THE YOU'RE IN MY HEART SERIES

HELTER SKELTER

By Susan and JoLayne

RATING: PG-15

CHARACTERS: Methos, Amanda, Duncan, Kate, Joe, Cassandra, various Watchers

SUMMARY: A month after Won't Get Fooled Again, Geoffrey's watcher figures out that Methos is not a myth, and very much alive. Methos is kidnapped; his mind and body are studied.

NOTE: Thanks MnD, you rock, girl!

DISCLAIMER: The characters you've heard of are the property of Panzer/Davis and/or Greg Widen. We're deeply in their debt for creating this universe, characters and the concept of immortality. However, the muses are in overdrive so we're using them with no hope of profit, only to entertain Methos and Amanda fans.

RAMADA INN - SEACOUVER

The solitary woman paced the small room as tears still ran unchecked down her cheeks. It was over. Her happiness had come crashing to an end in a scenic overlook along a deserted highway. Her lover was dead. Her hands were clenched into tight fists as her feet kept their frantic rhythm.

Geoffrey had never thought her plain; each morning he used to kiss her and tell her how beautiful she was to him. For once in her life, she was the center of a man's world and she enjoyed the hell out of it. At first, she thought Geoffrey was just using her because she was a Watcher, but he had carefully wooed her.

It had been his idea for them to move in together. Many weekends were spent driving around looking for just the perfect home. Once they found their loft, it had become a work in progress. Painting and refinishing took up most of their time, but Beth never minded. She was too thrilled with her growing romance with Geoffrey to worry about a little physical labor. He would come home from the nightclub he owned in the wee hours of the morning to find her hard at work with some home improvement project.

"Don't you ever get tired?" he had teased her as he took the hammer out of her hand. "You have plenty of time for that tomorrow; come to bed, luv."

She had willingly followed him to their bedroom. Her one true regret of their relationship was that they'd never have a child together. His immortality crushed that dream for her, but knowing that she had Geoffrey had been enough. Or it had been until he had found out where Amanda was and went in search of her and the damnable chair. On the car trip to Seacouver, he'd vowed to kill Amanda if it was the last thing he did. Beth wasn't afraid for Geoffrey; after all, he'd won every challenge he'd fought.

The events of the evening replayed over and over in her head. Geoffrey had always talked of Amanda like she was a thorn in his side. It just bothered him that she was still alive, if anything else. When he had zeroed in on her whereabouts, Beth had settled into the bushes to do her job as Watcher. She wondered if he would wait until she exited her building, or if he would go right in and challenge her in her home, due to a longstanding dispute over a piece of furniture, of all things. But then, just as Geoffrey approached Amanda's building, the impossible happened. An unknown immortal had intercepted him.

Beth had been shocked to recognize Adam Pierson as the man with a rather wicked sword. They had crossed paths several times in the last few years at various Watcher functions. She got into watching the fight, fully expecting for Geoffrey to whack this new, unexpected opponent. The fight had been evenly matched until Pierson had slipped and Geoffrey stabbed his dagger into his leg. Just as Geoffrey was about to separate Pierson's head from his neck, Amanda had shown up from out of nowhere and threw a dagger of her own into Geoffrey's chest. Beth had started forward to intervene when Amanda's broadsword had sliced through Geoffrey's neck.

Beth had huddled in the bushes watching in horror as Geoffrey's quickening left his dead body and merged with Amanda. Then Amanda showed up. As angry as she was at Amanda for actually pulling the killing blow, her anger was equally directed at Adam for picking the impromptu fight in the first place. Truthfully, Pierson was more to blame than Amanda. If he hadn't tired Geoffrey out, her lover would still be alive. Amanda and Pierson would be dead now instead of him. Damn that bookworm, Adam Pierson! The thought that a mild mannered researcher would turn out to be an immortal almost made her laugh. Her laughter had turned to shock when she saw the usually quiet and unassuming Adam Pierson had taken on a differently more threatening persona.

Beth's sobs had been drowned out by the noise of the Quickening. By the time it had settled, the watcher had gathered both her emotions and her gear. Amanda and Pierson's good-natured bantering didn't help matters any. Her blood had practically boiled when she saw Amanda pull Pierson into a rather lengthy kiss. How dare they make light of her tragedy? She had turned to leave when she heard something that caught her attention. Instead of addressing the former watcher-cum-immortal as Adam, Amanda had called him Methos several times. Beth had been dumbfounded by this revelation. Adam Pierson is Methos? It couldn't be true she had thought at first, but why would Amanda call him that if it weren't a fact?

After the two immortals left, Beth had hurried to her car and back to her hotel room. She booted up her laptop and did some research. As she expected, Adam Pierson hadn't turned up in the database as an immortal, however a quick scan through Amanda's files revealed repeated references to an unidentified male immortal with her at certain periods of her life. Beth clicked on the attached photo files. The Watchers had used photography since its invention. Several photographs showed her with Adam Pierson, make that Methos. A plan formed in Beth's head. Someone would surely pay for her unhappiness.

Tonight would be the night she would set her plans in motion. The cell phone in her coat pocket banged against her leg as she paced the hotel room. Angrily, she pulled the device out and punched in a series of numbers. The sleeve of her jacket fell away revealing the circular insignia on her left wrist that identified the secret society responsible for tracking the immortal population.

"Beth Merriweather, here, " she told the receptionist at the United States headquarters. "I need to talk to Simon Ecklund. I have some rather interesting information concerning the Methos chronicles." She held the line while the call was routed to the proper extension. A male voice came over the handset that prodded Beth to talk, "Sir, I'll be flying into Chicago tomorrow afternoon. I have found Methos." She smiled as she listened to her superior talk. "I assure you this is no joke, Sir. I have photos and documentation to prove exactly who he is, and more importantly, his current location."

The watcher wiped the last traces of tears from her cheeks and checked herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, so she plunked a hat on and applied lipstick. "I'm so sorry I couldn't interfere, Geoff. I loved you with all my heart," she said to herself, hoping Geoffrey could hear her. "He'll be sorry, my love."

When Geoffrey had told her the history of the chair between Amanda and himself, he had mentioned Methos. Since Geoffrey hadn't had any meetings with either of them in almost a millennia, they both had assumed that the legendary, almost mythical Methos was dead. "But he's not, is he?" she asked, still looking at her plain face intently in the mirror.

Beth laughed bitterly. "Who would have ever thought that the man you knew a thousand years ago as Methos was one and the same as the idiot watcher, Adam Pierson, that I knew. We had so much in common, my love," she said, starting to dissolve into tears once again.

