," he growled.

"...stimulating, engrossing 5K immortal I've ever met," she concluded.  She watched as Duncan vanished briefly, but the sound of the washing machine coming on told her where he'd gone.

Despite himself, Methos laughed.  "And how many have you met?"

"You.  But you're definitely in the lead by a nose."

Duncan was grinning and shaking his head when he reappeared and started putting out mugs and a plate for the garlic bread.  He poured Aidan a mug of the herb tea and offered her some honey for it.  She dumped a spoonful in and stirred without dropping a word of the conversation.

"Irish wench, where did you learn manners?"

"You.  Who did you think I was going to blame?  We're running up Duncan's phone bill, love.  I'm fine, it's over, I won.  You both worry too much.  I won't even sleep poorly from this one.  There was almost nothing to him except a love for cheap beer and free women."

"All right, Edana.  Sleep well, take care of Duncan.  Tell him I said to take care of you.  Will you still be over in October?"  Methos settled back under the covers, wanting to go back to sleep with her voice still echoing in his ears.

"Well, I'm about two-thirds of the way through the translations and it's still -- knock on wood--" and she did, "going strongly.  I had hoped to be there in early October, but I'm now betting on late."

"We'll figure out then who stays where, I suppose.  Any luck with Duncan?  Or have you declined the chase out of some misguided nobility?"  Amused interest threaded his voice.

"None so far, except Amanda gave me her blessing for the project."  Aidan watched Duncan choke on his tea and grinned.  "I'm considering it.  Misguided nobility really isn't my bag, anyway.  What have you been up to along such lines?"

"Not a thing.  Why should I?  You and Duncan are there, dearest, why try for less than the best when you'll be here in another couple months?"  He yawned widely.

"Sorry, shouldn't be keeping you awake.  Sleep, magister meus, dream well.  Duncan will be over in a few weeks.  Did you want to say good night before I let you go back to sleep?"

Methos purred quietly at the thought.  "Only fair, he woke me up.  Sleep well yourself.  Call me Wednesday?"

"As always, love."  Aidan handed the phone back to Duncan.  "I'll get whatever it is out of the oven.  Tell him good night so that he'll sleep, would you, Dhonnchaidh?"

Duncan took the phone, amused and protective all at once. "Good night, old friend, sleep well."

"And you, Highlander."  Duncan didn't understand the next phrase.  After Methos hung up, the Scot turned around.  "Aidan, what does this mean?" and repeated it as carefully as he could.

She reached over and dropped the bread into the bowl.  "He never taught me Phoenician, Dhonnchaidh, I have no idea.  Oh, and I'm supposed to tell you to take care of me.  He gave me the same instructions regarding you, I might add."

He refilled both mugs of tea and took those and the soup over to the couch.  Aidan promptly curled up, sock feet tucked under legs, and took her soup gratefully.  "Thank you, by the way.  This is wonderful."

"You haven't even tried it yet," he pointed out dryly.

"It's here and warm, far better than I'd have done on my own.  I'll admit, if I'd gone home, I might well have crawled into bed without so much as a shower much less dinner.  I can't do that here, I'd feel terrible about doing that to your sheets."

"You look like a waif, you realize."  In Duncan's bathrobe, which swallowed her shorter, slighter form, and with a large towel wrapped around her head in a turban, she did look overwhelmed.  While the deep red bathrobe suited Duncan's olive skin beautifully, it lent Aidan's skin an additional, unnecessary pallor.

"Hmm, I don't feel like one.  And the soup is excellent, thank you."  Aidan dropped bread into the mug to drink down with the soup, and sipped at her tea.  "Ah, Gods, another herbalist.  What all do you have in this?  I can taste mint and lemon balm."

He shrugged slightly and replied, "You tell me.  You're doing fine so far."

Aidan sipped again more judiciously and nodded.  "Hops, and some catnip in there, too, I think.  Lends an odd flavor to the mint.  And some rosemary as well.  Did I miss anything?"

"Not a thing.  Drink up, you've a pot of it to go through.  I'm not used to seeing immortals try to go into shock, so you're going to have to finish all of it before I give you your keys back."

Aidan drained the soup quickly, then poured the tea down in one long swallow.  She came up onto her knees and leaned over him.  "Duncan?"

He put his mug on the table, then set hers next to it. "Yes?"

"Would you mind terribly if I didn't want to go home tonight?"  She hadn't touched him, quite carefully.

"What did you have in mind?"  Try as he would, he couldn't quite keep the corners of his mouth from twitching as the smile threatened to break through.

"Staying here.  Sleeping eventually."

"Aidan, this isn't because Methos is out of town, is it?"

One eyebrow went up, incredibly disdainful.  "Do you really think so?"

"No.  And it's not just the quickening?"

An exasperated sigh stirred the curling hair around his throat.  "I do know about masturbation, MacLeod.  Discovered it all by myself back before I met Methos.  Even have 'toys' at home for those times when I don't have a convenient man for whatever reason.  Next silly question?"

"Do you want any more tea first?"  Brown eyes gleamed with mischief and Aidan stared at him, then laughed in delight.

"Oh, beautifully done, you wretch.  Yes, I'll drink some more of your carefully mixed decoction, but was that a 'yes' or am I going home?"

Duncan drank down his own soup.  "Shall I pour you another mug of tea to bring to bed?"

"Highlander, quit--"  Aidan lost the rest of the word as Duncan moved forward and kissed her.  He tried to start out gentle, but found that Aidan had very different plans.  Her mouth never left off exploring his as her hands moved under the waist of his sweater.  Strong, callused hands roamed across his skin, startling to him somehow.  He'd made love with any number of female immortals, but none of them had been as strong as Aidan or as serious about weapons training.  Except for the size, her hands felt like a man's, which he found surprisingly erotic.  At the same time, her hips moved against him in a constant, almost unconscious, rhythmic motion that she seemed unaware of.  He drank her whimpering groans with his mouth, as he pulled her more closely against himself.

Pulling free of her mouth, Duncan whispered, " 'Convenient', hmm?  Shall we go to bed while we can still move?"

Aidan shook her head, almost incoherent with pleasure.  The grey eyes had dilated, pupils huge as she stared at him from a flushed face, lips swollen from his kiss.  "Never make it.  Love, please, now."

The sight of her arousal, knowing how much of it was his doing, chased thoughts from his mind.  Like her, his only goal was to have her legs wrapped around his, her warm slickness sheathing him as soon as possible.

Aidan shifted her hands to the waistband of his pants and paused.  "Dhonnchaidh?"  For just a second she sounded very uncertain, a tone of voice that actually fit her apparent age.  "Are you sure this is...?"

The Scot caressed her cheek with one hand, shifting mental gears and reining in his desire.  "We're still going to be friends in the morning, right?"

"Yes, of course we are."  Warm, large hands covered hers and she shivered at the sensation.

"Then I'm sure.  But are you sure you don't want to try to make it to the bed?"  Both of them looked at the bed, at each other, and chuckled.

"Later."  The robe fell open as she untied the belt, and she threw it over the end of the couch impatiently, sending her hair towel after it.  "Aren't you wearing too much?"

