THE YOU'RE IN MY HEART SERIES

METHOS AND AMANDA'S AMOROUS ADVENTURES

WHAT IS AND WHAT SHOULD BE

by Susan and Jo

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS: Methos, Amanda, Rebecca, ValJean, Luther

SUMMARY: Why did Methos leave the Game 200 years ago?

NOTE: Thanks Dea!

~~~~~

2408 BC

Methos put his head in his hands, not wanting to face the rest of this day. The rest of his life. He had already endured a morning no man should ever have to face; he had just buried his wife. Namahka wasn't the first woman Methos had taken claim to, but she was the most important person in his life barring his teacher, who Methos hadn't seen for over two hundred years. Methos didn't even know if the gentle woman who had found Methos, newly turned, and taken under her tutelage in the ways of immortality and the Game, preparing for the Gathering to come, was dead or alive. With head or without. In fact, Methos realized that he hadn't even thought of Vashti since coming to Egypt a hundred years before.

Farming a small patch of fertile land along the banks of the River Nile was Methos' existence for the last twenty years. The soil seemed to be so rich that it didn't take much on his part except to sow seeds and extract weeds to keep it productive. Methos had wanted more land in which to tend, and had a comfortable relationship with the neighboring Egyptians who had taken to the pale man who seemed to have arrived out of no where. One band working the adjoining land had arranged a marriage with the father's youngest, most favored daughter. The marriage contract would double Methos' land. It was a good business deal, and better yet, he wouldn't have customary lonely nights.

Methos had heard of men or women falling in love upon first sight of another, and he had always thought it nonsense, or the mind dictating the heart for favor of riches that an arranged marriage brought. To his surprise, when Methos had first seen Namahka, his heart was hers. She was a delicate flower who he had taken to with just one look. To his delight, Namahka had a sharp sense of humor that made the five years of their marriage go by quickly. All fears of her being more of a burden or aggravation than lover were put to rest upon their first night alone.

He hadn't even had to explain to her why she wasn't with child. They had both wanted to just be alone. Only wanted each other's company. When her family would invite them to dinner, they would go grudgingly, and return to their abode early. For five years, Methos had tasted what marriage was supposed to be. Thinking only of each other, spending time with only the other. Even though Namahka was a petite woman with hair almost to her knees and was a wonderful baker, she would help him on their land, because she wanted to be with him.

Now she was gone. Seven days before, Namahka's mother had taken ill from a mysterious virus no one could identify. Methos' wife had left their home and bed to tend to her mother day and night. Not long after her mother died did Namahka show similar symptoms of her mother's illness. For three days, Methos stayed at his wife's bedside, tending to her every wish. He wanted desperately to take the illness for her, he would die in her place if it were possible. He prayed to whatever god would listen day and night for some miracle to save her.

He had insisted on digging Namahka's grave alone, almost having to fight off her brothers and father who were still numb from losing the matriarch of the family. They had stood guard as Methos dug deep into the earth that had been so productive to him. Along with Namahka's three brothers, they lowered her body into the hole, and Methos allowed her family to perform their ceremonial farewell. After asking them to leave him with her, he took a few moments reliving the most precious memories of his short time with her, then covered her remains.

Methos sat with his head in his hands, not knowing what to do or where to turn, and as if he had received a sign from a god, a boat sailed by filled with officious looking men, around five in number. The linen they wore was exceedingly white. Seeing him, the boat stopped and a man jumped into the water to wade to shore to speak to him. He worked for the Great Pharaoh Khufu and it was their job to gather all able-bodied men for a new, special project.

~~~~~

1689
SPAIN

Rebecca had gotten bitten with the malady of immortality, wanderlust. She had to get out once again and see the world, since she was living in it but not experiencing all that it had to offer. France had been a tenuous place to be as Germany had declared war on her and Louis XIV had declared war on Britain. Rebecca had packed up belongings that she considered too precious to leave behind in case her abbey was annihilated in her absence. Her driver and right hand man, a hulking brute by the name of Vladek, made sure she would travel safely. During the journey with no destination, the blond giant told her all about his youth in Russia, and was miffed when they overheard talk that there was a new Czar, a ten year old Czar. He didn't know how a child could lead his homeland, but wished him the best. Vladek was a gentle, sweet, dim-witted man with a heart of gold. They traveled as far south as Spain before she had a clear destination in mind. She would look up the very first student she ever had, a raven haired temptress by the name of Messina.

Rebecca had traveled with a shaman named Oobijae when she was a young immortal. She had worked with him for 23 years, and he never changed in appearance. She had asked him how old he was, and he confided in her that he was over 300 years old. She hadn't felt the telltale immortal sensation from him, and wondered how he had attained that age when he was mortal. One of his most prized possessions was a large piece of quartz that he kept on an altar, lit candles in its honor, and chanted to daily.

One horrible day, it was broken by a posse of disbelievers who had come to destroy the magician. They didn't get him or Rebecca because people who had been healed by him had fought off the intruders, but from the moment the quartz was broken, all the pieces but one taken, Oobijae started to age before Rebecca's eyes. She had begged him to tell her how to save him, but he sadly realized that it was his time. He wasn't meant to live, that it was God's will that the 'gift' was broken. He had one last wish: Rebecca would find the pieces of quartz and continue his work. It took her almost 500 years, but she found them all. When she had put the pieces back together, the ragged pieces melted together to make one gleaming, perfectly faceted gem. She had kept it with her for years, and accidently dropped it from the third story of her abbey. It crashed onto the stone balcony below it, and once again broke into nine pieces. Even though the stone was again in pieces, when all were fitted together, it made the perfect gem. It was a remembrance of her beloved Oobijae, but once the gem was created from the ragged pieces, mortals around it would start to act differently, more greedy, more lustful, more decadent. She didn't want to destroy or lose it, but she kept it in separate pieces as she carried it with her all her life.

Rebecca loved each and every one of her students, and when it was time for them to leave her, she had a terrible time. She wanted to love and protect them forever, but knew they must follow their own paths. She had wanted to give a piece of her heart to them, but could only send her best wishes and make sure they were properly trained. As she had sent her second student away, she gave him one piece of Oobijae's quartz. She did the same for Amanda, and the next, and the next. It was while she and Vladek were closing in on Spain, where Messina was now living that Rebecca thought to give her a piece as well as checking in on her.

Messina was nursing the ill in a commune when Rebecca found her, and the King had allowed a shipment of supplies to be given to her. Rebecca and Vladek had arrived just as one such shipment was being unloaded from the ship, and one man caught her attention. A line of dark men were carrying large crates from the ship to Messina's wagon. Rebecca and her first student had felt the telltale sensation of an immortal. The third man in line fumbled and fell, crashing the crate he had been carrying. The ship master immediately stalked to the poor man and whipped him viciously. The stark cruelty of the whipping and the black man's wails made Rebecca come to his aid, fending off the man with the whip, demanding that he stop at once.

Rebecca's fury at the inhumane treatment of the man was fueled by her own memories of life as a slave. She had first-hand knowledge of the life this man was bound for. The shipmaster had the good sense to drop his whip when he was confronted with the business end of Rebecca's broadsword. He looked at her with a mixture of anger, shock, and fear, but he made no move to retrieve his whip.

"Sir, I would suggest you leave this man alone," Rebecca smiled at the shipmaster; however, the gesture never reached her eyes.

"He is but a slave," the shipmaster ground out, none too happy with being confronted by a mere woman. "His welfare concerns you not."

"That is where you are wrong." Rebecca stood between the shipmaster and the slave, who still lay prone on the dock. "This man's situation concerns me very much."

Today was one of the busiest days in bustling Spanish port. Women walked along the market carefully searching the wares that were displayed in the shops and booths that lined the area. Men stood around talking business and politics as they smoked their pipes. Some waited none too patiently for their wives and daughters to complete their shopping; others enjoyed the warm spring day.

By this time, a small crowd had begun to gather to watch the tall red haired woman with a sword arguing fiercely with the shipmaster. A few men snickered loudly at the sight in front of them causing the other gathered men to burst into raucous laughter. The shipmaster glared from the taunting group of men to Rebecca.

"If you will just be on your way," the shipmaster began, hoping she would get the gist of his meaning. He did not enjoy the snickers he was receiving.

Rebecca lowered her sword a bit and nodded. "On my way with him," she gestured to the man on the ground.

"He is my merchandise," the shipmaster protested. "My very valuable merchandise."

"How much?" Rebecca slipped her blade into its sheath and reached for her coin purse.

"Pardon?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes at the man's ignorance. "The man. How much?"

