Recovery 1/5

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Recovery
Part 1/5
By T.L. Odell
Disclaimers in part 0

Duncan MacLeod awoke with a start, his heart pounding.  He sat
up in bed in his darkened loft and concentrated on slowing his
breathing.  What had awakened him?  At 4:00 a.m., he heard only
the hum of distant traffic.  Not even the birds were chirping
their morning calls yet.  Straining to hear any unusual sounds,
he peered carefully through the curtains, then crept slowly
around the loft, checking the windows, the elevator, the back
door.  All were locked, just as they had been the last four
times he had examined them.  He poured himself a glass of water
in the kitchen and returned once again to bed.  There were still
a few hours left before daylight; maybe he'd be able to get some
sleep.

After tossing and turning for half an hour, Duncan admitted
defeat and turned on the bedside light.  Maybe reading would
help.  He hadn't finished the Clancy novel he'd started at Anne
Lindsey's last week.  Although he was enjoying the book, he
couldn't get through more than ten or twenty pages before his
eyes would close.  If only he could sleep more than an hour or
two at a time.  He was over the worst, but until the virus was
completely out of his system, he had the same healing powers of
any mortal.  Anne had repeatedly told him that he would be fine
once he was over this strange 'immortal flu' yet, but he still
had trouble believing it.  His conscious and his subconscious
seemed to be constantly at odds.  Somehow, a part of him buried
too deeply for logic to reach, kept insisting that he was
destined to live the rest of his life out as a mortal.  He
closed the book and memories of the last week washed over him.

***

He had tried to be a good patient, but as Anne had pointed out,
'patient' was absolutely the wrong word.  He couldn't stand to
stay in bed, but he hadn't had the strength to walk around for
more than a few minutes.  He tried getting out of bed, standing
propped against the headboard until the dizziness passed.  Then
he would walk slowly to the dresser and hold onto that for a
while.  Finally, covered with sweat, and knees shaking, he would
lie down again.  Or, he'd make his way to the living room and
collapse on the couch.  He knew Anne was beginning to lose her
patience with him as well.  After being Immortal for more than
four hundred years, he just couldn't deal with any healing that
took longer than a day.  When he could finally make the trip to
the kitchen without leaning on any furniture for support along
the way, he tried to pronounce himself cured.  He remembered the
way Anne had tried to prove that he wasn't ready to be up and
around.

"Anne, I'm going stir crazy.  I feel fine, and I need to be
moving around.  Can't I get out for a while?" he had pleaded.

"So, you think you're fine, do you?  Tell you what.  Let's just
go for a little ride in the car," she said.  "But I'm driving.
You can just sit there, get some fresh air, and see how strong
you really are."

He pulled his long topcoat over his sweats, laced on his
sneakers and met Anne at the front door of her house.  As he
walked across the front porch and down the steps to the
driveway, he felt the weakness in his legs.  Determined that
working the muscles was what he needed, he ignored the
quivering, as well as the way he seemed to be breathing a bit
harder than he should from just walking across a driveway, and
got into the passenger seat of Anne's silver Bonneville.

Anne was already at the car, closing the trunk.  She smiled at
him, but Duncan saw a look of exasperation in her eyes.  "I
packed a couple of sandwiches and some juice.  How about if we
drive to the lake and have a picnic?  It's about a twenty minute
drive."

"Sounds great."

But as they drove along the winding mountain road, Duncan found
that it became more and more of an effort to stay focused.  His
vision was narrowing, and a bright gray light was taking the
place of the road ahead.  He wished that he could recline the
front seat without Anne noticing; he absolutely refused to pass
out.

They never got to the lake. Anne had to pull the car over so he
could be sick at the side of the road.  He was barely able to
walk up the steps when they got back to her house, the
sandwiches still in the cooler in the trunk.  She helped him
back into bed, lecturing in that tone that brooked no nonsense.

"You just don't think about how much effort it takes for the
human body to function, do you?  You take it for granted.  Well,
think about it.  You're sitting up, not lying down - Your
heart's working harder to pump blood to your brain.  Then, as
the car moves, it's bouncing, twisting, accelerating,
decelerating... and your muscles are constantly counterbalancing
against the car's motion.  Sitting still in a moving car is a
lot harder that it sounds."