Duncan undid the button of his pants, then pulled the zipper down slowly, watching Aidan's face.  The leisurely movement held her complete attention and he wondered how far her control would last.  Her next words told him.

"Dhonnchaidh, we're going to talk about this later."  As he glanced up to see her expression, she pounced on him.  Damp hair swung forward, sliding over his sweater as she grabbed both of his wrists and pulled them up over his head.  Startled, Duncan let her, and Aidan shifted swiftly to hold them with one strong hand.  With the other hand, she yanked the sweater up over his head but not off his arms, confining him in cotton.  Immediately, she pulled his jeans down off his straining erection.

"Aidan?"  His voice was surprised -- breathless and low, seduction in sound.  Huge grey eyes watched him, her smile as sensual as his tone.  He gasped and arched up as she eased briefs off, pressing them down to join the pants around his thighs.  Duncan only realized she had trapped him when she moved forward and began to carefully settle her hips down, guiding him into her with her free hand.

"Isn't this the part where I promise to be gentle?"  Her low, sultry voice poured over him as surely as her heat encircled just the head of his cock.  Duncan groaned and held onto his control tenaciously as her other hand come back up to encircle his wrists, the skin of their arms separated by the fabric of his sweater.  He watched her face as she caught her lower lip between her teeth, concentrating fiercely as she tried to draw this out a little despite the insistent arousal from the aftermath of the quickening.

That incredibly slow motion downward tantalized both of them; Aidan gave a little purring sigh when she finally settled against his hips, impaled to the hilt.  Leaning forward, she nipped at Duncan's lower lip, but pulled back as he tried to capture her mouth for a kiss.  She felt incredibly tight around him, hot and slick and already quivering as she held back her first orgasm to take him with her.

"Aidan."  Duncan groaned her name as she eluded him and he felt her rise again, almost as slowly as she had moved down; this time she tightened internal muscles as she went.  The pressure and heat combined to drive him half-mad.  In the next few minutes, Duncan decided half a dozen times that he was going to beat her for this when he got the chance, and forgave her almost as often.  A small part of his mind concluded once that he would have to ask Aidan where she had learned those hip motions, but most of him was entirely distracted with sensation.

Her hands wrapped around his wrists, using leverage and weight to keep him pinned.  Teeth, tongue and lips drove him half-mad, nipping and kissing at sensitive spots under the jaw, beneath the ear, along the corded tendons of his throat, returning every so often to his mouth to steal the breath from both of them.  Duncan's control frayed slowly along the edges and he could feel hers going as well, the disciplined motions of her hips speeding up, her weight shifting just enough to let him move as well.

Aidan arched up and back as she came, internal muscles tightening around Duncan's cock as she cried out.  The feel of her cool, damp hair swinging across bare thighs drew a sharp, startled gasp from him.  Duncan yanked one arm out of the sweater and reached for her as his hands came free, one hand moving to tweak a nipple, the other searching between their joined bodies until he found and stroked at her clit.  Aidan gasped and her legs tightened around his hips.  He thrust upward, strong legs taking her weight and lifting it as he drove into her again and again until he came as well, his cry melding with hers.

When he could think again, Aidan lay across his chest, still wrapped around him and purring softly.  Somehow he had wrapped his arms around her, so his sweater lay draped across her lower back and hips, and across his thighs.  He vaguely noticed that her damp hair kept shifting with her breathing, but only because it tickled.  She nipped at his shoulder, using teeth, and he came fully awake again.

"Damn!  Aidan, quit that, you're drawing blood!"

"We'll live," she muttered and licked gently at it by way of apology.

"Yes, but still!"  He twisted his face into the side of her neck and bit hard at the juncture where shoulder and neck met until she gasped and abruptly sat up.

"Duncan!  Quit that!  Can we do something sane, like get your clothes off and go to bed?"

Warm hands cupped the sides of her face.  "I don't know."  Laughter rumbled deep in his chest as he asked, "Do I get to help a bit more this time?"

"Yes, love, certainly."  Aidan moved carefully, legs a bit stiff from staying in that position for too long.  Once off the couch, she smiled and eased his pants off the rest of the way.  Duncan swung up to a seated position and pulled his sweater completely off, then swatted her as she commented, "Besides, I thought every man liked to have his partner take charge occasionally?"

"Oh, yeah.  I was just thinking," and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "that I've always heard that turnabout is fair play!"  He scooped her up before she could squirm away and carried her, shrieking and laughing, to the bed.

"Dhonnchaidh!  Put me down!"

"Okay."  He shrugged, face set in a mock-disappointed look that couldn't hold back the grin, and dropped her onto the bed.  Before she could squirm off, the Scot landed next to her and pinned her with one arm.  "You're down.  Anything else you wanted?"

"MacLeod!  You--"  Aidan abandoned words and launched a counter-attack.  She never bothered to figure out what had happened, but somehow he won the wrestling match (not that she had wanted the victory) and her hands ended up tied over her head with a sash.  She heard a muttered comment in Gaelic that it was only fair, after what she had done to him.  After that, neither of them was much interested in fighting.  It was amazing to Duncan how much she could manage without her hands.  Equally amazing to Aidan were some of the things Duncan had stashed around to use with his hands.

Sensualist that he was, Duncan drew this time out as much as he could.  Both of them lay exhausted at the last, muscles still quivering from release and purring quietly against each other as he reached up and untied her hands.  Aidan murmured almost to herself, "Gods, I wonder which of you will exhaust the other?"

"Hmm?  Aidan, what?"

She reached a long, lazy arm down to pull the covers up over them as sweat-soaked skin began to chill.  "Just that both you and Methos like to draw out foreplay until your partner's ready to collapse.  Wondering which of you will wear the other out."

Duncan stiffened for a moment then began stroking her shoulder and back as she curled against him.  Aidan forced herself to stay awake, promising herself she could sleep late tomorrow.  This timing was perfect and too important to miss.

"Aidan, what are you talking about?"

A calm voice, she noticed, and still quiet.  Good.  "You and Methos.  You love each other; is there some reason you shouldn't take him to bed?"

"Other than the fact that he's male?"  But Duncan remembered the kiss he had given Methos two months ago, just before his flight was called, and wondered if that was still reason enough, or if it ever really had been.

"How about a good reason?  Do you love him?"

"What do you--"  A strong hand covered his mouth, gently.

"Let's try a vaguely Socratic method, shall we?  I'll ask questions, you answer.  And Duncan?  Give me the first answer you think of, not the one you come up with after you think about it."  She removed her hand and propped up on one elbow to watch him, seeing wide brown eyes and that mobile mouth gone tense.

"All right.  Ask away."

"Easy, love.  I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm trying to keep you from hurting yourself.  Listen to me.  Do you love Methos?"

"What do you mean by love?"

A quiet sigh told Duncan that question had hurt.  "Can you stand the thought of him in pain, writhing with it, pale and clenched around it?"

The involuntary flinch of his muscles gave her the non-verbal answer, but she watched him with grey eyes that wrung the word out of him in the lamplight.  "No."

"Do you want him to be happy?"

