Title: Child of Mine

(Part 2 of 'Common Ground', a novella published by Angelwings Press)

Author: Sarah Saint Ives

Email address: jtsiwrestling@yahoo.com

Archive: yes

Fandom: Highlander/The Sentinel

Pairing: Richie/Duncan, Jim/Blair

Category: Alternate Universe, First Times, Xover

Rating: R for m/m sexual situations and adult themes.

Summary: Duncan delivers a baby and visions of parenthood lead him into another very unusual adven-ture. Jim Ellison returns a disturbed man who needs a friend.

Disclaimer: Rysher Pictures owns Duncan, Richie and Joe. Pet Fly owns Jim and Blair. I claim everyone else in the story.

December 1995

The girl was barely eighteen years old and due to give birth at any minute. She was alone in the world, homeless and abandoned by everyone she had ever trusted. Her strict, abusive parents had rejected her when they had caught her with the man who had made her pregnant, so she had moved into his small, rented trailer. He had disappeared a month later and she was evicted from the trailer by the landlord. She had no place to go.

Young and alone, she did not know what to do. She did not want to have her baby in an alley or beneath a bridge. It was getting cold at nights now and she was burdened with a respiratory infection, sniffling, coughing, suffering from scratchy throat and earaches. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. The baby was full term. After some serious soul-searching, she
concluded that she and the baby would be better off dead. With no other options at her disposal, she decided to opt for the only real way out.

The hunter's knife was her last possession. Everything else had been pawned long ago, the money already spent. She had kept the knife for survival, now it would give her peace. The temperature was in the mid twenties on that sad and bitter night when she let go of her last thread of hope. She had gone into labor twelve hours before and was already feeling the strong contractions of childbirth when she lay down in the alley and plunged the knife into her heart.

+++++

Monday, December 4, 1995

Duncan MacLeod shivered from the chill and pulled his coat more tightly around him as he strolled home from the wharf. He had been to see David, a very old immortal friend who owned an old-world sailing ship. David journeyed the seas at his leisure and lived very much like the old sailor he had been in the sixteen and seventeen hundreds. The two immortals had shared a bottle of Scotch and Duncan had realized the late hour only as he stumbled drunkenly from the wooden wharf and headed home. It was a long walk on the frigid December night as his breath fogged out like frozen clouds and tiny icicles formed on his
eyelashes.

He passed up the littered alleys that were usually home to stray animals and the few homeless people in this small city, hearing various noises and listening closely to them. Cats, dogs, rats maybe, he hoped no hu-mans were out here tonight but one alleyway was host to a canned bonfire, two men standing close. One of the men shouted something to him and Duncan turned
his attention to him.

The man was approaching him. "You're out late, Mister. Don't you know how dangerous this part of town is this late at night?"

Duncan viewed him with round, innocent brown eyes, feigning naiveté. "What's so dangerous about it?"

"You just might get mugged."

"By whom?"

"Maybe some homeless guy who needs money. You got any on you?"

"What, money?"

"Yeah, money. You got any?"

"Yeah. I've got some money."

"Give it here." The man was closer now, doing his best to look vicious. He held a thick iron bar in his gloved hand. His lips were blue.

Duncan shook his head. "That's not the polite way to ask. Didn't your mother teach you about this kind of behavior?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you please give me the money?"

"I don't think so." Duncan started to walk away, pivoting when he heard the whoosh of the iron bar accel-erating through the cold air toward his head. His right arm blocked it, but it fractured the bone on contact. He grimaced and bent, dropped to the ground for a leg sweep, which knocked the man to his butt. "I said no!" he said. "You can't have my money!" Angry and in pain, he got to his feet moved on, hoping the man would not follow.

The would-be mugger grudgingly returned to his fire, rubbing his cold, aching ass.

There was only one more alley and as Duncan edged past it, he felt death. The alley was pitch black and he had no flashlight, but he dared in, moving slowly. He was still holding his right arm, but it was healing quickly as was typical for immortals. The pain was lessening. It was something he could now ignore. He listened for human sounds, heard something that made strange, strangling noises, felt in his pocket for matches or a lighter. He had an idle thought that this was possibly the only point in favor of smoking, that smokers always had a lighter at hand. He came up with a single match left in a book and squatted to strike it. He found a page of a newspaper on the ground, struck the match and lit the paper, illuminating the al-leyway.

A young woman was sprawled behind a dumpster, a knife in her chest. As Duncan went to her in trepida-tion, he heard the movement between her legs and understood exactly what was happening. Although she had drawn her last breath, she was giving birth. He was quick to strip her of her faded sweat pants and push her knees apart. The baby was alive and being born. With shaky hands that were too cold to touch a new baby, he took it by the head and turned it to allow the shoulders through into the cold, cruel world, life from death. He could not comprehend how the contractions had continued postmortem. It was a miracle. The newborn cry was a short shiver.

It was a boy.

The paper fire was going out, so before he lost the last bit of light, he tucked the baby into his coat, tied the umbilical cord, and cut it with the knife that had been imbedded in the mother's heart. He laid the knife on the ground but thought better of leaving
it and picked it up again. Then, taking the baby and the knife, he slipped quietly out of the alley and hurried home.

+++++

Richie Ryan groaned as he answered his phone. "It's three thirty in the morning. How important is your call?"

"Important." It was Duncan MacLeod's urgent voice. "Richie, I need some diapers, baby formula and bot-tles."

Richie yawned. "Yeah. Okay. I'll run right out and buy you some. Can it wait till daylight?"

"No, it cannot. I need them now."

"What's going on, Mac?"

"Guess."

"Okay, just taking a wild stab in the dark here, I'd say you've got a baby there with you, right?"

"And no diapers, bottles or formula."

"How old is the kid?"

"He was born a few minutes ago."

"Where's the mother?"

"She didn't make it."

Richie was suddenly wide awake. "She didn't make it? What are you saying, Mac?"

"Try not to let anyone see you buying the goods I asked for. Get them at the convenience store on the other side of town and bring them to me soon. Don't say a word to anyone."

"Okay. No problem."

"Hurry."

"Okay. I'll see you in a few minutes. It's cold out there, you know."

"I know. Wear a coat." MacLeod broke the connection and gave the baby his attention. He had washed away the birth mess at the kitchen sink and had wrapped the child in the smallest blanket he owned. Water was boiling on the burner to be purified for drinking when bottles arrived.

The dead girl in the alley would be found in the morning and the cops would know she had given birth. They would wonder what had become of the baby. Duncan contemplated calling them and explaining what had happened, but there was a serious downside to this whole situation. The Scotch he had shared with David was still very much in effect. He was drunk. He had
used the knife to cut the umbilical cord, mean-ing his fingerprints were on the handle. Worst-case scenario; the cops could arrest him for murdering the girl. He was fairly certain she had committed suicide, judging from the angle that the knife had been im-paled. But it could be difficult to prove his innocence in court if he were found to have been near the body. And if he brought forth the child, he would be giving them a motive. They would believe he killed her for the baby. In his drunken state, Duncan could not reason it out in his mind.

Thank God there had been no witnesses. He remembered the man who had tried to mug him and caught his breath in near panic. If he identified Duncan to the cops as being at the scene, he may still have a problem. Hopefully, the man wouldn't be talking to the cops. A mugger would certainly not want to be involved in a police matter. At least, Duncan hoped not.

His only choice for the time being was to keep the baby hidden. He would take the knife on his next trip out to sea and discard it in the deepest waters he could find. And he would begin looking for a suitable home for the baby as soon as it was safe to do so.

He studied the child in his arms. He had blue eyes and fair skin; the hair was also light. He made small gur-gling sounds as the tiny uncoordinated hands were tossed aimlessly about. The eyes were unfocused. He was very small, very fragile. He was completely helpless. If Duncan had not come along and saved him, he would have been dead within minutes in that frozen
alley.

When Duncan took the little hand, it closed around his finger. He smiled warmly down into those crystal blue eyes that saw him dimly as the first human contact. "I wish I could keep you, little one." MacLeod murmured. "I wish there was a way."

The baby had not cried. He was contented to lie quietly, peacefully, the blue eyes trained on MacLeod's face. He would grow up to be a great man, a handsome man, Duncan thought. A strong, wise, leader of men, a kind, gentle man who was thoughtful of others. If Duncan had the opportunity to keep the baby and raise him, he would be the best father the world had ever known. He would devote himself to the task of child-rearing to be sure he was brought up properly. The child would have everything he needed, know everything Duncan could teach him, and would become the very best at everything he learned.

Duncan's affectionate brown eyes were soft and reminiscent. This was a life just beginning from death, with unlimited potential. Already, he was falling in love with this little miracle he had helped bring into the world.

+++++

Richie came from the elevator, gazing skeptically at MacLeod, who was sitting on the couch with the baby in his arms. Setting a plastic grocery bag at his feet, Richie leaned to get a closer look. "What happened to the mother?" he asked, the foremost question on his mind.

"She died. She stabbed herself in the heart."

"Where? Tell me about it." Richie was so cold from his motorcycle ride through the dark, frozen streets of Seacouver that his body emitted cold air. He went to MacLeod's bed and stole a blanket, wrapped himself in it before he sat on the couch beside him.

"I was walking home from the wharf." Duncan began the story, digging into the bag for a diaper as he talked. Before he finished relating all the details to Richie, he had disinfected a bottle, filled it with a weak first formula and was feeding the baby.

Richie did not interrupt him. He observed, perceiving that Duncan was still slightly intoxicated. When he stopped talking, Richie asked, "So what next? Do you plan to keep him?"

MacLeod wasn't a fool. He knew the dangers this concept presented. "I honestly don't know what to do now, Richie."

Richie understood that he was emotionally torn and attempted to execute rationalism into his friend's de-layed mental process. "Mac, do you really think the cops would accuse you of killing her?"

"I don't know. Probably. I took the knife. If I came forward now, I would definitely be under suspicion."

The baby was falling asleep. Richie was now warm enough to risk touching a soft, tiny hand. "We could hide out for a few days until the investigation cools down." he suggested.

"Where? Where could we hide with a baby to care for?"

"What about the Island?"

"It's too cold to take him to the Island. He's just born and he's mortal. It would take very little to kill him at this point in his life. I won't take a chance on him getting sick."

"The only time he'd have to be outside would be on the way there. We could wrap him up. We can keep the cabin warm once we're there."

"If I left, it could create more suspicion than if I stayed."

"But if they find the baby here, it would create a whole lot of suspicion." Richie pointed out. "You travel, Mac. You don't sit still like other people. Nobody would think it was unusual for you to be gone."

"I'm supposed to meet David again tonight on his ship." Duncan remembered. "I can't leave until I have met my obligation."

"Okay..." Richie tried to think of a logical solution. "Then, I'll babysit at my place until after you get home and then we'll leave. If you don't want the cops to know you've got this kid, Mac, you can't keep him here. I'm sure they'll come here. They'll be asking questions. The alley is too close for them to miss you here. We have to get him out of here before daylight."

MacLeod's face was strained. "Then let's go back to your place. I'll follow you in my car. You can't leave your bike out front or they'll know exactly where to come looking for me."

"Shit. That means I'm gonna freeze my ass off again. It's cold out there, Mac."

"I'm sorry." Duncan was gathering up the baby's few things. "Let's go."

+++++

Tuesday, December 5, 1995

The girl's body was discovered by sanitation workers the following morning at a few minutes of nine. After a few photographs and a quick once-over by the medical examiner, she was taken to the morgue and the case was assigned to homicide. The cold temperature hurried the procedure along. Nobody wanted to be outside any longer than was absolutely necessary.

As MacLeod had thought, their first suspicion was that the girl was murdered for the baby to which she had obviously given birth. But by noon, there were other findings.

Detective James Ellison, visiting again from Cascade, stood just inside the autopsy room waiting for the medical examiner's preliminary evaluation of the dead girl. "What's it gonna be, Doc?" he asked finally, weary of the lengthy examination. The smell was killing him.

"We still have to wait for all the lab tests, but off-hand, I'd say this was a suicide." The new M.E. was the youngest doctor to have ever worked in this city, and Ellison critically questioned his credentials. He seemed competent in most matters, but this assumption was ridiculous.

"What makes you think it was suicide? If she'd killed herself, the weapon wouldn't be missing and the baby wouldn't be missing!"

"I can't tell you anything about what happened to the knife or the baby, but the wound was self-inflicted. The angle is unmistakable. She stabbed herself."

"Shit." This was going to be another one of those cases that ended up in the huge filing room as unsolved. The baby was probably on the black market by now. "Why would she have killed herself?"

"I can't comment on that." The M.E. was annoyingly professional. "But I can tell you one thing for certain. The baby was born postmortem."

Now, Ellison wrinkled up his nose in disgust. "Somebody came along and took it from her... after she was dead?"

"You got it."

Ellison shook his head. "I have to go do some detecting," he said. "Let me know if you find anything else interesting here."

"I will, sir."