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"To be honest, no, I didn't."  He heard the frustration in her
voice.  "But you don't seem to respond to the spoken word.  I
figured the only way to make my point was to show you first
hand."

He stayed with Anne for two more days, doing his best to be
positive.  This 'immortal flu' was devastating but not fatal.
Knowing he could die had created a vicious cycle.  He couldn't
stand the weakness, so he kept testing his limits.  But the more
he tested them, the more he let the virus maintain its foothold
in his system.  He had been sick for over a week now, and it was
time to get back to his own environment.  Somehow, he knew that
in his own home, in his own bed, he'd get well much faster.

He was also beginning to feel more and more like an imposition.
The overheard bits and pieces of Anne's lengthy late night
telephone conversations with her new lover, Jared, made him feel
self-conscious.  Although Anne never wavered in her willingness
to care for him, he sensed that her mind was turning more to
Jared as his homecoming approached.  Anne and Duncan had
resolved any issues between them about her leaving Seacouver to
take the new job in Indianapolis, and to be with Jared.  He knew
that he, Anne and Mary would remain friends.  But Jared would be
returning very soon, and Duncan just didn't want to be around.

Joe Dawson and Methos came to see him at Anne's a few days
later.  Duncan had insisted on leaving; Anne had insisted it
wouldn't be safe for him to make the two-hour drive back to
Seacouver.

"Remember, you couldn't handle a twenty-minute drive as a
passenger two days ago.  How do you think you're going to get
all the way back home by yourself.  As your doctor,  I don't
think you should go.  As your friend, I absolutely forbid it.
What if you got into an accident?  Your reflexes are slow,
you're still weak ..."

"Okay, Anne, okay."  He didn't want to hear her say anything
about him getting injured and not healing.  "I accept your
decision.  But I still want to get back."

"Let me call Joe.  He's been a great help."

Joe Dawson agreed that he and Methos, or Adam Pierson as Anne
knew him, would drive up the following day and Methos would
drive Duncan back in his car.  Methos and Joe concurred that the
contagion period had passed, and that the ancient Immortal
should be safe from the virus.  Duncan was in the bedroom
packing the last of his belongings when he heard their voices at
the front door.

"I understand you've got a freeloader who needs disposing of,"
he heard Methos say.

"You made good time, guys.  Come in."

'Traffic was pretty light most of the way.  How's Duncan doing?"
asked Joe.

"He should be out in a second.  He's just finishing packing."

Duncan's chest felt caught in a vise, and he struggled to
breathe.  His pounding heartbeat reverberated in his head.  His
mouth was dry; his palms were suddenly wet, and he wiped them on
his jeans.  He leaned on the bed for support.  He should have
felt Methos' arrival as soon as he reached the driveway.  But he
was in the house, and he hadn't known.  Once again, the
recurring feeling of panic threatened to overwhelm him.

Get a grip, he thought, taking a few deep breaths.  Although the
first inhale was shaky, he managed to control his breathing
before he picked up his duffel bag and went out to the living
room.  He would not discuss his sensory lapse in front of Anne;
she was unaware that Methos was Immortal.  There would be plenty
of time on the drive back to Seacouver.

Afraid his voice would give away his fear, Duncan merely nodded
to his friends.

"Hi, Mac," said Methos.  Nothing in the slender man's face or
voice indicated anything unusual had happened.

"You sure look a heck of a lot better than the last time I saw
you," said Joe.

Duncan cleared his throat.  "I feel a lot better, too."

Anne spoke up.  "Why don't you all sit down for a while?  How
about some coffee or tea and something to eat?  You've been
driving for a couple of hours; relax for a little while before
heading back."

"Coffee would be great, if it's not too much trouble," said Joe.

"Black, right?  How about you Adam?  Duncan?"

"I'm fine," said Duncan.

"Coffee for me, Anne.  Thanks.  Black with a little sugar."

"Go sit in the living room.  I'll be right back," said Anne as
she went into the kitchen to fix the coffee.