"Yes, I do.  But you aren't talking about a sympathy fuck."  He used the profanity deliberately, to see what she'd say.

"No, I'm not.  Dhonnchaidh, you wouldn't take a lover who didn't interest you, who didn't meet your standards.  From what you and Rich have told me about Tessa, your standards are pretty high.  You have a friend you love, who does meet your standards, and who does arouse you.  Doesn't he?"

"Aidan, I--"  Duncan blushed at the thought and was surprised to realize that he was blushing.

"Duncan, close your eyes for a moment.  Please.  Shut the world out and listen to my voice, try to fall into what I describe.  Do this for me.  Please?"

The Scot sighed and closed his eyes.  Surely whatever she had in mind couldn't be worse than the questions.

"Pretend it's early evening and you're stretched out on the couch, comfortable and content.  No one's after your head, none of your friends need help of any kind, you have no obligations for the evening.  Beethoven's playing on the stereo, the Moonlight Sonata.  Warm, strong hands are rubbing out your hands for you, working up the forearms where you're sore from katas, up over the biceps and triceps, smoothing down the cords in your shoulders.  Smooth, oiled hands, soothing your back, rubbing down your sides.

"Imagine those same skilled hands relaxing your feet, settling all the small bones back into place, easing all the tension in all those muscles.  Feel those hands moving up your calves, relaxing your legs, digging into the hamstring, rubbing out your muscles.  Can you feel it, Dhonnchaidh?"

He nodded, already relaxing as meditation practices automatically eased muscles as she described it.  Aidan watched narrow-eyed, but no trace of her intent study reached her voice.

"Nice strong hands, digging into knots and unlocking the tension, then rubbing in long, slow strokes until there's nothing in the touch but pleasure.  Feel those same strong hands rubbing across your buttocks, easing all the little places that stay sore after a long run, keeping the touch completely professional.  Feel good, Dhonnchaidh?"

"Mmm-hmm."  She could feel him almost purring against her and knew she had his complete attention.

"Good.  Now, imagine a warm body settling near you, that same hand pressing you onto your side as a warm mouth licks along your neck, nibbles just under the jaw.  Think about the same mouth descending straight down your chest, teasing your nipples, licking along your belly, until it works its way down to your groin, going down on you.  Think about opening your eyes to see dark hair and pale skin moving on you, feel a talented mouth licking and tasting you."  She could feel his cock twitching against her side as immortal recovery time began to ready him again.

"Dhonnchaidh, can you see it?"

"God, yes."  He almost moaned it, eyes still closed, his attention focused solely on her words.

"It's not me, love, it's Methos' hair under your hands, his mouth hot and wet around you, his hands wrapped around your thighs."  If anything, Duncan got even harder at the thought.

"Do you want him in your bed, Dhonnchaidh?  Your body does."

Duncan shuddered against her, then whispered, "Aidan, please."

Strong arms wrapped around the Scot and pulled him against her body.  "Do you want to be his lover, Duncan?  You don't have to answer me, but you do have to answer yourself and soon.  You're going to Paris, love, don't tell me you're going to avoid him.  It's not in you to hurt him to save yourself pain."

"God, woman, are you ever wrong?"

"All the time, but never about the important things.  You've never taken a male lover, have you?"

Silence answered that, then, "No.  I haven't."

"Is it frightened you are, then?"  There was no condemnation in her voice, only sympathy, and her hands worked steadily along knots of tension in his shoulders.

Duncan lay silent against her for a long time, then rolled away.  "I need to go run or do katas."

Aidan lay on her back in the bed and watched him get up and pull his jeans back on, but he only sat back down on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.  He fell back on the bed at last and pillowed his head on her stomach.  "What am I going to do, Aidan?"

She ran her fingers through his hair, separating sweat-soaked tangles.  "What do you want to do, dearheart?  Not your body, you."

"I don't...."  He fell silent, then confessed, "I want him.  I don't care that he's male, but I don't know what I'm going to do.  I don't know what to do, Aidan."

She raised a sardonic eyebrow, glad he couldn't see her face.  In a credible imitation of David Ogden Stiers, she commented, "The usual thing.  Flowers, chocolates, promises you don't intend to keep...."  Dropping back into her normal tones, Aidan continued, "Hmm, strike that last.  You aren't the type.  Duncan, has it occurred to you that you could try kissing the man and see what happens?  He would be perfectly happy to show you what to do.  Hell, he'd be happy to tell you what to do and play demonstration model!"

That finally brought a chuckle out of Duncan and Aidan relaxed a bit.  Still laughing, he said, "God, I hope so.  But Aidan--  You've been implying he wants me.  How do you know?  He's never said a thing, or made even a subtle pass. "

Aidan snorted at that.  "Oh, right, Duncan.  Tell me another one.  Don't be such an idiot, man.  I've watched you two sitting and talking over beers and a chess board. That kind of intent interest is unmistakable.  You two have been circling each other the entire time I've known you, including when Methos was living with me that last week.  Besides, he told me."

Now Duncan choked.  "Excuse me?"

She shrugged, knowing he'd feel the motion through her body.  "I asked."

The Scot rolled over, coming up on his elbows to stare at her.  "My God, you have the damnedest ideas of pillow talk!"

"How do you know it was pillow talk?"  Aidan favored him with a completely bland expression as she pushed a stray lock of hair off her face.

"Was it?"  The dry tone of his voice brought a reluctant grin.

"Well -- yes.  Actually, bath talk, but why be picky?"

He rolled back onto his back, using her as a pillow again.  "In that bath of yours, I suspect anything gets discussed."

"You certainly spent enough time in Japan. The next time we spar you need to come soak with me.  Are you changing the subject?"

The sigh told her that answer.  "No, just thinking.  What do I do?"

"Gods, man, I think you'd try to discuss pantomime to death!  What would you do if you were interested in a woman?  It's not that different.  You want a chance to get him alone and make your intentions clear, hopefully while he's in the right frame of mind, yes?"

"You're saying I should take him to dinner or something?"

Aidan chuckled softly.  "Not unless you plan on molesting him in public.  Do you act so differently in Paris than here?  Invite him over and cook dinner for him.  Gods know he gets tired of cooking -- he's only been doing it for five thousand years.  Besides, he won't pass up a free meal, much less your cooking!"

"He eats his way through my refrigerator every time he's in town, he's almost as bad as Rich."

She could feel his muscles relaxing against her as Duncan reached his peace with this decision.  "Rich doesn't drink quite as much beer.  Less practice."

"Good point.  You know, Aidan, most women don't seduce a man and then matchmake him for someone else before morning."

She laughed at the wry tone of his voice.  "Well, if I was most women, I wouldn't be in your bed, now would I?  And turnabout is definitely fair play.  You scolded me when I was being a fool about love; I'm just returning the favor."  One hand stroked lovingly across his cheek to take any sting out of her words.

"Besides," she continued, "pointing out the obvious is not matchmaking.  Speaking of which, you do realize you're going to have to make the first move?"

"I am?"  He thought about that for a second, then sighed.  "Yeah, if he waited that long for you, he'll wait for me, too, won't he?"

