See Part One for Disclaimers and Author's Note.

One week passed without incident, then another.

***

Duncan recognized it as a mental game.  When a fight was interrupted, many times, the initiator would immediately seek out his or her opponent again.  However, there were those who preferred to stay away for a little while.  The time period would be enough that the opponent would be simultaneously tense about the possible confrontation, yet hopeful that maybe the fight wouldn't take place after all.  Duncan was under no such illusion.  She had seen the rage in the eyes of Robert Davenport, and knew without a doubt they would meet again.

So she bided her time.  What Davenport didn't know, what he couldn't know, was that the delay was only helping Duncan.  She was growing more and more at ease in her new body.  She had awakened early, showered, shaved her legs (for once without nicking herself), and was in the process of choosing her wardrobe.  Comfort, she decided, and settled on blue jeans and a sleek burgundy v-neck top.

"I look great in jeans," she commented to herself, checking out her backside in the mirror.

By the time Rickie invaded the loft, Duncan had managed her own hair and makeup.  Rickie inspected her.

"Not bad," the young woman conceded.  "Hey, you used Black Cherry lipstick."

"So?" shrugged Duncan.

"Dana never wears that during the daytime," Rickie explained.  "It's an evening color."

Duncan raised an eyebrow.  "That makes no sense at all.  It goes great with this top, doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but . . ."

"So why not?"

Rickie couldn't come up with a good answer for that.  She ran a hand through her short-cropped strawberry blond hair.  "So what's on the agenda today?"

"I'm teaching a women's self-defense course at one and four."  Duncan went over to the laptop on the table and booted up her schedule.  "Aside from that, there's not much.  Hey, how about the bunch of us get together for a movie tonight?"

***

"Sounds great."  Richie Ryan grabbed his jacket.  "Of course, Methos hates going out to movies."

"Really?"  Dana's brow crinkled.  "Metha loves movies.  Especially dumb ones.  Never take her to a historical drama, though -- she finds most of them laugh-out-loud funny.  We got tossed out of ÔBraveheart.'"

"Methos likes Ôem," Richie explained, "but he hates the fact that he can't take his beer in.  He'll probably just invade your loft while we're out, though."

Dana snapped his fingers.  "I forgot.  I found out that Duncan is guest-lecturing at the university, and the class lasts until seven.  I'll have to cover for him, I suppose."

"Still plenty showing after seven," Richie pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'll need to eat."  Dana thought.  "How about all of you invade the loft?  I could grab a few videos on my way home, and you could order pizza or something."

"Great idea!"  Richie shrugged into his jacket.  "Catch you at seven, then.  See ya, Mac."

Dana sighed as Richie left the loft.  He could get used to Duncan's life, but . . . the person he missed most from his own was Rickie.  She was like a daughter.  He could see, too, how much Richie wanted to see Duncan again.  The young man was getting used to Dana, but Dana knew there was a large part of Richie that needed Duncan around.

He hoped he and Duncan could find their way back.

***

The movie got out a little before eight.  Duncan, Rickie, Metha, and Armand walked together on a course back toward the loft.

"I love Alan Rickman," sighed Metha.  "Adore him, actually.  What an Immortal he'd make!"

"I was wondering who got drool in the popcorn," teased Armand.  "Now Sigourney Weaver -- there's a whole lot of woman."

Duncan nudged him in the ribs.  "Careful, Armand.  I'll report you to Dana."

"You really like Alan Rickman?" Rickie asked Metha.  "I dunno.  He's a great actor, and he's got that voice, but I just don't see it."

"It's his eyes," Metha explained.  "You can see the passion in them.  Reminds me of husband number thirty-six.  What a lover he was.  That man could do such things with his . . ."

Rickie covered her ears quickly.  "No, I don't wanna hear this."

"Go on, Metha," Duncan encouraged.  "This could be very instructional for me.  Assuming I ever get back in my old body, of course."

Armand gave her a wistful look.  "I like you, Duncan, but I miss Dana.  I really miss Dana.  Gods, how I miss Dana!"

Duncan looked at him sympathetically.  "Yeah, Amanda's probably saying the same thing about me."

"Unless, of course," Metha put in, "she and Dana don't share your inhibitions."

Rickie had uncovered her ears at just that moment.  "Eww!  Gross!" she blurted, and covered them again.

Duncan laughed, enjoying the rich, throaty sound of it.  Her laughter, though, was abruptly cut off by the buzz of a new Immortal presence.

***

Dana got away from the university late.  It was nearly eight by the time he'd finished answering questions from students -- mostly young and female students, he noted wryly.  As it was a warm night, he had walked.  He picked up a few videos, some extra beer, and a bag of popcorn and headed back to the loft.

As he passed a darkening city park, the buzz hit.  The streets were quiet, and the park was deserted but for a few junkies.  Dana looked around carefully, setting down his bags and silently drawing the dragon's head katana.

