Methos ran inside followed closely by Duncan. Joe's assessment proved correct. Catriona's skin was faintly blue and she was trembling as her body's natural defences against cold and shock kicked in. Her eyelids fluttered and she moved restlessly but there were no signs of returning consciousness as yet.
"More blankets Mac, Duvets, travel rugs, anything you can find and hurry. We need to get her warm again as soon as possible."
AS Methos spoke he began rubbing Catriona's arms. Her skin was certainly icy cold but she was also clammy. Her slip was still heavily damp from being caught in the rain and her perspiration was adding to the moisture considerably. 'No wonder she's chilled' Methos thought. "Towels too Mac." He called
"Anything I can do?" Joe asked
"You can help me get her properly dry when Mac gets back."
Nodding and setting aside his cane Joe reached to help Methos pull the slip over Catriona's head. As the rest of Catriona's body was fully revealed Joe caught his breath. He, like the others, had noticed the scar on her left hand before. Now he could see that this was merely one amongst many. There were scars across her breasts and stomach and one wider scar on the outside of her right leg just below the knee. He looked at Methos and saw the oldest immortal pale as he took in the evidence of past injuries.
"Methos?" Joe raised his eyebrows in query.
Grabbing the sheet and gently covering the still unconscious form he looked at Joe.
"Look like knife wounds to me Joe. Other than that I have no idea how they got there or how old they are and I wouldn't recommend asking her about them either.
As Mac returned with towels and bedding they all three got to work on carefully drying and warming the unconscious woman. Mac's eyebrows rose also as he took in the scarring on her body but made no comment save to purse his lips and continue his efforts with renewed vigour.
It was clear to all of them, from the regular spacing of scars on Catriona's stomach in particular, that they had been caused deliberately - by whom and for what reason none but Catriona knew and it was agreed amongst them that they could not and would not trespass into this private territory by mentioning what they had seen.
After ten minutes of rubbing Catriona's skin until it was pink, but feeling not much improvement in body temperature, Joe asked "Wouldn't it be quicker to use hot water bottles or an electric blanket?"
"It would be quicker but it would also actually deepen the shock and hypothermia, which would make matters considerably worse." Replied Methos. "I think we've stimulated the circulation enough for now. Help me add as many layers of covers as we have got and we'll take it in turns to monitor her body temperature."
"Agreed. I'll take the first watch," Said Duncan. He looked at the strain on Methos' face and added, "you should get some sleep Methos you look ready to drop."
"And exactly whose fault is that?" Joe snapped, glaring at Duncan. "Whose fault is it that Catriona MacLeod lies here in my living room with her life in the balance? Couldn't be Mr Perfect, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod could it? Sheesh!! And then you have the nerve to 'fuss' over everyone like a mother hen. I'm sorry Methos," he said as he saw the older immortal start to protest, "I know you've forgiven him for what he did to you but I can't, not for this" - he indicated Catriona - "not yet. Sure you'll recover - at least you'll live even if the throat doesn't heal. But she's mortal and I think Mac conveniently forgets how frail and fragile that makes us compared to you guys. I also think he's in danger of conveniently forgetting that he was the cause of this." He passed his hand in front of his eyes in a brief attempt to mask his emotions, but his hand was shaking as he did so.
Duncan looked at Joe, unable to think of any excuse or apology he could offer this man..because as far as he was concerned there weren't any. " Joe ..you are right I behaved abominably and this is the result..but I do not think I can get out of my responsibility for it simply by 'fussing' over people as you put it. I just know I should do everything I can to help clear up the mess I caused. Believe me I know how frail and fragile mortals are. I've buried enough of them to know that..some of them I loved dearly and most of them died too soon. If there's anything I can do to prevent that from happening here I will do."
Joe snorted. "The best thing you could have done was to leave your sword out of the equation altogether." Picking up his cane he went to the kitchen. "I need a drink and some air..call me if you need me." He said and then he was gone.
Methos sighed heavily and turned to look at Duncan. The man had sat down suddenly as if his legs had given way.