Instead, she choked them back and smiled with a bit of satisfaction. She had all the information she needed to exact her revenge. Hell, she'll be a hero to the Watchers. What a tremendous feather in her cap! She had found the elusive Methos! It was as good as getting a blank check from the secret society, and of course, that was exactly what she was going to demand.

"Enjoy your freedom while you can, Methos," she said aloud. She hailed a cab to the airport and her date with destiny.

~~~~~

CHICAGO

Chief Simon Ecklund had immediately notified the various Watcher Bureau Chiefs from around the country via encrypted email of a secret meeting of the utmost importance and that their presence was requested. There was no sense in making the meeting world-wide knowledge. Having North America find, capture and question Methos would give Ecklund even more respect. The scheduled meeting with Field Watcher Beth Merriweather was on short notice so it was understandable when the Heads of other North American Sectors, Dallas, Los Angeles, Minneapolis, St. Louis, Phoenix, Boston, Atlanta, and Denver had sent their regrets but demanded full reporting of the findings. There were only three Heads who had made the meeting in the newly designated United States Headquarters in Chicago: Miami Head, Juan Gonzales, the Seacouver Head, Claire Banister, and the New York Head, Pierre Dubois.

As soon as Ecklund called the meeting to order, Beth showed them the evidence that she had gleaned from Watcher Database and projected it onto a big screen. Gathered pictures appeared of the 'mysterious man' from the Amanda Chronicle flashed on the screen. Beth announced, "The Legendary Methos is not only very much alive..." She paused for the expected gasps and groans from her gathered audience. "He, in fact, resigned from our organization five years ago. He had been in charge of chronicling himself. I submit to you all, esteemed Chiefs, Methos... Adam Pierson." Beth ended her graphic presentation with the only photograph that the Watchers had on file of Researcher, Adam Pierson, his ID picture, taken on the day he was hired.

Pierre Dubois, stood up and defiantly said, "This is an outrage. That is not possible!"

Beth, prepared, clicked the remote in her hand. All the mysterious men in the Amanda Chronicle flashed in succession; the last photograph, again, being the one of Adam Pierson. Ecklund, Claire and Gonzales all exhibited surprise. The photographic subjects were all one and the same. Methos may have changed his hair at various times, had worn sky blue contacts in the colored ID picture, but one didn't need to use too much imagination to compare the bone structure, facial shape and nose from all of the photographs.

Ecklund had a hard time believing that an immortal had been able to wrangle a place in the Watcher system, in charge of chronicling himself, but as he looked at the succession of photographs again, he started to chuckle. It was so perfect. He was chilled to the bone when he realized that it was such a perfect plan, he wondered how many other immortals had infiltrated their ranks.

Beth ended her presentation with the entire cross-referencing with the Amanda Chronicle, and also gave the Heads the coup de grace. "One final piece of overwhelming evidence that Adam Pierson is Methos, is..." she paused for dramatic effect and said, "When my assignment, Geoffrey, was taken by Amanda, who had saved Adam's head, she called him Methos as they walked away and he did not correct her."

Dubois' attitude changed. Moving straight from disbelief, he ended up homicidal, demanding Adam Pierson's head on a sliver platter. "To think! An immortal mole in our organization!"

Ecklund ignored the heated Watcher and sat back in his chair at the conference table and smiled. "Where is he, Merriweather?"

"What's in it for me?" she said quickly.

All Watcher Heads were offended by such an attitude of a lowly field watcher. Claire trumpeted, "This is not a matter of what's in it for you, Missy. This is a matter of cleaning house, straightening out the messes."

Gonzalez shook his head. "Adam Pierson is not a watcher any longer, he would be so far undercover, we will never find him."

Beth chuckled. "'Undercover'? More than likely, but not under those covers alone. 'Never find him'? No way. I know exactly who he is, who he knows, and where he lives."

"Tell us," Dubois demanded.

"I want to know what's in it for me first," Beth defiantly replied. "I lost my assignment and want a say on who my next one will be. I want a raise. I want an office. I want a larger expense account, and damn it, I want a decent car."

"You can deliver Methos to us?"

Beth nodded her head, and Ecklund knew from the twinkle in her eye that she meant it. "What do we do with him once we have him?"

Dubois said, "Kill him, then take his head."

I want him to suffer for what he did, Beth thought to herself, then told them all, "He must be disciplined for his deceiving us." There was no need for the higher ups to know her real reason for wanting revenge. "Make him an example so others think twice about trying what he did."

Gonzales agreed, "Yes. Absolutely." His hands were ripping the napkin under the table, and there were beads of sweat on his brow. "In fact, I know what to do with him, and how to get rid of his head."

"And where and how is that?" Ecklund asked.

"We should give Methos' quickening to an immortal who will use it well. We have to be concerned about who would get it," Gonzales explained.

Dubois shook his head, no. "That bastard should be killed immediately."

"What of his quickening?" Gonzales was persistent.

"What of it?" Ecklund asked of him again.

"We can't lose it!" Gonzalez yelled. "We all know what happens when an immortal is beheaded and the one who did the slicing isn't immortal. The quickening goes searching, but only for a short time. We have to make sure that his quickening goes into someone we can trust." Gonzales wiped his brow and gauged the reaction of the others. "I can take care of that detail by scouring the database of who should receive it, after you all do what you want with him."

Claire asked, "What of his being in our system? He may not have only changed his own Chronicle, but others' as well."

Ecklund said, "That's for another day. For now, we must concentrate on Methos and the Methos Chronicle. We must make him talk to us."

Claire said, "We have been working on a serum that could counteract immortality, but it only works for a few minutes at a time."

Gonzalez balked. "Why are you working on such a thing?"

"Progress," she simply stated.

"What purpose does this serum serve?" Ecklund asked.

Claire proudly said, "We can weaken Methos' physical resistance long enough for one of my scientists to perform tests, and to ask him questions to straighten out his chronicle."

Beth laughed. "And he'll answer them? Yeah, right! He lied for over ten years while he was posing as one of us. Hell, I would imagine he's been lying for the 5,000 years he's been alive. That's how he's been able to live so long."

Claire continued after the interruption, "With the serum working, we can administer a truth serum concoction which will relax him enough to make him tell us the truth in order to straighten out his Chronicle. If the serum does not work, torture could be an added incentive. Who can get his entire file for us to prep?"

Dubois offered that to be his job. "If I can do the honors of slicing his head off when we're through."

"As long as I'm there," Beth said. "I don't care who does the deed." She looked at Gonzales. "But I think his quickening should be lost to the ages."

Ecklund let the other three go back and forth on the possibilities, and made himself comfortable on his chair. He leaned forward on the conference table and locked his fingers together, tapping the tips against his chin. "Five thousand years," he interrupted them, his voice filled with awe. "Five thousand years of walking this earth, knowing people, loving people, fighting people. He has seen governments, religions, lifestyles, rise and fall. We need to know what he knows."

Claire sat up straight. "The truth will come out, even he doesn't want it to. We just need to know where he is."

"Leave that to me, Chief Banister," Beth said confidently.

"This will have to be carefully staged." Ecklund was thoughtful for a moment. "We rush in and all we'll accomplish is scaring him off. He has eluded everyone for thousands of years; he must not slip through our fingers now. Also, I believe that this should be a private matter. No online or cell communications without the proper encoding security installed. There is no reason for the rest of the organization to know of what we're doing, until we can, of course, deliver the entire goods in one fell swoop."

Dubois smiled and nodded in agreement. "There is no sense in allowing other sectors the opportunity to take Methos away from us."

