Just at the balance point of waking and sleeping, where the curtain of mind and soul was thin and easily pierced ... he saw it. A sudden vision of himself, eyes evenly gazing at some far horizon and his face placid and calm. The mountains were rising beyond the spectre of his face ... the ghostly illumination of a castle hovered behind him, as if his face was truly transparent.

The claymore of the clan MacLeod was a crucifix in the center of the image. Lightning coursed through the handle in a paroxysm of energy ... and the blade defied the element and remained steadfast. Connor felt his heart soar at the sight.

And more wondrous than anything: the rich lines and features of Duncan MacLeod began to solidify into the picture on the other side of the claymore. His younger counterpart was looking downwards with a small smile on his face, peaceful and contented.

Connor smiled, slipping into sleep. It was a perfect balance ... he on one side and Duncan, stalwart and true on the other. He feared no lightning with that image resting in his heart.

MacNair
10/11/00 Impromptu party
Title supplied by the person who fru'd the picture on the board

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