Caught up in the haggling, Rebecca and the ship's master paid little attention to the black man prostrate on the wood decking. Had they been more observant they would've caught the sly smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth or the steely resolve of his eyes.

~~~~~

1689
ABBEY OF ST. ANNE

Methos had come to the Abbey to see Rebecca as a stop over after meeting up with a drunken immortal who wanted a fight. Methos had him for lunch. He had hoped to get some indication that what he had done was acceptable. Not that he needed it said outright, but when Rebecca would welcome him into her arms, Methos always felt better and ready again to face the challenges of the world. She hadn't been there, but Amanda was.

Amanda had her own troubles at the time. A Duke was enamored by her and made it his mission in life to marry her. As Amanda herself had said, "I just wanted his gold statue of Medea, I did not want him." So, Methos' trip to the Abbey hadn't been for naught. He had spent three days frolicking with Amanda before the note from Rebecca arrived. In it, she said that she was arriving from Spain with a new student. When Methos read that, he chuckled when he wondered off the cuff if this student would be as special to him as Amanda. Rebecca hadn't said too much about the student other than that he was an African man that she had saved from slavery aboard a ship that was captained by a cretin. Rebecca had reported that conversation was nonexistent as Luther didn't understand a single word of English, Spain, or French, all the languages she spoke fluently. Vladek, her driver had even tried out Russian with the former slave to no avail.

Methos and Amanda had helped the staff of the Abbey get ready for Rebecca's return and was pleased when the carriage driven by Vladek pull through the gate. For a woman, a Russian dolt, and a slave to make the journey across Europe without incident was something indeed; when Rebecca rushed from the carriage to the arms of Methos and Amanda, Methos knew they were three happy immortals. He also knew telling Rebecca she shouldn't have made such a trip by herself would have been moot, and saved the lecture for another time.

Rebecca smiled at Amanda and told her that she was looking well, and kissed Methos chastely on the cheek, being that they were in Amanda's presence. They had made small talk about the trip as Vladek unloaded the carriage. Finally, Methos couldn't hold back any longer. "Where is the new acquisition?"

"You make him sound like merchandise, just like the shipmaster I rescued him from," Rebecca said condescendingly.

"Nonsense." Methos put his arm around Amanda and said, "I like your previous acquisition."

"Thank you, sire," Amanda said with a poke in his ribs.

"I have named him Luther as I cannot understand his name. He is not a talkative sort, but I have taught him the French words for bread, no, thank you, the words that will help him. Will you both help me teach him language?"

"How about immortality?"

"That is my job, Methos."

Methos glanced over to see a large, muscular African who seemed scared out of his wits, if he had any wits to begin with. He didn't know what made him do what he did next, but when Rebecca had ushered Luther to greet them, and Amanda had taken his hand to shake and introduce herself, Methos cut Rebecca off when she pointed to him.

Methos grabbed the black hand and said, "I am Guthrie. Pleased to meet you. The Fates were on your side when Rebecca found you."

"He does not understand you," Rebecca said, and then added, "Guthrie."

"Gutree?" Luther asked in a clumsy grunt.

Rebecca softly and encouragingly said, "Yes. Guthrie," as she pointed at Methos.

Methos was pleased that Rebecca could get with his program fast and roll with it. Amanda, on the other hand, just sighed and looked away shaking her head. You'd think that after 800 years she'd see the need to change her moniker on occasion, but she held on fiercely to her preimmortal name. She was used to playing people and furnishing false information to relieve them of treasures, but never changed her name.

Methos watched as Rebecca and Amanda led Luther into the Abbey for a meal and some rest. Although the new immortal followed docilely behind the two women, Methos distrusted everything about the man. A nagging doubt had begun to rise in his belly, and he knew enough to trust that feeling. He hadn't lived to this ripe old age by ignoring it. While Rebecca-and by extension Amanda-felt perfectly content to allow this unknown stranger into their circle, Methos didn't feel compelled in the least to welcome the newcomer.

Amanda noticed that Methos hadn't joined them, so she gestured for the others to continue on without her. Turning around, she noticed the intent look upon Methos' face and was certain it didn't bode well for the lighthearted mood she was feeling at the present. The look usually meant he was examining a potential problem from every possible angle and light.

She strolled casually down the walk to where he stood. "Let us go in, Methos."

"Do not call me that, Amanda," Methos hissed at her.

"Call you what?" Amanda was puzzled by his reaction.

Methos moaned in frustration. "You may not feel the need for a bit of discretion, but I prefer that every immortal did not know who I am."

Amanda laughed. "Surely, you are kidding, Methos. Luther cannot understand a word of what we were saying."

"Really? Are you willing to bet your conniving little neck on that?" Methos grabbed her arm. "Think carefully before you answer, Amanda."

"Why does everything have to be dark and sinister with you?" She jerked her arm away from him and crossed her arms in front of her.

"Because it usually is," Methos snarked at her. "Trust me on this, Amanda, something is very wrong with this Luther chap."

"He could not be more harmless," she argued. "Rebecca would not take on someone if he could not be trusted."

"What about Geoffrey? Or did you forget about him?" Methos took a twisted sense of pleasure as his words took the wind out of Amanda's argument.

"No, I have not, but-"

"But, nothing, darling. I am a great deal older and wiser than you, so trust me on this. The man is more than he seems."

~~~~~

Methos was so sure of his initial assessment of Rebecca's new student that just as the cloister had settled in for the night, he made his way out of his bedchamber and tiptoed down the hallway in his bare feet. The immortals' buzzes reverberated through him as he made his way down one flight of stone steps and past Rebecca's room. He continued down the hall. Just as he passed Amanda's room, the door opened and she stuck her hand out. She whispered, "Are you insane? Rebecca is in residence. She is just down the hall."

"As much as a midnight tryst sounds like heaven, I was not on my way here," Methos replied in an equally quiet manner.

"Oh?" Amanda asked interested as she ever had been about anything as far as Methos was concerned. That didn't make him feel comfortable as he didn't want help with what he was about to do. "Where are you going? What devilish plan do you have in mind?" she asked with sneaky glee.

"A bottle of wine, the strawberries you did not devour at dinner."

"Oh, sounds like heaven, luv. I can sneak up to your room."

"Are you insane? Rebecca is in residence. I am just hungry and will more than likely need something to wash it down with. Go back to sleep and stop talking nonsense."

"Since when has wine, strawberries, and you and me in bed been nonsense?"

"That foursome will not happen with Rebecca just down the hall," Methos whispered, nudging Amanda back to her room. "Be a good girl and go back to sleep. Big day tomorrow."

"What is happening tomorrow?"

"Something always happens, luv. We must have rest to enjoy it."

"You are planning something," she surmised aloud as Methos shut her door.

He quickly opened it again to say, "Yes. Food. I am famished. I was not as quick as you and the slave at dinner when you both gobbled up everything set out. Now get that beauty sleep."

Methos heard Amanda gasp with anger as he shut the door again. He quickly tiptoed down the hall thankful that she would be properly put out by that remark to not follow him this evening. He would have to work overtime to smooth it over tomorrow, but tomorrow was another day. For now, he had business to do which could not wait one more hour.

~~~~~

Even after almost 4500 years on Earth, give or take a century or two, it never ceased to amaze Methos that newly turned immortals had such a small range of immortal sensation. They emitted loudly, but even Luther couldn't pretend he didn't feel Methos in the far corner of the stables. No one was that good of an actor when newly turned and obviously scared.

After dinner, Rebecca had offered Luther a soft mattress with clean linens, but he reacted with his whole body that it wouldn't do. After Rebecca had tried and tried, she couldn't understand what he wanted, offering more food, wine, even water, nothing soothed him in the room she had provided. Since Luther had appeared to Methos to be from the Cameroon area of Africa, he spoke to Luther, asking him what was the matter in that distinct dialect. Luther had reacted to "Guthrie's" words in his own language and told him that he could not sleep where masters did. Arguing that he was no longer a slave didn't work at all, so Rebecca hesitantly asked Methos to ask him where he preferred to sleep as Rebecca was nothing if not the perfect hostess. He immediately picked the straw ground of the stables.

Methos had watched Rebecca's new student for a while before he finally stepped forward, far enough for Luther to jerk awake and hold his head. His whole body visibly rumbled as he reacted to Methos' stronger, bolder immortal sensation. "It is all right," Methos told him in his native language. "It is just me. Guthrie."

Luther relaxed and looked to the window which was allowing moonlight to enter, as well as the door of the stables behind Methos. The horse Luther was sharing the stable with whinnied and got to his feet. It was also amazing to Methos when certain animals, not all species, not all breeds, were able to sense when immortals were gathered. This animal was right on target; there was danger ahead, for one of them.

Methos stepped aside as the horse moved out of the stable. The horse didn't stop until he was outside free. Luther huddled in the corner holding his head. Sure, he could put on a good show, but Methos had seen snippets that the slave wasn't as easily startled or scared as Rebecca and Amanda presumed him to be. The arrival of Methos' buzz should have ebbed by now, but Luther was still play-acting as if it was still bothering him. Maybe this man knew the breaths he was taking were to be his last.

Methos moved his sword out from behind his back to show its long, sharp blade to Luther. He told him, "I can see through your cleverly designed charade."

"Please. I do not know what you are talking about," Luther said as he seemed to be ready to cry, cowering as if he was going to be flogged for going against his master's orders. Well, he hadn't yet, Methos had to admit that. But Methos possessed a quick, reliable sense of judgement of people, and Luther tickled that part of Methos' soul that screamed, 'He is trouble. If you do not do something about him, one day you will surely regret it.'

"Please, sire. What did I do wrong? I will do better next time."

"No you will not. You will not even have the chance," Methos said as he lifted his sword.

Just then, he felt the approach of an immortal and sighed. Before long, Rebecca ran into the stables. "Methos!" she screamed.

Methos reacted as if a snake bit him. "Will you please remember my damn name?"

Rebecca stalked forward. "I did. Guthrie is silly. Besides, he does not understand English."

"How do you know that?"

"Come on, Methos. I saved him from a slave ship that just came from Africa. He probably had never even seen an Englishman or woman before he saw me, except of course, for the men who treated him like merchandise."

Rebecca knelt to Luther and patted his hand. "It is all right," she told him.

Methos supposed that it was her soft, comforting manner that calmed Luther, not her words. Rebecca helped him lie back down on the straw after she had tried her best to fluff the straw under where his head would lay. "Just rest. We will start your training, and language lessons in the morning."

She stood and stepped back from her new protege, and then yanked Methos' hand to pull him to the stable door. "Look. He is so tired, he is sleeping already."

"He is plotting."

"Oh you," Rebecca said with a smile and shake of her head. "You always see the worst in people."

"It has kept me alive."

Rebecca kissed Methos on the cheek and said, "Go inside and get some rest."

"No," Methos replied innocently. "I think I will make sure he rests well. You go ahead."

"There is no way on this Earth I will leave you out here alone with Luther and your sword." Rebecca pulled his sword from his grip and nudged him toward the cloister. "Shoo. Back to bed."

"I am not in the least bit tired."

"Methos," Rebecca said in a warning voice. "If you do anything to that man who needs help, I am not sure I will ever forgive you."

Methos sighed and looked to the stars above wondering how he aligned himself with a woman with so much hold over him, and so little survival skills. "Promise me," she ordered.

"All right. I will not take his head," Methos slowly promised. "I will wait until he has done something dastardly, and I am sure it will not take long."

"Ye of little faith," Rebecca said, taking his hand and walking him back to the abbey.

"I have a lot of faith, just little in him."