"Oh, Dhonnchaidh, you have no idea.  The man will wait until he's sure that it's what you want and that you understand what you're asking.  Much though it may pain you, I think you're going to have to be blatant, o subtle one."  She dodged as he tried to swat her, and the tension somehow evaporated in a tickle match which she won only by being less ticklish.

* * * *

Rich distinctly felt Aidan's presence as well as Duncan's as the elevator headed up to the loft.  Hers was always distinctive, and the Highlander's was as familiar to Rich as his faded blue-jeans.  Damn, those two were up late.  Maybe they'd gotten some movies?  Stormy night like this, that was the only good thing to be doing.  Rich had waited out the worst of the rain at Joe's himself before riding back to the loft to get some sleep.

As he pulled the elevator grate up, he started to call out a hello until he realized most of the lights were off and so was the television.  Looking around, he saw Aidan crouched naked on the far side of the bed holding a dagger.  Duncan stood by the other side of the bed, katana out... and a few other things as well.

"Thought you usually wore your shorts to bed, Mac?"  Rich couldn't resist the comment, a grin breaking across his face as he watched Aidan stand back up, completely unembarrassed by her nudity.

"I distracted him a bit.  Gods, Duncan, where in the nine hells is my sword?"

Duncan put his katana down and sighed, "In the kitchen with your duffel bag.  We both forgot.  Sorry, Rich, should've locked the door to give you some warning."

"Hey, no problem.  Did I interrupt anything or just wake you up?"

Aidan stalked to the kitchen to get her sword and called over her shoulder, "Woke us up."

Rich eyed them both and asked, "Do  I need to find somewhere else to crash?"

"Gods, no, Rich!  You live here.  Do you want me to leave?"  She moved back toward them, sword sheath slung casually over one shoulder and hip-length hair pouring in a dark mass down her chest.

"Nah, I'm gonna get some sleep myself.  Sorry, didn't know you two were...."  The younger immortal ran out of words as he worked very hard at keeping his gaze on Aidan's face.  Rich wouldn't have minded giving her the long look that body was worth, but he hadn't been invited and he wanted her respect very badly.

Duncan sighed, tying the sash on his robe.  "Yeah, well, before tonight we weren't."

Aidan looked at them both and smiled.  "I don't think any of us really want to deal with this at two in the morning.  Shall I make dinner tonight and we can talk?"

"Me, turn down your cooking?  Who are you kidding?  Sounds great.  See you later this morning, folks."  Rich strode off to his room, trying not to crack up where they could hear him.  Leave it to Duncan to apologize for having a woman in the loft.  So he and Aidan had just become lovers tonight?  Definitely a good time for Rich to take a short road trip, maybe down to Mount Hood, or do a run down to that bookstore in Portland for Aidan....

* * * *

Duncan walked into Aidan's kitchen area, aware that he had at least thirty minutes before Rich got there.  She glanced over at the elevator, nodded and smiled when she saw him, and stirred the soup again.  He took the glass of wine she offered and the kiss, drawing it out as she wrapped her arms around him, one hand playing in the hair at the nape of his neck.  Finally he drew back and smiled at her, still holding the Irish woman loosely around the waist.

He smiled, pleasure dancing in dark brown eyes and along the edges of his mouth as he said, "Hello, yourself.  I take it we're still friends?"

Grey eyes lit up with an incandescent smile as she replied, "What, I should hold a wonderful night against you?  Of course we're still friends.  I don't think either of us is looking for this to be a 'love of my life' relationship, but is there some reason we can't be friends who enjoy each other in bed?"

"No reason at all. But what makes you think I'm not looking for a lasting relationship?"

Aidan tightened her arm around him.  "I don't think it's what you're looking for with me.  We're friends and I hope we always will be.  But while the chemistry is wonderful and I love you dearly, Duncan MacLeod, I'm not in love with you.  Nor you with me.  Not right now.  In another year, another decade -- well, who knows?"

The slow smile on Duncan's face warmed Aidan and comforted her as well.  "I...."  He fell silent when the words wouldn't come, then settled for, "Yes."  His arms tightened around her waist, and he kissed her temples, one after the other.  "Thank you for worrying."

"I said I love you, beautiful idiot man.  That means I want you happy.  And we're both in love with Methos; discord between us would make his life... difficult."  She shrugged against him, head comfortably settled against his shoulder.  "How soon will Rich be here?"

"Another thirty minutes or so, maybe forty.  Why?"

"There was something I wanted to give you before he gets here, and something I wanted to ask you, also before he gets here.  Hold on, I'll get the present."  She handed him the spoon, and Duncan went to check on the soup.  It was a thick chicken gumbo and the rice was steaming nearby on the counter.  Aidan came back from her desk and handed him a gold and green gift bag.

"What is it?"

Grey eyes dancing, Aidan took a sip of her wine and replied, "A bag, MacLeod.  Try opening it.  Try unwrapping the contents."

The Scot muttered a few choice comments in Gaelic, perfectly aware that she would understand all of them, and began to excavate the bag, delving for presents.  Once the gaily colored tissue paper was unwrapped, Mac found first a bottle of sandalwood-scented massage oil.  The next package revealed another container of unscented massage oil.  The largest parcel turned out to be a book.  Duncan turned it over to see what it was, and had to open it to the first page, because Aidan had bought a fabric book-cover and wrapped the book, cover and all.

What he read brought a flush to his face as Duncan began to blush from forehead and ears all the way down to his shirt collar -- which was as far as Aidan could see, since he wore a long-sleeve shirt.  "Aidan, what is this?"

She tilted her head to one side, a bit nervous, but also mischievous.  "Well, I thought you might be more comfortable with the idea of a male lover if you had some idea what to expect and a chance to see what you like.  So I got you some presents."

"The Gay Kama Sutra?"  His voice was startled, incredulous and embarrassed. His blush became even more red as he realized why she had put two different oils in the bag.

Now Aidan had that half-amused smile on her face that meant she was controlling her own emotions.  "I still remember how nervous I was the first time I went to bed with another woman.  We react the same way to some things, I thought--"

"What?  That I need an instruction manual?  I have tried a few things before, I've been sleeping with Amanda off and on for three hundred years or so."  Then Duncan saw the set of her shoulders and realized several things about Aidan's intentions on this, not least that she had meant well and was worried she had offended him.  He reached out and hugged her.  "Thank you.  I'm sorry, I--"

"No, I'm sorry.  I'm pushing.  I didn't mean to."

"No, you're trying to help.  And the bad part is, you're right.  I probably will feel better if I have some idea what to expect."  More hesitantly than Aidan was used to from him, Duncan asked, "Was it like this for you when you took your first female lover?"

She nodded quietly.  "I was scared I wouldn't know what to do, how to please her.  And this was three or four hundred BC, Duncan, they didn't have sex manuals where I was."

"Where were you?"

"Persia.  I was traveling with Ramirez at that point.  Methos had slipped off to do some spying  in Sparta and see what was going on with Xenophon.  I ended up asking Ramirez for advice."  Aidan rolled her eyes, exasperated with her younger self.  "Gods, I was young and foolish.  And flustered."