~~~~~

SEACOUVER - ONE MONTH LATER

"Come on, Methos, I really want to see this movie," Amanda pouted from behind the entertainment section of the newspaper.

Methos yawned. "It will be on DVD soon." He turned on his side and closed his eyes. "Then we won't have to leave. Video stores deliver. I love the modern world."

Methos had just returned from Bora Bora and was still suffering from jet lag. After a dalliance with each other now that they were both free of other romantic attachments with the marriage of Duncan MacLeod, Amanda had flown to Paris to do some shopping. She had been waiting for him here at his apartment for the last week when he had staggered through the door late yesterday evening.

"Not as young as you used to be, huh?"

"Neither are you, old girl," he said as he pulled the pillow over his head. "Order some nice Italian food and we'll spend the evening in."

"But we'll go see the movie tomorrow night and you'll buy me that lobster dinner you owe me," she bargained.

"Sure, fine, whatever," his reply was muffled under the pillow. "Wake me up when the food gets here."

Amanda walked over the desk and picked up the cordless phone. She dialed the number for Romano's from memory and placed a rather large and expensive order. After the waiter read back her order, she rattled off Methos' credit card number also from memory.

"I heard that," the cushion mumbled.

"So the hearing isn't the first thing to go," she teased as she cuddled with him on the sofa. "They said the food would be here in about an hour."

"Like I said, wake me up when it gets here," his leg rested over hers.

The quietness of the apartment and the steady tick-tocking of the large mahogany grandfather clock in the corner of the living area lulled them both in a comfortable asleep. The gonging at the top of the hour and the chiming of the doorbell woke Amanda. She eased out of Methos' grasp to answer the door.

The large bag of take out was deposited on the kitchen counter. She rummaged through the cabinets, rattling and clattering the dishes as she went. Methos wasn't appreciative of her not being careful about the noise but decided that even though Amanda would stay hot, that food was going to get cold. Methos snuck up on her in the dining room and grabbed her around the waist. She laughed and yelled as he bit at her neck, then ignored her to search the bags for the source of the odor.

It was a wonder what Tuscan Chicken, Tomato and Bacon Fettuccine and Calzones could do for a man who had slowly revived and got his pep back. The spices had melded just so, making him need a beer to compliment the meal perfectly. He went to the fridge was saddened to see that the fridge was sorely lacking in the hops department.

He looked wistfully to Amanda and asked, "You didn't bring any beer with you, did you?"

"No, but I'm sure there's more wine if you want." Amanda got up to walk past him to the cupboard where she had stocked her favorites.

Methos grimaced. "We already killed a bottle and it did nothing for me. I need buoyancy, flavor, and earthiness... I need a beer."

Amanda laughed and shook her head. "I provided the meal, that's your department. Besides, you know I'm a wine drinker," she said as she opened another bottle, this time a Chardonnay. "Go get some, luv. While you're gone, I will take a nice bubble bath. I also have a little something you haven't seen yet."

"A purchase from the City of Love, perhaps?"

Amanda kissed his nose and said, "I'm sure you're going to love it."

Methos grabbed her and said, "I'll get the beer later."

"No you will not," Amanda said, pouting. "When we get going, you are not going to be leaving. So, if you want the beer, you get it now, or you don't get it. But then again, I don't want you laying in bed thinking about that beer you missed, so go," she said, starting to prod him to the door. "I'll be all prepped for you when you return."

She grabbed her filled wine glass and headed for the bathroom. Methos leaned up against the door and smiled at her. "Good things come to those who wait," he said philosophically.

"But those who are drunk are a pain, so don't overdo it. I'm not waiting until you sober up."

"I don't get drunk," Methos responded, offended.

Amanda walked to him and giggled. "Okay, Methos. That talking you do in your sleep after knocking back a few has nothing to do with the beer."

"I talk in my sleep?"

"How else did I learn about your African safari in 1932?"

Methos' eyes flashed as he digested what she was saying. "I talk in my sleep. I didn't know that. Gods! What I might have told mortals I've been with."

"Or maybe you only get that drunk with me," Amanda offered. "You're only really comfortable when I'm around? You can only allow yourself to drink so much around me because you know that I'll protect that gorgeous head of yours?"

"You're fishing for a compliment, aren't you?"

"Sure. I want you to deserve the outfit I bought for you."

