Half an hour later, fully showered, the dojo tidied and locks checked, they retreated to the comforting warmth of the loft. Connor settled himself in the large easy chair while Duncan collapsed onto the couch. Duncan's eyes closed in appreciation as he took a mouthful of whisky, part of the present from Catriona.

"So, you owe me a forfeit."

Connor's voice cut into the pleasant feeling of detachment that surrounded Duncan and drew him sharply back to reality. Duncan was almost supine on the couch, his body relaxed and feeling nicely disconnected from his brain. He groaned in response to Connor's reminder. He had no idea what the elder Highlander would think of as a suitable forfeit, all he knew was that he was sure not to like it and he was totally unable to move to anything that his brain could conjure in response to the word 'forfeit'.

"You are a cruel and heartless man, Connor MacLeod," he sighed, "you wait until my body decides that it is totally incapacitated before you ask me to do something. I'd forgotten exactly what a hard taskmaster you are."

Connor chuckled wickedly.

"Not at all laddie, as always I have judged the moment perfectly. I'll wager that it's only now, when your body is relaxed and devoid of all the stress and tension you've held in it, that your mind can free itself to fully examine whatever it is that's got you in such a funk. You, my lad, are going to tell me everything, leave nothing out. I can't bear to see you like this Duncan. The way you've been mooning about lately is driving me up the wall. So tell me, who exactly did you lose your heart to this time, and why isn't she here?"

Duncan groaned, more loudly this time, and set his whisky tumbler down on the coffee table.

"God, you really are a mean bastard," he said bleakly, "when you hit a guy with a forfeit you really hit hard."

"Well someone's got to take you in hand," Connor replied, "and no one else seems to want to take on the job so I guess I get the honour."

Duncan sighed.

"Ok, I'll admit I've been a bit down lately. The truth is though, I'm not sure I have any right to start feeling better until I make amends with someone for the way I have treated them. As for losing my heart, " he paused, a sudden lump in his throat cutting off his speech, " I suppose I've done that too and I'm scared." He paused again. "Funny," he choked, 'I never thought I'd admit to that openly, but I am scared of my feelings, scared to examine my feelings for this person and scared of their response if I admit to them."

It was probably more of a response that Connor had expected, but it brought up more questions, and answered none of the ones he'd posed.

"So, the next thing you are going to do laddie is to tell me all about it. If I'm going to be an agony Uncle I need to know what I am dealing with, and before you try to tell me that it's not necessary, remember this is your forfeit." he said, leaning forward, piercing Duncan with his gaze.

Duncan shook his head, as if to disagree, but then, taking a deep breath, he looked down at his hands, twisting his finger. He considered the matter a while longer before he raised his eyes to Connor's.

'OK, you win," he said ruefully, "but it's a long story, and I'm not sure, still, if I can tell you everything you want to know, but maybe you'll understand what I've done and help me work out how to approach this person and begin to try and make up for the way I've treated them."

It became clear to Connor that whomever the person was they were discussing, Duncan was trying everything he could think of to protect their identity, but it was also clear that despite the weeks, or maybe longer, of trying to be self-contained and dealing with his emotional turmoil himself, he mow needed - and indeed welcomed - any input Connor could give, so to that end he gave Duncan an encouraging nod.

"Ok, so tell me what you can. I can guarantee to listen sympathetically and to offer advice if I have any, but this sounds as though it could take a while, so let's get settled. Have some more of this excellent whisky," he examined the Talisker approvingly, "and then you can begin. Remember, the whole story, unedited and unembellished. I'll try not to interrupt you unless it's to clarify a point - so take your time and try not to beat yourself up over whatever it is you think you've done."

So saying, he poured generous measures of whisky to freshen their drinks and sat back to hear what Duncan would tell him.

Whatever Connor had expected, it certainly wasn't the unfolding tale Duncan related. Duncan was so careful at first not to mention gender, yet his description of his innamorata was somehow determinedly male. When Duncan finally began to tell of Cassandra's arrival in Seacouver and the subsequent trip to Bordeaux he was unable to avoid the fact that he was talking about a man, yet still he did not name him. It became crystal clear to Connor, however, exactly who it was the younger Scot was discussing, but he held his peace and allowed Duncan to complete his monologue.