A banshee scream split the air.  Out of nowhere, a slim figure with flowing blond hair attacked.  Dana barely had time to defend against the first blows.

***

Duncan stepped away from her friends.  "Stay back.  It's probably Davenport again."

"Duncan . . ." Rickie pleaded softly.

Duncan smiled.  "It's all right, Rickie."

She walked into the deserted park, drawing the sapphire katana.  The trees provided enough cover that whatever battle took place wouldn't be immediately noticeable from the street.

"Hey, good-lookin'," came a male voice.

Duncan gripped her sword, following the sound of the voice.  A tall blond man stepped out of the shadows.

Robert Davenport smiled cruelly.  "You're mine, gorgeous."

"Wouldn't count on it," commented Duncan, and she dove into the fight.

***

Dana went on the offensive, moving with all the grace and speed he'd trained this new body into.  The blond woman, Roberta Davenport, gave a shriek of frustration as she lost her early advantage.  Dana could almost anticipate her moves.

The battle moved deeper into the park, past the children's play equipment and toward a baseball diamond.

***

Robert Davenport continued to make crude comments as he fought the woman he thought was Dana MacLeod.  He'd apparently used this technique to distract women before.

With Duncan, all it did was make her angry.  Long ago, in another body, Duncan MacLeod had made anger a friend.  She grew more and more focused, willing herself to use every advantage against her opponent.  Her movements grew swifter, more perfect.

Now they were fighting in the middle of the baseball diamond.  Davenport wasn't saying anything now; he was too busy defending himself.

***

Dana forced his opponent back.  Suddenly, the blond woman stumbled on the pitcher's mound.  Dana took that moment to knock her sword from her hands, then cut deeply across her stomach.

Roberta Davenport fell.  She looked up, her wide brown eyes reflecting fear and bewilderment.  It was a look that would have made Duncan MacLeod hesitate.

But not Dana MacLeod.

***

As they reached the pitcher's mound, Duncan suddenly twisted, forcefully kicking her opponent in his chest.  His sword flew away.

The sapphire katana snapped down . . .

***

The dragon's head katana cut through Davenport's neck . . .

***

A Quickening exploded.  Duncan/Dana felt his/her body expanding and contracting.  Something like a shared Quickening hit him/her, but drawing inward rather than out.  For a brief moment, the stars seemed to go out.

Then it was over.

***

Metha silently led Rickie and Armand toward the baseball diamond where their friend lay.  Slowly, the ancient reached down and turned the Scot over.

Blue eyes fluttered open, focusing on Metha's beautiful face.

"Amanda," the figure murmured, and, surprisingly strong, drew Metha into a fervent kiss.

Armand sighed.  This was not looking good.

Metha recovered quickly from her shock and pushed her friend away.  "Sorry, Duncan, seems you're still in the wrong place," the ancient said regretfully.

A wicked grin split the Highlander's face.  "Just kidding."

For a moment, all were silent.  Then:

"Dana?"  It was Armand's voice, absolutely unbelieving.

Dana MacLeod laughed heartily.  "Sorry, Metha, I couldn't resist."  She stood and gave Armand a hug, then an incredibly enthusiastic kiss.

"Eww!  Yuck!" complained a very young voice.  Rickie was thoroughly disgusted.

Dana reached over and hugged her student.  "Missed you too, squirt.  And what's so gross?"

"You kissed Metha," Rickie said, voice muffled by her mentor's shoulder as she hugged Dana back with all her strength.

Dana squeezed her tight.  "It's good to be home."

"It's good to have you back."  Armand stepped over to her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.  "You've some exceptionally good champagne," he pointed out.  "It would be a shame to not celebrate this."

Dana put her arm around his waist.  "I agree.  Let's go home."

Metha stepped up to Dana's side, eyeing her speculatively.  "You and I may have to. . . talk, Dana."

"Gross!" exclaimed Rickie.

***

Duncan looked down at the dragon's head katana.  He knew without a doubt he was back in his old body.  Oddly enough, he felt a sense of loss.

He stood, feeling how weighty his body was.  Deciding it would take him a little while to re-acclimate, he walked back to where he'd left his bags and continued back to the loft.  He realized he was excited to see his friends again -- but there was no reason he shouldn't have a little fun, was there?

As he reached the loft, he put the finishing touches on his scheme.

The elevator opened to reveal three Immortals lounging around Duncan's home.  He was truly glad to see them all.

"Hi, everybody," he greeted casually.

Methos looked at his watch.  "You're late."

"Got waylaid.  Sorry.  How about an apology?"  Duncan threw a beer at Methos.

"Forgiven."  Methos popped the top.  Duncan tossed another over at Richie.

"Thanks, Mac."  Richie, too, popped the top and took a swig.

Duncan walked into the kitchen where Amanda was keeping watch over a bag of microwave popcorn.  The thief turned, favoring Duncan with a subdued version of her normal light-up-a-room smile.