"What did he do?"  Duncan took an absent-minded sip of his own wine.

"Treated it as completely normal and gave me some suggestions.  He told me years later that I had looked so nervous he hadn't had the heart to tease me then.  But he gave me grief with it for years afterwards.  I'm not trying to push, Dhonnchaidh, but a new lover can make one apprehensive enough.  I didn't want you to have the rest of it clouding your pleasure as well."

"You're not pushing, Aidan.  Thanks.  And thanks for the book cover, too.  I don't know how I'd explain this to Rich.  I don't think he's quite willing to expand his view of me that much!"

"Well, that was the other thing I wanted to ask you, but -- you haven't found everything in the bag yet."

Trying not to look suspicious or paranoid, Duncan dug further into the bag and found a long, slender vibrator with a bright-blue '1st Prize' ribbon attached.  It took a moment for Aidan to recognize the sound coming from behind his hands as reluctant laughter that finally broke free and rang against the walls.

"When you're thorough, woman!"  He couldn't help laughing again.  "Yeah, you didn't want me unwrapping that with Rich here!  So are you going to be there when I read some of this, help me try out a few things?"

Aidan smiled at the speculative tone.  "You don't do things halfway, do you, Dhonnchaidh?  Think about spending the night, why don't you?  However, about Rich.  I have a favor to ask."

"Okay, what?"  Duncan began idly flipping through the book, occasionally flushing and thinking seriously about making some adjustments in his pants as his imagination began to change faces on the illustrations.

"For the record, I am not trying to steal your student, but if you don't mind, I'm going to see if he'll move in over here.  I'd like to offer him room and board on the fourth floor in exchange for doing the renovation and building for me."

That brought Duncan's head up out of his new book.  "No, I don't think you're trying to steal him.  Do you mind if I ask why?"

"I'm hoping to get over to Europe in late October or early November, Dhonnchaidh.  I want this house completed first, which means the fourth floor needs to be converted into a storage area, shelving, bins and all, and a small apartment for any eventual student I take.  I've been dreaming about training again, and Rich already speaks French, so it's definitely not him."

Duncan raised an eyebrow at that.  He knew about Aidan's premonitions.  They were right all too often when she had them.  "Right.  And I know you hate having unknown people work on your stuff.  Well, I'd miss having him around the loft, but he's had his own apartment before.  It would be a good deal for him.  How much are you wanting him to do?  I was hoping he'd run the dojo this winter, while he's off the circuit and I'm in Europe."

"About twenty hours a week would suit me.  He mentioned once that he helped you with a house you renovated, so I think he can do this. And I assumed you'd want him to run the dojo.  This way, however, he can put aside a lot more of the salary you're paying him.  I also have hopes that he'll house-sit for me while I'm in Europe."  Aidan stirred the gumbo again and checked on the rice.  The antipasto was already made and in the fridge, she knew, and the wine as well.

"He can.  Yeah, it's a good set-up all around.  You do realize that feeding Rich alone is a good chunk of money?"

Aidan gave a one-shouldered shrug.  "Students are always expensive, whether they're mine or a line-brother's.  I don't mind that, Duncan.  But we both think he can do the work, and this would be good for all three of us.  It gives me help, him money, and you privacy.  I don't know about you, but I like peace and quiet when I work through things."

The Highlander nodded at that, and Aidan refilled his wine glass and shooed him toward a couch.  "Go on, go read.  Dinner should be ready in about twenty or so."

When he felt another immortal arrive Duncan casually tucked the book into the gift bag.  Aidan turned toward the elevator, throwing knife in hand, then smiled at Rich as he pulled the grate up.  "Your timing's good.  Wash up, dinner's ready as soon as you are."

"That's a gorgeous bike!  When did you get a Harley?"  Rich slung his coat on the coat rack and cleaned up quickly as Aidan set rolls, antipasto and tea on the table.  Duncan filled glasses while she ladled up rice and gumbo.

"Oh, I took a head yesterday evening and confiscated the cycle."  She set the bowls on the table while Rich stared at her.

"You what?  Who?  What happened?"

"An idiot came looking for Connor at the dojo and Aidan took the challenge.  Damn near got her arms shattered, but she won.  Barely."

The irritated, sarcastic tone brought a raised eyebrow from her, then Rich snickered as Aidan stuck her tongue out at Duncan's glare.  "Bitch, bitch, bitch, MacLeod.  Admit it, you wanted the pleasure of killing him yourself because he annoyed you."

"'Annoyed'?  He needed a good killing."

"Um, excuse me, guys, but did I hear Connor?  And arms shattered?  How about telling me the rest of this story?"  Rich waved a roll between them to get their attention and then pried the story out of both of them in a more coherent order.  His only comment at the end was, "Sure, I'll show you how to ride the bike, Aidan, but we'll need to do something about the papers on it sometime soon.  The tags expire in November."

"Speaking of November, I have a favor to ask you."

"This is September.  Must be an interesting favor."  Rich grinned at her, having already noticed that Mac didn't seem worried about this.

"How would you like a place to stay?  More privacy and the rent is right."  Aidan gave him an amused look, enjoying the young redhead's easy irreverence.

"What counts?"  Rich poured more tea in all three glasses and waited.  This ought to be good.

"Help me with some renovations, primarily the fourth floor, and get free room and board up there in return."  She shrugged, mobile face showing a wicked enjoyment of the whole situation.  "I need the help, all three of us can use the privacy, and I feed well."

Rich grinned at that.  "Yeah, and I eat a lot.  Look, Aidan, is this just so you and Mac can have some privacy, are you doing the charity thing, or do you really need some help here?"

Duncan commented, "Rich, if it was just privacy, we could come over here.  I spend enough time here as it is.  But Aidan has this phobia about strange people working on her house or moving her possessions."

"MacLeod!  I do not!  I'm cautious, not paranoid."  Her expression was genuinely offended.

"You're two thousand and some, you're entitled to be paranoid," Rich pointed out.

"I am not paranoid.  There are quite a few people out to get me, that's all."  She took a sip of her tea, trying not to chuckle at the startled grin on Duncan's face.  "Anyway, think about it and let me know, Rich.  I already promised Duncan that I'm not trying to poach his student.  If you're interested, wonderful.  If not, I'll find some way to get it done before I go out of town.  I just don't know how, yet."

Rich eyed Mac thoughtfully, then replied, "Yeah, tell you what, I'll let you know tomorrow, okay?  In the meantime, do we actually need to talk about last night?  I mean, it's no skin off my nose if you two are sleeping together.  You're both over eighteen, right?"

Aidan replied thoughtfully, "Decades?  Yes.  Hmm, does this count as cradle robbing, do you suppose?"

"I could head home...."  The Scot ducked promptly when Aidan tried to swat the back of his head.  She continued talking, looking at Rich.

"Actually, I just need to know how much it's going to bother either of you if you walk in on something, Rich.  I don't mind that you know who I'm not getting any sleep with, but is it going to bother you to realize your tutor actually gets laid?"