"He's right. I've done it again." Duncan said. "Why is it that I always have to be the one at the centre of everything? I push people into things. I charge into situations determined to be in control no matter what. I do it without thinking about it. What makes me think I am always the one in the right? Especially after the events of the past few years. Why can't I just learn to sit back more and wait until I've had time to assess things before I make judgments?"
"Will you stop Highlander?" Methos said. "Joe's upset, if you think about it yes he's right in a way, but he can't be your conscience any more than I can. I know we both try at times - but that's natural - as natural as you trying to be mine. People can't exist in isolation, they try but they can't. The end result is utter misery - I should know - I've attempted it enough times..I lived that way for centuries. Believe me Mac you do not want to do that. It's not in your nature So the other alternative is to be involved in people's lives, to interact, make choices and judgments. Sure some of them will be wrong, sometimes we do things that on reflection we wish we hadn't, but hey! We're none of us perfect MacLeod No such animal exists as the 'perfect man' nor 'the perfect immortal'."
"You taunted me with that title once remember? When Stephen Keane was after my head."
"Of course I remember," Methos said patiently, he remembered every word he'd ever uttered to this man before him. "I also remember I was feeling rather pissed off at the time. Our relationship was not good. Our friendship was in ruins. You didn't trust me...for good reasons." He held up his hand as Duncan began to protest. "Amanda nagged me into coming to talk you out of that fight..I knew what my reception would be..and you..well you were still angry about the Horsemen, still 'judging' me ..I threw that at you to try and get your attention. It didn't work , but you survived and I was wrong."
"Were you?"
"Yes MacLeod. I was wrong. I was convinced that you'd decided to become the perfect sacrifice - but you had no intention of giving up that easily did you?"
"I don't know Methos. I don't remember thinking particularly clearly around then - except for being really pissed at you and Amanda for interfering."
"Well she's a hard woman to say no to." Methos smiled.
It should have reassured Duncan to see Methos smile but all it did was add to his feelings of guilt. The wound around his throat made the whole gesture look grotesque. He shook his head.
"No Methos. It's not going to work. You can try and cheer me up all you like. The fact remains that Joe is right. I caused this."
"No. No no no...."
Both men turned suddenly at the sound of Catriona's voice.
She had her eyes open and was struggling to sit up.
"Easy there." Said Methos, gently resting one hand on her shoulder. "Just lie still."
He reached down to her left wrist and began taking her pulse. He was relieved to find it much stronger than before and regular at least, if still a little too fast. He looked closely at her face. Her skin was flushed , eyes perhaps a little too bright, her breathing was deeper now and less laboured, but she was restless.
He put his hand on her forehead and gently stroked her brow. "You should rest Catriona, everything will be fine but you must rest."
"Yes." She murmured. Her eyes closed momentarily before opening again to focus on Methos. She reached up her left hand to trace the outline of the still vivid vermilion wound at his throat. Her expression one of deep sorrow
Methos took hold of her hand and held it to his lips. As he kissed her fingers she closed her eyes, yet rather than relaxing she began to cry silently. He placed the index finger of his free hand against her lips.
"Hush now. None of this is your fault, any more than it is yours," he continued as he looked at Duncan, "I still have my head, I will continue to live, and so will you." He said as he patted Catriona's hand. "Now you need to rest. Promise me you'll sleep now."
She looked at him, his eyes gazing at her, smiling eyes, full of concern for her welfare. Those eyes which had so mesmerised her in her vision just a few short weeks ago. She felt a strong desire to do nothing more than lose herself body and soul in that gaze. She sighed deeply, a feeling of warm contentment washing over her as he continued to smile down at her, his eyes appearing almost to be molten gold.
"I promise." She whispered and she closed her eyes.
Methos laid her hand back against her breast and knelt beside the bed. Reaching to either side of her head he proceeded to massage her temples until her eyelids ceased fluttering and her breathing deepened, signifying that she was indeed asleep. He stopped his massage and, moving his hands to cover his own face, let out a long breath he wasn't aware he had been holding until then.
A hand on his shoulder made him look up. Joe stood behind him.
"Nice job Methos. Any one ever tell you that you've got a great bedside manner Doc?"
"It's been mentioned." Methos said, dryly.
