Duncan Macleod stared at Connor's grave as the rain poured down his grief- stricken face.

'Oh Bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see , such a woeful destruction of your honour and dream.'

Duncan knew that he should be happy for his friend, well his brother really, he'd always thought of Connor as a brother. He was with his Heather now, but he couldn't bring himself to fell happy.

'For it stood on your shore, for man eased the long day, till the long boats from round-tree, came to float it away.'

He had just lost the man he'd spent the last 400 odd years with. His best friend, his only real family. Now he was faced with an eternity alone.

'Oh Bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand , and the more I think of you the more I think not. If I had you now as I had once before, all the lords in old England would not purchase portmore.'

'Why did you have to leave me Connor?' he yelled, 'why did you have to make me do it?' His question was met with an echo, as his voice richoched around the valley where Connor was buried.

In the end there can be only one.. one's a lonely number, if there can be only one what can I look forward to.

Taking his sword in his hand Duncan shut his eyes and thought of Kate, would she miss him? He couldn't think of that right now. Swinging his sword forward, instead he thought of Connor and the memories the two had made between them. 'Now there is none', he whispered, before his head rolled to the ground.