Methos smiled and drew her into his arms. "You are a precious constant in my life, Amanda."

~~~~~

OUTSIDE

Methos closed his collar around him to protect from the wind as he walked a few blocks to the corner, then up the block to the liquor store. Only beer could get him out on a night like this, and stopping in at Pit Stop Liquor was never a quick in and out proposition. The owners, Lloyd and Lucille Cartwright, lived and breathed the adage 'The customer always comes first'.

Methos had never cared much for car racing. Upon his first visit to the handy store, the motif had turned him off, but the friendliness and care of the proprietors won him over. They had owned and operated that little store for almost 33 years and Methos had been a frequent customer over the past six. They always had his favored hops in stock at all times and since they hadn't had children of their own, Methos was happy to oblige them with the usual parental questions.

If they want to know if I'm eating regularly, so be it. I've gotten a couple of nice home cooked meals out of the bargain.

He could savor the visual in his mind of Amanda preparing herself for their night together. He wanted to make a fast getaway home, but talked with the Lloyd and Lucille. As Lucille was ringing up the six pack, she asked, "Adam? When are you going to settle down with a nice girl?"

"One day soon," Methos smiled. His idea of 'settling down' didn't at all compare with theirs, but if he told them what his habits normally were with women, they'd never understand. No need to upset the apple cart. Let their hopes for his life live on. It pleased Methos to know that people who didn't have anything to gain by his friendship clambered for it.

Lloyd put her arm around Lucille's shoulders. "One like my Lucy here?"

"If you mean beautiful, caring, inquisitive and has a good business sense," Methos said, paying for the beer. "Then yes. I have a lady picked out." For the moment, however long that will be. He wondered if now since the Highlander was married off, if he and Amanda would have a longer relationship than they had in the past. There was a part of him that hoped so, but a part of him also would make sure to not make plans. It was best to take one day at a time and enjoy each day while they had it. One never knew when fate would play the ace up its sleeve and crush any plans one made.

Lucille, of course, wanted to know all the details of this special lady, as the last time Methos had mentioned any woman in his life, that woman was Alexa. He only told her, "Her name is Amanda, and I'm sure you'll be meeting her one day. If you're good," with a smile.

"Oh Adam," Lucille said. "You bring her around one of these days so I can see if she's good enough for you. I have a way of reading people."

"One day soon," Methos said, taking the six-pack and waving goodnight.

On his way back home, Methos realized that a sense of uneasiness had been following him like a black cloud. His immortal radar had been quiet. It seemed when MacLeod--and the immortals hunting the Highlander--wasn't in residence, Seacouver was actually a quite nice place to live. However, he couldn't shake the feeling someone was watching him. He looked around the neighborhood, but to his chagrin, didn't note any set of eyes focused on his direction. Covert dangers were more frightening then the obvious ones.

Nervously, he made his way out into the dark winter evening. He quickened his pace, thinking he could shake the feeling once he was on his way back home. The cold winter night had emptied the streets. Suddenly, a nondescript silver sedan blocked his path. He turned and headed back the way he'd come. A blue van sped out of the alley in front of him, effectively fencing him in between the two vehicles in front of a store whose lights were on, but the door was locked when Methos tried to open it to escape though the back way. There was also no one inside.

Four ominous looking men wearing trench coats and carrying guns piled out of the van and headed towards him. Mortals! Damn! Methos thought. With all his concern over immortals, getting mugged hadn't entered his consciousness. Methos' hand dropped the six pack of beer and went for the gun he kept on him at all times, and aimed at the armed men.

"I don't know who you are and frankly I don't give a damn." Methos began to back up and way from the men. "Just let me pass and we'll call it an evening."

The leader of the gunman spoke up, "Mr. Pierson, we need you to come with us. You can come willingly or not, it's up to you."

Methos shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it will be not," he said cockily, still thinking that he was being mugged. But, he knew that he had to get away fast or trouble could ensue. Before he could do anything, a man and woman that he didn't recognize, stepped out of the sedan.

"Mr. Pierson, it would behoove you to come along quietly," the man called out. "This doesn't have to get nasty."

Methos braced himself for a fight. The two remaining thugs circled him like buzzards around a dead carcass. Having no clear route of escape, Methos raised his gun to fire, but the other man just laughed and nodded to another. At his signal, a man stepped from behind the van and fired a tranquilizer dart into Methos' neck. Methos felt light headed almost immediately and closed his eyes against the nausea. The fast acting sedative brought him to his knees despite his efforts to try and run. The man and woman stood over him as he slowly faded into unconsciousness. He tried to hear their conversation, but the roaring in his ears drowned out anything but the closing oblivion. He knew things were bad when the last thing he saw was the Watcher tattoo on the wrist of one of the men who was lifting him into the van.

Why didn't I just stay in Bora Bora? he thought as he lost the battle against the darkness.

~~~~~~

Amanda stood in front of the bathroom mirror, draining both the tub and her wine glass, then toweled the moisture from her hair and body. She picked up her watch from the bathroom vanity and noticed that she'd been in the bath longer than she realized. After smoothing on some Chanel body lotion, she plugged in the hair dryer and fluffed and teased her hair into a tousled style.

When she had arrived back at his apartment four days ago, she had hidden her little purchase in the back of Methos' closet. Sweeping countless shirts and garments along the wooden pole she reached for the silk padded hanger. She'd been shopping all day in Paris. A little sidewalk café and a nice cup of cappuccino had been calling her name when she passed a little shop nestled between a bookstore and a haberdashery. Mannequins clothed in vintage finery decked the cozy storefront; intrigued Amanda abandoned her thoughts of coffee and ventured into the quaint boutique.

A saleswoman had promptly greeted her and offered to assist her. Amanda's interest had been captured by an emerald green silk peignoir set embroidered with delicate birds and flowers. For some reason it reminded her of the beautiful island where she and Methos had recently romped. The saleswoman had wrapped her purchase and Amanda had walked back out of the shop with a smile on her face. Methos was going to love it.

Gathering all the candles she could find, she sat them strategically around the bedroom and hurried to light them. Looking around the softly lit room, she was satisfied with the results. Doing a rather good imitation of Methos' infamous sprawl, she draped herself across the bed and waited impatiently for the wayward immortal to return.

~~~~~

WATCHER LOCATION

"Why isn't he coming around?" Claire questioned as they observed the restrained man lying on the table.

Dubois walked around her. "Your people put enough sedative in that dart to drop a herd of raging elephants." He stopped and put his hands in his pockets. "I hope this isn't any indication of things to come, Claire."

"We had to be sure that he'd be out long enough to transport him here. Besides, his neck and head are still attached," she sarcastically replied.

"Enough of the bickering," Gonzalez interrupted. "We need to finalize our plans."

"I agree with Juan," Ecklund gestured to the unconscious immortal. "He'll be awake soon. This is our chance to get first hand information about the last five thousand years."

The sounds of Methos pulling against his restraints brought their attentions back to the man in question. Still not fully conscious, Methos tried to break through the haze that clouded his brain. His muscles jerked and tensed from the lingering side effects of the sedative. From far off he could hear voices but it hurt his head too much to try and distinguish what they were saying. He also vaguely realized that he was hooked up to monitors and IVs.

"He's starting to come around," Gonzales noted from his post across the room.

Ecklund, taking the lead, walked over to a panel on the wall and hit a button. "Send the medical team in now."

A tall, balding man holding a clipboard walked over to where Methos was strapped to the steel table in the middle of the room and gestured for the others to join him. "Let's get the pleasantries out of the way quickly, shall we?" He pulled out a chair and sat down. "I am Dr. Emil Lang and these are my associates." He nodded to the Watchers who had organized this procedure. "This will be a two pronged operation," Lang said to Methos. The doctor enjoyed talking to his prey knowing there wasn't one thing his patient could do to stop what was to come. "A full range of medical and psychological testing will be implemented. This will allow us to gain information of historical importance from you." Dr. Lang smiled widely when he said, "By the time our project is finished, no part of your body or mind will remain unexplored."

Methos was still weak but became aware of his surroundings. His eyes snapped open and began to look around frantically. The monitors registered his body's panic. The table shook fiercely with his efforts to get free. The other people in the room crowded around him, peering at him like he was an animal on display in the zoo. He almost laughed at the analogy, but knew that he was in no position to be laughing.

"Welcome back, Mr. Pierson, or should I say Methos?" Beth sneered as she pushed through the small crowd.

Methos sighed a weary sigh. It seemed the Watcher's had found him. His worst nightmare had come true. He closed his eyes and let the comfort of oblivion surround him.