~~~~~

1794

Every so often, Rebecca liked to bring her group of immortals that she was so proud of together. Methos had never been a formal pupil of Rebecca's as he was much older than she, but he still learned much from her. As usual, Methos had received word that there would be another gathering of her fold in one year at the Abbey of St. Anne. The thought of seeing Amanda and ValJean once again tickled him. The newest immortal to Rebecca's fold was a fine man whom Methos had taken to instantly, which was a trick in and of itself. But, he was immersed in Africa at the moment, and he wasn't alone. One of Rebecca's other students, the black as night haired Messina, and Methos were together exploring the pyramids.

The pyramids had fallen to the elements after millennia of not being tended. Methos had a hand in the Great Pyramid's building, and when he saw it from a distance three years before, he couldn't find it in his heart to keep moving on. At first, he was just reliving the time he was a worker on a mission to build this grand palace for Khufu's afterlife. He looked toward the row houses that he and the other craftsmen had lived in with their families. What was visible of them under a great dune that had grown over the centuries was crumbling. He had investigated the area as much as he could. From the angle of the pyramid that he remembered seeing each morning on his way to work, he knew exactly where he had lived after losing the first love of his life, Namahka.

Methos spent this time back in Giza with Messina reliving his good memories of the two decades he had spent setting stones in place, then pounding hieroglyphics into the stone exalting Khufu's life and deeds when he was a mere pup of a thousand years old. One day, Methos had dug into the dune until his hands felt clay. Methos kept digging until he felt sand give way at a hole, which Methos knew was either his door or his window. He looked behind him at the Great Pyramid and saw the exact angle he had seen every day while leaving his hut to go to work.

Inside, there was nothing that he could make out. The roof had either rotted away or fell from the weight of the sand upon it, and he determined that only the front wall still remained. He about jumped with joy when he found one of his chisels, at least he thought it was his as he was pretty sure that was exactly where he lived. He used it to hack away more sand.

After hours of work, and the sun had set, Methos sat atop the dune, the ancient chisel in his pocket, and ate the grapes he had in his knapsack and admired the symmetry of the structure. The perfection. If only they had applied a more stable outer shell to the three Pyramids. The fragile limestone that made them gleam with white glory had fallen or crumbled and the rough stone was vulnerable to the elements.

Unlike the Sphinx. The great man-lion that protected Khufu's final resting place was now buried to it's nose in sand. It would take a team of a thousand men at least a year to uncover the entire structure, but Methos would liked to have looked upon the Sphinx's whole face once again. He walked over to stand upon where he thought would be the trapdoor that he had used to enter the bowels of the lion to carve his words that would last an eternity. The only comforting thought was that the Sphinx, incased in sand, was protected from the strong winds and blowing sand. The Sphinx, made of sandstone, just might be intact under that sand as the wind hadn't had its way with it.

Methos had spent three months around the Giza plateau until a group of marauders had come to loot. One thing was positive, and Methos accepted the fact gracefully: one person's sacred places were another man's treasures. If they would only move about fifty miles south of there, the scavengers would find treasures beyond their wildest dreams. The tombs in Valley of the Kings didn't have the booby-traps and dead ends that the pyramids did, and the cache was even more abundant than any of the three pyramids.

When he left, he promised himself it wouldn't be so long before he came back. Maybe men who traveled there in the meantime would find it in their hearts and minds to restore the place. One never knew.

Over 200 years later, Methos was sitting eighteen blocks up on the Great Pyramid with Messina. Messina had also received word of Rebecca's reunion. One of the missionaries at her commune had read the letter from Rebecca, and forwarded it on to her. They both would have loved to make it, but by the time they had received word of the reunion, it would be too late for them to caravan to France now that there was a war breaking out again all through Europe. One man might be able to, so they composed a letter together of regrets for Rebecca, promising that they would see her soon, and had given it to the man from Messina's commune who had delivered the news. It had been a long while since they had sent her man with that letter and on this bright, quiet day, sitting with Messina, Methos really missed Rebecca and his favorite student of hers. It had been almost two decades since he had seen Amanda, and it hadn't ended well for them. Methos wondered how she was, and asked Messina if she had seen her.

"Bah! If I did, she would not have a chance to see me," Messina spit out.

"Oo, a story. What could you have against Amanda?"

"Once a street rat, always a street rat."

"Nice talk for a person of your position." Methos smiled at her, and nudged her with his shoulder. "Messina, the healer. Messina, the woman who takes in strays. Messina-"

"The woman who can hate one person." She pulled her long black hair back as the wind had whipped it across her face. "That is allowed. Correct?"

"I suppose." Methos shrugged. He put his nose down close to her hands which held a luscious piece of mango. When she didn't stop him, he took a large bite and felt the sweet juice fill his mouth.

It was exactly one year later that a caravan started toward the shelter that Methos and Messina had built. They, at first, thought there was another group of marauders, but soon they felt immortal buzzes. Methos and Messina looked at each and smiled. "It could not be..." she remarked, her hand sheltering her eyes from the bright sunshine.

"I do believe it is." Methos walked and met the first covered wagon as the three wagons made their slow way to the makeshift camp at the base on the back of the Sphinx.

The wagon had not even slowed when Amanda jumped out of the back and ran to Methos. Ah, the bitterness of her departure last time he saw her was no longer a part of her being. He opened his arms to her just as she jumped on him. A hard slap later, Methos knew that Amanda needed to take care of business as quickly as possible.

He held his cheek and looked at her guardedly. Amanda whispered with a smirk, "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, how have you been, darling?" Methos didn't relax, even when she kissed his cheek. "If Rebecca was not right over there, I would kiss you in other places," she purred.

"You never cease to keep me on my toes, Amanda," Methos said as he put his arms around her for a hug. Amanda had been fit to be tied when they last met up, and if he was a betting man, he wouldn't lay down odds that Amanda wouldn't have wanted his head.

Messina strolled up and possessively rested her hand on Methos' waist. "Amanda, darling, how are you?"

Always observant, Amanda noticed the look of intimacy that passed between her sometime lover and her old rival. Messina's golden eyes danced wickedly as she regarded Amanda. Methos' own eyes seemed to be torn between the two women. Amanda quickly realized he didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable, merely curious about the exchange going on around him.

"Right as rain," Amanda smiled cheerfully. "And you, Sina? You look a bit, um, filthy."

Messina glanced down at her soiled garments and shrugged. "That does tend to happen when you are exploring with him," she smiled at Methos winningly. "He's a curious bugger and I can't help but to be drawn into his schemes, no matter how dirty he gets me."

Amanda's face turned a rather odd shade of red. She'd only suspected that Methos and the petite woman were more than friendly, but the suggestive tone of Messina's words and the lingering looks that passed between the two brought the situation into harsh clarity for her.

"Liam! Sina!" The sound of Rebecca's greetings broke off any further confrontations. "I though we would have quite a time finding you two."

Methos linked his arms with the two women and strolled over the wagon Rebecca was climbing down from. Once there he shook off the hands of his escorts and launched himself at his dear friend. Rebecca squealed in delight as he swung her around and kissed her soundly on both cheeks. With great care, Methos finally set her on her feet.

"Looks like you found us," Methos grinned. "My directions weren't clear?"

"Are they ever?" Rebecca teased. "Only one or two minor detours, but we're here now."

"It's about time," Messina chuckled as she rushed over and embrace her former teacher. "I should have given you directions." She jerked her thumb in Methos' direction. "Liam has no sense of direction. I'd have thought by now, you'd know better, Becca."