Joe nodded. He looked across at Duncan. "Mac I..." he licked his lips, his mouth suddenly gone dry, "I..."
"Joe, if you're trying to apologise for speaking your mind just now then please don't. Everything you said was justified." Duncan said.
"Maybe so," Joe replied,'but it doesn't mean to say I should abuse you. I wanted to let you know that. I'd like for us still to be friends Mac."
Duncan looked at the watcher. A flame of joy flickered deep within him, yet there was a hesitancy there too. This man had offered him unconditional support and friendship over many years. And how had Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod repaid him? By abusing that friendship and taking him fro granted. He'd paid for his friendship with pain and rejection many a time. It was not enough. He owed this man more than that. He should be the one apologising not Joe.
It occurred to him that he had never let Joe know how much of a debt he felt he owed him and that he might not have a lot of time left in which to do so. Joe had made an eloquent speech about the frailty of mortals earlier, maybe he was gently reminding Duncan of his own mortality as well as admonishing him for his injury of Catriona.
The silence stretched on beyond a bearable pause. Joe cleared his throat.
"OK then, I guess not. Pity."
He turned away. His shoulders slumped as if the weight of the ages pressed down on them. Duncan cursed under his breath. Fear of his own lack of worth had held him from answering for too long.
"Joe," he said. "I'd be honoured to be considered your friend. I am honoured that you think me worthy of your friendship. God knows I've done little enough to warrant it." He looked at Joe's face. The sheer radiant joy his pronouncement caused gave him an equal measure of pleasure. God, he was a fool to spend so much time brooding over which cause of action to take when it was so easy to give happiness to others. He felt his face begin to echo Joe's grin but then he glanced down at Catriona and all of the lightnesshe felt drained away. He had caused her injury, wounded her nearly unto death. He had no right to feel joy.
As he gazed at her the image of another face from his past superimposed itself over hers. The pale skin and dark auburn hair reminded him so muchof his own dear Debra CAmpbell. It twisted his gut to think he could have been responsible for any hurt to her. A moan escaped him and he looked away fromn the bed.
"Perhaps being my friend is not the prize you think it is Joe." He said bitterly.
Methos uttered a brief curse, which was unintelligible to the other two men.
"For God's sake!" He exclaimed. "Everybody makes mistakes, everyone here has apologised for his hasty words and actions, now please can we just let the whole thing rest?"
JOe nodded, placing one hand on Methos' shoulder he held out the other to Duncan.
"Let's just forget it Mac. Thngs have been too tense around here. We both did and said things we didn't mean."
Duncan swallowed heavily as he viewed his two friends, but he knew that Joe was right. Reaching out he clasped the watcher's hand in his.
"Deal Joe." He said.
Then he looked at Methos. The oldest immortal appeared near to collapse. The amount of energy he had expended in caring for Catriona coming after his own long term lack of sleep and food, not to mention the fact that he had died twice this evening in the space of twenty minutes, had left him totally wrung out. Duncan wondered how he managed to keep standing.
"If you think it necessary for Catriona to be watched for a while I guess we should take it in turns. I suggest you get some sleep first. I'll take first watch and Joe can take the second. We'll call you if there's any change or we need anything."
Methos looked up at him wearily. In truth he was scarcely able to hold his head up. Nontheless he shot his friend a wry grin.
"Always teh control freak MacLeod?"
Then, seeing the stricken look which washed briefly over the younger immortal's face, he relented.
"Hey it's a great idea. If it's OK with Joe?"
"Sure thing. Besides, Mac's right, you look terrible buddy. Sleep now and we'll take our turns atching."
"Call you at six." Duncan said as Methos rose from his knees to comply.
"OK." He said."But you promise to call me if there are any problems, anything no mater how small?"
"Of course. Now get some rest." Joe said as Duncan nodded in agreement.
Methos needed no further encouragement He knew he couldn't continue any longer without rest, without it he'd be useless in any crisis..though he tought the possibility of a real medical crisis with Catriona unlikely now. She had regained consciousness and was responding well to treatment. She should make a full recovery.
He entered his room and gazed ruefully at his refelection in the mirror 'A bit frayed around the edges old man' he mused before climbing into bed.
He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.