~~~~~

"You are Immortal," his teacher patiently explained to Methos once again. "You cannot die."

Methos laughed. "You are mad or you had too much wine."

Vashti yanked Methos' hand and traced the edge of his blade along his palm. Blood pooled along the surface as tiny blue sparks flickered and closed the wound. Methos pulled back his hand and stared in amazement at the sealed flesh.

"What trick do you know? What demon do you serve to perform such magic?" Methos demanded.

"I have no answer to your questions. It is what we are, boy."

~~~~~

"Where are you, Methos?" Amanda asked the empty apartment as she paced restlessly the next morning, hours since the oldest immortal had left on his late night beer run. When he hadn't returned in minutes, as he should have, Amanda's anger had turned into worry. She had called the liquor store to see if he had made it there. The owner had verified that his steadiest customer had indeed been in the store and had left with a six-pack.

Something was wrong. Exhausting all her resources, she knew that going to Joe for help was her only option. She scribbled a note and left it on the fridge in case Methos returned. She bit her lip and tried to think of anything else to do. No other ideas came; Joe was her only hope.

Joe looked up from his spot behind the bar when he heard the door creep open. "I'm sorry, but we're closed." His attitude changed when he saw the new arrival. "Amanda! Come on in. I'm always open for you."

Amanda walked grim faced over to the bar.

Joe teased, " What's the matter? You look like you've lost your best friend."

Amanda sat down heavily on a stool. "I might have, Joe."

Joe poured her a glass of wine and sat it down in front of her. "It can't be as bad as that," he consoled.

"Methos disappeared."

Joe laughed heartily. "And that's unusual how?" He began wiping down the bar. "The old man is always disappearing. It's part of his charm."

"I'm serious, Joe." No hint amusement was visible on her face. "He's gone."

The Watcher stopped wiping the bar. Amanda could be over dramatic at times, but a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach assured him that now wasn't one of those times. "What makes you say that, Amanda?" When a tear slid down her cheek, he leaned over the bar to her and held her hands. "Mac told me about you two, what happened? Did you get into an argument and he split?"

"No, things were great," Amanda finally said. "That's why it's so strange." She squeezed Joe's hands and then added, "Well, things aren't great, the guy's gone."

"And the reason is...?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. He wouldn't have gotten into a challenge, would he?" Amanda immediately dismissed it. "The thought of his head separated from his body is a nightmare, but he would have run if he came across anyone that emitted a buzz. I'm sure of it. But something's definitely wrong, Joe. Can you find out if there are any wayward immortals in Seacouver at the moment? I just want to make sure."

Joe, now concerned about how serious she was said, "I'll check it out."

~~~~~

Methos bit back a scathing retort. These people had the control now, but his mind was working overtime analyzing the situation looking for any possible route of escape. He kept his mouth shut, neither denying nor affirming their claims that he was Methos, the legendary oldest living immortal. He almost smiled when he replayed the looks of frustration on their faces when he refused to answer their questions. Silence was a virtue in this situation. What he couldn't shake, though, was the shrilling sensation of a buzz. He figured it was just something they had injected him with and looked over the many machines that he was hooked up to.

Beth circled him slowly. Of all the people he'd come in contact with since his capture, she was the one that concerned him the most. Her eyes blazed with hatred each time she looked at him; her reasons for being here seemed very personal. The barest hints of madness showed in her eyes. He knew first hand that hatred and madness were two emotions that made for a lethal combination. Thankfully, she didn't carry a sword because he got the distinct impression she would like nothing more than to see his head on a silver platter.

Every immortal feared becoming a science experiment, forced to be poked and prodded like some laboratory rat. His stomach clenched when he thought about the acts in the name of science that could be performed on an immortal, which would heal from whatever ghastly illness or injury wreaked upon their system. Dr. Lang arrived and sent the protesting Watchers out the room. He informed them only those with medical knowledge were needed.

After the others had left the room, the doctor leaned over Methos and smiled wickedly, "This will hurt you more than it hurts me."

Oh, gods, a comedian, Methos thought as he braced himself for what was to come.

Amanda was the only one who knew he was missing. She was resourceful and persuasive. He knew if it were possible to find him she'd be the one to do it. Joe might help, but if Duncan got proof of how long and how well he and Amanda knew each other, his help would be iffy at best. Methos involuntarily flinched as he felt a sharp blade slice along his femoral vein. GODS! This is going to hurt.

~~~~~

Gonzales, Claire, Beth, Dubois walked to the observation room and looked intently through the two-way glass to Lang and his subject. "As soon as he revives, Lang will get started," Claire told the others.

"What is he doing now?" Gonzalez asked, pointing at Lang and his assistant moving Methos from the steel table. They placed him into a chair that looked like a postmodern electric chair. Bands held Methos' arms and legs in several places, effectively immobilizing him. The wires connecting him to machines gathering the necessary medical information were still in place. A new piece of equipment was attached to Methos. The assistant lifted Methos' limp head as Lang strapped on a razor sharp collar. A row of blinking green lights shone starkly against the metal.

"What's that?" Dubois asked noticing Methos' new adornment. 

"Oh, just a little piece of insurance to make sure that we have his cooperation," Ecklund replied as he held up a small remote control device. "Hit the red button and a nice little shock is administered. However, once the proper sequence of numbers is entered, the band begins to tighten and slices through his neck."

"If you take his head we'll never get the truth," Gonzales protested.

"Relax, Juan. I assure you it will only be used as a last resort," Claire relayed. "But he doesn't know that."

"Who was the brain child behind that?" Ecklund questioned curiously.

"You can thank Dr. Lang," Claire said with pride for having hired him. "The man is a wonder."

"Where did you find him?" Dubois wondered aloud.

"Let's just say he was recruited from a top government agency and leave it at that," Claire said cryptically.

~~~~~

The decapitated body of the man that had doggedly hunted him lay at his feet. Lightening and surges of raw power raged around him. He fought against the forces assailing him. The urge to run flooded over him, but his legs collapsed under the unfamiliar sensations sweeping through his body.