Ellison left, glad to be out of there. He hated that smell of death. As he eased in beneath the wheel of his still-new blue truck and drove toward the scene, it came to him that the alley was less than a block from MacLeod's building. This would be a good time to pay him a visit and see if he had heard anything un-usual. In an investigation such as this, where there were no clues, any information was better than sitting around twiddling his fingers. Talking to MacLeod was as good a place to start as any.

+++++

He was disappointed that Duncan MacLeod was not home. He drove the few blocks to speak to Joe Daw-son, a local barkeeper he had met on his previous visit to Seacouver a year ago. Joe had heard the news about the dead girl being found but did not know the details. As the cop settled onto a barstool, Joe poured them each a double shot of bourbon and Ellison filled him in on the case. He was drinking on duty and di-vulging investigative facts to a civilian, but since that fateful day when his partner and friend had been killed, Ellison didn't give a damn about rules. Rules could get you killed.

"Have you seen MacLeod?" Ellison asked, holding the glass out for a refill.

"Not for a couple of days." Joe answered. "That's not unusual. He has mood swings. Sometimes he's here every day, sometimes he holes up and stays to himself for weeks at a time. He goes from high to low with-out warning. Nobody can guess what's on his mind."

"Sounds like you know him pretty well."

"Well, yeah. Better than anybody, I suppose. I just watch."

"What about the kid, Richie? He hangs around a lot, doesn't he?"

"Yeah."

"Where does he live?"

"East 2nd Street. Why?"

"You think MacLeod's at his place?"

Just as Joe opened his mouth to reply, Richie walked into the bar and spoke cheerfully. "Hey, Ellison! My favorite cop in the whole world! How's it going, man?"

Ellison gave him a sidling glance and finished his bourbon. "It's not."

"What are you doing back in Seacouver? I thought we were rid of you for good, dude. Did they finally kick your ass outta Cascade?"

"Not yet, but they keep trying. I'm just here to help out with another case."

Richie pulled himself up on another barstool and clapped him on the shoulder as if they were the best of friends. "Well, it's great to see you again, man! Hey, Joe, have you seen Mac around?"

Joe shook his head. "No, Richie, I haven't."

"When's the last time you saw him, kid?" Ellison asked.

"Yesterday. We worked out together." Richie answered casually. "Can I get something to drink, Joe?"

"Can't sell liquor yet. The bar's not open." Joe told him.

"I wasn't planning on paying for it." Richie said, getting up and going around the bar.

Joe sighed as Richie helped himself to a beer from the cooler. "So, Ellison," the bartender said, "Why are you looking for MacLeod? What does he have to do with this dead girl you're investigating?"

"Nothing." Ellison answered, pointing to the cooler. "Give me one of those, Richie."

Richie handed him a beer, curiosity on his face. "What dead girl? What's going on?"

"The girl they found in the alley this morning. Just down from MacLeod's building."

Richie nodded, waiting for more. Ellison opened the beer and took a long swig. Finally, after a few mo-ments of silence, the boy asked impatiently, "Are you going to tell me the rest? The girl was dead. What killed her?"

"A knife... that mysteriously wasn't there any more. The M.E. says it was suicide, but if it was suicide, why is the knife gone?"

Richie's face gave nothing away. "So you think it was murder?"

"I don't know what to think."

"Why are you looking for MacLeod?"

"Maybe he heard something."

Richie shrugged. He stood behind the bar to drink his beer.

"Some lucky bastard will probably get a pocketful outta the kid." Ellison said.

"Huh?" Richie's blue eyes were on him. "You talking about me?"

"No, you're not worth a penny on the black market, Richie unless they got one for curly-haired dingleber-ries. I'm talking about the baby."

"What baby?"

"The missing baby."

Joe smiled at Richie. "I think that second double did him in. What he's talking about is that the dead girl had a baby that wasn't with her when she was found."

"Then somebody killed her for the baby?"

Joe shrugged. "Don't know."

"If the kid looked like the mama, it would bring big bucks on the market. Blonde hair, blue eyes, all that. She was a pretty little thing. I can't imagine her stabbing herself."

"Bad things happen to good people, Ellison. And to pretty people." Joe said.

"Yeah, I know. I know that better than anybody."

Richie could see the pain of bad memories in both men's eyes and it disturbed him. "You know, I think I'm gonna take off now. If Mac comes in, tell him to call me, okay, Joe?"

"Yeah, okay." Joe nodded as Richie passed behind him, accepting a friendly, almost conspiratorial pat on the shoulder. "See you."

Richie zipped up his jacket as he went out into the cold.

"Is he still riding that motorcycle everywhere?" Ellison asked.

"Yeah. He doesn't own a car. On that bike every day."

"He's gonna have pneumonia."

"He doesn't get sick much." Joe would never tell the secret.

+++++

MacLeod glanced up from a dirty diaper into Richie's twinkling eyes. "What are you so happy about?" he asked.

"Ellison's in town. He's looking for you. He's at Joe's. I threw him off track, made him believe I was looking for you." Richie went to get a wet washcloth. "I can take care of little Stinkpot there if you wanta go."

Duncan nodded, thinking. "I should see him."

"I told them I hadn't seen you since yesterday, and neither one of us knew anything about the dead girl. He didn't have any questions for me except when I had last seen you. I think he just wants to know if you heard anything."

MacLeod stood straight, putting the freshly changed baby in the center of Richie's bed. "Watch him close. He just finished a bottle so he shouldn't get hungry again for a couple of hours."

"Okay. We'll be fine together." Richie assured him. "When will you be back?"

"I don't know." Duncan's eyes were tired. He suppressed a yawn. "I'll call you."

"You need some sleep." Richie observed.

Duncan nodded wearily and put his arms around him. Richie hugged him close, kissed him on the jaw and rubbed his back. They stood in the embrace for a few seconds before Duncan withdrew from him, and with a fond smile, touched his cheek, then picked up his coat on his way out the door.

Richie went to the bed to play with the baby. "Hey, Shithead." he said in a baby-talking voice. "How's it going?"

The baby's hands and feet were busy. Richie put his chin on the little feet and wiggled a tiny arm. "You're just a fine little dude, aren't you? And you don't have a name yet. If we're gonna keep you, we gotta give you a name. Can't keep calling you Shithead."

The baby sneezed. "Don't you dare get sick." he said as he wiped the little nose. "That would ruin all Mac's plans here." He still didn't quite approve of the way MacLeod had handled this situation, but he was his friend and he would back him up a hundred percent even if everything he did was wrong.

+++++

Ellison was still at Joe's when MacLeod walked in. "Hey, speak of the devil!" Ellison greeted, tipping his third beer.

Duncan went round the bar and poured himself a shot of Scotch. "Hi, Jim. Hi, Joe."

Joe merely nodded his greeting, but Ellison asked, "So, where were you last night?"

MacLeod's brown eyes were alert. "That's none of your business. Why?"

"Because a girl was killed last night."

"Do you think I killed her?"

"No, Dumbass, I don't think you killed her." Ellison was frowning. "I just wanted to know if you were home and if you heard anything."

"No to both. I wasn't home and I didn't hear anything. Sorry." Duncan swallowed the Scotch in one gulp. "Joe, have you seen Richie?"

"Yeah, he was here a few minutes ago looking for you. He said he wanted you to call him."

Ellison toyed with his empty beer can on the bar. "MacLeod, this girl... I was hoping maybe you'd seen her around. She was real cute, real young, blonde curly hair, blue eyes, pregnant...?"

"Sorry." Duncan repeated. "That doesn't ring a bell."

"Was it possible she was killed somewhere else and dumped in the alley?" Joe theorized.

"Doesn't look like it. Never can tell."

Duncan gave him a more personal gaze. "Have you mended things with your ex-wife?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"She's not interested in getting back together."

"Try again."

"I don't think so. There's someone else in her life now."

"You didn't try, did you?"

Ellison looked defeated. "I didn't beg."

Duncan dropped it. "So, Richie went home?"

"Yeah, I guess." Joe answered.

"You wanta do something for your kid, MacLeod?" Ellison said. "Buy him a car. He's gonna freeze to death on that bike."

"That's a good idea." Duncan agreed, smiling. Ellison had acquired a reputation in Seacouver for being a tough, impatient cop, but Duncan had seen through his facade to the real man. "I'll be sure to tell him it was your suggestion."

"Don't you dare."

"Do you have anything more to ask me?" Duncan asked with the finality of leaving. "I haven't had much sleep."

"No, nothing." Ellison stood to leave, too. "I gotta go to work and write this damned report. Sleep well, MacLeod. Thanks for the refreshments, Joe."

"Any time, Ellison." Joe waved as he left, then turned to MacLeod. "You all right?"

"I'm fine. Just tired."

"Something I'd be interested in?"

"You're interested in everything, Joe. But this one's private." Duncan answered, heading for the door.

"Is she married?"

"Barking up the wrong tree, Joe."

"Is he married?" Joe knew Duncan all too well, his past and his present.

"Not even close. Bye, Joe." Duncan went out the door.

***********

The baby jolted awake at the sound of the ringing phone. Richie picked up the receiver, hoping he would not cry. "Hello."

"Richie, it's me. How's he doing?" Duncan asked.

"He was asleep until the phone rang. Did you talk to Ellison?"

"Yeah." There was a moment's pause. "What do you think, Richie?"

Richie sat down on the bed again. "He doesn't cry at all. He's been here nearly ten hours now and he hasn't cried yet."

"He's not unhappy." Duncan explained. "What do you think about me keeping him?"

"About you keeping him? I thought this was a joint effort." Richie did not want to have this discussion now. "By the way, what do you want to name him?"

"I don't know. What did you have in mind?"

"I've been calling him Shithead."

Duncan laughed shortly, then sobered. "Darius."

"Good name." Richie approved. "Real good. Are you coming here?"

"Not until after I see David tonight. I think I'll try to take a nap here at my place now. I'm really tired. I'll leave early from the ship and try to be there before midnight. David is sailing in the morning."

"You haven't told me about David."

"You didn't ask."

"Oh, yeah. Why didn't I think to ask the right questions?" Richie caught the baby's foot and butted it gen-tly with his forehead. "Is he one of them?"

"Past history, Richie, something that happened a long time ago. He's married now, and very much in love with his wife."

"I'm glad to hear that. Not that I'm jealous or anything, you understand. We'll talk when you get here. I know you're tired. Go to sleep."

"Good night, Richie."

Richie smiled, glancing out the window at the sun that was high in the sky. "Good night, Mac." He put down the phone, then picked up the baby. "Uh-oh, we got a soggy diaper, don't we?" Lying him across his lap, he pulled the tabs to remove the disposable diaper. "Let's see what we have inside here..."

+++++

The Medical Examiner had completed his autopsy and had relayed all findings to Ellison. The dead girl's fingerprints were being run for identification. Until her identity could be established, she would be labeled as Jane Doe.

Ellison's desk phone rang at six P.M., just as he was leaving. It was Linda in Missing Persons. "Do you want me to list the baby as missing?" she asked.

"It's missing, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Linda's voice was always the same, intelligent but soft. "Do you have any news on the mother yet?"

"Nope. None."

"Did you pin her photograph on the bulletin board?"

"Not yet." He made a mental note to take care of the matter on his way out. "I'm waiting for the rest of the results. Her fingerprints might be a dead end. If she's never been in jail, they wouldn't be on record, would they?"

"They fingerprint school kids nowadays, Ellison. She was young. If she went to school, chances are, we've got them someplace."

"They fingerprint school kids? Why? Just in case they decide to become criminals?"

"No, Stupid. In case they come up missing or dead, so we can identify them. You live in the wrong cen-tury." She laughed and hung up.

One last thing before he left. Ellison punched numbers on the phone, listened expectantly as it rang. A male voice answered.

"Hi, Blair." he said. "It's me."

"Hey, Jim! How's it going in Seacouver?"

"Bad case here, Chief. Really tough. A young girl who was pregnant is dead. The M.E. says it was suicide, but the knife that killed her is gone, and so is the baby."

"Want me to come?"

"No, you've already missed enough classes there. Rainier needs you. One way or another, I'll wrap this case up soon and head home."

"Good, because we're out of milk and I don't have any money."

Jim grinned to himself. "Look in the cupboard, top shelf, all the way to the right. There's a gold metal can-ister. There's some emergency money in there."

"Cool!" Blair said. From the phone came the sounds of a chair being scooted to the counter and used as a step to reach the top shelf. "Found it! Thanks, man. I'll stock up on groceries while you're gone!"

"Yeah." Jim's voice bordered on affectionate. "You do that."

Blair's tone softened, too. "Jim, are things okay with your senses?"

"Yeah, Chief. My senses are fine. I'll call you again soon, okay?"

"Okay. You have your cell phone there, don't you? I can call you if I need to?"

"Of course. Just call if you need anything."

"Thanks. I will."

Jim could picture him sitting on the counter, winding one tress of that long, curly hair round a finger, the sweet face the picture of deep thought. "I'll be home soon, Blair."

