And they were clansmen and trained together? Tessa Noel rolled her eyes dramatically.

They had been bickering about Slan Quince all morning. She didn't think she had ever heard such swearing ... and she didn't even know the language, but knew for sure that they were swearing vehemently at one another.

Finally, they settled enough for her to get the focus and take the photo. It would be the only one she ever took of them ... she would not live to see Connor and Duncan together again.

Duncan MacLeod fingered the edges of the frame and regarded the picture within the glass.

Happier times, even though Connor and he had been at odds. His clansman's face was calm and unreadable, but the sullen eyes belied the tranquillity. He was using his classic cross-grip on the handle of the katana -- if it were true battle, Duncan would be watching for the twisting lift of the bright blade as it came around to slice his shoulder. And Connor moved like the wind.

The younger man grinned at the gray trenchcoat, unfashionable as ever ... and the tennis shoes. Connor was stuck in a fashion rut. He idly wondered why.

But he was alive ... ultimately that was all that mattered.

Duncan looked at himself, seeing a man much younger. The black coat wouldn't fit his shoulders now, he had filled out so much more in the intervening years. He couldn't wear those slim jeans anymore either. But the hair was the same, long, pulled back in a familiar clasp.

He had crossed his own katana with Connor's, fashioning a crazy X in the photo. The flash of the camera off of his old mentor's blade was a brilliant line of light.

Much happier times. Connor at least had the chance to meet Tessa before she was gone and had an opportunity to finally see Duncan at peace and content.

One photo. All that was left. It was just enough.

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

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