"So what's going on?" asked Joe, raising an eyebrow and looking
at Mac.  "You're staring at Adam like he was a ghost."

"Not now, Joe."  Duncan sat in the easy chair by the fireplace
and motioned his friends to the couch.

Anne returned to the living room and set a carved wooden tray
with a platter full of brownies on the coffee table.
"Chocolate's my downfall when I need a pick-me-up.  They're
homemade, if you count using baking mixes.  The coffee will be
ready in a couple of minutes."

Methos leaned forward and helped himself to a brownie.
"Delicious,"  he mumbled over a mouthful of the chewy chocolate
confection.  "Mac, you should definitely have one."

"A little rich for me, still."

"So you have learned a few of your limitations.  It's about
time," Anne said with a chuckle as she got up to get the coffee.

"What was that supposed to mean?" asked Joe.

"Never mind," Duncan replied.  He didn't want to discuss how his
stomach had rebelled violently any time he departed from the
bland diet Anne insisted on.

Anne brought another tray with three mugs of steaming coffee.
"Sure you don't want a cup, Duncan?" she asked as she handed Joe
and Methos theirs.  "It ought to be all right with plenty of
milk and sugar."

"No, thanks."

The foursome talked for a while, enjoying the coffee and sweets.
Anne told them about her new position, and showed off some
recent pictures of Mary.  "Sorry, it's a Mom thing.  It must be
some dormant gene that's activated during the birthing process."

"Don't sweat it.  She's an adorable kid, and you have every
right to let us know how she's doing.  We certainly don't get to
see much of either of you, and now you're going away.  Promise
you'll keep in touch," said Joe.

"I will.  Promise."

"We really have to be heading back now," said Methos as he
gathered the empty mugs and carried them into the kitchen.
Duncan watched Anne follow with the tray of brownies, and saw
the Immortal remove another from the platter.

"Four?  I guess you weren't just being polite," she said.  He
heard the teasing in her voice.

"Actually, I think it was five, but who's counting?" countered
Methos as he headed back to the living room.  "They were very
good, really."

Joe had excused himself to use the bathroom before beginning the
drive home.  Anne was rinsing off the dishes and covering the
remaining brownies.  "Did you know I was here?" Duncan asked
Methos under his breath.

"Later," the older man replied as Anne returned to say goodbye.

"You make sure this one takes care of himself," she said to
Methos, smiling.  "He sometimes has trouble following
directions, even when they're in his best interest."  Her tone
turned serious.  "If he keeps moving too fast, he'll have a
relapse.  I can almost guarantee it."

"We'll keep an eye on him.  If you'll excuse me for a minute,"
he said as Joe returned, and he walked down to the bathroom.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on this stubborn old Scot," said Joe
to Anne.  "Even if he doesn't show his appreciation properly, I
know how much you've done for him.  Now we'll take him off your
hands and you can get back to planning for your new life."

"Things will certainly be dull around here for a while.  I might
even miss him.  You take care, too," she said as she kissed Joe
on the cheek.

Joe headed out to his car.  "I'll stop at the store on the way
back and replenish Mac's supplies.  Plenty of chicken soup."

Methos came back to the door.  "Keys,"  he demanded of Duncan,
who tossed them over.  He picked up Duncan's bag, kissed Anne
and started walking to the car.  "Don't worry about anything,
Anne.  We're going to make sure he follows the doctor's orders."

Duncan took both of Anne's hands in his own. "I insist on seeing
you and Mary at least once before you leave.  I'd like to meet
Jared, too.  Look at me," he insisted.  She gazed into his eyes.
"Thank you.  For everything,"  he said huskily.  He released her
hands and embraced her, running his fingers through her hair.

"You behave yourself," she said with a catch in her voice.  "I'm
going to have Adam and Joe spying on you, you know.  And I'll
call you, too.  I can tell if you're lying to me."

"I'm fine."  And then he laughed out loud, thinking about how
many times he had said that, and how many times it had been an
outright lie.  Anne's laughter joined his, and she waved as he
got into the passenger seat of his car.

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