"Yes, you would think so, wouldn't you?" Rebecca said. "I guess, I always think he'll get better at it."

"Not likely," Messina retorted. "He's an old dog. No new tricks for him, I'm afraid."

"Excuse me?" Methos did his best to look affronted, but his amusement shown clearly on his face. "You might want to reconsider who you are calling old, Sina." His remarks earned him a rather painful pinch. "OW! What was that for? I was only pointing out the obvious." This time he was quick enough to avoid her fingers, hiding behind Rebecca.

"Oh, no!" Rebecca protested as she sidestepped his efforts. "I will not be put in the middle of your childish behavior. Be a man and take your punishment, sweetheart."

Amanda watched from the sidelines. As usual, she felt like a third wheel when those three were together. Even though she'd known Rebecca and Methos for well over eight hundred years, she couldn't help feeling out of place in when the three older immortals gathered. Messina had been Rebecca's first student. Methos had become acquainted with Rebecca just a few decades into her immortality. Their ties were older than her ties to Rebecca and Methos. She tried not to be jealous, but it was so hard when she watched them interact.

"If I must," Methos said with mock contriteness. "Please forgive an old man for his doddering ways."

"Oh, goddess," Rebecca rolled her eyes at her old friend. "I thought I missed you, but-"

"You missed me, Rebecca," Methos laughed. "You know you did."

Rebecca fondly hugged Methos again. "Yes, I did. Amanda did as well."

"I bet," Messina hissed. Messina waited for Rebecca and Methos to end their friendly clutch, then placed herself beside him, her hand on his chest, mostly for Amanda's benefit. When she rubbed up against Methos and turned his head to give him a kiss, Amanda had about reached the boiling point.

"Are you about finished making a scene of our current living arrangement," Methos whispered to Messina.

"I have not even started," she whispered back, biting his ear lobe.

Methos caught a glimpse of Amanda walking back to her wagon, and he imagined how amorous Amanda would be when they made up. She had a right to be angry at him twenty years before, but he had as well. It pleased him that she had appeared while he was in the midst of a brief romance with a beautiful woman. She wasn't the only one who could play a lover off him.

Rebecca stood with her hands at her waist and scowled. Not a good welcome. Methos broke away from Messina to smile at the red head. "I never in a million years would have thought you'd bring the family to us. Very kind of you, Rebecca."

"I see you and Sina have become quite close, more close than I had heard."

"We are joined at the hip, Becca," Messina said. Then she gasped when she saw a man's foot peek out of the back of the wagon Amanda was at. "You did not bring that cretin with you, did you?"

"A cretin, travel with me?" Rebecca asked somewhat shocked.

"Yes, you. I never liked Luther, why did you bring him here?"

The mention of Rebecca's former student who had the insane habit of self-flogging and inflicting pain on himself and others made Methos want to hit the trail. If he couldn't take the kid's head, he didn't want to be around him.

The man's leg in the wagon belonged to the Frenchman Rebecca had come across during one of her treks to England, the souse, Henri ValJean. Methos relaxed and walked to welcome ValJean to the camp. Maybe he had some good hops with him. They had spent many a night in Paris taverns talking about life, Rebecca, women in general, and immortality. It had been a long time since Methos had trained, preferring instead to second guess Rebecca's tactics, but he had thought many times over that year with ValJean under Rebecca's tutelage to actually take an immortal under his wing.

"Henri! How are you?" he welcomed him, and had to catch him when ValJean basically fell out of the wagon.

"Liam?" the Frenchman muttered as he repeatedly blinked up at Methos holding him in his arms. "We made it! I didn't think we would, but God bless us, we made it!"

Methos laughed as he helped ValJean to his feet. When he was sure the tipsy Frenchman was standing on his own two feet in the sand, Methos swept his hand to the camp he and Messina had set up and asked, "Well, what do you think? Was it worth the travel?"

"I'll sleep in the wagon." The women joined them as ValJean looked wondrously at the pyramids. "They really do exist."

"Of course they do," Methos said, jokingly hitting him on the back. Wrong move as ValJean went down quickly, obviously not expecting it.

Amanda rushed to help him up and ValJean swooned. "Amanda... I didn't think you cared."

During the process of helping him up, soon they were both on the sandy ground laughing. Amanda said, "Oh, I care. I just don't like tasting beer second hand."

"I'll have you know," ValJean said as he rolled on top of her. "I was drinking vintage brandy, not beer."

"Oh?"

ValJean planted a nice, soft kiss on Amanda's lips, then pulled back to gaze into her eyes. "You didn't punch me."