Rich snorted.  "Hell, I knew when Mac was getting laid.  And yeah, I know, you're female, it makes a difference.  Big deal.  I don't want to train with someone I'm sleeping with, but other than that?  No problem."

She waited expectantly for Mac's answer and he only replied, "No, I was more worried about your reputation than mine.  I don't like an audience myself, but that's about it.  Rich, I'll start locking the elevator again to let you know if I have company."

"That'll work, Mac.  Assuming I'm over there, anyway.  Now if I move over here, I can still run the dojo for you, that's no problem.  I'll even have a back-up teacher on hand when--"  Rich stopped when Aidan shook her head.  "I won't?"

"I'll be here until the book's finished, but I haven't been to Paris in years and I'm headed over myself late this fall.  I was hoping to talk you into house-sitting for me when I go."

Rich rewarded her with a skeptical look.  "Why do I hear a con job here?  Are you sure this isn't a charity gig?"

"Yes, idiot.  Do you have any idea how much I would hate having to close up the house, lock everything away, dust-cover the whole mess, appoint power-of-attorney for some banker to pay bills and handle problems....  Feh.  It's worth paying the utilities, cable and such to have you here while I'm gone, and then some!  All I ask is that you pay for your own long-distance bills and your own booze.  Food I consider a more than reasonable fee."

Aidan's mouth twisted in disgust and she leaned back in her chair, arms folded over her chest.  "You have no idea what I get like at the end of a manuscript.  Bitchy really doesn't cover it.  If I had to shut this place down on top of finishing that....  I'd move again.  It would be easier!"

That made both men choke, and Duncan groaned.  "Oh, my aching back.  I remember unloading that van!  I'll find you a house-sitter, all right?"

Rich grinned and said, "Okay, if it isn't charity, I'll do it.  Do I need to borrow furniture from Mac again?"

His choice of verbs drew a raised eyebrow from Aidan but she only said, "There's furniture already up there, but if you'd rather we'll move it into storage.  Your choice."

Duncan commented, "Well, if you're going to move in over here, let me know if you want any of your stuff from the warehouse."

"Will do, Mac.  So, what's for dessert?"  Rich cheerfully deflected the conversation over to immortals Aidan and Mac had known and liked.  The impromptu wake for Hugh FitzCairn lasted well into the late hours of the night.

* * * *

Joe wiped down the last glass and glanced around to see who was still in his bar.  "Aidan still working?"

"Yeah, she said something about getting some epigrams done while the George Carlin special was on.  Apparently he's the perfect background noise for translating Martial's couplets."  Duncan sipped at his whiskey.  "Now I know who Martial is, but Carlin?"

"Great comedian, Mac.  He's the one who has the list of words you can't say on commercial TV and will work his way down the entire scroll on HBO.  Some really good routines about politics, too.  Now, which one was Martial?"

"Roman comedic writer, very sarcastic couplets.  Let's see, how did one that go in English?  'The golden hair that Galla wears is hers; who would have thought it?  She swears 'tis hers, and true she swears, for I know where she bought it.' "

Joe snorted.  "Sounds like Michael Jackson's skin.  Yeah, I can see where those two go together."  He walked to the door and locked up the bar, then came back and sat down next to Mac.

"So, you want to hear the latest Watcher absurdity?"  Joe sipped at his drink as he waited, deliberately drawing this out.

"Sure.  What now?  Am I eating small children for breakfast ?"  Mac poured himself another shot of Scotch, enjoying a new single-malt Joe had imported.

"Nah.  I hear Rich Ryan took out Ned White in pouring rain, using a curved sword of some kind.  It had to be Rich because you were there and White lost his head to someone a few inches shorter than you with a thick saber.  I didn't argue with Jake, just played world-weary and said that would explain Ryan's behavior lately."  Joe shook his head ruefully.  "I don't know how much longer this can last.  Sooner or later some other Watcher is going to figure out that there's a female immortal in town and I'm gonna catch some serious hell.  The woman just will not back down from a fight, will she?"

"Not that I've noticed, no.  And I agree, our luck's been too good.  Cassandra's Watcher never expected a five AM duel.  I have no idea how the Watcher or Watchers in Toronto missed Aidan."

Joe interrupted quietly, "They didn't entirely.  There's a general alert out about an unknown immortal on the East Coast, old and good.  But the Watcher on those two wasn't willing to go into the bar where the fight took place.  Place has a dangerous reputation after midnight."

Duncan blinked.  "I didn't think anything was bad enough to keep some Watchers out.  You all followed Melvin Koren for God's sake.  And the Kurgan."

"Mac, it turns out that people who go into The Raven after one or so in the morning don't always come back out.  That simple.  The cops haven't noticed because there are never bodies -- we think.  Think about this, Mac.  As far as we can tell a fight went on in the middle of a nightclub, three women with swords, and no one called the police?  And Aidan doesn't know about the Watchers yet so I can't ask her what the deal is with that place, but I am really looking forward to the story.

"Anyway, no, we don't know who killed Mari and Stephanie.  They always fought as a team, by the way.  Remind me to get that story out of Aidan, will you?  I want to hear how she won at two-on-one odds.  As for Stengel, there were no good sight-lines on that, and I just mentioned that you do usually keep to yourself or with one or two friends for awhile after a Quickening.  Completely true, but it did let Mikhail assume you killed his subject."

Duncan sipped the Scotch, then contemplated the greying Watcher with a steady gaze.  "Luck like this can't hold, Joe.  When are you going to tell her?"

"About the Watchers?  As soon as I can figure out how.  Not before she finishes the manuscript, though.  The woman's working herself into the ground now to finish it.  If she weren't an immortal, I'd worry about her health."  Joe sighed.  "I don't figure she needs the money, Mac, why is she pushing so hard to do this?"

Duncan stretched back in his chair.  "Because she loves it, Joe.  Aidan loved living in Rome, going to the plays, corresponding with some of the philosophers and politicians.  If you ever want to expand your vocabulary of profanity in eight dozen languages, ask her about the arson at the Library of Alexandria and what that did to the library of Roman plays.  She spent twelve years as a slave in that city, and she still loves the culture.  So she wants other people to understand it and appreciate it, too."

"Is that where she was a slave?  What happened, do you know?"  Joe sat up eagerly, attention piqued.

"Not for sure.  All she ever says is that she missed a meeting with Methos and his students of the time and they came looking for her.  I think she was someone's mistress at the best, more likely she was owned by a brothel.  She did a strip-tease for Connor once that left him speechless.  But I don't know.  Methos hasn't told me and I've never wanted to ask her.  It's still a tender subject."

"After two thousand years.  Gotta be rough, carrying memories like that.  You know, Mac, even with my legs and old age trying to ambush me, I don't envy you.  I've got four decades of loves, hates, and regrets, and that's plenty for me.  You pack so much into your life....  I'm always impressed you can stand up under the weight of it."  The mortal's words trailed off, embarrassed at what he was saying.

MacLeod met Joe's eyes, acceptance and forgiveness across the gaze without the words being spoken.  Both of them heard the silent answer.  We do it because the alternative is death, and too likely that death would be at the hands of someone who should never have the Prize.  We do it because that's what we are, and we take what joys we can, when we can.

