Chapter Sixteen The last orange streaks of twilight lit the sky as Duncan beached the canoe below Caitlin's cabin and reached in to grab his duffle bag. A tender smile crossed his face, as he picked up the bouquet of wild flowers he had picked for Caitlin on a whim before leaving the island. Eager to see her reaction, he swung the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder and started the steep climb towards the cabin. Reaching the top, a frown marred his handsome features when he discovered no lights were on. Thinking Caitlin may have fallen a sleep, he continued up the path when he heard the sound of Tanya's shrill barking. Following the sound, he caught a glimpse of the dog in the glow of the setting sun, running back and forth at the bottom of the stairway. As he drew closer, his stomach turned over when he saw Caitlin laying face down, and deathly still. "Tanya, it's okay, girl." He said, trying to reassure the dog as she kept getting in his way, hindering his efforts to get close enough to see how badly Caitlin was hurt. "Tanya, it's okay, go lay down now and stay". The dog started to move away, but then returned, getting in his way again. "It's okay, Tanya," he repeated and tried to push her away. But still, she persisted until finally he lost his patience and thundered. "Tanya, dammit! You've got to move! Go lay down! And stay!" Cowering from the sound of his voice, the frightened dog moved away and lay down a few feet away, but continued to whine softly as she watched and waited. Kneeling beside Caitlin, Duncan reached out and touched her throat, feeling the strong beat of her heart pulsing against his trembling fingers. Relieved she was still alive, he slowly turned her over and sucked in his breath when he saw her scraped and bruised face. Blood ran down into her hairline from a lump on the side of her forehead. Gently lifting her eye lids one at a time, he could see her pupils reacted normally. Carefully running his hands over her body he was sure there were no broken bones. He wasn't a physician, but having lived for over four hundred years he'd seen what all types of trauma could do to the human body. His friendships with doctors like Gregor Powers, Grace Chandel, and Anne Lindsey had also added to his layman's knowledge. Sliding his arms gently under her shoulders and behind her knees, he cradled her body against him as he rose and started up the stairway. He had only walked up several steps when he saw Caitlin's suitcase laying partially open, underneath the railing, its contents spilling out over the steps. Stunned and confused he stared at the unexpected discovery for several seconds and then proceeded up to the cabin. Managing to maneuver the screened door open, he discovered the inside door was ajar, and used his elbow to switch on the lights. Baffled again by the state of the mainroom, he quickly carried her to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. A search through the cabin yielded a first aid kit and other supplies he would need to treat her bruised and battered body. With calm detachment, he efficiently removed her clothing and bathed away the dirt and grime from her scrapes and cuts before gently applying an antiseptic. Done tending to her wounds, he placed his arm behind her shoulders and carefully slid the nightgown he had found dangling from a dresser drawer down over her body and covered her with the blankets. He picked up an ice pack from the nightstand and laid it across her forehead to help reduce the swelling on her forehead. Satisfied he had done all he could for the moment, he started to straighten, and realized the muscles in his back were strained from bending over so long. Straightening slowly, he arched his back to ease the cramped muscles and locked his hands together across the back of his neck and moved his head from side to side to release the tension in his neck and shoulders. Looking down at Caitlin, a frown creased his forehead as the confusion returned. Why was she obliviously leaving in such a panic. It didn't make any sense. The answer had to have something to do with the trashing of the mainroom. Walking down the hallway, he paused in the doorway and looked at the mess, shaking in head in bewilderment. Moving to set the overturned chair upright, he bent down to pick up the broken pieces of the coffee cup, when his eyes became riveted on one of the photographs scattered on the floor. Chills ran down his spine as he picked up the picture of himself after his fight with Caleb Cole. Looking around, he spotted the journal laying face down a few feet away. Rising slowly, already suspecting what it was by the symbol on the cover, he walked over and forced himself to pick it up. A sickening feeling formed in the pit of his stomach when he saw Jonathan Taylor listed as the Watcher. With trepidation, he slowly turned the pages and skimmed over descriptions of the events that Taylor had witnessed. Thinking back, he remembered when he'd first met Joe Dawson and learned about the existence of the Watchers. Joe was explaining about the Watcher organization and giving him a tour of his bookstore's backroom where some of the artifacts were kept that the Watchers had collected over the years. He had been dumbfounded to see Caleb Cole's ax on display. "You were there?" He had asked Joe in surprise. "No, not me, but someone was." Joe answered. Why did that someone have to be Jonathan Taylor. Gathering up the book and the rest of the pictures, he sat down on the sofa and laid the journal open on the coffee table. Tessa, Richie, his battles with Caleb Cole and Michael Christian and other more mundane events were all carefully described. Sorting through the photographs he smiled grimly, and murmured the slogan from and an old T.V film commercial he remembered. "Kodak, capturing the moments of your life." Seeing his life interpreted from Jonathan Taylor's point of view, no wonder Caitlin panicked and tried to run away from him. In her eyes she had fallen in love with Duncan MacLeod, mild mannered businessman, who turned out to be a cold blooded killer, a monster. When he allowed himself to fall in love with Caitlin, he knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to tell her about Immortals and the Game. But, not like this, she shouldn't have had to learn about his world like this. How could he ever make her understand now. The damage was done. Bitter tears of frustration began to trail down the rigid planes of his face as his emotions warred inside him. Anger. A future with Caitlin known only as Duncan MacLeod, dojo owner and part time antique dealer, had been snatched away. The time and place to tell her about himself taken out of his control. Betrayal. "Why, Joe? Why?" He said, in a tormented whisper. This was a breach of his trust in their friendship he would never forgive. Dawson knew what the island meant to him. From now on, his sense of freedom would be forever shattered. Now, even there, he was Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, Immortal specimen to be spied upon by the prying eyes of the Watchers. They were even more insidious then he'd thought. He was never free from his Immortality or the Watchers. Never! Despair. He hadn't felt such despair since Richie and Connor died. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut to try and stem the flow of angry tears, he rubbed the heals of hands across his eyes, his shoulders heaved as silent waves of uncontrollable sobs shook his body. Clenching his teeth together in an effort to try and gain control of his emotions, he leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees, and wept until he could weep no more. Finally completely exhausted, he fell back into the welcoming softness of the sofa cushions, and slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep. Just as the sun was coming up, Tanya nudged him awake by gently nuzzling his hand. Coming awake with a start in the dimly lit cabin, he felt completely drained and disoriented. Wearily running his fingers through his tousled hair, he looked around. The journal and pictures laying on the coffee table were a painful reminder of why he had fallen asleep on the sofa. Swearing softly, he rubbed his hands over his stubbled face, and slowly stood up. Giving Tanya's head a pat as he stepped around her, he checked on Caitlin again. Laying his hand against her cheek, he bent over and carefully checked her eyes, pulse and listened to her breathing. Straightening, he heaved a sigh of relief and allowed himself to smile. She was no longer unconscious, just merely asleep. Careful not to awaken her, he shooed Tanya out of the room, pulling the door with him as he went, leaving it slightly ajar. "Come on girl, lets go outside," he whispered. He stuffed the odds and ends of clothing back into Caitlin's suitcase, then reached for his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. Making his way back up the stairway, Tanya trailing behind him.