"Okay."

"Blair..."

"Yeah, Jim?" The anticipation was unmistakable.

Jim ran tender fingers round the handset, his heart gone to mush. "Get your ass off the counter."

+++++

David Vanders was tall and rugged, his skin bronzed and his sandy hair washed out by the sun. He chewed twist tobacco and drank hard liquor as he captained his ship. He made regular deliveries from Asia to ware-houses all along the western US and Canadian coast, but he seldom dropped anchor in MacLeod's town.

David would have still been hung over from his overindulgence the night before if he were mortal, but his blood cleaned itself very quickly, took away all the impurities that made him ill. He was feeling fine and ready to pop the cork on another bottle.

When MacLeod arrived, he gave him a jovial welcome, glad to see he had brought the liquor for tonight. "I knew I could count on you for a fine vintage." he said, reading the label. It was dated 1827.

"I can't stay long, David. I have urgent business to attend to." Duncan took a seat on the helm.

"Then let's get started. I'll get the glasses." He stepped lively as he went below.

Duncan sat still, gazing at a waterproofed, framed photograph of a brown-skinned woman at the wheel. He knew she was David's wife, but details about her had not been shared. "David, what's her name?" he asked as David returned with two mismatched glasses from the galley.

David followed his gaze. "Sherry. She lives in California."

"Do you see her often?"

"Not as much as I'd like. She wants kids. As you know, I can't give them to her."

Duncan looked down.

"I think I'll stop in and see her when I leave here." David leaned back against the rail. "You got married, didn't you Duncan?"

"No. Almost."

"I won't ask what happened."

"She died."

"I'm sorry. You've never been lucky."

"No, not in love, I haven't."

"Did it ever bother you that you couldn't have kids?" David asked.

Duncan wondered why this particular subject had surfaced. It was almost like a prophecy. "Yeah, of course."

"Did you ever lose a woman because of it?"

"Once. Sort of."

"I think I'm losing Sherry. She's tired of me."

"Because you can't give her a child?"

"Yeah. She really wants to be a mom."

"Is she looking for another man who can give her a child? Does she have someone else?"

David looked uncomfortable. "No. She's a faithful wife."

"If she doesn't intend to find another man who can be a father to her child, then she may as well stay mar-ried to you, right?"

"It's not simple, Duncan."

"Of course it's not."

"Here. Let's drink." David held out the glasses. "Let's make a toast to... to..."

"To Sherry." Duncan finished for him.

"Okay, she gets the first one. And I got another good joke for you."

Duncan laughed, having listened to a thousand twisted, dirty jokes last night. "All right, David, let's hear it."

"Okay, there's this little boy. He's heading out the door one day and his daddy hollers to him, 'Hey, where do you think you're going?' The kid said, 'I'm gonna go downtown and win me some money.' So the daddy asks, 'Are you gambling, son? You know I don't like gambling.' The kid said 'No gambling to it, Dad. It's a sure thing.' So the daddy says, 'Hold on a minute. You ain't going nowhere until you tell me about this money you're going to win.' The kid don't really want to tell it, but he finally says, 'Well, there's this contest... sort of... downtown. There's this guy who told me and six or seven other boys my age to meet him
there. He'll give whichever one of us who has the longest pecker a hundred dollars.' So the daddy gets all hostile. 'You're not going!' he yells. 'You're not taking out all of your pecker for that per-vert to see!' 'But I'm not gonna take it all out, Dad!' the
kid said. 'Just enough to win the hundred.'"

Duncan laughed politely. He had heard the joke the night before. If immortals could go senile, his friend was doing just that. "That's cute, David." he said gracefully.

+++++

He wasn't as drunk tonight as he had been the previous night when he disembarked. The car was waiting on the curb this time. He would not be walking past any dark alleys. It was fifteen till midnight when he returned to Richie's apartment.

Richie had been asleep but Duncan's immortal presence had awakened him. He was raised on one elbow beside the baby when he walked in. "About time." he said, yawning.

Duncan sat down on the bed, his deep eyes on the sleeping child. "What are we going to do, Richie?"

Richie shook his head. "Sleep sounds good to me. I got woke up early, remember?"

Duncan nodded, but continued to sit, obviously disturbed.

Richie sighed and got up carefully so as not to wake the baby. "How about some coffee?" he offered. "Come over to the couch where we can talk."

Duncan moved to the couch. "Don't fix coffee...unless you want some."

Richie sat beside him, looking into his eyes. "Are you sober?" he asked.

"Sober enough. Richie, I have a feeling that what I've done is terribly inappropriate. I don't know why I thought I had the right to keep him hidden like I did."

"Mac, you didn't do it alone." Richie reminded him. "What would become of him if you took him to the cops? What would they do with him? Stick him in some foster home, probably. I had plenty of experience with living in placement homes and I don't want Darius growing up like that. You know, Mac, at first I thought you were wrong about this. But I've been thinking about it. I don't see why we can't figure out a way to keep him."

"Richie, we both know the dangers involved. We know he could be used against us by evil immortals. How can we keep him safe? How can we keep him hidden? He deserves a normal life like every other mortal boy. We can't give it to him. We know that."

Richie didn't want to agree, but, feeling utterly discouraged, he closed his eyes and nodded. "What about the Island? Did you consider it any further?"

"I've had a lot of thoughts."

"He's such an adorable kid, Mac. He's so quiet and contented."

"If we were to keep him...if we raise him...you and I...who's to say we'll both still be around to watch him grow up? Either one of us could lose our head any day."

Richie gave him a straightforward look. "Well, that's a comforting thought." he said.

"You know what I mean and you know it's true. Being a father would mean living and providing for him until he can do it for himself."

"Oh, there's a lot more to it than just that." Richie said. "I just wish you had come along a few years sooner in my life when I was really in need. Hell, I'm still in need."

"I'm still here, Richie."

"I know. At least for now."

"Do you think I'm going to leave you?"

"You just said you could lose your head any day."

"So could you."

"Yeah. But let's be optimistic. You were the first person who acted fatherly toward me."

"I'm not your father, Richie."

Richie took his hand and held it. "No, that would make what we do incest. Let's just not talk about me los-ing you, okay?"

Duncan leaned over to put his head on his shoulder.

"You need a shower." Richie said.

"Thank you." Duncan was not insulted because he knew it was true. "I'll take one in a minute."

"Tell me about David?"

"He's going to see his wife."

"So it's really over between you?"

"It never really was in the first place."

"What, you just had some meaningless sex and went along your way?"

"Yes, basically. There was a little more to it, but very little."

"You want to tell me the story?"

"If you want to hear it."

"I do."

Duncan sighed and leaned back comfortably with him, caressing his bare chest and stomach. "He got me very drunk the first time, so drunk I had no qualms about him, and he took advantage of me. I woke the next morning naked in his arms and saw that he was also naked. He pretended it had been something acci-dental, something mutual between us and I believed him.
Afterward, he kept coming on to me. He would catch me unaware and steal a kiss or cop a feel. He wore down my resistance and we had a brief little fling. It ended when I saw him kiss another man in his employee."

"So, you threw a jealous fit?"

"No, I simply told him it was over. I never really wanted him in the first place."

"No love lost?"

"None at all. He's an acquaintance at best. There's no reason for you to feel threatened, Richie."

"I don't feel threatened."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't." Richie laughed and kissed him, gently bit his lower lip and murmured, "I'm not jealous. I just want you to be mine. That's all."

"I am. All yours."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I'm positive."

"You're all mine and nobody else's?"

"I'm yours, Richie."

"Forever?"

"If that's what you want."

"What do you want?"

"I want you, Richie, as long as I can have you."

Richie kissed him again. "Oh, Mac, I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Richie." Duncan breathed into his ear.

+++++

"What do you want to do about Darius, Richie?" Duncan came fresh from his shower and lounged in his lover's arms on the couch again.

"I've been thinking. In twenty years he's gonna look as old as me. Fifteen years after that, he'll be your age, then he'll be older than both of us. He'll get older and older and he'll die, and if we keep our heads, we'll still be the same. Mac, you're right. He
deserves a mortal family, not us."

MacLeod had held steady eye contact with him, but once the words were spoken, he let his gaze drop in surrender. "I'll call Ellison."

Richie caught his hand before he could pick up the phone. "Not tonight." he said. "Wait until tomorrow."

Duncan forced a smile. "You're stalling."

"I know. That's what I'm doing." Richie yawned and rubbed his ribs. "I think daylight's plenty soon enough."

Made aware of the time, Duncan stretched wearily. "What do you have in mind for tonight, hmm?"

"How about we snuggle up together on the bed and sleep until morning."

Duncan laughed and kissed him with an open mouth. "I don't recall you ever wanting to just snuggle be-fore."

"Well, yeah, I guess there are a couple of things I'd like to do first." Richie gave him a sexy smile and kissed him again. "Let's start with you, okay?"

As the strawberry blonde head moved between his legs and began to pleasure him with that luscious, tal-ented mouth, Duncan threw back his head to enjoy the sensuousness.

+++++

Wednesday, December 6, 1995

Ellison was at Joe's first thing in the morning. He was happier than Joe had ever seen him.

Joe smiled. "So are you and your ex-wife getting back together?"

"No, of course not."

"Did you see your kid?"

"I don't have a kid." Ellison's expression changed to something like indifference. "I've got a roommate... if that's who you're talking about. I talked to him on the phone yesterday." He tipped his beer.

"What's the roommate's name?" Joe asked.

"Blair."

Joe studied him. "So, you have a roommate. He evidently makes you happy. Tell me about him."

"Nothing to tell. He's a grad student who teaches classes at Rainier University. He's a police observer, too. When he gets his dissertation written, he'll be a PhD in anthropology."

Joe didn't comment.

"He's writing his dissertation about me." Ellison finished.

"On you? You must have him fooled."

"He thinks I'm pretty special."

"It sounds like you care a lot about him."

Ellison nearly choked on his beer. "Joe, don't make me into something I'm not."

"No implications at all intended." Joe assured him, knowingly. "How old is he?"

"Twenty six, I think."

"So, what do you two do together when he's not at school and you're not working?"

"We go fishing sometimes. We hang out on the couch and watch basketball."

"You've changed a lot since you were here the last time. I think this kid's a good influence on you."

The cop's face was red. "Aw, shut up, Joe."

Joe grinned. "Did you come here looking for MacLeod again?"

"Yeah. Where is he?"

"Don't know. It's not my shift to watch him." Joe gave himself a mental high-five at the secret pun.

"He's not home again. Does he have a girlfriend?"

"Not that I know of."

"It's sort of strange that he's gone so much, isn't it?"

"Everything he does is strange."

"You can say that again. He's a case all by himself."

"How did he manage to get himself involved with those Rose Club murders last year?" Joe asked. "I know you had something to do with that."

"Baxter's idea." Ellison said. "He and MacLeod had made friends. MacLeod could take care of himself real good with that Kung Fu shit so we dressed him in drag and sent him in. He nailed our man, but not the way we wanted it. Baxter ended up dead."

Joe gave him a moment of respectful silence in honor of his partner, then said, "Richie gave me a picture of Mac in drag. Did you get one?"

"Nope."

"You want one?"

Now, Ellison grinned. "You got an extra one?"

"Yeah. They're collector items." Joe got up and opened the cash register, lifting the drawer to get the pic-ture from beneath it. He handed it to Ellison.

The cop gazed at the picture. "Baxter's in the background here." In the photograph, MacLeod was doing a Marilyn Monroe pose, bent with his hands on his knees, his eyes half-closed, his lips pursed. Behind him, grinning like an idiot was Baxter. "Damn. He died for no reason. Some nut beat him to death."

"I'm sorry." Joe sympathized. "I liked Baxter."

"Everybody liked him. I was the one everybody hated."

Joe didn't argue. He was right. But Joe's statement had been true-Ellison had changed since the death of his partner. He was almost likable now. Even Richie had seemed more tolerant of him. And Richie had hated him most.

"I thought I'd find you here." MacLeod came through the door.

Ellison turned to give him a grin. "Got your picture." He said, showing him. "Good one. The kid has talent. He should get into professional photography."

Duncan looked at the picture with a hint of a twinkle. "I hope you're not going to be showing it around."

"I might blow it up and put it on a billboard if I ever get a good reason to blackmail your ass." Ellison pocketed the picture.

Duncan smiled and rounded the bar to pour himself a shot of Scotch. "I have to talk to you." He said lowly.

Ellison nodded, waiting. "Here? You want to cruise around with me for a while?"

"No, here's fine." Duncan was reluctant to begin. "I may go to jail for what I've done."

Joe's eyebrows rose dramatically, but Ellison's face did not change.

"I took the baby."

Ellison took a deep breath. "Why? Tell me, MacLeod."