What gods did I offended to deserve this curse?

~~~~~

Methos head snapped up with a jerk and he his lungs filled with air. Damn! His chin knocked against the collar as he rotated his neck around to relieve the tension that had settled there. What the hell was that?

"Nice to have you back," Dr. Lang greeted the wide-eyed man. "You must be wondering what that is around your neck."

Methos finally spoke. "The latest in neckwear from the runways of Paris?"

"Quite a sense of humor you have," Dr. Lang replied. "Apparently, you have a better grip on reality than I imagined."

He pulled a remote out of his lab jacket and hit the glowing red button. Methos' head slammed hard against the back of the chair, his neck arched against the collar. The pulsating current ebbed and Methos panted to catch his breath.

Methos glared at the man. "I try."

"Shall we get down to business?" The doctor pulled a rolling chair in front of Methos and sat down. He informed Methos of the nature of the collar, stressing that if he wasn't cooperative it could pack a deathly jolt, but Dr. Lang kept the fact that it could sever the man's head to himself. Taking a syringe and a bottle of serum from a nearby table, he expertly filled the needle. Rolling over the side of Methos, he plunged the needle into Methos' arm. "This should get you talking."

Dr. Lang had been unsuccessful in his attempts to wring any information from Methos with ordinary means. The first injections were like water. He had still been able to resist the drug's pull. The smartass in him had been rather talkative, though. In a twisted moment, he had decided to play along with their game and give them some information. Of course, he wasn't going to tell the truth.

Dr. Lang asked him where he was born and Methos couldn't pass up the opportunity to toy with these sick son of bitches. He had immediately noticed the two-way glass and knew that the Watchers were probably getting off on his pain.

He saw their faces, and thought, Well, I might as give them something.

Impatiently, Lang against asked him the place of his origins. Methos let his stare go blank. He had once told MacLeod that he wasn't actor. Sure, he had lied, but it had been centuries since he trod the boards. Methos swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Those watching behind the glass held their collective breaths. They were about to hear the secrets of thousands of years.

"I was born five thousand years ago..." Methos said, then paused for effect, making it seem like he was trying to stop himself from saying sacred information. Then said, "On the planet Zeist."

Methos was sure he'd never seen someone's face turn so many different colors as Lang's did at that revelation. It was almost worth the pain from the shock of the collar, not quite but almost. His eyes squeezed shut and he gritted his teeth until the pain subsided.

~~~~~

"Come with me, Doctor Adams, I'll show you to your rooms," a beautiful redhead grinned saucily over her shoulder.

"Ah, lovely Bernadette," Methos returned her smile with one of his own. "Perhaps you'd care to join me?"

Bernadette paused for a moment. "I have other duties to attend to first, Doctor."

Methos pulled her close in the dimly lit hallway. "I am sure Byron won't mind."

The redhead giggled. "You shall have to deal with his lordship."

"Gladly," Methos murmured into her neck.

~~~~~

Methos tried to turn on his side to cough up the blood that flooded his lungs, but the sturdy metal bands that bound him to the table refused to give way. For the last several hours, he had been subjected to several gruesome deaths. Not only revisiting a pleasant time in his past could help him through the pain that had been inflicted on him. The first time, the doctor had opened up his femoral vein and several major arteries timing how long it took for him to bleed to death. When Methos revived, he wasn't surprised to see Lang's assistant scribbling excitedly on a clipboard recording what he assumed were facts surrounding his lingering demise. Bleeding to death wasn't exactly his favorite way to die, however it wasn't the worst. Apparently, these people were intent on discovering what was the worst.

As he lay bound on the table choking on his own blood, he groaned. It seemed somehow ironic that he was here. He had learned all the messy and horrific ways to inflict pain and injury. In fact, at one time in his rather long life Methos had relished watching his victims writhe under his expert technique. Now he was beginning to wonder if this 'civilized' professional could teach him a thing or two.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Lang asked him.

A small tape recorder was held near Methos lips to note his 'feedback'. They had tried to bait him into responding to their questions. Whether it was sheer stubbornness or part of his strategy, Methos refused to respond. Instead he retreated deep within himself, relying on age-old methods of meditation to distance himself from the pain.

"Still not feeling talkative?" Dr. Lang asked calmly. He cursed silently. There was no way that this man should be able to remain silent. It was beginning to become his mission to break this man physically. "We shall see if you can keep that up." He turned to one of his assistants. "Hand me that scalpel."

None too gently, he sliced a foot long gouge in Methos' right leg. Using two metal hooks he pulled apart flesh and muscle revealing bone. Picking up a heavy mallet, he slammed the exposed bone shattering it in several pieces. Methos screamed as his body tightened and jerked against the assault. The bright blue sparks of healing was already beginning to knit the shattered bits of bone together. Methos tried to get his breathing under control and remain calm. His eyes met those of the doctor. Five thousand years of survival shone brightly, silently challenging and mocking the brutal man.

Then Methos assaulted him in the only way he could by shouting out, "YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

The doctor's placid demeanor vanished under the challenge. "This has been child's play up to this point." Dr. Lang stalked over the cabinet and pulled a brilliant red vial out and held it up for inspection. "You've heard of Ebola, no doubt? Well, this makes that look like a walk in the park." He took two syringes from a nearby cart and filled each from the vial. One needle was inserted at the base of Methos' neck and the other injected into base of his spine.

The heat of the serum started to tighten and burn up from his neck into the base of brain causing a intense burst of light streaming though his eyes. While the serum from the first shot wreaked havoc in this brain and upper nervous system, the last shot had begun to affect his other body systems. His intestines clenched and emptied themselves. As Methos writhed in agony he was sure he could feel his internal organs began to collapse in on themselves. His lungs refused to fill with air and he knew he was going to die again.

Hurry, Amanda, he repeated like a mantra until he lost consciousness.

~~~~~~

Methos looked up at the clouds that rolled overhead and chuckled. "I'm not sure I'm seeing the same thing you are, Amanda."

"Oh, pooh, use your imagination."

"No matter how much imagination I use, I still don't see any sort of a dragon." Methos stretched and yawned. He turned so he was lying on his side looking at Amanda, who was entranced by a particular cloud formation.

"See, look, there's his tail and over there is his head." She pointed out to the sleepy immortal next to her.

"And if you look closely, you can see fire coming out of his mouth."

His hand reached out a gently pushed a curl away from her face. "With beauty like yours, its hard to contemplate anything else."

"You've been hanging around Byron too much." Amanda continued watching the clouds parade across the pastel blue sky.

