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 Methos was both surprised and relieved to locate MacLeod on holy ground. While he regretted the death of MacLeod's friend, he wondered now if that Quickening was giving the Highlander the strength to hold out against the invading darkness. 

Pushing these distracting thoughts aside, Methos concentrated on the still figure on the chapel floor. With luck, the bond of friendship between them would be strong enough for Methos to reach the mind of Duncan MacLeod somewhere inside the flood of hate, fear, and rage that had overwhelmed him with the Dark Quickening. Methos understood the forces tearing his friend apart. He had a plan that could save him, could save them both if only MacLeod could be brought to trust him.

As they spoke, he watched the other man's dark eyes carefully. 

The Quickening from MacLeod's friend, Sean, had merged into the positive aspects of MacLeod. Duncan also had darker qualities and that side of him was fighting to join with the Dark. Some part of Duncan eagerly embraced the freedom from restraint offered by the rage and the lust to kill burning through him.

Caught between the warring halves of his soul, Duncan was slowly losing the ability to control himself. Flashes of the old MacLeod alternated with the warped, angry Power consuming him.

Methos would go to any length to save his friend, but he wasn't willing to lose his head and his Power to this dark thing possessing the Highlander's body. If his death would restore Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, then Methos was willing to die.

 On the other hand, he sincerely hoped that the sacrifice wouldn't be necessary.

Driving MacLeod to the holy well in the forest outside the city, Methos wondered how long Duncan's strength would hold. For now, the Quickening was sustaining him. Peering through the windshield at the darkening sky, Methos worried about his ability to find the ancient site after all these centuries without the light of day to aid his search.

It had taken him most of the day to locate the Highlander after MacLeod had left him at the base of the wall the previous night. Every Watcher in Paris was alerted. All of them accepted without question that Methos was stepping in for Joe Dawson who was thousands of miles away at this critical time in his assignment's life. Regretting those lost hours, Methos knew that any delay now could be fatal for both men. He felt MacLeod's tension in the seat beside him as the other man fought to stay in control of his demons. So far he was holding on.

They were going to have to stop for the night. By the time the car reached what Methos hoped was the correct location, full night had fallen. The moonless sky offered no assistance. In the distance, Methos spotted a familiar outline. By the side of the road, the sign of the inn promised sanctuary to the night traveller.

A few minutes later Methos followed the still-silent Duncan to the one vacant room the inn had available.

Duncan entered first and headed directly for the tiny, private bath. Slamming the door, he left Methos alone in a room that felt much safer without the presence of his brooding companion.

In a few minutes he heard the sound of water running. Sighing, he dropped the room key on the bureau. After some thought he slid the car keys into an empty drawer. If the Highlander decided to make a run for it, Methos didn't want to end up chasing him on foot. 

When Duncan returned to the bedroom, his eyes were calmer, as though some of the tension inside of him was resolved, or some balance achieved.

Methos hesitated, not certain what to do next, then decided that Duncan would do as well if Methos wasn't hovering over him every second. Quietly he walked into the tiny bathroom. Stripping off his clothing quickly he stepped under the steaming shower and rinsed off the fear-generated sweat from the day. He moved quickly, worried about MacLeod alone in the other room.

Stepping cautiously back into the bedroom a few minutes later, he was surprised to see MacLeod curled up on the wide bed. The silence and his motionless body convinced Methos that the wisest choice would be to leave the Highlander to himself. Perhaps in the quiet of the night MacLeod could find enough peace to give him the strength for the battle ahead.

Methos wasn't looking forward to the rest of the night. He knew that he needed to stay alert in case MacLeod lost the struggle with his inner demons. Trying to ignore the tension radiating from MacLeod's unmoving form, he glanced out of the window at the dark night sky and prayed for morning. The room didn't offer any chairs. After a moment's thought, Methos slid quietly onto the far side of the bed. Shoving the hard pillow between his back and the headboard, he settled in, hoping to get a little rest if the Highlander fell asleep.

The silence between them stretched to the breaking point.

Methos found himself holding his breath, not wanting to be the one to shatter the quiet.

"Methos?" Duncan's voice was rough with suppressed emotion.

"Yes?" Methos heard his own voice slide between Duncan's harsh breaths, surprised at how calm it was.

"I don't know how much longer I can hold on. It's getting stronger all the time." Duncan sounded exhausted.

"You can fight this, Duncan. You can beat it. Just hang on a little longer."

"No." In Duncan's tone, Methos could hear defeat. "I'm not strong enough. And I'm so tired."

"You need to rest, MacLeod. It's okay to fall asleep."

In the quiet that followed Methos barely heard Duncan's soft response. "I don't want to sleep. What if *he* is the only one who wakes up?"

Methos felt the sting of tears in his eyes. MacLeod was always so strong, so self-assured. Hearing the fear in his voice, the need for comfort was unnerving.

"It isn't going to happen that way, Duncan." Methos put all the conviction he could into his own response. "Get some rest. You'll wake up stronger tomorrow."

Duncan wasn't interested in tomorrow. So far he hadn't asked Methos any questions about their destination. All of his energy was concentrated on the struggle for survival.

"He's so strong." Was Duncan begging for reassurance? "How can I fight him? He's already beaten so many of us."

 "You have the strength, Highlander. Look inside of yourself and find it. You are Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Hold onto that."

"I'm trying to, but I keep forgetting."

Methos knew that Duncan was looking for something more, something to get him through the long, dark night ahead of him. Coming to a decision, he slid over next to the younger man. Pulling the unresponsive body around to face him, he cradled Duncan's head in the curve of his neck.

"You're stronger than this thing, MacLeod," he whispered. "And you are not alone. I'm right here."

After a moment he felt the stiff shoulders relax under his arm.

"I'll be right here," Methos repeated. "Rest, Highlander. I'll watch over you."

Eventually Duncan dropped into an uneasy sleep. Holding his friend's restless body, Methos wondered if both of them would survive until the coming dawn. In the darkness of the room, he closed his eyes and breathed a silent prayer to whichever gods watched over frightened Immortals.

Hours later, the light of the rising sun poured into the room and warmed against two sleeping figures, wrapped in the security of each other's arms.

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The End