"I was telling Will," he smiles, "...that you might be too busy, being Seneschal and all, to come visit an old pair like us."

     They do not know. Those who look at him and wonder: Why Dunross? They do not know what he knows. They have never seen it. They could never understand it.

     The smile is sudden. And it is explosive in indigo eyes. Fiery. Igniting. Immediately. "Hello, ami..." And William nearly chuckles. But just...seeing you. He is stopped. Standing. Still...

     A surreal image it is, the young man eternally out of time's pocket. He walks forward, letting wet mush soak between his toes. There's something quiet about him, without William around, as if part of himself is missing.

     "And what exactly..." comes the voice at the other end, relaxed and teasing, "...was I supposed to think of that small piece of footage you sent me? Oh, I'm sorry, it was not footage..." Ian purrs, rather amused at it all.

     "The sun rises early in the north, my love..." A lament. "Hurry home."

     There will be no sadness for it, just an ultimate realization that his completion comes from one source only. The body has enjoyed the rides, the spirit is lifted and soaring, but it flies homeward, seeking the comfort and bed of its True Heart.

     William frowns, confused. Aching. "You acted in passion they all should have expected, but I am missing the fucking point, Ian. Should I not do this and think of you? When can I go a day without thinking of you. Goddamn it, if I didn't love you I wouldn't think of you. What the hell do you want?"

     "Welcome..." the sleepy young man whispers, "...home." A kiss at your cheek, "My love..."

     How you alone know the songs that no one else remembers, a language that he only speaks, save you, recall a time that was everything to him...but is now only books and perverted recollections of fae, myth, and lies that once used to anger him, but now only make him wish for home.