Duncan's breath was trembling as he gulped down the Scotch and poured more. "I was walking home from the wharf when I heard the noise. I went into the alley and found her there with the knife in her chest. The baby was being born right then. When I realized what was happening, I just acted. I didn't think. I didn't plan to do what I did. But when it was done, I was afraid the police would think I killed her."

"Why did you think the police would suspect you?"

"I was drunk, barely able to see straight. I had been drinking all night. I took the knife from her and used it to cut the baby's cord. I had to take it with me because my fingerprints were on it. And I took the baby so it wouldn't freeze to death." Duncan's face was miserable as he poured his third shot.

Ellison waited for him to go on.

"I took him to my apartment. I thought I could keep him. I thought I could raise him with nobody knowing. Like I said, I was drunk. I wasn't thinking right."

"Where's the baby now?" Ellison asked.

"With a friend."

"Richie?"

"I didn't say that."

Ellison nodded again. "MacLeod, if you did this thinking you could take care of the baby, why are you telling me about it now?"

"Because he deserves a better father than me."

"So you've been thinking. That twisted little pea-brain of yours working over-time till it's all swollen and making your head hurt." Ellison got up and gestured to him. "Come sit at a table. Let's talk about this. You, too, Joe. Did you know about this?"

Joe's eyes widened in innocence. "Not me. I had no idea."

Ellison sat at a table and kicked out a chair for Joe, patting the other side for MacLeod. Duncan refilled his shot glass once more before he joined him. "I'll bring the baby in after I've given you my statement, Elli-son."

"Let's just take this one step at a time." Ellison said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're not talking to a cop right now. You're talking to a friend."

Duncan gave him a straight glance.

"What makes you think you wouldn't be a good father?"

Duncan was surprised at the question. "A child should be raised by a mort-."

Joe cleared his throat, interrupting him, then coughed loudly.

Duncan looked at him and lowered his eyes, beginning again. "A child should be raised by a family, not a single man."

"I think you'd do a fine job." Ellison said. He wanted to know what Joe had stopped him from saying. "Single women do it all the time. Why couldn't you? You're a good father to Richie."

"I don't have to change Richie's diapers."

"You got a point there. But you know what I mean. You'd make an excellent father."

"Are you saying I should keep the baby?"

"Why not? You went to all this trouble. You might as well."

"Ellison, are you drunk? This is your case."

"Yeah. I'm just glad you took the kid instead of some asshole who sold it to the highest bidder."

"What would happen to him if I gave him to you?"

"I'd have to take him down to Social Services and they would try to place him in a nice foster home."

"Richie says foster homes are horrible."

"Yeah. Some of them are, I guess."

Duncan leaned back in his chair and studied the amber liquid in his glass with faraway eyes. He could re-member Richie's accounts of an unhappy childhood in foster homes. "I wish I could keep him, Ellison."

"Then keep him. I'll cover for you. Raise him as your own."

Duncan drank the shot. "I cannot do it here. If I am to raise him, it will be elsewhere."

"Then go elsewhere if you have to."

Joe had objections. "Mac, you need to think this thing out carefully. You know how much danger you'd be putting the kid in."

"That's why I'm here." Duncan said. "I want him safe."

"Why wouldn't he be safe with you?" Ellison asked.

Joe cleared his throat again in warning. MacLeod gave him a big-eyed glance that was sarcasm, then said, "I live a difficult life. There's no place in it for a baby."

Ellison was aware of the secretive glances. It was driving him crazy. "MacLeod, let's go for a ride, just you and me." He suggested, pulling him to his feet. "Come on. We've got some real talking to do here."

Joe's eyes worriedly followed them as they went out the door.

+++++

Duncan braced himself as the car careened on a steep incline, passed a semi-truck, and crowded a guardrail, but Ellison had seen no danger. His voice was unflustered as he steered the shiny blue truck up the winding road. "I understand if you and Joe have some crazy secret that you don't want to let me in on, but why would it put the baby in danger? How could your life be that dangerous? You're not a cop. You shouldn't know what real danger is."

"I'm beginning to." Duncan said, swallowing hard at the close call. "We almost had an accident, Jim! You're drinking too much to be driving."

"I drive the same way stone cold sober. I haven't had a wreck yet."

"Really? I guarantee you it's just a matter of time."

"Blair always harps about my driving. Don't you start."

"Who's Blair?"

"My roommate. My partner. My guide. He always wears his seat belt when he rides with me."

"I don't blame him."

Ellison blew out a long sigh. "Okay, I'll tell you mine first. I think I'm in love with him."

Duncan stared at him in surprise. "With your roommate?"

"Yeah. There's a lot more to it than just that, it's complicated. He's writing a dissertation on me. It turns out I'm a Sentinel, which means I have enhanced senses. I can smell, taste, see, hear and feel everything in greater dimension than most people.
Blair says I'm the only one he's ever found."

"I was right, then. I knew there was something unusual about you."

"Yeah, well, back at 'ya, Duncan. Are you a Sentinel, too?"

"Nope. Not a Sentinel." MacLeod looked away. "But Baxter was."

"Really? How did you know?"

"I can sense things, too, but not like you."

"I know. I feel the familiarity. It's weird. I felt it with Baxter, too, but I didn't have a clue what it was all about."

"You thought you were attracted to him." Duncan smiled teasingly.

"I was not attracted to him!"

"Yes, you were."

"MacLeod, just stop acting like you know every damn thing, okay?"

"You're attracted to Blair. Why couldn't you have been attracted to Baxter?"

"Because Baxter wasn't like Blair. Nobody's like Blair."

"I see."

"Okay, enough about me. Now, you tell me what's so dangerous about your life." Ellison passed a car, barely made it back to the right in time to avoid a head on collision with an oncoming car.

"What's dangerous at this moment is being a passenger in your truck." Duncan answered.

"Not what I wanted to hear."

Duncan looked at the cop's face. "Would you and Blair like to try your hand at being parents?"

Ellison was quiet for a moment, thinking.

"Darius is a good baby. He doesn't cry. He hasn't made a sound since he was born."

"You named him Darius?"

"After a good friend."

"Sounds okay."

"He has blue eyes and when he has hair, it will be light. He's a beautiful child."

"Sounds like you already love him."

"Yeah. I suppose I do."

"Then you keep him." Ellison said.

"I wish there were a way." Duncan said. "But..."

"But what? Tell me about this, MacLeod! What's so damn dangerous about your life? What do you do...work for the CIA? Are you a Private Investigator? Or a hitman? Tell me."

"None of the above." Duncan could not elude his demanding face. He would either have to tell him the truth or refuse to explain. "It's... not like that."

"Then how is it? Talk to me."

"Why is it important that you know? Because you're a cop? You said I wasn't talking to a cop right now, remember?"

"No, you're talking to me, Jim Ellison, your friend. Friends mean a lot to me, MacLeod. I never had many, so I count the ones I have dearly. I don't want you to give that baby up if you love it. I happen to think you're a pretty great guy and I think Richie's a very lucky young man to have you, no matter what kind of a relationship you have with him. This baby will miss out if you give it up. You have the kind of personality a father needs to teach his kid right and to make him feel loved."

"You'll tell Blair how you feel about him, won't you?"

"I don't know. I made a real mess of my marriage, and of every other relationship I ever attempted. Maybe I'd be better off if I just kept my mouth shut. Blair's special. He deserves a hell of a lot better than me."

"You're selling yourself short, Jim. You have a habit of doing that."

Ellison studied him as he pulled into the Lookout Mountain parking lot, choosing a spot where they could see the entire area below. "Look at that. Isn't it a pretty picture? "

"It's a good town."

"Is the baby with Richie?"

Duncan raised his eyes to meet Ellison's. "Yeah."

"You and Richie... you're a pair. You're different. I don't have the word, but I know you're something dif-ferent from other people."

Duncan waited for him to go on.

"I did a little checking into your background, MacLeod. Records, what I found of them, make you out to be a little older than you look. Maybe a little older than most people ever get to be. You wanta tell me how old you are?"

Duncan's guileless face almost looked childlike with the big, brown eyes and the full lips. "How old do you think I am?" he asked.

"Don't give me that face." Ellison smacked his cheek as punishment. "Answer my question."

Duncan dropped the pretense. "All right. If you must know. I'll be four hundred and four on my next birth-day." He sat back in the seat, rubbing his cheek.

"Yeah, good one." When the brown eyes held, he realized MacLeod was not joking. Ellison studied him. "How could you be that old?"

"Methusalah lived to be nine hundred and sixty nine." Duncan said.

"Yeah, I think I read about that one time." Ellison said. "And I think old Noah was nine hundred and sixty, just nine years younger. But all that was way back when. I didn't think people lived that long any more. And even if they lived to be older than normal, they didn't look like you. They were probably all wrinkled up like a raisin and old looking, not young and pretty like you."

Duncan laughed. "I'm not pretty, Ellison. I may not be on the list of the 'Mutts From the Pound', but pretty isn't the word for me."

"You don't look like you're over four hundred."

"Thank you."

"If you're really that old, what's your life expectancy?"

MacLeod shrugged. "That depends on how good I am."

"You're doing okay." Ellison assured him.

Duncan smiled at him and made a decision. "I trust that nothing I tell you will go any further."

"Who would I tell? Everything and anything you tell me is just between you and me.and maybe Blair, because I tell him pretty much everything. Don't worry. He keeps his mouth shut."

"Joe knows. He's a Watcher."

"A Watcher? Okay. I can already see this is going to be a long story." Ellison settled comfortably in the seat. "I'm ready."

"Don't you have to go to work or something?"

"Nope, I'm off today. I have nothing to do but sit right here all day and listen to you talk. So start talking."

With a sigh, MacLeod began to impart to him the mysterious existence of immortals on earth.

+++++

Richie was getting worried. MacLeod should have been home hours ago. Richie fervently hoped he had not met with another immortal on his way, one who wanted to take his head. It was a constant worry. He was still trying to adjust his mentality to the uncertainty that went along with living as an immortal.

Darius's bright blue eyes were on Richie, watching his every move. He was a beautiful baby. Richie re-flected on how unfair his young life had begun. But then, life itself was unfair. It was Duncan's favorite quote.

He felt the presence of an immortal and looked up as Duncan entered the apartment, closely followed by Ellison. A quick study of their faces told him they were weary and intense. "What kept you?" he asked. "I was getting worried."

Duncan went to sit beside him on the couch and took Darius. "We had to talk."

Richie was clearly upset. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

"You're keeping Darius." Ellison said, matter-of-factly.

Richie's eyes widened. "We are?"

"Yeah. I happen to think he's better off with the two of you than with some strange foster family. We're gonna bend the law a little for the good of one little boy. He deserves to have people who love him."

Richie ran his fingers through his reddish blonde hair. "This is really tough for us. Ellison, if you only knew..."

"He knows." Duncan interrupted.

Richie looked at him. "He knows what?"

"He knows that we are immortals."

With his jaw hanging slack, Richie stared at him. "You told him?"

"Yes. I told him."

"Why?"

"Why do you think? I was trying to impress upon him how dangerous life would be for Darius if he re-mained with us. He still hasn't seen the big picture."

"Yes, I see it very clearly." Ellison argued. "I just think he's still better off with you than with anybody else. You know the way I see it, MacLeod? I think you can protect the kid from all these bad dudes who live forever. I think you will. You'll be right there, keeping watch over him all the time...you and Richie both. No other kid's ever been so lucky. He'll be rotten. Maybe I can come over and see him ever so often and remind you just how right I was. You think?"

Richie smiled with reserve. "We're really gonna keep him, Mac?"

MacLeod puffed out a hard breath. "Let's think about it." He drew the baby close to him and kissed the wild little hand that struck him on the mouth. "We'll consider it."

Watching him closely, Ellison plopped down on the couch beside him. He poked at the baby, talking to him in idioms suitable only for babies and puppies. "He's a lucky boy, yes, he is. Look at them pretty blue eyes, pretty blue eyes, little bitty nose, he's a cute little fella, yes he is. Yes he is."

Duncan's brown eyes sparkled in amusement. "You want to hold him?" He handed the baby over.

Ellison took him as if he were made of the most fragile tissue. "He's so tiny. It's been a long time since I held one this little. How much you think he weighs?"

"Six pounds even." Richie answered. "I weighed him yesterday."

"Does he eat good?"

"Sometimes four ounces of formula at a time, plus some water on the side."

"Feed him some baby cereal." Ellison advised. "You mix up a little of that flake cereal with a couple of ounces of formula and feed him a couple of times a day and he'll grow like a weed."

"He'll grow like a weed, anyway." Duncan said. "Babies don't stay babies long."

"No, not long enough." Ellison agreed. "In a few days, he'll be walking, then a few days after that, he'll be old enough for school. Then he'll be graduating, then staying out late at night, making you worry he's been in a car wreck somewhere and when he comes in drunk and you yell at him, he'll tell you to kiss his ass and slam his bedroom door in your face."

MacLeod was watching his face. "The voice of experience." he said softly. "Ellison, when's the last time you saw your father?"

"It's been a while."