"I've made a complete mess of things. I judged this man for things he did thousands of years ago. Forgetting how he's behaved since I have known him, and, by all accounts, how he's behaved for nigh on two or even three thousand years. I also ignored some of my own less savoury past in order to better take the high ground in judging him." Duncan said. " As if all that was not bad enough, I jumped to conclusions about his behaviour towards Catriona and ended up nearly killing him..and injured Catriona in the process. I have damaged someone I had hoped I could rebuild a friendship with and now I know the physical wound will probably never heal and the emotional wound seems to be as bad as it ever was."

"I think I understand now." Connor said. "Now let me tell you something from my experience. I know the man you've been discussing. I met him at the end of the Second World War."

Duncan started at that, but held his tongue, waiting to hear what Connor might reveal.

"When I met Methos, he was calling himself Doctor Legrand, he had been a prisoner in Bergen Belsen. He fought with the Greek and then the Rumanian resistance. He was sent to Auschwitz and then to Bergen Belsen and was liberated with the rest of the prisoners in April of 1945. When I met him he was a complete mess. Physically he was emaciated, a walking skeleton, covered in sores and lice - as were the rest of the prisoners. Mentally, I think, he was much worse. You know I worked as a medic and one of the tasks I was given was to try and talk to those who were taken into our infirmary, to try and find out what had happened in the camp - try to help the physicians and psychologists to better understand the reasons for the psychological problems they were encountering."

" Luckily, or unluckily, Methos was made my major project for almost three months whilst he was physically recovering. With me, at first, he was skittish to say the least, probably expecting a challenge. Of course he was very ill, sometimes finding it hard to remember where he was - in both time and place. He'd spent almost four years in the concentration camps, catching all the diseases that were going the rounds. He told me, when he began at last to trust me, that he had died of starvation several times, which was evident from his appearance. All the camp inmates were grey looking, their skins dry and wrinkled, and delicate, like paper - easily damaged, bruised or cut. Their hair fell out in clumps, those that had much growth at all - most of them had their heads shaved. Teeth were falling out too, scurvy was rife as were scarlet fever, typhoid and diphtheria - too many diseases to name really. Of course these diseases can't kill us permanently, and usually we bounce right back from them, but even for an immortal, the immune system finally starts to shut down. Recovery time gets longer and sometimes we succumb to the ravages of the disease and die, albeit temporarily."

"I was appalled. When I said so, however, he refused to accept any sympathy, saying he deserved it all, and more, as a partial payback for the terrible crimes he had committed. He told me that if I knew the details of his awful past I'd be less than anxious to help him. He seemed to think that he didn't need help anyway, that being immortal made him immune to everything, or as good as, since he'd always survive. He genuinely felt that as soon as he was physically well again he would be able to forget the horrors he had seen and just be 'normal' again."

"Eventually though, because he had such awful nightmares, he began to accept he needed to talk to someone. He refused to talk to any of the doctors, so I became his confidante of choice. He told me of his time with the Horsemen and then he sat, waiting my judgment. it was perfectly clear that he felt unworthy of the care and concern I'd shown him. I told him to re-evaluate what he'd told me in the context of the time he was living in."

"He seemed surprised that anyone would respond that way, but we spent a lot of time discussing the period and the conditions. There were other bands marauding across the desert at that time. The Horsemen were possibly, even probably, the worst, but not the largest group - and certainly not the only ones. I told him also to consider why he had joined forces with Kronos and why he left. I never learned the answers to these questions, but it clearly gave him much to think about. I could see that he had become more comfortable with himself and his history. He began to offer to help out with the other patients and resumed practising medicine as soon as he was given a clean bill of health physically. He worked harder than any of the other doctors on the staff, and he was offered a position on the staff of a large hospital in Bergen. As soon as the need for a camp infirmary was gone he accepted that post. I know he worked there for almost ten years before he had to move on."

"I checked, and when Methos left there he went to India to work in the slums of Delhi, and then to Nepal, followed by various trouble spots in the famine areas of Africa. Finally he had to withdraw from public eyes for a while so he went to Paris and I think from then on you know as much about what he was doing as I do. One thing I can guarantee though, he may well have accepted that his past was partly a product of the times he lived through, but he has never forgiven himself. No matter what he says. he spends as much time still trying to make amends by giving to those in need as he is able. Sure he's no saint, and sometimes he seems to make bad decisions in the way he takes action. The incident in Bordeaux might be a case in point. But, I know that, however ill-conceived some of his plans might be, he does always have the right motive."