Methos sighed. His plans for seduction seemed to be in vain. "I must be losing my touch."

Amanda rolled over onto her side to face him. "Feeling left out?"

"It seems cloud sculptures are now more interesting than I am," he pouted.

"Aw, poor darling Methos," she soothed as she kissed him first on the nose, then on the lips. "Forgive me?"

"Perhaps. What's in it for me?" He pulled her closer and smoothed her hair away from her face.

"Hmm, I think maybe we can come to a mutually satisfying agreement." Her nimble fingers loosened the bow at his neck and swiftly undid the buttons of his shirt.

"Satisfying indeed," he whispered into her ear.

~~~~~

Methos took a great intake of air into his weakened lungs and his eyes struggled to open. Hoping that the last couple of days had been a dream, a very bad dream, he stared up at the ceiling. Nope, it didn't have the peeling light blue paint of his apartment in Seacouver, or the fresh off white paint in his Paris apartment. The ceiling had irritating fluorescent lighting, and was silver. Steel. Security. His breaths came fast and furious as he struggled once again against the straps holding his hands, legs and neck in place on the cold, hard table. He was able to shift his head to the side and looked down at himself and saw nothing but skin, and dripped, dried blood. No wonder he was so cold, couldn't they at least have dressed him? Shivering not just from the cold temperature, he knew he wasn't alone. He moved his head to the other side and saw the silhouette of another standing in the room with him. This person was not one of the Watchers.

"Amanda?"

The silhouette moved, and wasn't fragile or petite as his favorite minx was, it was wide and tall. Methos tried again, "MacLeod?"

A face appeared in his face, a man with a shock of black hair, and a pencil thin mustache above his full lips. "Juan Perez, I presume," Methos said weakly.

"Mr. Pierson," Gonzalez said cockily, "Or should I call you Methos?"

"Call me a cab," Methos replied. "And give me a very good reason you will be able to keep your head once I'm free."

Methos had gone back and forth about cluing the clueless into the fact that there were two immortals in their midst, but would use the information when it would best serve him. Now was not the time. Methos didn't have a lot of things on his side at this point in time, so he clung to anything that he could to use when the time was right.

Gonzales pulled up a chair and sat close to Methos. "I'm between a rock and a hard place, Mr. Pierson," Gonzales said. "I had no idea they were going to go this far."

"I'm a rat strapped to a table and you're with them, even though you're one of us. Are you enjoying the show?"

"Not at all," the Mexican stated. "I just don't know how to stop it."

"Without sacrificing yourself, you mean."

"Yes. Yes, I want to live. So far, I've done what I can for you, but--."

"Save it," Methos ordered him. "You either untie me right now, or you're one of them. I must warn you, I have a very long memory."

"Mr. Pierson," Gonzales began again.

"We have nothing to talk about, Perez."

"You can understand what I did. I found out about the Watchers, and I joined up because I didn't know what else to do to hide myself from the others like us. I was never a good fighter. My teacher did his best, but even he knew I didn't have long to live. I read Pierson's personnel file. I joined up just after you did."

"We have so much in common," Methos snapped at him, then gave him a glare that indicated that he would eat him alive if he had the chance.

"No, we don't. I'm only 82 years old, from the time of my birth. I've run from every challenge, I've never taken a head."

"But you're a damn good bureaucrat."

"Yes. I take orders. I obey. While you stayed hidden in Research, I worked my way up from Research to Field Watching to Management."

Methos turned his head away from him, the only way he could indicate that talk was cheap and if he didn't spring into action soon and be on Methos' side, Juan Gonzalez, aka Juan Perez, would never be.

"Don't do that, Methos," Gonzales said. "You're an important head, I know that. You must be saved, and you are still here. Dubois wanted you decapitated as soon as he found out about you, but I-"

"Did nothing," Methos glared at him again. "You just sat with the others and enjoyed watching what they planned for me, and one day soon, you will die and I will make sure I have the honor."

Even though Methos was nude and strapped to a table with tubes and wires hooked to every orifice, he scared the hell out of Gonzales. He was spooked enough to immediately leave the room. Gonzales wasn't sure how he felt about the situation. Part of him was sickened by the torture they had inflicted on the immortal, but the other part of him wondered what it would be like to take the quickening of the ancient immortal immobilized down the hall. Thus far in the Game, he'd been a reluctant participant, but with a five thousand year old quickening in him, he might stand a chance to survive longer than he expected. Walking to the temporary office he'd been given, he began to make his plans.

~~~~~

"Did you really kill all those people?" Duncan asked dumbfounded.

"Yes," Methos determinedly said. "Is that what you want to hear? Killing was all I knew. Is that what you want to hear?"