"Go see him. Tell him you love him."

"I'm not too good with words like that. Do you and Dingleberry here get mushy like that?"

Duncan grinned. "Sometimes." His eyes met Richie's and they shared a moment of secret sentiment. "There's nothing wrong with a little occasional mush."

Richie was in agreement. "You lose a lot when you don't have that... well... bonding... for lack of a better word."

"Bonding. Just how, exactly do you do that?" Ellison asked.

"You stop acting like such a jerk and say what's on your mind." Richie said.

Duncan gently took Darius from the cop's arms and handed him to Richie. "I think he could use a clean diaper."

"I thought there was a hint of a foul odor there." Richie took him to the bed to change him. "We're going to be needing some more of these. He goes through them fast."

"So you'll keep him?" asked Ellison.

Duncan sighed. "We'll have to discuss it some more. I don't know. Can we get back to you tomorrow with our decision?"

"Sure. No problem." Ellison got to his feet and headed for the door. "See you tomorrow, then."

Duncan was behind him to see him out. "Jim..."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Ellison patted him on the arm. "Talk to you later." He moved down the hall and out of sight.

Duncan closed the door, reflecting a moment before he came back to the present situation. He went to the sink for a drink of water. "Do you want to go to the grocery or shall I?"

"I'll go. You've been out all day. I've been stuck here with Darius. My turn." Richie put the baby to bed, propped a bottle on a pillow and covered him with a blanket. "What should I get for him? More diapers I know, but...what else?"

"Some more formula." Duncan gave him two one-hundred-dollar bills. "And get some groceries for us. I plan to stay in tonight. What about you?"

"Yeah. Can't go out with the baby here, can we? So...you want me to pick up a movie?"

"That's a good idea." Duncan answered.

Richie nodded, lingering. "So... when I get back...you... you know... you wanta have this discussion? You're really going to listen to what I have to say?"

"Richie, I always listen to what you have to say. Have I ever."

"Ignored me? Neglected me?" Richie supplied the words. "Of course you have." He smiled at the concern on Duncan's face. "You're still the best." Stepping forth to hug him tightly, he whispered in his ear, "I'm taking your car, okay?"

Duncan fished in his pocket for the keys and put them in his hand. "I'd like to talk about this when you get back. I think we have a lot to talk about, a lot more than just the child."

"Okay." Richie gave him a quick kiss and winked at him as he went out the door.

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

The bottle was lying on a tilt beneath the sleeping baby's cheek. Duncan removed it carefully, wiped away traces of milk from the little face, then put the bottle in the refrigerator. He went to the window to watch his classic Ford ease onto the street, Richie at the wheel.

He tried to rationalize why Richie felt slighted, and it troubled him. How could he feel neglected and ig-nored when they had spent so much time together? Richie had become his obsession, the love of his life. Duncan remembered a few cross words with him, but none lately, and none ever that had not been resolved. Their relationship was strong.

Evidently, Richie still found some flaws that needed to be dealt with. It was one of those psychological as-pects of attachments that still baffled him. Duncan had been trying to understand human psychology for three hundred and seventy five years. There was no
understanding. Every person was a new lesson, every encounter was a new chapter. Every day was different. Nothing stayed the same.

In spite of his attempt at stoic wisdom, his feelings were very hurt. He could not help it. He fought back the washes of anguish as he went about the small apartment picking up the clutter, but he could not find mental comfort.

If he could not maintain his faultless role in Richie's eyes, how could he even hope to keep Darius? He al-lowed it to gnaw at him until he was feeling hopelessly futile.

Richie did not realize he was walking in on an emotional wreck when he opened the door, but one look at Duncan's shadowed face told him something was amiss. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Duncan escaped into the bathroom without answering.

Richie frowned in concern, wondering at his behavior. He began to put away the groceries he had bought, giving him time to gather himself. Darius was still sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by the sudden heavi-ness in the room. As he thought more about it, Richie came to the realization that the problem probably had to do with the remark he had made about Duncan's having ignored and neglected him. Even after four hundred years of life experiences, it still took
very little to spin the Scot off into depression. Richie was aware of his penchant for melancholy.

Too much time had passed. Richie went to the bathroom door and knocked. "Mac, come out of there." he demanded. "Come on. I want to talk to you."

"Just a minute." The muffled voice returned. "I'm in the middle of something."

Richie listened intently. "I don't believe you." he said. "Open the door."

"Richie, give me a minute!" MacLeod said in irritation.

"Okay. I'm waiting right here." Richie was not giving up the argument. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door facing.

Inside, the toilet flushed and the water was turned on in the basin. Then, finally, the door opened and Duncan stood face to face with him.

"It's time for us to talk." Richie said, leading him to the couch. When they were seated, he went on. "I think you're too stressed out for making life-long decisions like whether or not to keep a baby. What we need to talk about right now is you and me. Am I right?"

Duncan looked down, rubbed at his nose, then met his eyes again. "Yeah. Maybe."

"Mac, you know you're not perfect. But you're closer to it than I am. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but I did, didn't I?"

MacLeod began a shrug that he immediately dropped into a resigned slump. "Yeah. You did." he admitted.

"I'm sorry." Richie put a hand on his shoulder and began to massage it. "I'm really sorry. I think you're taking things too much to heart. I think all this stuff about the baby, whether we're going to keep him or not is getting too much on your nerves."

Duncan leaned his head back against the back of the couch and stared straight up at the stucco ceiling. "Do you really feel I neglected you, Richie?"

"No, Mac, I don't. You've done a lot on your own. .. stuff that didn't include me. That's all." Richie was watching him closely. "Do you want me to tell you what I really, truly think about you?"

Duncan glanced at him, then away again. "I don't know if I can take it or not."

"Well, I'm going to tell you." Richie took a deep breath and began. "I think you're just completely awe-some; really, really awesome. I mean...you've got everything going for you. All the talents and skills and knowledge you have, those are special. I don't care how old they get... most people never get as good at all that stuff as you are. And you've got the kindest heart of anybody I ever met. There's real love in there, not just the words. You'd seriously do anything for the ones you care about. I have the utmost, reverent respect for you, Duncan MacLeod. Do
you know that you are the single most important person in the whole world to me? Do you know that I would kill for you? Do you know that I would do anything for you? Do you know I would die for you?" Richie's young face was deadly serious.

All the pain went out of Duncan's face. He put his arms around Richie and hugged him. "Richie, I'm so sorry. I love you so much," he said into his shoulder.

"I love you, too." Richie ran a hand over his dark hair with a long sigh, hoping the difficulty was done. Then, patting him on the back, he said, "Guess what movie I got for us to watch."

Duncan drew back to smile at him. "I can't guess. I don't even know what's new. What did you get?"

"Run. It's a cool flick. Real tense action stuff."

"Run? That's the title of it?"

"Yeah. Run."

Duncan laughed. "Why don't I fix us something to eat and we'll watch it, then?"

"Great." Richie smiled at him affectionately, his hand still on his hair. "You okay, then?"

"Yeah." Duncan touched the tip of his nose with his index finger. "You're sweet, Richie."

"Not as sweet as you." Richie said, and kissed him.

There were tears on Duncan's cheeks when it ended. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he said, wiping madly at the tears.

Brushing off the moisture, Richie asked, "Did Ellison say anything out of the way to you or was it all just what I said?"

"I think I'm simply going insane, Richie."

"No, you're simply human." Richie corrected him.

"Human?"

Richie kissed him again, lovingly, again passionately, then backed to elbow's length to observe him. "Yeah, human. The human feelings are one of the things that makes you so special. At least that's the way I look at it. Things matter to you. Did you know that's the reason Ellison thinks you're such a fatherly-type person? Because you've got these emotions?"

MacLeod shook his head. "Richie, I do need to get myself together. I'm not prone to 'pity trips'. I went a little out of control. I don't like that in myself. You were kind enough to say exactly the right things to make me feel better, but it should not have been necessary. You are ahead of your years in psychological development. You have me figured out and that's one thing that really bothers me."

Richie gazed into his eyes. "Why does it bother you? We're the same, you and I. I am what you are, just a few years behind. You have nobody else you can count on to understand you like I do. I'm your confidant, and you're mine."

"And in this relationship, in our love, in our family, where does Darius fit in?"

"That depends on you." Richie sighed, knowing they were going to have the discussion he had meant to delay. "Do you want to keep him?"

Duncan went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Tell me your thoughts first. I want to
know how you feel about him."

"I love him to death, but that doesn't mean we're what he needs."

Placing a loaf of bread and coldcuts on the counter, Duncan stood contemplating for a long minute. "Richie, forget all that for now. Just for now. Forget that we're immortal and he's not. Forget that we're inexperienced in child care and that it would be utterly stupid for us to take on this responsibility. Forget all that, and just tell me what you want to do. What do you want?"

Richie dithered with his fingers in his curly hair as he gazed first at Darius, then at MacLeod. "I want to keep him. What about you? What do you want?"

"I want to keep him. I really wish it was possible."

Richie smiled. "You know, sometimes you have to do stuff just because you want to. Even when it's dan-gerous. Even when it's not smart. Even when it doesn't seem possible. You just have to take chances."

"Chances are in card games and horse races, Richie. Darius is a mortal child. He needs a sure thing."

"And where would he find that, Mac? Where is that sure thing? I don't remember ever running across that. Did you?"

MacLeod shook his head and smiled, honoring his logical wisdom. "No." He worked on the twist-tie to open the bread. "I don't suppose we could do any worse than many others who took on the responsibility of a child. Ellison pointed that out."

"Yeah. Right." Richie's eyes were on him. "So, can we keep him?"

Duncan took a long breath. "I don't suppose we could screw it up too badly."

Richie laughed out loud and bounced up off the couch, running to pick up the baby and whirl him around. Darius woke and stared at him with startled blue eyes.

Duncan watched him warmly as Richie danced with the baby toward him, then put Darius's face up to meet him. Duncan rubbed noses with him gently and kissed the soft little cheek. He kissed Richie again as he was hauled into a group hug.

"Take him." Richie said. "I'll take over the sandwiches. I think it'll be good therapy for you."

"Therapy?" Duncan carried Darius to the end of the counter.

"Yeah." Richie began making their supper. "You were all tore up because I said something to hurt your feelings. It's psychological. You were misplacing your emotions. What you were really tore up about was that you thought you were going to have to give up Darius. What I said... about... you know. It wasn't true."

MacLeod nodded. "You don't have to be so careful, Richie. And you don't have to keep reassuring me all the time. If anything, it should be the other way around. I should be telling you how proud I am of you."

Richie met his eyes. "You're proud of me?"

"Yes. I'm very proud of you. Very proud of your thoughtfulness, your intelligence..." Duncan turned his eyes to Darius, but kept talking to Richie. "And I will never abandon you. I'll be here for you as long as you want me to be."

"Like it's... you and me against the world?" Richie said. "You know how much that means to me, Mac. You know that's what I want from you and you know I'll always be here for you, too."

"We should get ready to spend some time abroad."

"Abroad?"

"Yes. Not in France. I think we should start Darius's training in England. He needs an ideal place to grow up. One of the safest environments I know is in the Saffron Forest. It's on Holy Ground. That's what you wanted all along, isn't it.to live on Holy Ground? I own a small spot of ground with a cottage there. What do you think about it?"

Richie raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know you owned any property in England. That's great. It sounds good. Just you and me and Darius?"

"Yeah. Just the three of us."

"Sounds perfect. Sounds peaceful. Holy Ground at last."

"Yeah. Holy Ground."

"Is there cable TV in the Saffron Forest?"

Duncan laughed. "I doubt it."

"Is there electric?"

"I don't know. The cottage was not equipped with it because when I left, electricity had not been invented yet."

"Oh, man. You haven't been back for that long? The cottage is probably gone by now. Probably rotted to the ground."

"We'll build another one." Duncan leaned to dip his index finger into the jar of mayonnaise as Richie set it within his reach, then touched it to the baby's tongue, watching for his reaction. Darius made a wrenching face and gagged at the flavor. "All right. No mayo for Darius." he commented.

Richie wrinkled up his nose. "Maybe he's partial to ketchup." He held it out, squeezing a drop onto Duncan's finger.

Darius smacked his lips at the ketchup.

"Cool!" Richie said. "He likes it. Let's try mustard."

"No, mustard has vinegar. He could get strangled." Duncan said wisely, looking over the condiments on the counter. "Let's try the thousand island."

++++++++

"My name is Elizabeth Brown. I'm here to see the young girl in the morgue." The lady was middle-aged but still pretty. Her prim face too closely resembled the dead girl's to be a coincidence.

"Did they send you from Missing Persons?" Ellison asked.

Mrs. Brown nodded. "I'm afraid the girl is my daughter." She looked frightened, morbid, all the
things one would expect from a mother who had lost her child.

Ellison led her into the morgue and signaled to the attendant, who came and pulled out the correct slab. The black bag was unzipped and the flap thrown back to expose the face.