After a quick look to Methos and Messina, where they certainly had Methos' attention, Amanda hooked her hand around the back of ValJean's head and pulled him down for another kiss, this time deep and long. Her hands played through his wavy brown hair and felt under his gray suit coat to his hard chest under that light white shirt. She had more than she had bargained for with this kiss as ValJean started to caress her side, then a hand floated up to cup her breast. Never having kissed ValJean in such a way before, and not expecting his passion, Amanda forgot about the world around her. All she concentrated on was the slender Frenchman on top of her. All she knew and had heard of French males may in fact be true. They did know how to solicit ecstacy. The brandy on his breath didn't make her want to stop, in fact, she pulled against him for more having not expected to like it.

~~~~~

After Amanda's display with ValJean, Methos was conflicted. He felt current love for Messina, but had to admit to himself he was quite jealous of Amanda's feelings for ValJean. It seemed though, that she had just discovered those feelings for the Frenchman. He assumed she had been putting on an act for his benefit in order to show that she wasn't the least bit upset that he was now with Messina. When she had started that kiss, he knew it was tit for tat, but then he saw her get bowled over. When their lips had finally parted, the look she gave ValJean wasn't one of satisfaction for a ruse well done. During the next hours as they looked over the camp, climbed up the great pyramid, and cooked the festive meal, Methos could tell that Amanda was looking at ValJean in a new light because of genuine lust, not to play act that she could find affection away from Methos.

Methos had watched Rebecca watching Amanda and ValJean. When the meal of fruit, figs, and cheese was laid out and Amanda made sure ValJean's plate was full with everything he liked, as well as his wine glass, Methos asked Rebecca about the two of them. "During the journey, was she acting like that?"

"Certainly not," Rebecca answered, then shrugged. "Well, I am not sure. We were in different wagons."

"At night you had to have seen them," he suggested, needling her for more information. "Or gods forbid heard them."

"At night, we were still traveling. Methos," Rebecca said with a smile and an arm around his waist. "For us to arrive here, not knowing if you and Sina would still be here when we did, we had to travel steady. The only time we rested was for the horses' benefit. There were times we had to trade or buy new horses so we could keep traveling."

"I am that important to you that you had to see me when I couldn't join you all at the Abbey?"

Rebecca laughed. "Your arrogance...," she shook her head. "But, of course. As well as Messina. Have I mentioned how happy I am for you both? Messina is like my daughter and I do hope you have both found a love that will last."

"Well, we found something, that is certain."

"Liam!" Messina called out from the circle she formed around the fire along with Amanda, ValJean, and the two mortal drivers they had brought with them on the journey. She lifted a plate obviously meant for him. Amanda was actually feeding ValJean, seemingly lost him in. Well, he had his own vixen to serve him. Breaking Methos of his prideful reverie, Messina sat down with the plate he thought was his and picked a fig from it and popped it in her mouth. "Get another bottle of wine from the wagon!" she yelled as she lifted and tipped over her empty wine glass.

Methos glanced at Rebecca, who had turned away to chuckle. He nudged her and said, "You heard your daughter. Get the wine, mum." He sauntered up to Amanda and ValJean and cleared his throat.

Amanda looked up at him as ValJean used the opportunity to take another gulp of wine. "Excuse me," Methos said as he stepped between them, carefully around the set out food, and sat next to Messina. He took her plate, but she said, with her mouth full, "Get your own. I'm hungry."

Methos groaned and leaned forward to fill his plate. After he plopped a few fruits and figs on it, he sat back down. Messina took a fig from his plate, to which he slapped her hand. "MY food."

"Of course, darling," she said, putting it slowly into his mouth.

As he chewed the fig, she kissed him. He could feel her hand snake through the back of his long hair making shivers run up his nape. He couldn't wait to get that woman back in his tent for some alone time once again. Messina's lips pulled away so he continued savoring the fig. "You forgot the wine," she said softly.

"Children," he heard Rebecca say. They all looked to her standing at her place in the circle and showed them the bottle of wine she held in her hands as if it was priceless. "I have been saving this bottle for a very long time. It was my hope that we would all drink from it at the Abbey, and protected it with my life during the journey."

Amanda asked, "That's what was in that crate you were so worried about?"

"Yes, Amanda. This vintage is over a hundred years old, and it is my pleasure to share it with my family." Rebecca opened the bottle as everyone emptied what they had in glasses and held them out to her. "If only my other three students could have made the journey, but oh well. One can't have everything, and you three know you are my favorites."

"How about me?" Methos asked with a smile.

"You are the patriarch of the family," Rebecca said, pouring her precious wine into his glass first.

Methos felt the tickle of an immortal sensation go up his spine and looked to the rest of the immortals gathered around the fire. Rebecca's pouring started in the glass, but soon, she was pouring wine onto the sand.

"What about me, teacher?" they heard a voice call from the darkness.

Rebecca stood straight as a board as she turned and Methos made out the formation of a man walking to them at the fire. "You started the party without me?" The man tisked. "How could you?" he asked with what seemed to be no venom.

Methos rocked to his feet as he realized the form of a man was Luther. For most of his very long life, Methos had been a live and let live sort of fellow. Blend in and not cause a stir was his motto, but on rare occasions he would run into someone that grated against every fiber of his being. Luther was one such person. He clenched his jaw shut and ground his teeth, as Rebecca rose to greet her student.

"Luther," Rebecca called out amicably. "Come have a sit by the fire and warm yourself."

The newly arrived immortal inclined his head to his teacher. "Your kindness, as always, is most appreciated, Rebecca."

Methos was somewhat surprised by the cultured delivery of the former slave who couldn't utter a word of English or French when Rebecca first brought him under her tutelage. When Methos had wanted to take him out before he became a problem.

"What, pray tell, are you doing here?" Methos didn't bother to hide the menace in his voice.

Luther gestured to the group seated around the fire. "I assume my invitation to this gathering was lost."

"Apparently not lost enough," Messina muttered under her breath. She had no feelings of kindness for Luther. Like Methos, she held little trust in the man. She didn't understand why Rebecca continuously cut Luther any kind of slack. She feared that one day, Rebecca's student would betray her in the most brutal way imaginable. She cast a glance at Methos and noted that he appeared to be having the same thoughts as her.

"You must be hungry," Amanda said hoping to slice through the heavy veil of emotion that had suddenly fallen over the previously jovial group. "Would you like something? We have plenty."

"I am famished," Luther announced with a smile. "Perhaps I might partake of some of your wine, as well."

"Of course," Rebecca reached for the bottle of wine and another glass for her guest. She noticed the rapid fire looks passing between Methos and Messina. Despite her best efforts, she'd been unable to persuade her oldest friends to give Luther a fair chance. "Liam, why don't you go check on the horses?"

"I fear the horses are the least of our worries," Methos threw a furious glare at Luther. "I think I'm not the only one that knows that."

"Please, Liam," Rebecca said.

"Fine," Methos pushed himself to his feet. "Mark my words, Rebecca, nothing good will come of his being here."

Rebecca watched Methos stalk off into the darkness. "Luther, please forgive Liam. He's-"

"I hardly think Liam needs Luther's forgiveness," Messina retorted totally sharing her lover's estimation of the younger immortal. "Luther's not welcome here, Rebecca, you know that. Liam and I have never been shy about our feeling regarding him."

"How dare you talk about him like he's not capable of hearing you," Rebecca chastised Messina. "I think you owe Luther an apology."

Messina snorted. "And I think you are fooling yourself, Rebecca." She rose elegantly to her feet. "Excuse me, but I've suddenly lost my appetite. I'll check on Liam."

"Messina," Rebecca held out her hand to stop the other woman's progress, but Messina shrugged away and followed the same path Methos had taken. "Well, that certainly didn't go well."

"Maybe I should leave." Luther made to leave, but turned back to ask, "Perhaps I could beg some food to make the return journey a little more pleasant."

"Don't be ridiculous, Luther," Rebecca dismissed him. "Liam will come around, so will Sina."

Amanda couldn't choke back the laugh that burst from her lips. She flinched at the glare Rebecca sent her way. "What? Liam does not come around, Rebecca, and you know it."

"There's a first time for everything, Amanda," Rebecca smiled. "Stranger things have happened."

"Not that strange," Amanda retorted. "I'm going to go check on them, see what the problem is."

"I don't think you should, Amanda," Rebecca warned. "They'll come back in their own time."

Amanda's eyes drifted to Methos' tent, knowing full well that Messina was doing all she could to ease Methos' vile mood from Luther's appearance, and a burning jealousy seeped through her. In order to squelch it, she turned to the drunken immortal sitting next to her who had thrown her for a loop with a deep kiss before. Amanda lowered his wine glass he was ready to down in one gulp. "ValJean, dear. You have had enough refreshments. How about a fig?"

"Amanda, dear," the Frenchman hiccuped in her ear. "I am not a fig type of fellow."

His hand hooked onto her breast, as he nuzzled her neck with his nose. Amanda had enough. Sure, the guy could kiss, he was French after all, but she didn't need to be pawed by a dog. Jealousy of Methos and Messina made her lose her head for a moment, thinking she could actually take ValJean seriously. She pinched the top of his offensive hand, making sure her fingernails bit into the skin.

"Hey!" ValJean moaned as he brought the nail marks to his mouth.

Amanda indicated her chest and said, "Do not touch!"

Amanda stalked past Rebecca to the darkness. She could tell that her teacher, who had just popped mango in her mouth, was surprised by Amanda's sudden departure, and hoped she wouldn't follow. This arrival hadn't at all been as she had hoped. She hadn't seen Methos for so long, and during the journey had dreams of how lovely it would be to return to his arms. To find out the only arms she had waiting for her was a sloppy, drunken Frenchman... Amanda shivered as she plopped down on her butt in the sand. There was nothing but darkness around her, except for the far off flicker of the campfire and the dim illumination from Methos' tent. They must have had a candle lit, and she could almost pick out their silhouettes inside the tent, sitting together. When their forms lowered to the ground, Amanda shook her head and turned away, not wanting to see it. She didn't even want to think about it!

When her eyes had truly adjusted to the darkness, she realized that the moon had silhouetted the three pyramids. It was a truly humbling experience to look upon their great size and grandeur. Just looking at them made Amanda feel suddenly very small. That they had survived for millennia, she suddenly felt her thousand years was a blink of an eye. Then she realized that they were probably about the same age as that irritating old man in that tent with her nemesis.

How could he sleep with someone else when she was there!? With her?! He knew how much she hated Messina, had felt jealous of her since Rebecca took her in, how Messina was never nice to her. Amanda and Methos had never blatantly slept with someone else when the other was so close. Never. Not even Rebecca, that Amanda knew of. Methos must really be pissed. Sex usually did relax him in such a wonderful way. She looked back to his tent, which was now dark. Either the candle went out, or they had knocked it over during their throes of passion. Amanda didn't want to think about it again, but she couldn't help it. "Don't think about it!" she admonished herself.

She felt an immortal near her, and she turned, expecting Rebecca to have come to heal her broken heart. To her amazement, she saw the form of Methos emerging from the dark. He sighed and sat down beside her on the sand. Amanda didn't know how she felt at that moment. She was happy he wasn't with Messina, but at the same time, she knew what he had just done with Sina, and didn't like it one bit.

"How dare you make love to her and then come to me!" she shrilled, hitting him on the head at the same time.

"I'm not coming to you. In that way. I just want to talk. Catch up. Find out-"

"In your dreams. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Really," she said, not asked.

"Of course." Methos took her hands in his and his knee brushed against hers. "I adore you, Amanda. You know that. I was pleased to know you were coming, and happy to see you. I'm just in a relationship at the moment."

"With her! Why her?"

"It just happened, luv."

"Don't call me that. Not when you've just poked her."

"There's been many a time, Amanda, when I've come to see you and you're with someone else. Countless times. In fact, most times," he reminded her with a smile.

Amanda nodded slightly. She had to admit he had.

Methos continued, "Did I make a scene? Did I indulge in one of the deadly sins: jealousy? Did I try to talk you out of being with that person? Did I-"

"Sure, you're a regular prince."

"Stop it. One good turn deserves another."

"So this is a grand plan to make me jealous? Well, I'm not. I feel sorry for you, if anything. She's a...," Amanda hated when she was at a loss of words. She couldn't boil all the hatred and jealousy she had felt-had always felt-for Messina in one word.

"I didn't set out to make you jealous, Amanda. It's just a happy by-product."

"Oh you!" She slapped his arm and pushed him back for good measure. "You are SUCH a pain in my ass."

One would think that standing on one's feet was a commonplace maneuver. One did it without even thinking, but the thick sand made the process a bit tricky for her. Amanda lost her balance on the way up and ended up in Methos' lap. He laughed and hooked his arms around her, then rolled them over so his full weight was on top of her.

She wanted to protest, but damn it, having him all to herself felt too good. Methos smiled and brushed his nose against hers, and Amanda grabbed his face and pulled him down for a kiss.

~~~~~

Messina was almost asleep in their tent, completely satisfied except that she was feeling a bit chilled. After making love, Methos had whispered his gratitude for making him feel better, and they had laid spooned together. He had kissed her ear and whispered that he would be right back, and now Messina realized that he wasn't back yet. She pulled the blanket over her shoulders to cut the chill of his absence and hoped he'd make his way back soon.

The warmth of an approaching immortal sensation flooded her, and she sleepily cried out, "It's about time, my love. I missed you."

The blanket lifted and felt his body lay behind her once again. The feeling of clothes was surprising to her, but not as much as the black arm that folded over her arm. She blinked repeatedly, thinking she was seeing things, but when she turned over, Messina was looking straight into the eyes of Luther.