"You tell me how disillusioned you are that he gave you the impression, at least, that he was on Kronos' side in Bordeaux, but Duncan, think carefully. He left you clues so that you could follow them to France. He arranged to meet you, told you about the bomb. These were hardly that actions of a man who was in collusion with Kronos and his madness. Of course he was going to put on a front when Kronos was there watching. You said he set Cassandra free and that he fought Caspian. If you think about it logically, he was caught between a rock and a hard place at that time. He was outnumbered three to one and although he knew that you and Cassandra would do everything in your power to prevent Kronos' mad scheme, he could not be sure of his own safety. Methos may be many things Duncan, but he hardly reckless with his own life if there is any other way of solving a problem. He is not so depressed that he is willing to throw his life away."

Duncan though back over his exchange with Methos after Cassandra had first come to him. Methos'd said that the times were different, that the whole world had been different, but he hadn't wanted to hear that, nor had he wanted to hear the other things that Methos had said. Connor had told him that Methos was trustworthy, and that he believed without question now. But as for the last point, he was not so sure.

He sighed.

"I know you are right for the most part, but as far as suicidal tendencies, well until recently I might have agreed with you. Methos certainly behaved like a man anxious to end his life. However, that might just have been induced by Cassandra's desire for revenge. As for the rest of it, he can be the most infuriating man, trying to give you the impression that he is self serving and cares for no one - sometimes that act is just too easy to accept at face value, and not to see how much bluff and bluster is going on to cover up whatever he's really doing. It's as if he's ashamed to be seen doing anything that people might consider to be good."

Connor chuckled.

"I know what you mean, but I also know that it's a matter of his feeling unworthy of praise for anything good that he does. For all his protestations he does still feel guilty for his past. He told me, and he told Darius, that atoning for his sins could take more lifetimes than anyone, even an immortal, was likely to live. Perhaps that's why he likes to hide away. The less notice he attracts, the longer he is likely to live and the more recompense he can pay."

"But what about Cassandra?" Duncan asked. "She's one person he wronged in the past and she still feels he owes her either his life or his sanity. How does he deal with her?"

"That's something he'll have to deal with as and when the occasion arises. From what you have told me, she's likely to show up on his doorstep anytime, or to stalk him from a distance. Also, it seems that Methos is loathe to engage her in a fight. It seems that he accepts his responsibility for hurting her in the past and refuses to take any action that would harm her further.

"That's all true. What I still don't understand is his denial of knowing her when she showed up here hunting Kronos." Duncan said. "He must have known I would find out the truth. Why did he pretend she'd got the wrong man?"

"That's a question only Methos can answer, but I suppose it's just the sort of instinctive reaction one would have. I really don't think it was planned."

A brief period of quiet ensued before Duncan sighed again and then said,

"The worst of it is, I've come to realise that I care about him as much more than a friend but I am scared to death to do anything or say anything about it."

"Why?" Connor asked.

"Because I have never before initiated a relationship with another man, and because of the hurt I caused him. Even if he's amenable, all my experience in starting and maintaining relationships has been with women. Certainly I have had sex with other men, but that's not the only thing I am after here. What I want with Methos is so much more, more perhaps than I have ever had with anyone. Frankly, the intensity of the feelings I have for him scares me. It's unlike anything I felt even for Tessa. It's weird, exciting, scary, and if anything I did or said was to spook Methos, or to damage the fragile hold we currently have on our friendship, then I'd certainly rather do nothing at all about deepening relations between us than lose him altogether."

Connor sympathised with his cousin's dilemma, but despite his earlier comments regarding being an Agony Uncle, he restricted his advice to this.

"I understand more than you know Duncan, but I tell you this - you have to try to heal the wounds between you and Methos. If as a result of that you manage an even closer relationship, I am sure he would not be at all spooked. I will say, however, take it easy. Focus at first on friendship. The love of friendship often builds to greater love, to indulge in physical love before emotional love is secure is to invite disaster. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed."

So saying, he rose, patted Duncan companionably on the shoulder and went to the bathroom, leaving the younger man to mull over the evening's discussion and to finish the whisky.

Duncan felt easier in his mind now than he had done. All that remained was for Methos to return, as he had promised, so that he could begin to repair the damage dome to their friendship, and to see what else transpired from there.

Sighing deeply, he went to tidy the kitchen and secure the locks for the night.

End of chapter 38

Many thanks for the kind words you have sent regarding this story. I am always thrilled to hear from readers.

Chapter 39

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