Mrs. Brown crumpled to the floor.

Ellison lifted her and carried her out of the morgue, mumbling to himself. "Great. Now the grandmother shows up. This is just great."

+++++

When Elizabeth Brown had gone, he called Blair. The sound of his voice seemed to have the power to calm restless spirits, to soothe the pain. Ellison was becoming willingly addicted to that voice. He did not let many hours pass between phone calls.

"Hey, Chief."

"Jim! How's it going?"

"I know where the baby is. Now the grandmother has come forth. She wants me to find the baby and give it to her."

"You know where it is? Where?"

"Safe with good people. I'll tell you all about them later."

"What's really wrong, Jim?"

"I just needed to hear your voice."

"Oh." Blair was walking while he talked; he could hear the footsteps. A door closed and the sound became hollow. "Are you having trouble with your senses? Did you zone?"

"No." There was no way Ellison could make him understand, not over the phone. "Why did you just go in the bathroom to talk? Who's there?"

"A friend. Don't worry, Jim, I'm not having a wild party while you're gone."

"Has she been there all day?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Is she staying tonight?"

"Jim, she won't steal anything. Don't worry about it, okay?"

Ellison shivered involuntarily. "Okay. Whatever. Talk to you later. Night."

"Good night, Jim." Blair disconnected first, obviously anxious to get back to his waiting date. Ellison sat staring at the phone in his hand as if it could render him an explanation of why his life and luck at love was so shitty.

+++++

Richie yawned as he muted the television to rewind the tape. It was after midnight. He stretched and poked Duncan, who had nodded off halfway through the movie. "Mac. Wake up." he mumbled.

Duncan did not stir. With another yawn, Richie got up, took Darius from his arms and carried him to the bed. After a diaper change, the baby settled comfortably into the big bed. Richie went back for MacLeod, shaking him. "Mac." he said, louder. "Come on, babe. Get up and go to bed."

Duncan sat upright, rubbing his eyes in vague bewilderment. The ringing of the phone was what woke him.

Richie went to answer it.

"Richie?" It was Ellison. "I know it's the middle of the damn night. Sorry to be calling you at this hour, but there's a woman claiming to be the baby's grandmother who just left the morgue. She says she's the girl's mother. I want you and MacLeod to keep that baby hid, do you hear me? Don't make a move until she gives up. We don't want her to have him. He's yours.And it might be a good idea not to even tell Mac-Leod, since he was so bent on giving it up earlier."

Richie sat down with the phone and glanced at Duncan, who was stretching himself and climbing from their pallet on the floor onto the couch. "Tell me more." he said.

"You know he wants to keep the baby, and so do you, am I right?"

"Yeah, you're right, but..."

"No. You keep it. If he finds out about this woman, he will give Darius to her. I met her, and I don't think she's the one who needs to raise him. Maybe I shouldn't try to be the judge, but in this case, Richie, I'm right. I got the lowdown on why the girl was on the streets in the first place. The bitch threw her daughter out of the house, the kid was homeless and pregnant, had the baby out in the cold. She committed suicide because of this woman's meanness. She doesn't need to repeat that kind of abuse on Darius. Keep him hid, Richie, and make Duncan
understand this, all right?"

"I will." Richie answered. "You're right. You're very right. Where are you calling from?"

"From my hotel."

"Okay. I was hoping not from..."

"You think I'm stupid, kid? Listen, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Is MacLeod asleep?"

"He was before the phone rang."

"Oh, yeah, well. Don't tell him who you're talking to, okay?"

"Okay. Talk to you later, then."

There was a click at the other end and Richie put the phone down.

Duncan yawned. "Who was that?" he asked.

"A stupid friend of mine."

"Oh, odd conversation you had there."

"Yeah, well, like I said.a stupid friend." Richie scooted suddenly next to him to put an arm around him as he kissed him. "I love you." he whispered ardently into his ear.

"I love you, too, Richie." Duncan yawned on his shoulder. "Let's go to bed."

"The baby's in the bed." Richie sounded frustrated.

Duncan sat up to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"What do you think is wrong?"

Duncan's hand lightly touched him, felt the bulge in his jeans and he knew the problem. Carefully, he un-zipped and unbuttoned the jeans, then, after another long, sweet kiss, he leaned over his lap and took care of the problem.

+++++

Thursday, December 7, 1995

The telephone's ring woke them all. Richie patted Duncan's hand as he took his arms from around him and got up to answer the call. When he was gone from the bed, Duncan snuggled with the baby and closed his eyes again.

"Hello." Richie said sleepily into the portable phone.

"Good morning." It was Ellison's gruff voice again.

"Yeah, morning." Richie scratched his head and stretched as he sat down on the couch. "So, what's going on?"

"Nothing here. It's still pretty early."

Richie squinted at the clock to see that it was seven A.M. "Then why did you call?"

"To see what's happening there."

"We were sleeping."

"Damn, do you people sleep all the time?"

"We like to get in our eight hours. We're not exactly sleeping our lives away."

"Is MacLeod still in bed?"

"Yeah, why? Do you wanta talk to him?"

"No, not if he's still asleep. I just wanted to check in. I tell you what, Richie. I'll just call back about noon. You think he'll be up by then?"

Richie laughed. "Maybe. He's usually up by lunch time."

"Okay, I'll call back at noon. Talk to you later."

"Yeah. Later." Richie hung up the phone, pondering. He yawned and went to the bathroom, knowing Elli-son had wanted to talk to Duncan. Richie felt a nip of petty jealousy.

There was no way. Not Ellison.

He stood looking down at Duncan and the baby for a few seconds and could not help thinking how precious they were like this. A Kodak moment. He went to get his camera out and snapped several pictures while they slept undisturbed. Then, when he had put the camera
back in the cupboard, he slipped beneath the covers with them and snuggled close.

"How many pictures did you take?" asked Duncan without opening his eyes.

"I don't know. Eight or ten."

"What did Ellison want?"

"He really didn't say."

"He'll call back?"

"Yeah, about noon."

"Good." Duncan's arms were around the baby, but as Richie took them both in his arms, he rested a hand on Richie's arm. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. You didn't tell me you loved me."

"Oh, sorry." Duncan turned his face to kiss him and smiled, his eyes still closed. "I love you."

"Love you, too." Richie said.

***********

Richie was giving Darius his bottle while Duncan cooked breakfast at ten thirty. "The Saffron Forest. That sounds like a mythical place."

"It was just a big wilderness full of deer and rabbits when I lived there two hundred years ago. It's probably changed by now."

"Have you kept the deed, paid the taxes, all that?"

"Yes, it's all still legal."

"What's the nearest big town?"

"London."

"Wow."

"It's close."

"So if we moved there, Darius could go to school in London?"

Duncan looked bothered.

"What's wrong with London?"

"You obviously haven't been there." Duncan said.

"No, why?"

"I really don't want to live that close to London."

"Maybe we could find a small town where things are better."

Duncan's thought process was moving along, leaving Richie far behind.

"We have five years before he starts to school anyway, you know." Richie mentioned.

"Five years. We could be established somewhere by then."

"You wanta clue me in?"

"This is complicated, Richie. You and I moving into a new place, two men together with a tiny baby would look odd, don't you think? And as much as I would rather Darius grow up in a small town, people in small towns have a tendency to gossip and to cause trouble. City life is worse on a different scale, there's danger there. If we move to the middle of the forest and don't send him to school, he'll be backward and fearful of mankind. There are no good choices for him, not with the two of us as parents."

"Why not? Everybody's different. Just say your second wife ran off after she gave birth to this little one. I could be your older son."

"They might not buy it. Constructing a life of lies is no way to raise a child. We wouldn't be setting a very good example for him."

"If you keep on with the 'what ifs', you'll find a lot of negative things, Duncan. Do you want me to stay behind? There wouldn't be so much to explain if I weren't there."

"No!" Duncan looked at him with shock. "Are you crazy? I wouldn't leave you behind for anything! You know that!"

"Then let's figure out what we're going to do and do it. I'm getting dizzy from all these highs and lows."

Duncan smiled at him. "Did you think I was dumping you?"

Richie took a deep breath and let it out shakily. "I don't know any more." he answered tiredly.

Leaving the stove, Duncan went to him, sat down beside him, kissed him several times, took a few minutes to share sweet intimacies with him. "I love you, Richie, and as I told you yesterday, I will never leave you." He kissed both his cheeks and bent to kiss Darius' little head. "I want us to be a family."

Richie ran his fingers through Duncan's long, dark hair. "Darius is way too mortal. You and I could have forever, but he will grow old and die."

"We'll have a while."

"Yes, you're right. A while." Richie kissed him again. "Your stuff is gonna burn."

Duncan hurried back to the stove. "I don't want to lose you, Richie." he said as he tended the food. "I hope you know that."

Richie smiled at him. "I know."

"Do you really think we can do it, Richie? Do you really think we can raise Darius as our own?"

"We're back to this square again. I don't know, Mac. I don't see why not. There are lots of different kinds of people in the world. What counts is that we love him. Love is the most important thing in the world, isn't it? As long as he knows we love him, he'll be a happy kid."

"You're right." Duncan's eyes were moving to that faraway place they so often visited. "Love is the most important thing."

Richie sighed, got up to put the baby to bed and went to help with breakfast.

+++++

The phone rang. Duncan picked it up, knowing who it was. "Hi, Jim. Sorry I missed your call earlier."

Ellison laughed. "You sleep too much, Duncan. Maybe you should start drinking more coffee like me."

"I already drink too much coffee."

"Then start drinking alcohol like I do."

"I already drink too much of that, too."

"Where's Dingleberry?"

"He's taking care of the baby right here beside me. Why?"

"I need to talk to you without him listening in. You think you can blow the place a while and come take another ride with me?"

"If I want to put my life in danger, I suppose I could." Duncan was smiling. "Sure. When do you want to pick me up?"

"In a few minutes. I'll pull up and honk the horn, okay?"

"Jim, I'm in a third story apartment!"

"Oh, yeah. Well, watch out the window for me."

"There's a street on both sides of the building!"

"On East Second."

"Jim, there is no place to park on East Second."

"Then go downstairs and watch for me."

"Is this important?"

"It is to me."

Duncan was concerned. "All right. I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Wait by the blue mail box on the corner."

"Like a hooker? Okay, no problem."

Ellison hung up the phone.

"What does he want?" Richie asked.

"He wants me to meet him downstairs. He has something he wants to talk to me about.

Richie looked worried.

"I'll be back soon." Duncan leaned over and kissed him lightly. "Soon."

"Okay."

Duncan got his coat and went out the door.

+++++

The blue truck skidded to a stop by the mailbox and Ellison leaned over to open the passenger door. Duncan got in, trying to ignore the finger thrown up by the vulgar driver behind them. "Your driving skills haven't improved any." he commented, as he buckled his seat belt.

Ellison drove without speaking for a time.

"Jim, what's going on?"

"Just give me a minute."

"All right." Duncan noted his puffy jaws, his troubled eyes and his fingers that tapped nervously on the wheel. He gave him the requested time.

Ellison drove too fast onto the bypass and to the Park exit, then pulled in to Hubberson National Park. He found a secluded area and stopped the car by a picnic table.

"You want to get out and sit at the table?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter to me. This is your show." Duncan reminded him.

"Well, the wind is blowing pretty hard. Maybe we'd better sit in here." Ellison reached across the seats and straightened Duncan's long hair, which had already blown amiss in the wind.

Duncan waited, his eyes on the cop's face, unnoticing of the hand that remained longer than was necessary on his hair.

Ellison sighed. "You know, Duncan, you're the only friend I've got."

"Don't be ridiculous. You have lots of friends."

"No, I don't. Just you."

"Richie's your friend, too."

"Yeah, but he's a kid."

"He's a very shrewd kid. What about Joe?"

"Oh, yeah, well, he's a bartender. They're supposed to act like that."

"They don't have to. What's your problem, Jim? What about Blair?"

"He's screwing some girl." Ellison's eyes were grim.

Duncan understood immediately. "I'm sorry." he said, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Ellison's hand slid wearily down to the immortal's back and stayed there.

There was silence for a few minutes. Finally, Duncan raised up in the seat and put his arms around the big man, felt Ellison's strong arms close tightly around him. In his ear, he whispered, "You should call him and tell him how you feel about him, Jim."

Ellison's arms were tight around his waist. "Yeah, you're right. If I had the guts, I'd do just that."

"Do you want me to call him for you?"

"Would you?"

"Okay. Sure."

The embrace was not broken. It was with desperation that it was sustained, the big cop's trembling breath cueing him that he needed the consolation.

Duncan patted his shoulder. "You have to get yourself together, Jim."

"I can't expect Blair to love me when I despise myself." Jim said quietly. "But tell me, what's there to love? I'm not good looking, I'm not young any more, I'm not particularly intelligent, I'm not interesting to talk to. I'm a loser, Duncan. There's no other way to put it."