Messina didn't bother to hide the shudder of revulsion that slid over her. "Unless you care to have your head removed from your shoulders, I suggest you get the hell out of here, Luther."

Luther chuckled, but stayed right where he was. "Your lover is not here, I thought you might be lonely."

"You thought wrong," Messina removed his arm from around her and sat up. Even though the man made her uneasy, she wasn't about to let him know that. Instead, she gave him her best glare. "Liam will be back shortly, and it might be a wise idea for you to be gone when he does."

"Oh, I think Liam is otherwise occupied at the moment," Luther informed her. "Last I saw, he and Amanda were wrapped up in each other, quite literally."

"Yes, they have that habit," Messina acknowledged without malice. "They're old friends."

Luther quirked an eyebrow, "More than old friends from what I gathered."

"You are a young one, aren't you?" Messina's laughter echoed in the tent. It grew even more when she noticed as the look of confusion followed by anger raced across Luther's dark face. "Of course, they are intimate. I do not own Liam, and he doesn't own me. We are together because we choose to be. I give myself freely to him, just as he does to me."

"But-" Luther interjected; clearly not happy with the direction the confrontation was going.

"But nothing," Messina cut him off. "I am old enough to remember a time before the idea of monogamy was even conceived. Love who I will, when I will."

"You're nothing but a whore," Luther spat.

"So some have said," Messina smiled coldly. "Nonetheless, I care nothing about what they say and even less what you think. Please leave before I am forced to make you."

Luther's brown eyes glittered in the soft light from the fire, "I will make my leave, now, but this isn't over."

"Oh, it is over," Messina returned his stare, refusing to lower her eyes in submission. She breathed a small sigh of relief once the other immortal stalked from her tent. "Goddess, what a bastard."

She smoothed out the blankets that covered the makeshift bed and sighed. Something about Luther sent the hair on the back of her neck on end. She'd tried to discuss her feelings with Rebecca on several occasions, but her teacher brushed aside her concerns with a smile and a few words about Luther just being different.

"Different my arse," Messina muttered as she leaned up and plumped the many pillows that littered the pallet. "That one is nothing but plain and simple evil."

"I prefer to describe myself as wicked," Methos said as he pushed the flap of the tent open. "Less harsh, but still just as truthful."

Messina grinned as she took in the sight of Methos bathed in the soft glow from the campfire. "Wickedly handsome, I'll give you that."

"Is that all you're willing to give me, sweet Sina?" Methos stepped into the tent, the tent flap falling down sheltering them from the night.

Messina pulled aside the blankets revealing a bare leg and thigh. "I'd give you more, if you were a little bit closer."

Methos closed the distance between them in a few ground-eating strides shedding clothes as he went. By the time he slumped to the pallet beside Messina, the only thing he was wearing was a nose-crinkling smile. His hand caressed her cheek as she raised her mouth to his lips. Methos closed his eyes as her tongue teased its way into his mouth.

"What a welcome," he groaned as she pulled him over onto her. "Lonely, were you?"

Messina rolled her eyes. "Not so much. I had a visitor."

"Who?"

"I'd rather not talk about that," Messina replied as her hands slid from his neck and down his back to his narrow waist. "I have more interesting things on my mind at the present."

"Not that I'm arguing," Methos muttered as his fingers worked at ridding her of her fine linen chemise. "Rebecca came by to compare notes, eh?"

"Your ego never ceases to amaze me."

Methos cast a leer her way. "My ego is quite amazing."

"The most satisfying ego I've come across in my lifetime," she agreed.

"So, if it wasn't Rebecca, who then?"

"Leave it for now, Methos," Messina shifted as the chemise slid up her body. "We can talk of it later."

Tossing the garment into a corner of the tent, Methos shrugged as he settled his weight on her welcoming body. "So distract me, darling."

"Gladly."

~~~~~

As soon as the sun came up, Rebecca stepped out of the back of the covered wagon she had slept in and felt the immortals around her as she stretched and yawned. It was so nice to be back with three of her students around her. She looked up to Methos' tent behind the sphinx's head, and to the other two wagons that had come with her on the journey. She knew that Amanda had to have been in one, as Methos probably had Messina in his tent. Poor Amanda. If she had known that Methos and Sina had gotten so close, she might have prepared her. All during the trip Amanda was almost to the point of giddy just thinking about them all being together again. She didn't know what Amanda and Messina had against each other. They were so much alike in so many ways. Maybe that was the problem.

Rebecca started a fire and sat as close as possible to not get burned in order to warm the chilly air. She was in the desert, for the sake of the Goddess. Why was it so cold at night? The fire felt good, but her chest tightened when she saw the dark form laying on the sand a ways away from the circle that they had formed with the wagons and Methos' tent. Luther had probably come to share in the reunion, and she had forgotten he was even there. After making his appearance last night, she hadn't seen much of him. Part of her was glad. While she was teaching him, he slowly displayed the oddest characteristics. Whenever he was hurt, he wouldn't cower. Instead he would deepen the slash by her sword blade that she had accidently inflicted. He would rile the horses so that they would trample him. He would starve himself for days for no reason he would indicate. One evening when she saw a candle burning in his room, she went in to check on him to find him making slash marks up both of his arms. She had stood stunned at the door as he chuckled watching the healing take over the bloody tracks. Even after she had taught him French and English, he still preferred to talk in his own tongue. After a bit of her prodding, Luther still refused to teach her his language in order to make communication between them be more than just hand motions.

After three years under Rebecca's tutelage, Luther had disappeared from the Abbey. She had gathered all her helpers and friends to search the countryside for him to no avail. He reappeared at the abbey door two years later, able to speak French, and asked to continue his lessons. She had, of course, taken him back into her fold immediately. Rebecca usually ambushed one of her students after she was confident in their abilities to see how they reacted. An immortal who was felt but not seen was a common occurrence in an immortal's life; Rebecca liked to see how a student was progressing by taking them by surprise, not knowing that it was only her who held the blade. How they reacted usually determined the course of the lessons from that point on to when she would tell them they were ready to face the world alone.

The day she ambushed Luther was the day she decided to stop using that method of teaching. Her students had stayed completely still (as in the case of Messina) taking in all around her before taking the next step in what could be a challenge, ran (as in the case of Amanda, which Rebecca thought was an homage to Methos) before Rebecca could reveal herself, or (as in the case of ValJean) shouted out to the woods around him that he was new and hadn't taken a head, that he was no threat so 'please, just move along.' Luther had been the first student who had ever gone looking for her in a hiding place, looking for the challenge.

When he had found her, the look in his eyes made her know that while he was away he had taken a head. He wasn't the naive new immortal who had just traveled and learned the French culture, as he had led her to believe upon his return to her fold. Rebecca felt lucky to have gotten away with her head after that encounter. That evening at dinner, she had gifted Luther with a piece of her crystal, had wished him the best of luck, and then showed him the door. "There is nothing more I can teach you, Luther," she had told him. His response had been to twirl the rope that held the crystal shard around his finger and say, "I agree, teacher." He had chuckled. "Although there might be a thing or two I could teach you."

Rebecca had shuddered when he sauntered out of the abbey and mounted his steed. She had been relieved that he was leaving, but also knew that he was out there. There were many off-kilter immortals in the world, but she had never educated one. The thought of what his immortal life would be left her uneasy. Anything he would do was actually a reflection of her, as his teacher.

Rebecca looked back at Luther curled up by himself away from the rest of them, and only then realized that his dark eyes were focused on her. She hadn't even known he was awake, let alone seemingly boring holes into her. Unnerved, she got up and went back to her wagon without even a pleasant nod of hello from her. In the darkness of her wagon, she felt that he brought out the worse in her. Against her better instincts of welcoming and being nice to everyone left her as she only hoped that Luther would just leave them all alone. In a small corner of her heart, she knew that was probably not going to be the case.

~~~~~

Luther watched Rebecca retreat to her wagon. A slow smirk crept across his features as he sat up and inched closer to the campfire; this was the first time in the years that he had known Rebecca that he'd detected even a trace of fear or loathing. He held his hands out to the flames, warming them as thoughts of his teacher's change of attitude warmed his twisted heart. Finally, Rebecca's feelings of pity and sympathy had given way to emotions he was better apt to exploit.

Time and time again, she had willingly accepted him back into her fold of trusted friends and students, despite his best attempts to shock and dismay her. With each offer of forgiveness and friendship, Luther's brain filled with bloody thirsty images of ways to return her favors. Over and over he'd plotted the ways her kindness would be repaid: killing those closest to her, driving her mad with the knowledge he'd been her most glaring failure as a teacher, but the most satisfying image was one of the feel of his sword connecting with the ivory skin of her neck and the spray of her blood as it showered him. The time would come when he would dance over her fallen corpse.

Countless hours had been wiled away as he perfected his plans, the need to hurt and torment driving him to an almost orgasmic release. The time had arrived for his plans, everyone was in their proper places, and it would be grand. As Luther schemed, his hand dipped lower into the flames. The skin began to redden and then blister.

"You were always a sick bastard," a female voice said disdainfully from behind him. "Kindly take your hand out of the fire. I have no desire to smell your burning flesh this early in the morning."