Out loud, though, the immortal only answered, "Yeah, well, all that weightlifting is good for something.  Look, Joe, so that you'll have some early warning on this, I'm heading to Paris on the 17th.  Do you want me to pick up your ticket with mine?  I was thinking about using some of my Frequent Flyer miles to bump you up into first class."

"Charity, Mac?"  Joe's gruff voice sounded irritated and scornful.

"No, I want some civilized conversation on an eight hour flight.  And I haven't tweaked the Tribunal's noses lately.  Perfect combination."

The aging bluesman chuckled at that.  "Damn straight.  I take it you heard some of Adam's stories about the salesman with grandbaby pictures?"

"Oh, yeah.  I also heard Aidan complain about how long it took to straighten out his back when he hit town, and he did fly the Atlantic portion first class.  Personally, I don't think you want us to take four hours to work out your muscles.  At least with Aidan doing it you can enjoy the scenery; with Adam you have to see past the nose."

Joe did laugh at that.  "All right, Mac, I'll let you do your good karma for the day.  Let me know how much I owe you for the ticket."

"Sure.  Just as soon as you let me know what I'd owe you for a case of this Scotch.  Connor would love this for Christmas," Duncan replied.  They haggled amiably over that as they shut down the bar for the night.

* * * *

Silence descended over Aidan's room, broken only by panting breaths easing into a slower, deeper pattern.  Slowly, carefully, she withdrew the toy and set it to one side for clean-up later, pleased to see that Duncan didn't flinch.  He wrapped one arm around her without a word as she settled against his side.

"Love?  You all right?"  Her quiet voice, softened by passion and pleasure, eased into the night without disturbing the peace that had settled over them.

"You have to ask?  Thank you, that was wonderful."

He even sounded sated, Aidan noticed with amusement, and she curled closer.  One hand stroked idly across his chest as she soothed Duncan down into sleep.  After a long while, she eased out of the bed and washed off the vibrator then swiped at her face with a cloth.

It had been a while since she had drawn out teasing like that and Dhonnchaidh had nearly crushed her ribs when she finally eased the vibrator into him.  She knew that he liked to wrap his legs around her when she went down on him, but the added stimulation to the prostate had made his reaction a good bit less controlled than usual.  If she hadn't been an immortal, her mouth would still be bruised. I'll have to tease him about grabbing my hair, too -- later.

When she climbed back in bed, skin cool from the night air, Duncan reached over and pulled her in against his warmth.  Cradled in his arms, head pillowed on that broad chest, she said, "I thought you were asleep."

"No, just listening to you.  Did you know you hum when you're happy?"

"Do I still?  Talk about an old habit."  Aidan curled into the embrace and deliberately hummed against him to listen to the resonance.  "I'd forgotten I do it, I never notice the sound."

"Don't stop, it sounds nice."  Skilled fingers began teasing tangles out of her hair, easing through the strands in one of Duncan's favorite pastimes.  "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"You didn't notice?"  She chuckled at that question.  "Yes, Dhonnchaidh, I did."

"I haven't had a lover who enjoyed my pleasure so much since Tessa."

"I wish I had met her.  From what you and Rich have told me, I would have liked her very much.  And I can tell you loved her dearly."  Aidan sighed quietly then continued, "There's something I think we need to discuss."

Duncan felt the tension in her body, heard it in the unhappy resignation in her voice.  "What's wrong?"

Aidan sighed again.  "Do you remember that I once said I didn't want explosive surprises between us?"

"Yes, and I told you that accepting you was my problem, not yours.  You're two and a half thousand years old and physically weaker than I am.  I've never asked you what happened when you were a slave and I'm not asking what else you've done to keep your head on your shoulders."  He tightened his grip around her torso, hugging her so fiercely Aidan could barely breathe.  "I don't want to hear it.  You're a good friend and a wonderful lover.  If you thought you had to do something, then you did."

"Dhonnchaidh, will you take my word that, for the most part, anything I've done seemed like the best way at the time?  Hindsight being what it is, sometimes I see alternate paths and curse myself, but...."  She fell silent, and Duncan tilted her chin up from where she had her nose buried in his chest.

"Enough, Aidan. I trust you.  No matter what, no matter who tells me, I trust you.  Come on, how many women would I let near me with a vibrator?"  As he had expected, that drew a chuckle.

"Good point.  All right, don't say I didn't try."  She tugged gently at chest hairs and snuggled closer.  "So, do I see you off at the airport....  Tomorrow?  It's late enough that this is really yesterday's tomorrow, isn't it?  I must be tired, that makes no sense."

"Tuesday.  You see us off at the airport Tuesday.  I'd like it, but I know you're busy with the last indexing on your manuscript."

"Hmmph.  As if that would be enough reason to miss seeing you off.  Joe's going, too.  I'm going to miss you both, you realize."  The tone of voice remained light, but the brief pause before the last sentence spoke volumes about her feelings.

"We'll miss you, too, but the end of October will be here before you know it."

"True enough.  How are you going to... hmm, not to put too fine a point on it, how are you going to shake Joe long enough to seduce Methos?"  Now the voice was merely curious.

"Joe has other friends in Paris than just me.  He won't be staying on the barge, if that's what you're wondering.  Do you want me to let you know if I have any luck getting Methos into bed, or shall I surprise you with it when you get to France?"

That drew an approving noise from her. "You're picking up some of my habits, Dhonnchaidh.  That was blunt enough for me or Connor.  And I rarely push a man to kiss and tell, so as you like."  She yawned widely.  "It's sorry I am to say it, but we'd best sleep.  You have to finish packing today, and Rich and I need to finish installing the spiral stair tomorrow.  Today?"  She glanced at the clock and frowned.  "In eight hours.  Damn."

"That's today, definitely."  He reached over and adjusted the blanket over her shoulder, wrapping his arm around her as he did so.  "Sleep well, then."

"And you, Duncan."  She yawned again, then murmured, "Besides, I already left you a surprise in Paris."  She fell asleep before he could cajole an explanation out of her.

* * * *

Disgust dripped from her voice and oozed down almost visibly to corrode the vinyl floor as Aidan commented, "I loathe airports, you realize, MacLeod, and I have spent more time in the damnable and thrice-damned things since I met you than I have in the last ten years -- all of it watching people leave."

A crooked grin spread across Joe's face at that.  Leave it to Aidan to be so eloquent about her distaste for an institution, if only to mask her own feelings about the actions accomplished within that institution.  Out loud he only said, "Darlin', if it's driving you that crazy, head on home.  It's a morning flight in fall.  We're almost certainly going to be delayed for fog anyway.  Go on, kiss Mac good-bye and get back to work so you can head over yourself in a few weeks."

Her smile was as crooked as his as the Irish immortal replied, "And lose you two sooner than needs must be?  No, I'll wait.  I'll even try to cultivate patience, Joe.  Sorry."

Duncan wrapped his arms around her waist.  "Easy, Edana, easy, alanna.  I didnae know you misliked the places so."  The soft Gaelic words went no further than her ears, and Joe decided to contemplate the people walking down the concourse rather than intrude on his two friends.