"Hi, Dana," Amanda greeted.

Perfect, thought Duncan.  With that thought, he took one stride forward, drew Amanda into his embrace, and kissed her thoroughly.

Richie's beer hit the floor.

Duncan raised his head to a moment of confusion on Amanda's face.  It was swiftly replaced by delight.

"Duncan?" she whispered.

"I'm back."  Duncan leaned in for another kiss.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor, Richard," Methos muttered at Richie.

Richie put a hand to his own forehead.  "Scary mental images there."

Methos grinned.  "Actually, it's rather a pleasant one, when you realize how very attractive Dana is."

Duncan stiffened and broke the kiss with Amanda as what Methos had said penetrated.  "Excuse me?" the Scot demanded.

"Oops.  Better leave."  Methos stood, but not quickly enough.  In a flash, Duncan MacLeod was in front of him, one hand grabbing a handful of Methos's sweater and the other wielding the katana.

"I think you've got some explaining to do," Duncan noted calmly.

"Now, MacLeod," Methos soothed.  He stopped abruptly as Duncan's upper lip disappeared.  The ancient smoothly shifted gears.  "Come now, MacLeod, you didn't seriously expect that in five thousand years, Metha and I never switched, did you?"

"Well, she sure as hell didn't mention it," Duncan said in a dangerously quiet voice, "and my guess is, neither did you."

Methos switched tactics again.  "Well, you both came out of it okay, didn't you?  All's well that ends well?"

"And all's well that gives you a little perverted fun," Duncan snapped sarcastically.

"That, too."  Methos gave Duncan a perverse little grin.  "Actually, it's happened several times.  Metha and I switch back and forth on an average of -- oh, every five or six hundred years.  The longest switch was seven years, the shortest was about five hours."

Duncan lowered his katana, breathing out a sigh of exasperation.  "Why didn't you or Metha say something, then?"

Methos shrugged.  "Would it have helped any?  Nothing really bad happened: you got a walk on the feminine side, Dana seemed to adjust well here . . ."

"And you got your jollies," Amanda noted.

"That, too."  Methos looked back at Duncan.  "At least nothing really changed for you.  One time, I switched with Metha just as I'd been initiating an affair with a farmer's pretty daughter.  I came back to find myself married to her.  Metha's little way of reminding me to be responsible with the fairer sex."

"Good for her."  Duncan grabbed Methos's coat and flung it at him.  "Out, you."

"But there's videos," Methos protested.

"Not any more.  Out."  Duncan physically steered Methos into the elevator.

Across the room, Richie had just finished cleaning up his spilled beer.  He caught Amanda's eye briefly and realized Methos wasn't getting ousted just on account of being irritating.

"I think I'll be going," Richie announced.  He grabbed his coat.  As he passed Duncan, the larger man suddenly grabbed him into a bear hug.

"Good to see you again, Rich," Duncan murmured.

Richie was stunned for a moment, but returned the hug.  "Welcome back, Mac," he finally said.

Duncan released him, and Richie walked out.

***

Dana exited her shower, toweling her damp hair.  Everyone was gone from her loft . . . except Armand.  She grinned hungrily as she saw him.

The thief stood, graceful as a cat.  Dana loved watching him.  She remembered Methos.  He had the same kind of easy grace about him, but Armand, she thought, used it better.  And his clothes were a great improvement.

"So," Armand began.  "Have fun?"

"Not as much as I'd like."  Dana's blue eyes twinkled.  "But yeah, I did.  Not as much as Methos, apparently, though."  Her eyebrows cocked dangerously.

Armand laughed.  "You can't blame those two.  I think the mind starts to go when you get that old."

Dana looked at him askance.  "Sure, take her side."

Armand leaned against the wall next to her.  "Well, I've got to keep my options open.  She is very old, after all, and not at all unattractive . . ."

Dana punched him lightly in the gut.  "I think I liked you better as a woman."

That made Armand take notice.  He moved close, then gave the tie on Dana's bathrobe a tug.

"Let's see if I can't change your mind about that . . ."

***

Duncan sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Amanda gently into his lap.  Strange -- he'd always loved her sense of humor, her ability to make him smile, make him crazy, make him do anything she wanted, but now he suddenly felt something quite different.

"I admire you," he told her.

That took Amanda aback.  "What do you mean?"

Duncan squeezed her gently.  "I mean I think it takes more raw courage to live as a woman than as a man.  You've been through a lot, I know -- a lot you won't tell me -- but somehow, you've never lost your joy in living."

Amanda shifted, feeling a bit uncomfortable with this line of thought.  "Well," she finally managed, "it beats the alternative."

Duncan smiled warmly.  "It sure does."

"Sooo," drawled the thief, moving back into familiar territory, "what all did you learn from getting in touch with your feminine side?"

A soft, masculine laugh answered her.  "Why don't I show you . . ."

The End

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