Luther chuckled as he continued to hold his hand in the searing flames for a moment longer. When he could no longer stand the pain, he lifted his hand out and rested the smoldering mass on his knee. "Amanda, I should think you'd like nothing better than to see me in pain."

Amanda took a seat opposite of Luther. "True, but I prefer it to be more on the permanent side."

"I am afraid I cannot help you with that." Luther watched the blue sparks of his Quickening mend and heal his burnt flesh. "I trust you slept well. Your lover was occupied with his whore; I heard them as they fu-"

"Shut up!"

"What is this? Amanda jealous because her talents are not enough to keep her lover satisfied?" He shook his head. "Perhaps Messina could be persuaded to give you lessons, hm? Liam sounded very well sated from what I could hear."

"Ew." Amanda wrinkled up her nose in disgust. "Why did I even bother coming to talk to you like you were a normal person? You're nothing more than an animal and a pervert."

Luther nodded as if in agreement. "I have been called worse by better people, Amanda."

"You disgust me." Amanda stood to leave. "Leave, Luther. You're not wanted here."

"Oh, I think you're wrong." He let his eyes linger over her body. "I think you desire what I have to offer, Amanda."

It was Amanda's turn to laugh. "Not even if you were the last immortal on the planet."

"That could be arranged."

"I shudder to think of you winning the Prize," Amanda spat out. "You like to think you're the biggest and baddest there is, but despite what you think, there is always someone just a little bigger and meaner in the world."

"I have yet to meet that person," he replied cockily, "or I would not be here with you."

"You. Are. Not. Here. With. Me."

"Details," Luther shrugged.

"I'd watch your mouth." Amanda pulled a dagger from its hiding place in her skirts. "Before I have to shut it for you."

Luther stood up and crossed to where she stood. "Go ahead," he grabbed her hand. "Do it. Make it hurt."

Amanda jerked her hand away. "I won't give you the satisfaction."

"Yet you threw yourself at him last night." Luther never moved. "Throwing yourself at him like the whore you are. He went to her after he serviced you, Amanda. You mean nothing to him."

Amanda's eyes blazed furiously. "You know nothing of what I mean to him."

"Don't I?"

Amanda opened her mouth to issue a retort, but instead clenched her lips together and stalked to her wagon.

"Let me know if you change your mind," Luther called out to her. The door of her wagon slammed harshly in the still morning air. "You will be the first to die, bitch."

As he stirred the flames with a long stick, he thought more about Liam, who Luther had not long ago discovered was the legendary Methos. The oldest one. The Quickening all immortals most desired. The truth as Luther now knew it was so hard to believe at first, but Caspian had soon convinced him that Liam and Methos were one and the same. The mannerisms that Caspian had described in his old 'brother:' his cold stare in which Luther had seen nothing, but when Liam's eyes were cast in his direction, the ruthlessness of the attack which Liam had devised over the years to rid the earth of Luther but never accomplished, the calm planning of the pillaging which Luther heard whenever Liam and Rebecca argued over whether Luther was fit to live. Liam had never once lost his temper or even talked with any sort of emotion. Not that Luther was an embodiment of walking emotion, but he had heard of and seen them in his victims enough to know what they were and which ones were normal reactions. Last but not least, Caspian had related Methos' selfish penchant for the women.

In that small, dank tavern in Istanbul, Caspian had related how Methos would pick out the females he wanted to ravage and the gods had better be on the opponents' side if they wanted to differ. Now he was servicing two women, probably three, all in close proximity. Or were they servicing him? Caspian also said that Methos had two important things he held very close to his heart, if he had one during those Apocalyptic centuries: the slave he was overly possessive about and his unshakable knack for bending people to his will. Maybe those supposedly smart, 'modern' women were just two more slaves and nothing more to him. Luther had been ambivalent about Rebecca's protection of him. Once he had a little training under his belt, he was secretly hoping that Liam would try to take his head. He wanted the fight. Luther's overall goal was to rid his teacher of her head, but his secret goal was to make Liam pay for being too arrogant for his own good. To top it off, Liam was the 5000 year old Quickening he hadn't heard about from Rebecca, but from other immortals he hadn't taken the head of as soon as he saw him. Caspian for instance.

When he had met up with him in Istanbul, he saw someone who Luther might consider an ally, having never had one in his life. The gleam in Caspian's eyes and way with a sword after being challenged impressed Luther more than anyone else had that he had encountered. Luther, of course, had gotten quite a few cuts in during the fight, and accepted with relish a few as well. He liked the way Caspian fought, and could tell his opponent was enjoying the banter of the fight as much as he was. Instead of finishing up the fight to the death, Caspian suggested buying him a stout and maybe putting together a business proposition. They could roam the continent like the 'Two Monstrous Musketeers' as he had called his hope. Luther listened to his tale of the time when he and three others traversed four continents and left only death and misery in their wake. It was a while before Luther started to take him seriously, but when he did, he was impressed.

Since Luther could never entirely trust another immortal, the partnership was out of the question, but having an immortal who seemed to take life as he did would be a useful asset to have. For one, he found out who and where that reclusive 5000 year old man was and with whom he was surrounding himself. Who would have thought that the expert fighter, the sage fountain of intellect, the ultimate survivor, the rapist and pillager of the world would embrace a jewel thief, a French drunk, a naive teacher, and a dense slut. Luther thought it almost laughable if he didn't see it had happened right before his eyes. He definitely didn't understand how a man who had so much with brothers who would live and die for you, all the riches and power in the world, could leave it all behind and be nothing.

As he realized that the others were waking for the day, and making their own fire in order to warm themselves and make breakfast away from him, he studied them all. Only the drunk had looked in his direction. Luther thought he saw a slight nod of greeting from him, to which he didn't respond. He needed to do something to make this little group of people realize just how small they were. If Liam, Methos, wanted so little in life, Luther wondered what it would take to make him feel even smaller, even less significant.

Liam had sat alongside Messina in front of the fire after he had made it, as he glanced and smiled at Amanda. Messina seemed to notice, but didn't indicate that she had. Just what was it about that little man that made this situation happen?! The plotting of how to put Liam in his place started to unfold as Luther watched them all make and serve breakfast. It was only after Rebecca asked Luther to join them that the seeds of a plan had started to take root in his head. He didn't need to take Liam's head in order to be satisfied. That wouldn't make him suffer. The joy of the fight wasn't the ending, it was the pain of the struggle. Luther wanted to make sure that Liam never lost that struggle. He would make Liam suffer and have his 'friends' be witnesses, but also be able to do nothing about it.

Messina had asked why Luther was smiling as he ate the rice cake and drank the mango juice they had offered him. Telling her the plan of Liam's downfall, and the large part she would have in it, wouldn't be prudent. He responded, "I am just so thankful to have this meal. I was quite hungry." He looked to Rebecca to add, "Thank you so much, teacher."

Yes, Messina would be the one person who would believe what he had to say and make Liam suffer for all time. Because she would believe him, Liam would have no choice. A chuckle accidently spilled out before he was able to contain his so infrequently-felt delight, and had to lie that he just loved the rice cake. Such a treat after traveling all that way.

When he had found out about the reunion of Rebecca's students from another who couldn't make it, Luther knew he had to come. He had come in order to take Rebecca's head, but she may end up being useful to him in the future. He would have to repress that need for now. He didn't realize until he saw Liam once again just how much he hated him. The plan of taking Rebecca's head was dwarfed by a far better plan. Far better, because it would affect them all, for a very long time.

Before Luther had totally believed Caspian, he had asked him for details of some of their raids. He told Luther about many of them until one such raid caught his attention. One of the final raids of the horsemen was in Spain. Luther paid close attention because that was where he had stepped off the slave ship. Spain was the first place he had seen the light of day after being taken from his homeland. Spain was where Rebecca had found him, along with Messina. He had listened enraptured by Caspian's tale, hoping he would describe the blood and death in the wake of the horsemen. He was not disappointed. Luther hadn't understood Rebecca's language when she first found him and took him under her wing, but he was soon to figure out that Messina's homeland was Spain, as his was Cameroon. She was born and raised there. She had been turned there and found by Rebecca and taken back to France for teaching, just as he had been. Messina had lived on the same land that her ancestors had. Mountainous with a natural spring. Caspian said that they had all taken off their clothes and washed the blood off themselves after a raid in Spain in a natural spring in an area that sounded similar to Messina's homeland.

While overhearing a conversation between Messina and her one time lover Pedro, she had related a terrible incident in her family lineage where it only took four men to take down not only the village not far from her family plot but her family as well. There had been one lowly survivor, a young boy, that had related the powerful story to his offspring, who told it many times to their offspring, and on down the line to Messina's grandmother. The story had been rich with detail and Messina swore that to her family, the massacre could have happened yesterday with the pain that they all still grieved over it happening. When Caspian took credit for that massacre without prompting from Luther, it had to be the same incident. How many quartets of death were there? Even if it wasn't, he could use Messina's grief for her ancestors against her and one who had committed such atrocities. If it wasn't for the fact that Luther hated Liam so much, he could have admired him after hearing about him from Caspian.

Liam stood up and said, "I'm going to venture up to the top of the Great Pyramid for the day. Any takers?"

