Duncan’s loft
two hours later

Methos sat up gasping for the eighth or ninth time that night, bringing his hands to his face. “God, I hate that part! Even after five thousand years, it’s still a pain in the ass.”

Janette pressed one pale hand to his forehead, frowning. “Bien, it is enough.”

“No,” Methos contradicted her sharply. “Once more, each.”

“Methos, mon ami, you will need all your strength. If we drink from you again, you will be weak, even if you heal.”

“She’s right, old friend,” LaCroix contributed.

“Besides, Old Timer, we’re running out of time,” Richie added. He hadn’t yet been able to bring himself to actually call the ancient Immortal by his name. “If we don’t go soon, we might not be able to get back before dawn.”

“All right, all right,” Methos grumped. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and started to stand wobbily. “Just let me get my sword.”

“Non, you get your strength back,” Janette scolded.

“Where’s MacLeod?” the older man asked, worried.

“Downstairs in the dojo,” Richie nodded towards the elevator with a smirk. “He’s actively sulking.”

“Actively sulking?”

“He’s doing a kata.”

“Ah.” The oldest member of the group studied the youngest with a wry smirk. “You’re enjoying this immensely, aren’t you?”

The other Immortal looked up innocently. “What?”

“The fact that you’re included in our little party and MacLeod isn’t.”

Richie shrugged, his face turning a mild shade of pink. “A little, yeah. You gotta admit, Old Man, I don’t get many opportunities like this.”

“I wouldn’t know–you and I haven’t exactly spent much time together.”

The younger man laughed. “True.” His face sobered then. “I think I’m going to go downstairs and talk to Mac. I’ll meet you guys outside, okay?”

Methos gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and a sympathetic smile. “Sure.”

The ancient Immortal watched him go, feeling a twinge of regret for his callous words to Joe only days ago. He’d always avoided getting to know Richie very well–after all, their first meeting hadn’t exactly given him the most favorable impression of the kid–but just the events since the young man’s escape that morning had made him reevaluate his unconcern. The young Immortal deserved to live a damned long life, whether he was still standing at the end of the Game or not. And he deserved to have someone other than just Duncan the Self-Righteous watching over him to make sure he got it.

The older man turned to the two vampires. “LaCroix?” he said simply.

LaCroix nodded in answer to the unasked question. “You have my word, Methos.”

o/

Duncan’s dojo

“Hey, Mac.”

The older man looked up from his routine to where his student was standing in the doorway, wearing a sheepish smile. He returned the smile with a lopsided one of his own. “Hey, Rich.”

“Look…about this whole thing…I’m sorry–”

“For what?” his mentor interrupted him.

“For rubbing it in.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me your memory’s failing that badly already.”

His protege blinked, puzzled. “Mac?”

“It isn’t as if I’ve never had a laugh at your expense,” the older man elaborated with a deliberately nonchalant shrug.

Richie laughed. “True.”

“You can’t control what Methos does, Richie. I don’t think anybody could tell him what to do and expect to be listened to. And as much as I hate to admit it, they do need you.”

The younger man nodded. “Thanks.”

“Just promise me you’ll come back in one piece.”

“I’ll do my best.” After a brief, awkward silence, the young Immortal flashed his teacher a half-hearted smile and turned to leave.

“Richie–”

The younger man turned back, a curious expression on his face.

“I don’t want you going in there without a sword.”

“Mac, it’s okay–I promised to stay out of trouble.”

The Highlander nodded. “Yeah, I know. But just in case trouble comes looking for you…” He pulled out a sword case something like the one that had once held the rapier, only wider and flatter. Opening it, he drew out a silvery Gothic Bastard sword with a hilt wrapped in black leather.

“Here. It belonged to a friend of mine, named Graham Ashe.”

“Mac, I can’t,” Richie protested, overwhelmed.

“Look, if it makes you feel any better, you can return it if you find yours. But if not…well, it’s not doing me any good lying around here.”

His young friend nodded, still awed. “Thanks.” After an awkward moment, he turned again to leave.

When he was gone, Duncan moved to the window and stared out of it down at the parking lot. After a few moments, the group emerged, all dressed casually. They headed for the T-Bird, which he had agreed to loan them since Methos didn’t stay in one place long enough to own a car, neither of the vampires felt a need for one, and the whole group wouldn’t fit on Richie’s bike.

Watching them climb in, the Highlander let out a low sigh. As if he’d heard, the young Immortal glanced back up at the building and waved briefly at the mentor he didn’t know was watching. Duncan nodded unseen in response, one corner of his mouth turning up in a rueful smile. “Be careful,” he murmured.