"It's sorry I am to be acting such a fool, Dhonnchaidh."  Her own Gaelic was spoken as quietly as his, but with the subtly different lilt of Ireland.  " 'Tis no' even the place so much, though 'tis as lifeless and barren as any surgeon's steel cage.  I'm but a fool, missing you before you've properly gone."

"Nay, we are going and leaving you with the younglings to watch over and your own task to accomplish.  Small wonder you're feeling alone already.  Or are you worrying about something else?  I'll nae steal him from you, lass, nor try."

Aidan turned swiftly within his arm.  "It's no' that, Dhonnchaidh, truly.  I'll miss ye both and no mistake, but I was no' thinking that of ye.  And it's no' the Sight.  I'm just in the grip of the blacks.  Or the blues, as Seohnchaidh there would call them.  I'll be well enough, dinna fash yourself over it."

Duncan kissed her lightly on top of her head and commented, "You'll be fine, lass, and so busy keeping my student out of mischief, that 'twill be Samhain before you know it.  I'll even make Adam keep the bed warm for you."

"Hah!  You'd best be helping him keep it warm or it's words I'll be havin' with ye, MacLeod, d'ye hear me?  Culcheen!"

Duncan grinned at her and deliberately switched back to English.  "Case of the blues, huh?  I'd say that did it.  You're smiling again."

Joe glanced at them and asked, "So do I get to pay attention again, or do I keep studying the fascinating brawl coming up between three and five year olds over there?"

"You can pay attention, Joe."  Aidan sat down next to him.  "By the bye, are you ever going to tell me why you're going to Paris for a few months?"  The serious expression she received startled her no end; Aidan had thought it a fairly frivolous question, small talk.

"Yeah, darlin', ask me when you get that manuscript finished, all right?  Ask me when you get over."

The harried stewardess called the older passengers and those with children to board as the flight was ready.  Aidan muttered to herself, "Finally."

Joe pushed up to his feet and glanced at Aidan.  "Seriously, Aidan, try to save me some time when you hit Paris.  All four of us have got to have a long talk."

Duncan laughed.  "Better plan on late November, Joe.  We're going to keep her kind of busy when she hits town.  When's the last time you've been to the Louvre?"

She leaned up and whispered, "Oh, 1920-something?"

Joe laughed and said, "Right, at least a week after she hits town.  No problem, Mac.  Will do."

"Now boarding First Class for Flight 1807 to New York."

Aidan reached up to Duncan and kissed him as thoroughly as she had Methos when he left.  He caught her hands before she could push the decency laws too hard.  "Behave, woman."

"If I have to," she replied, and promptly kissed Joe on the cheek.  "Keep him out of trouble, if you can."

Joe waved a hand at his cane.  "Me?  Keep him out of trouble?  How?"

Aidan shrugged, donning her best 'sober, staid pillar of the community' demeanor.  "I have great faith in you, Joe."

Duncan picked up the two carry-on bags.  "Shall we? Aidan, I'll call you as soon as I get the phone hooked back up on the barge."

"You'd better, Duncan."  Aidan stood on tiptoe and whispered in Gaelic, "I love you, Dhonnchaidh."

Duncan turned as she headed away from them, startled at some tone of her voice.  "Aidan, I thought you said...."

Over her shoulder, the departing immortal called, "It's a woman's prerogative, MacLeod."

Joe followed MacLeod to present their boarding passes.  Once the bags were stowed and the two men were comfortably settled in their seats, he did have to ask.  "So, what did she change her mind about, Mac?  Or should I ask?"

His immortal friend smiled, surprised at his own bewildered, off-balance reactions.  "She has the most unique ways of saying 'I love you', Joe, and the most precise use of that verb I've ever seen."  Deliberately changing the subject, the Scot asked, "So, what do you think we should go do tonight while we're in New York?  Music, food, Connor's latest stories?"

Aidan meanwhile walked out of the airport without looking back.  Long years of practice let her push her mind ahead to plans for the day, projects for the next few weeks, and a shopping list to take care of later in the week.  Eight weeks.  I can do fifty-six days standing on my head if need be.  But I do wonder how Duncan will like the love letter I posted last week.  It should be waiting for him when he gets to the barge.

So.  Enough of that.  I still wonder if there isn't a better wording on that speech of Cicero's.  Gods, who was consul that year?  Am I just missing a reference somewhere?  It would be one of the nouns that can mean half a dozen different things in English.  Oh, well, if this were easy, they wouldn't have hired me.  Let's see, if I check in Suetonius and in Gibbons....

Epilogue

In the waiting area across the concourse, a nicely dressed young woman sat and waited, presumably for her flight.  She watched Aidan walk out the door, noted the time down in her notebook, then stood and followed her out the door at an unobtrusive distance.  MacLeod had already checked his luggage and boarded his flight; she might as well follow this woman back to her destination before closing the assignment.

Well, this surveillance was over and the report probably wasn't going to get her a bonus.  The subject ran a martial arts school, for God's sake.  Yesterday, MacLeod went running, did some shopping, and taught classes in the morning.  The rest of the day he stayed home and packed.  A young man in jeans and a workman's tool belt had left the gym around ten on a motorcycle.  She couldn't tell for sure if the redhead lived there or not, but he didn't seem to be MacLeod's lover.  If he was, they concealed it well, to the point of having lights on and off at differing intervals in different rooms of that apartment.

Students came and went all day, but MacLeod only taught in the morning.  Another man took the afternoon classes.  Around six-thirty, an older gentleman who walked with a cane had arrived.  He and MacLeod had left together, driving to what looked like a warehouse.  The motorcycle had been parked outside.  At half past eight, MacLeod, the older man, and the young redhead all came out, talking and joking.  From the body language, they were all good friends.  A dark-haired woman had walked them out to the cars then headed back inside the warehouse before they left.

This morning, the same woman had picked up MacLeod and his luggage in a new model Range Rover.  The man with the cane had been in the truck already.  She gave both of them a ride to the airport and waited with them for the flight.  From MacLeod's behavior, he and the woman definitely were lovers.  So, since MacLeod was on his way out of the country -- she had seen the Air France tickets in his portfolio -- at least his lover might yield some more information for the final report to the customer.

The young investigator had license plates on the red-haired worker's motorcycle, the Ford that the older man had arrived in, and the woman's Range Rover, but her instructions had been very specific.  Observation only, from no less than fifty yards, details to be provided, but no data-base searches were to be run, no favors called in at the precinct to check the tags or licenses.  Nothing.

She'd broken the rule on the distance in the airport, but there'd been no help for that.  So, follow this one long enough to make sure MacLeod's lover went back to the warehouse again?  Maybe the woman was an artist?  The windows on that building ought to give good light all day.  Certainly city records needed to be checked, to see who held the deed.

Once the day's surveillance was done, shifted to this new candidate, she'd send the report in and the money would be wired to her account.  The whole thing was a weird damn assignment, but they were prepared to pay three times her going rate and bills had to get paid somehow.
 
 

~ ~ ~ finis 3/1998 ~ ~ ~

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