"That is enough."

~~~~~

Joe Dawson paced the small room he'd been escorted to upon his arrival. No one had been into see him and that worried him. The drive after being hauled off from the Library to wherever he was had been filled with oppressive silence. Whispers had greeted him as he was lead through the building. Another sign that things didn't bode well for him.

"Mr. Dawson," a masculine voice greeted him over an intercom. "Nice to have you here with us."

Joe looked around the room trying to spot where the voice was coming from. "Yeah, wish I could say the same thing."

"No reason to get testy," the voice laughed.

"What have you done with Adam?" Joe asked forcefully.

"Don't you mean Methos?"

Joe winced. His worst suspicions had been confirmed; they knew who Methos was, but he wasn't about to affirm it for them. "No, I said Adam and that's what I meant."

"You're already in a precarious position, Dawson, I suggest you not add lying to your list of offenses."

"Yeah, well, I try. Now where's Adam?"

"Five minutes from now, a guard will escort you to our guest," the voice instructed. "You might want to convince your friend to cooperate with us. You both would benefit by his cooperation. Don't try to be a hero. Is that clear, Mr. Dawson?"

"Crystal," Joe answered.

As promised a guard came to escort him. He was amazed at the security surrounding their arrival to the room that held Methos. Hopefully, Amanda's skills were up to this challenge. The guard pressed his palm to a plate affixed to the wall and the door slid open. The antiseptic smell and clinical surroundings filled the watcher with dread.

"I will be right outside this door," the guard warned, "so don't bother trying to free him."

Joe ignored the man and limped slowly across the room to where Methos was strapped to a table. "Adam?"

"Joe?" Methos whispered hoarsely. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Joe choked in a deep breath when he saw the condition of his friend. Blood had caked over most of his body and ugly bruises, from God only knows what, shone angrily against his pale skin. Tiny sparks of blue electricity sluggishly tried to heal the many still open wounds that covered Methos.

"You never do anything by halves, do you, old man?" Joe reached in his jacket pocket and retrieve a handkerchief and tried his best to clean the man's bloody face.

"If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy," Methos tried to laugh, but his face hurt too much to accomplish it.

"This isn't funny, Adam!"

"You're telling me?" Methos said. "They know who I am, Joe, you don't have to pretend."

"Damn it, I'm sorry about all this," Joe apologized. "This is interference!" he yelled to no one in particular, knowing it was a moot exercise.

"You've nothing to apologize for, Joe," Methos said, "unless you helped them with this."

"I swear&ldots;" Joe began.

"Then we don't need to talk about it again." Methos tried to shift into a more comfortable position with no success. " Please tell me that someone is on their way to get me out of this jam."

Joe nodded. He leaned in close so as not to be overheard. "A certain Scot and your favorite thief have teamed up. They don't realize that I've been taken, too."

The mention of Amanda made Methos remember a time when they were both in deep trouble. Joe's voice faded into the background as Methos let him mind wander back in time as it had done repeatedly since his capture.

The icy cold water of the North Atlantic soaked through his clothes and numbed his limbs. He turned to the woman clinging to the large piece of wood alongside him. "This is another fine mess you've gotten me into, Amanda."

"Me? If I recall correctly this was your idea," she told him through chattering teeth.

"It was my idea that we get married, you wanted to do it on the grandest ship on the seas."

"Don't you dare blame this on me!"

Methos cringed. Death by drowning... "I HATE THE SEA!!"

"As you notice," Amanda said. Methos' fingers were losing feeling, as the rest of his body. "We never did exchange rings! You bastard..."

"Adam?" Joe questioned when his friend was quiet. "Methos?" he whispered as he leaned in closer to the old man's head.

"Sorry, Joe," Methos snapped back to reality. "The old mind's been wondering lately."

"Little wonder, my friend."

"They brought you in as leverage," Methos guessed correctly.

"Yeah, to encourage your cooperation," Joe explained. "Said it would benefit us both for you to cooperate."

"I'm afraid I've been a little stubborn."

Joe chuckled in spite of himself. "I find that so hard to believe."

"I'm all out of ideas, Joe," Methos stated wearily. "They want to set my chronicles straight. I'm the only one who can do that and haven't. They need me alive as long as that needs to be done. I can't die." Methos closed his eyes and opened them, exhaustion and pain dimming their usual sparkle. "If they find out what I've been..."

Joe cut him off. "Don't even think about that."

"I have to Joe. I'll do my best to keep that under wraps, but I don't have a lot of control over things lately." Methos rolled his neck drawing attention to the metal collar. "They've added this little beauty to my ensemble."

Joe noticed the metal band with blinking lights for the first time. "Son of a bitch! What is that damn thing?"

"It packs quite a wallop if I've pissed them off." Methos grimaced. "I heard rumblings while they thought I was dead that with the right code it can sever my bloody head off my shoulders."

The guard came through the door followed by a couple of members of the medical team. "Come with me, Mr. Dawson."

Joe reluctantly followed the man out the door as the others began to clean the dirty immortal and prepare him for other experiments. Methos caught his glance and tried to smile. Joe wiped at his eyes. Anger welled up in him.

Once they were out in the hall, Joe grabbed the guard by the arm. "I wanna talk to whoever is in charge of this madness."

"You have no right to demand anything, sir."

"I belong to this nest of vipers, by God, you will take me to them now!"

The guard walked over to a telephone and punched in a series of numbers. A hushed conversation took place and the guard hung up the phone. "Follow me."

Just as Joe and the guards left, Methos again struggled to get free. He felt paralyzed as his legs and arms had been tied down for so long, and they tightened he straps every chance they could get. He saw that his hand was turning blue from lack of circulation. Even though things looked bleak for Methos, he never lost the notion that he would get freed, and be able to take revenge. As each person walked into the room, especially Dr. Lang, who inflicted the most inhumane and torturous techniques, Methos would study what he could of them to figure out which would be the best way for them to die. When he had realized that the odd sensation he had felt whenever the Heads had walked in was in fact an immortal sensation, his first instinct had been to finger the immortal that Methos had known as Juan Perez.

He hadn't known him personally, but during his time with the Watchers in research, one of the many things he was researching was the possibility that he wasn't the only one to have the idea to hide in the last place other immortals would look. All new recruits that had been entered into the system was routinely scanned by Methos, and if any of their bios looked too good to be true, meaning resumes that the Watchers would love, like his own, Methos would do a search of the database to see if that person had a chronicle. Juan Perez was a newbie, had only been with a teacher for a little over a year, and had never taken a head. He had disappeared in March, and had been hired in November that same year when he was going by the name of Juan Gonzalez. Methos had just let bygones be bygones, as soon as he decided that they weren't a threat.

Gonzales never appeared to be a threat, but by gods, he was now on the top of Methos' hit list. Then Beth Merriweather. That homely little bitch was going to find out just what kind of a force she was dicking with. Pierre Dubois, well he was so stupid, killing him fast and easy would suffice to ease Methos' mind. Dr. Lang. That was the easy one. Methos would inflict every 'test' on the doctor that had been done on him, only make sure that he stopped before Lang would die. Dr. Mengela could take notes.

Claire Bancroft. She was the one that set up this whole room and all that was in it. She would wish she had taken another career path by the time Methos had her tied up, seek out and find each and every member of her family and slowly kill them in front of her, maybe by pulling them apart limb from limb first. He gleefully hoped they'd struggle, moan, cry, and scream. Yes. He could hear their cries for help now, along with Bancroft's fruitless pleading for him to stop. After everyone she knows and loves was dead, Methos would have his way with her, more than once, then inflict only superficial wounds. The wounds that would hurt like hell on earth, but wouldn't be enough to kill her. He would sit back, watch her wriggle with pain, laugh at her, inflict more wounds, finally watch her die a slow death by loss of blood...

Methos cried out and maniacally shook his head to erase his meditation. He had felt himself revisit the animal he once was. During that time, those feelings had comforted him, had strengthened him, had motivated him to impose more pain, kill more, and get more credit from Kronos.

Methos needed to take in fresh air, but the straps were so tight around his neck, he couldn't breathe at all. He had revisited that part of himself that he had long buried. Not even Kronos' return and the reformation of his band of brothers had made Methos so easily remember how joyous it was to maim, torture, rape and kill. Being mortified by his thoughts, and trying to breathe, struggling against the straps just made it more impossible. Pretty soon Methos' body was convulsing, then pretty soon, Methos' body was still. Methos' eyes were cold and dark, as his body laid lifeless.

Continued in Part Two