"You're not a loser. Stop talking like that." Duncan drew back as far as the cop's strong arm allowed, which was still very close, and looked him in the eyes again. "You are not a loser."

"Show me that I'm not a loser. Give me some examples here."

"You are trying to help me keep Darius for one. You saved me from Abel. You kept me from killing Jack Tier... or whatever his name was."

"Those went with the job."

"Caring about what happens to a child went with the job? Saving me from getting raped went with the job?"

"Yes, well, sort of. Well, no, maybe not. I don't know."

Duncan's dark brown eyes were soft. "You're a good man, Jim. You've done a lot of good things. You're very good looking, you're very smart and, as for your age, you're a lot younger than I am. You're at least three hundred and sixty five years younger than me. Now that's quite a difference, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well, I am a few years younger than you." Ellison smiled.

"You're far too hard on yourself. I think you just need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and face up. You can brood and be gloomy and depressed or you can smile and be happy. If Blair doesn't want you, if he prefers women, it's not necessarily because of your looks or your personality or any other personal reason. Everything is not about you."

"You got a point there." Ellison's bright blue eyes went past him to gaze at the trees outside.

"Jim, you still haven't told me everything."

"No, I don't guess I have." Ellison was idly playing with his hair again. "Here's the deal. I got a real good life insurance policy, you know, one that pays off a bundle, and..."

"No, you are not going to kill yourself."

"I was thinking about getting you to help me make it look like an accident."

"No! Your life isn't over! How could you want to end it?"

Ellison dragged in a long breath. "Because I'm lonely and I don't like life any more. You're letting me hug you here, and it's the first time I've had my arms around another person in several years. It just feels so good I can't let you go and I bet by now you're thinking I'm a pervert or something, aren't you?"

"I had no such thoughts." Duncan began to rub his muscular back. He felt pity for him.

"I just need to hold somebody. Do you understand that?"

"Of course I understand." Duncan answered. "It's all right." He touched his lips to the cop's flushed cheek. "Just hold me. I'm here for you."

The embrace got tighter and there were muffled sobs from Ellison that made Duncan's shoulder wet with tears. Duncan kept rubbing his back, the back of his head and neck, whispered comforting phrases as he held him and let time pass. It took nearly an hour before the miserable cop released him, apologized for the emotional imposition and attempted to wipe the wet stain from his coat.

It was then that he saw that Duncan's eyes were also wet. He ran a finger along his cheek beneath one eye and collected several tears on it. "You're such a sweet person, you know that? Sympathetic as hell. I'm glad you're my friend."

"I'm glad you're my friend, too." Duncan said. "Tell me you want to live and make Blair fall in love with you."

Jim heaved a long sigh. "I don't know what to do about Blair."

"You'll treat him special. You'll give him gifts, serenade him, kiss his hands, send him flowers,
whatever it takes to make him fall in love with you. You won't give up, Jim."

Jim grinned. "I'm afraid he'd leave if I tried serenading him, but I can try the other stuff."

"Okay, so leave that part out. Just do whatever it takes. So, you wanta go have a drink at Joe's?"

"That'll work. Joe's it is." Ellison started the car, glanced in the rearview mirror to check his face and saw it was still a mess. "Maybe I'd better give it a few minutes before we leave. I don't want anybody else to see me this way."

Duncan laughed and pulled a tissue from the console to wipe at his tear-stained face.

+++++

"I need to call Richie." Duncan said as they finished their third shot of whiskey.

"He's a big boy. Why do you need to check in so often?"

"I told him I'd be back soon."

"Tell you what, then." Ellison took a cellular phone out of his pocket. "I'll call Richie and you call
Blair."

"Okay." Duncan was reserved. "Just tell Richie where we are so he can get hold of me if anything happens with the baby."

Ellison was punching numbers on the phone.

"How do you know his number?"

"I know everybody's number. I've got a good memory. If I see it once, I never forget it."

"You have a photographic memory?"

"Just a very good memory." He shrugged as if it were insignificant, then perked up as Richie answered the phone. "Hey, Richie. Ellison. Listen, we're at Joe's here, drinking some good whiskey. If you need Duncan for anything, you know where we are, okay?"

He listened to the response for a few seconds, then handed the phone to Duncan. "You explain it to him."

"What is it, Richie?"

"Why are you out drinking? What's going on? When will you be home?"

Duncan cleared his throat. "I'll be home in a little while. Can we talk about it when I get there, Richie?"

"You wouldn't like it if I went out like that and left you alone with the baby, would you?"

"Well, no, I suppose I wouldn't, but it would have nothing to do with the baby. Are you angry with me, Richie?"

"A little, maybe." Richie answered. "What's with Ellison, anyway? What's his problem?"

"I'll discuss that with you later."

"Have you been at Joe's all this time? You've already been gone three hours, you know."

"Three hours? I didn't know it had been that long. You're right, I shouldn't have been out this long. I'm sorry, Richie. Give me one more hour, okay?"

"I'll see you in an hour then."

"Okay. One hour."

Richie hung up with a clang that told him he was in for a lecture when he got home. Duncan looked sadly at the phone in his hand.

"So the kid's giving you shit about having to stay and babysit?"

"Yeah, he's really angry."

"Don't blame him." Ellison shook his head contritely and slapped him on the back. "I'll go in with you and help you explain."

"No, that's okay. I think it's going to require some tact, which you don't have."

"I have tact! What makes you think I don't have tact?" The cop pounded on the tabletop. "Joe, bring me another goddamned beer, damn it!" Turning to Duncan, who was viewing him with sarcastic humor, he asked, "You gonna call Blair, now?"

"What's his number?"

Taking the phone, Ellison dialed the number, then handed it back to him.

Duncan was distracted as he voiced his greeting. "Blair?" My name is Duncan MacLeod and I'm a friend of Jim Ellison's."

The response was semi-panic. "Is Jim okay? Do I need to come there?"

"No, just calm down. Jim's fine. I'm merely calling on his behalf because he's a gutless coward. This is a purely personal matter. Blair... do you think you could you find it in your heart to go out with this pathetic man, please?"

"Go out with him? I live with him."

"Yes, I know, but do you know he loves you, Blair?"

Blair paused. "I love him, too. What are you talking about?"

"He loves you. Not just the way a Sentinel loves his guide. He loves you."

There was a hesitation, then Blair said, "He told you he was a Sentinel."

"Yes, he did, and I told him a secret about me. We're friends. Tell me something, Blair. How do you really feel about him?"

"Are you kidding? He's my whole life right now."

"Right now? You mean he won't always be your whole life? Blair, do you love him?"

"Of course I love him. But I can't let that get in the way of my studies."

"That's bullshit, Blair, and you know that. Do you know that he talked about committing suicide because he was too much of a chicken to talk to you? He needs you..."

Ellison was reaching for the phone, his face cherry red. Duncan ducked away, gained his feet and walked round the table to avoid him. "He needs you, Blair."

Blair's voice was breathless. "He talked about suicide? He's not planning..."

"I don't know. Tell me... are you interested in him... and I don't mean as a study project. You said you love him, but there are different kinds of love. How do you love him?"

There was another long pause, then Blair spoke very lowly. "I wish it could be that way between us, you know... the kind of love you're talking about, but Jim's straight."

"I don't think so." Duncan said. "You aren't here to stop him, so he drinks too much, he drives like a ma-niac and takes chances with his life and health. You weren't here to talk him out of putting a bullet in his brain."

Blair's heartbeat was distinguishable even to Duncan. "Please don't let him do that. Can I come there and talk to him?"

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea."

"Why didn't he tell me how he felt? If he's in love with me, why didn't he just say so?"

"Because he's a pessimist and a blithering idiot. He needs someone to talk for him because he has abso-lutely no faith in himself."

"Oh, you don't have to tell me. I've been living with him for a few months and I've already picked up on his insecurities."

"Do you have anyone else in your life now, Blair?"

"No, no one else. Can I talk to him? I know he's sitting right there beside you."

Duncan smiled and handed Ellison the phone. "Very perceptive young man." He commented. "Here, Jim, talk to him."

Ellison spoke with a stammer. "Uh... Blair?"

Joe came over with beers to sit at their table and Duncan said, "Do you think you could give me a ride to Richie's place? Jim's going to be on the phone for a while."

"Sure. I'd like to see your little one, anyway. I haven't met him, yet." Joe said.

"You'll love him."

Ellison had walked away, talking quietly into the phone.

"They're going to get together." Joe predicted.

"I think so."

+++++

"Blair, I'm sorry about what he said. Just forget all that, okay? It's not important."

"Jim!" Blair was exasperated. "It's very important! You talked about suicide? How could you even think about killing yourself? I thought you were a lot more together than that!"

Jim was silent.

"Jim, please let me come there. I want to talk to you face to face."

"How are you going to get here?"

"I'll drive."

"Your car won't make it. Take a bus."

"All right, I will. You'll be okay till I get there, right?"

"Of course I will. I'm not going to do anything stupid."

"Jim?"

"Hm?"

"Tell me how you feel about me."

Ellison cleared his throat. "I can't, Blair. I don't know how."

"Give me a hint."

"A hint." The cop sighed and flopped down into a chair. "I love you, Blair. I can't put it any plainer than that."

"What do you want to do when I get there?"

"I want., oh, god, Blair, I want to hold you."

"I'll be there as soon as I can get there."

"Keep the phone with you so you can call me. Be sure it's charged. It's supposed to rain all night tonight."

"Of course. It's Washington."

"I don't want you sleeping with anyone." Ellison said too abruptly.

"Yeah, I gathered that."

"I'm sorry. I'm not good at saying things."

"No, you're not. But we're going to work on that together."

"It's because I love you."

There was a pause. "I love you, too, Jim. I'll see you in a few hours. I'll call the bus station and then I'll call back to let you know when I'll be there."

"Okay." Jim nodded to no one in particular as the phone was disconnected.

*************
Joe's presence was all that kept Richie from expressing his hostility as they walked in the door. "Hey, Joe, how's it going?" he asked, forcing a smile.

"Fine, just like always. I came to see your new addition."

Richie's frown at Duncan did not go unnoticed as they went to the bed and took up the baby.

Joe smiled at the child with the greatest of interest. "So this is what a baby looks like. He's mortal, right?"

"Yes," Duncan answered, very disconcerted by Richie's mood. "He's mortal."

Joe took Darius to a chair and sat down.

Richie took hold of Duncan's arm and led him to the kitchen. "You have some explaining to do," he said lowly.

Duncan was imploring. "You don't have to be so angry, Richie. Really, I'm sorry I was gone so long. I will tell you about it later."

"Why did Joe bring you home?"

"Because Jim is talking to his roommate on the phone. That's what it was all about, actually."

"About him and his roommate?"

"Yes."

"Why did you have to be involved?"

"Because Ellison's a lunkhead and couldn't talk for himself."

"What is there to talk about?"

"He's in love with him."

"Oh. And is the roommate also in love with him?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Why did it take so long to get it all straightened out?"

"Because he spent the first hour crying on my shoulder about it." Duncan's voice was getting strained. "Richie, I hope you know you can trust me. What do you think was going on? Do you think I'm having an affair with Ellison? Or do you not like it that we drink together? What is it you're angry about?"

Richie sighed. "I worry when you're gone too long, and you know why. Don't act like it's something that couldn't happen. What if another immortal came along? I can't bear the thought of losing you to anyone, be it Jim Ellison or some challenging immortal. You belong to me, and that means everything to me."

Duncan put his arms around him. "I love you, Richie." he murmured.

Richie hugged him tightly. "Love you, too. And you know what? Joe can see us here."

"I don't care. Do you?"

"No." Richie pulled him even closer. "Oh, Mac, if anything happened to you, I don't know what I would do. Don't scare me like that again, okay?"

"I'll start taking along the cell phone so you can call me if I'm out, okay? And if you're going out, you take it with you. That should settle that problem."

"It sounds like a logical solution." Richie drew back and smiled at him. Glancing through the apartment at Joe, who wasn't looking, he backed Duncan into a corner where they were hidden from view and kissed him.

"I didn't mean to make you worry." Duncan whispered when the kiss was over. He touched Richie's nose with the tip of his index finger. "Let's not be rude. Joe's here."

Richie nodded, and after one more kiss, he led the way back into the living room.

"You know, you got a real fine boy here." Joe said as they sat on the couch across from him. "Real fine boy."

"He's something else, huh?" Richie looked proud.

"How can you even think about trying to raise him?" asked Joe.

"We want to keep him." Richie said. "We've been talking about nothing else for the past couple of days."

"And what have you decided?"

Duncan and Richie gave each other a long glance, then Duncan said, "The first order of business is to find a place that's suitable."

"A place? You mean a place to raise him?"

"We're thinking of England."

"England!" Joe's eyes grew wide. "Why England?"

"Truthfully, I forgot my original motive. I suppose any place will do as long as it's not terribly
dangerous for him. Some small town, maybe."

"A small town close to here?"

"Maybe."

"So you'll take him and move to some hick town close by and hire a babysitter while you get a job at some factory? Try to make yourself look like an ordinary single father, right?"

"Richie's coming with me. He's going to help."

"That'll look good to small town people."

"We've already considered that." Duncan said. "Richie suggested that I portray his father and also the baby's father, having had two wives who ran out on me."

"And then you'll have every available woman in that town at your door."

"You think?" Duncan asked, smiling.

"MacLeod, this is a very big step you're taking, raising a child, and however you choose to do it, there are going to be problems. No matter what story you tell, they're going to gossip in a small town. Maybe they won't think you're gay guys living together, but maybe they'll think you murdered the mother of your baby, maybe the mothers of both your sons."

"I can hire actors to come and play temporary parts if necessary."

"Yeah, you could do that."

"But I don't think it will be necessary. Our lives are none of other people's business."

"You're very right. But that won't keep them from talking and you know it."

"I know." Duncan looked down. "Do you think we should stay in Seacouver?"

"You could. There's no reason to leave."

"I would have to buy a bigger place for us to live."

"You and the baby?"

"Yeah, of course."

"What about Richie?"

"Him, too."

"Why are you suddenly including Richie in your household?"

"Because he wants to help me raise Darius."

"I see."

"Joe, what are you getting at?" Richie asked.

"Nothing." Joe's eyes went from one to the other of them. "You've grown very close again. For a while there, you weren't even talking."

Duncan pointedly looked at the floor, refusing to remember the period of time he and Richie had been at odds. Those had been the unhappiest sixty days of his life.

"That's all over with." Richie said. "I think we have you to thank for that. You're the one who got us back together, remember?"

Joe nodded. "Yeah. I remember. And you're welcome."

"We owe you a lot, Joe," said Duncan. "More than you know."

"How much?" Joe asked.

Duncan stood up and went to the chair, bent over and gave Joe a hug, baby and all. "This is how much." he answered.

Joe returned the hug with one arm, patting him on the back. "No big thing." he said, as if the subject were ended. But when Duncan returned to his seat beside Richie, he commented, "I've noticed that the two of you are just a little more than friends lately."

"I beg your pardon?" said Duncan.

"I know I'm being nosy, but there's a big difference in the way the two of you act, in the way you treat each other, and I just can't help being curious. I am your friend, you know. If you're planning to raise a child together, there's a big commitment already made between you. You've become very close. Am I right?"

They glanced at each other, then at Joe. Duncan answered, "Yeah, you're right, Joe. A big commitment. We're very close."

Joe lifted Darius to his shoulder with one hand beneath the thickly diapered little butt. "How long do you think this will last? You know how much shit you both get into."

"We've sworn off the shit." Richie said. "Both of us."

"Really?"

"Yeah." said Duncan. "Really. Really, Joe."

"So, you intend to live a peaceful life and raise a mortal child."

"Yeah, that's our intention." Duncan said.

"Do you think it's possible?"

"We hope." MacLeod closed his eyes.

Richie put an arm around him.

"I think you're getting in over your heads." Joe said.

"Because Darius is mortal?"

"Yeah partly, and because he has a long way to grow. You know he could end up getting hurt or killed be-cause of what you two are. What are you going to tell him? Are you going to say you are both Immortals but he's not, that he's a helpless mortal with indestructible men for guardians? How's he going to feel about that? Do you think he's going to be able to keep his mouth shut about it to his little friends at school? And if you don't tell him until he's old enough to understand, do you think he's going to understand? Do you think he won't get really mad because you didn't tell him earlier?

"And here's another one for you. If the two of you really do manage to raise him up to being an adult, what kind of person is he going to be? If he sees the two of you going to bed together every night, what kind of morals will you be teaching him? What do you intend for him to call you? Are you both 'daddy' to him? Have you thought of that part?

"And if that's not the case, neither one of you has denied anything yet, but if it's not the way things are, then what is the situation between you and do you intend to stay together long enough to raise this child? If you begin together, he will need you both until the end. Children need a stable home life, and if you're go-ing into this without forethought, you'd better realize the truth, because if this is what you want to do, then Darius should be first on your priority list. His needs and his feelings must be first in both your minds. He's the most important person in the world to you or you're not doing it right."

Duncan and Richie sat silent for a few minutes, thinking.

Joe waited.

Then, for the first time in his young life, Darius cried.

+++++

Friday, December 8, 1995

Jim Ellison picked up the phone before the first ring was complete. "Blair?"

"Yeah, Jim, it's me. I'm at the bus station on Fourth and Walnut."

"I'll be right there." Ellison grabbed his jacket on his way out the door.

He cruised along the pick-up lane in front of the crowded bus station, impatiently looking for his
room-mate. When Blair did not come out immediately, he began to look for a place to park. It was at that crucial moment that the anthropologist emerged from the building, luggage in hand.

Blair's long, curly hair whipped in the wind. His face was pensive. He hurried to the truck and hopped in, pitching his carry-bag into the small back seat. With a wide-eyed, seductive grin, he greeted his friend. "Hi."

Jim smiled and bent to kiss him quickly. "Hi."

"Wow, I get a kiss? I must have done something right."

"You get more than that when we get out of this traffic." Jim promised. He turned in his seat to look for oncoming cars and dove out into the mainstream of traffic.

"So, this is really what you want from me? Really, Jim?"

"Yeah. Really." Ellison took his hand and squeezed it as he drove. "Is that what you want from me?"

"Well, yeah. I thought you already knew that about me. I thought you knew a long time ago."

"That you wanted me?"

"Yeah. I guess you're dumber than you look."

"According to MacLeod, I'm pretty damn dumb. I guess he's right."

"MacLeod said you'd been drinking a lot."

"He's right about that, too." Ellison admitted.

"That's going to stop, too. Do we understand each other?"

Jim faced him. "If that'll make you happy."

"It will."

"Then I'll stop."

"Good." Blair glanced up at a bank's digital clock/thermometer. "It's freezing cold this morning,
and it's raining. I'm glad we're not going to be out in the weather."

"Don't worry, Chief. I'll keep you warm."

+++++

Joe's lecture had given them thoughts to ponder. They both slept very little that night, laid awake talking quietly about the future, about their own situation, about the things that were most important to them. It seemed there was no perfect answer.

Richie answered the phone the next afternoon as they were having sandwiches while Darius had a bottle. It was Ellison.

"Guess what?" the cop nearly shouted over the phone. "Blair loves me!"

"Great!" Richie said. "I'm glad to hear that."

Duncan asked to talk to him, so Richie gave him the phone. "Did this happen last night?" he asked. "Did you get together?"

"Of course we got together! He came to Seacouver but he didn't get here till early this morning. He loves me. He really loves me." Ellison was bubbling over. "We're going home tomorrow night and we're going to try this together. I think my life is improving, Duncan."

"I'm happy for you." Duncan said, smiling. "You see? And you were even talking suicide? You just never know what's in store for you. That's why it's all worth waiting for."

Richie gave him a sharp look but said nothing.

"Yeah, I owe you a big wet one." Ellison was saying. "Next time I see you, pucker up, because it's coming, buddy. You're the greatest."

With a soft laugh, Duncan said, "Take care, okay? I want to see you again before you leave."

"Come on over whenever you like. We're at the Super D Hotel, room 212." Ellison, as usual, hung up without a proper goodbye.

"He was going to commit suicide?" asked Richie.

"He mentioned it when he thought he was all alone in the world."

"And you talked him out of it. You, the world's saddest person who gets all emotional at the drop of a hat, you, who walks around in your own dark little hell, you talked another person out of suicide."

"Richie, I'm not that bad."

"Well, sometimes you are."

"Yes, I have been depressed at times."

"How about now?"

Duncan swallowed hard and let his dark, troubled eyes fall to the carpet. "Now I'm depressed."

"Why are you depressed?"

"Because we're giving Darius up. We have to."

Richie sighed. "Yeah. You're right. We do. He'll be a lot better off with somebody else."

"He will." A layer of tears covered MacLeod's brown eyes.

"I'm glad you can't commit suicide." Richie said. "I think it would be physically impossible to cut off your own head." His attempt at humor failed. Wiping his own eye, he shook his head in distress.

Duncan's eyes were unblinking as he gazed into the floor, as if he could see through it to another
dimen-sion, another universe, another lifetime.

+++++

Richie and Duncan had discussed it and had finally come to a conclusion, one that hurt, one that made them weep, but they felt it was the right decision. They could not keep Darius.

Joe had made them realize the hopelessness they faced in raising a child. His advice had gone far with them. They had only one solution when all the possibilities had been thought through, all the truths had been realized and all the talk was done. They would give Darius to a family who could love him and raise him as their own.

Duncan's eyes were still red from crying as he took the baby up from his nap. "I don't think the
grand-mother would be able to get custody of him," he said as he kissed the soft little face.

"They'll investigate her before they give him to her."

"Maybe they'll find him a nice, young couple who will really love him."

"Yeah. It's totally possible." Richie put his arms around Duncan, sandwiching Darius in the middle. He kissed the top of the baby's head, then kissed Duncan's cheek.

Duncan turned his head to catch Richie's lips and gave him a sound kiss. "Promise me I'll never lose you, Richie."

"I promise." Richie whispered in his ear. "I need you forever, Duncan. You're all I need."

"Am I enough?"

"Of course you're enough." Richie kissed him again. "You're my sweet love, the love of my life, the only one I'll ever need."

Duncan melted in his arms. "I love you more than anything, Richie."

Between them, Darius grunted.

"We should go now." Duncan said.

"Yeah." Richie sighed reluctantly. "We should."

+++++

Jim Ellison opened the door to his hotel room and greeted his visitors. "Hey, it's Duncan and Richie!" He began introductions, turning to a younger man with long curly hair who sat on the bed. "This is Blair Sand-burg, my better half."

Duncan, then Richie reached to shake hands with Blair.

"Have a seat." Ellison said, patting Richie on the back. "I'm glad you came. Real glad." His whole de-meanor exuded happiness. "Blair, Richie, I hope you'll excuse me, nothing personal here, but I owe this guy something and I gotta pay up." Stepping away from the others, he took Duncan by the arms, pulled him into a close embrace and, without preamble, kissed him directly on the mouth.

Both onlookers stared in shock, but when Ellison pushed Duncan back and plopped him down in a chair, he laughed. "That's for being there for me. I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything you said and did for me."

Duncan tried to compose himself. "You'd have done the same for me."

"Any time, Duncan. Any time."

Richie cleared his throat before speaking. "We took Darius to Social Services and they are looking for a good home for him. They're gonna keep us informed and let us meet whoever gets him. Mac suggested Sherry and David Vanders, who live in California."

"Good." Jim sat down beside Blair and put an arm around his shoulders. "I'm just sorry you couldn't keep him."

"Yeah, me, too." Duncan said. "It's very easy to fall in love with a baby."

"Yeah, it is." Ellison said. "Darius is going to be a character."

"Men are not usually good at raising children." Blair said. "It's a fact. Women were created with natural nurturing instincts. Men just bungle through things like burping and diaper changing."

"Richie picked up it rather quickly." Duncan said.

"Well, I had a little previous experience." Richie said. "You forget I was once almost a father?"

"The girl who named you as the father of her child." Duncan remembered. "Yes, I remember. His name was Jeremy and he looked absolutely nothing like you."

"Duncan," Blair said hesitantly, "do you think you and I could talk some time? Jim has told me some fan-tastic things about you and Richie and, as a student-teacher of anthropology, I think it's more than a little interesting."

Duncan smiled at him. "I think you should stick with your current studies, Blair. Jim's senses are enough to keep you interested for a long, long time."

"Not just his senses." Blair said, giving his partner a beguiling smile. "I'm grateful to you, Duncan, for calling me. I still can't believe he actually went far enough to consider suicide. That was scary."

"Blair, I..." Jim began.

"Jim, from now on, talk to me. I'm always here for you. Always."

Jim kissed him passionately, undisturbed that they were not alone. "I will." he whispered as they parted, his soft blue eyes holding to Blair's. "Forgive me."

Blair bear-hugged him.

+++++

"I was just getting used to having him around." Richie was lying across the bed in nothing more than his underwear when Duncan came from the shower. "Maybe we should get a dog. What do you think?"

Duncan, who was wearing a towel around his waist, went to the bed, dropped the towel and climbed on top of Richie. After a long, luxurious kiss, he said softly, "I think we should spend some time alone first, just the two of us. We can get a dog later, maybe, if you really want one."

"Okay." Richie's arms were around him tightly as he kissed him several times. "You're so hot." he whis-pered in his ear. "It never fails. You always turn me on."

"Let's make love." Duncan murmured sensuously. "I want you."

Richie kissed him again and reached up to turn down the bedspread. They got beneath the covers, snuggled close together. As they shared another kiss, Duncan reached over to turn off the lamp.

From a distance, perhaps in another apartment nearby, they heard the haunting cries of a baby.

...end Common Ground 2...