True to form, Amanda said she would without missing a beat. Rebecca decided to join them as well, and asked ValJean if he would. He shook his head. "Afraid of heights. I'll just lounge about here."

Amanda said, "Leave some wine for us for dinner, please?"

ValJean had just shrugged and ambled back to his tent.

This would be the perfect opportunity to get Messina alone, and Luther wondered how to make her stay behind. She got up to retrieve the pan they had made rice cakes on and Luther thought of a way to at least delay her. He reached forward and took hold of the pan and slopped the rest of the food and oil on her dress, making it look like he tripped.

"You fool!" she screamed as she held the bottom of her dress that was soiled with hot oil out from her legs.

"What the hell are you doing?" Liam demanded.

"I was just going to help her clean up," Luther said, pretending surprise and sorrow for hurting Messina. "It is the least I could do after the delicious meal." He held his pained hand, feigning that it was too sore from holding the hot pan, but secretly relishing how it felt. He caught Amanda's eye and thought he'd better not try to pretend too much after his display earlier.

"Idiot, clod!" Messina wailed.

"Sina," Rebecca admonished her. "Luther was just trying to help."

Messina exchanged glances with Luther, and he could tell that Rebecca had her under her spell as well. She softened her face and said, "That's okay. Wipe this pan down while I go change."

"How long will it take you?" Liam asked. "If we get to the top and back down before sunset, we should have left a while ago."

"It will take me as long as it takes me," Messina replied snippily. "I didn't think I'd have to change."

"Well, you know the best way to the top," Liam said, and Luther was pleased that Liam was falling right into his plan without even knowing it. "Why don't we start out and you join us? I have to show Amanda and Rebecca the easiest route and how to climb, so that will slow us down anyway. Shouldn't take long for you to catch up."

"Fine," Messina said, turning to her tent, still holding her oily dress away from her legs. The rest of the conversation faded from his mind as he was solely focused on how it felt to have that hot grease splash against skin. It had been a while since he had done it, and just holding the hot pan was like foreplay. He realized that Rebecca was asking him if he wanted to join them. He could tell by Liam's expression that he didn't want him to, so appeased the ass just this once with, "No, I think I am not the most welcome member of the group. If you do not mind, teacher, I think I will start for home today. There is no wind, and I should make good progress."

"Luther," Rebecca said softly. "I'm sorry your arrival wasn't met with the best of intentions. It was a surprise. I'm sorry we weren't more..."

"No need to explain. I just wanted to see you again and make sure you are well. I have my answer, so I am content to leave."

Liam and Amanda didn't respond, only turned on their heels and started to the pyramid after he picked up climbing tools and rope. To Luther's surprise, Rebecca took his hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. "It was nice to see you again as well, Luther. May your journey be swift and undemanding."

"You had better join them or they will leave you behind," he told her, indicating the departing immortals.

Soon, she did, after smiling farewell to him. He saw ValJean climb back into his wagon and slip the tarp down and knew he was probably going back to sleep. Rebecca's drivers were walking to the Sphinx, out of hearing range after having finished their meal at their own campfire, which Luther wasn't welcome at either. He had the raging thought to rid the mortals of their fragile lives, but focused on Messina's tent instead. If the drivers weren't listening or interrupting him, Luther didn't even need to know they existed.

~~~~~

Messina took off the soiled dress over her head and muttered, "Why did that man come here? He's done nothing but make things unpleasant any way he could!" She continued her solo tirade as she opened her trunk to find another dress that wasn't already dirty. "I thought Amanda was bad. Now she's there alone with Liam and I'm stuck here with nothing to wear!" She peeked out the tent flap to see Liam and Amanda walking to the pyramid, but to her relief, Rebecca was catching up to them. At least Amanda couldn't get more of her grimy hooks into her man with Rebecca there. She knew Liam slept with her last night, but they were old friends, and he came back to sleep with her, and make love to her again.

As she went back to her trunk and washed the residue of the oil from her healed leg, she remembered how loving Liam had been not only last night but every night since they had found each other in Cairo. They had shared an intimate and beautiful time together. She hoped he would soon tire of Amanda, not knowing what he saw in her. Maybe one day not too far off in the future, he could be solely hers. Before she would try to reel him in, she was glad he was experimenting elsewhere. It pleased her so much that he had returned to her last night that the thought of his being with Amanda didn't spoil it.

She needed to hurry though, or all the shortcuts that Liam had showed her up the pyramid wouldn't help her if she was to join them. Eyeing Methos' trunk sitting off in the corner, she scampered over to it. She was out of clean clothes, but he wasn't. In fact, she'd often teased him that he packed more than a woman. With a sly smile, she pulled a pair of his trousers out and slipped them on. She was just a couple inches shorter than he, so all she had to do was roll the cuffs a couple of times. Truth be told she preferred wearing trousers; she found them to be most liberating. Pulling on a loose cotton shirt of his, she tucked the ends of the garment into the waist of her pants and sat down on the pallet to pull on her boots. Satisfied with her results, she ran her brush through her unruly hair and smiled. She certainly wasn't going to do washing today. Climbing up the pyramid would make any clothes dirty anyway, so better Methos' clothes than hers.

Deciding a braid was in order, Messina's fingers quickly arranged her hair and tied it off with a piece of leather strap. She tossed the silver brush onto the makeshift bed when she felt the presence of another immortal slither up her spine.

Spinning around, she groaned when she saw Luther leering contemptuously from the flap of the tent.

"I thought I made my loathing of you clear last night, Luther," Messina said. "You are still unwelcome in my tent."

Luther didn't wait for an invitation to enter. He slowly sauntered across the distance that separated them, moving with a very predatory gait. He'd discovered that people tended to be intimidated by his presence and he milked it for all it was worth. Very rarely did he come up against those brave or foolish enough to stand against him, whether they be immortal or not.

"Oh, that you did," Luther allowed, "however, I have some information you might find intriguing."

"Hardly think so, Luther." Messina stepped around him. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to meet Liam and Amanda for a bit of exploring."

"Those two are probably exploring as we speak," Luther smirked. "Although I am certain Liam would welcome you into the festivities."

"You are the most crude and vulgar man."

"Perhaps," Luther didn't argue. "I would venture that Liam and I have that in common."

"You and Liam have nothing in common," she asserted. "Liam is a gentleman and you are anything but."

Luther laughed. In fact he laughed so hard tears began to stream from his eyes. "Many words describe our dear friend, Liam, but I'd wager there are more appropriate adages than that."

Messina stormed out of the tent. "I have heard enough of your endless blathering, so kindly remove yourself from my presence."

"Do you not wish to hear what I have to share with you, Sina?"

Messina cringed at his use of her nickname. "Don't call me that."

"And I thought us friends, Sina," Luther stressed the endearment. "As Rebecca's students we are almost as brother and sister."

"In your twisted, demented dreams," Messina threw back.

~~~~~

After all the time with Messina on the plateau, Methos had tried most every side in order to climb to the top of the Great Pyramid for the best trail. The limestone casing that had been added after completion of the shape had crumbled and fallen off over the years, making excellent footholds in parts. Mostly though, if you didn't know where you were heading, the surface of the upper part of the pyramid was slick and smooth. Over the centuries though, the limestone had cracked, some of them wide enough for a man to climb through. Grappling hooks and rope were used to make sure your feet were even more sure climbing up the last fifty feet.

At approximately 450 feet above the earth, Methos felt on top of the world at the top of the Great Pyramid after heaving Amanda up the last steep step, then Rebecca up to the top with him. The air was crisp and clean, allowing Methos to take a deep refreshing breath that made him think he'd never had the privilege before. The adrenaline of being so high up added to the sensation, he was sure. The great structure was almost ten feet across with uneven stones making up the apex, a quartet of the final stones set into place making an excellent place to sit, rest the legs, and take in the scenery. What made the trip more worthwhile was that he was up 'in the clouds' with two of his favorite women in the world, and relished the astonished looks on their faces as they looked out at the massive height in which they were standing.

As soon as Amanda had climbed up, she had commented, "You can sit up here. It's not an actual point."

"Look at that view." Methos swept his hand out to indicate the vastness of the desert which the silhouettes of three pyramids made shadows upon. "A view like that is never seen by man, except a fortunate few." The sphinx which had looked so huge from the ground now looked like a pebble in the distance. Making out their camp would have been impossible if not for the smoking fire that Rebecca's drivers must have kept stoked all day.

It had been so long since he had seen, touched, and conversed with Amanda and Rebecca, and as soon as Messina would get her butt up there, his life would be complete. He had been amused by Amanda's jealousy. It wasn't like they were married or anything. She had to know that Messina would be part of the bargain with a reunion of Rebecca's students. Amanda had to know that she didn't have anything to worry about; his affair with Messina was a short-term prospect; it just happened, but he was enjoying her immensely.

Amanda uncorked the wine, the pop of which almost made her fall off one of the 'crown' blocks. Methos had to grab her to make sure that didn't happen. "Careful," he sagely advised her after the fact.

"Thanks, luv." She took a swig, then handed the bottle to Methos. He took a nip, then handed it to Rebecca.

"Look at that sky," Rebecca mused aloud. It was a vibrant mix of blues, purples, and a smattering of yellow where the ebbing sun was against the clouds that had rolled in during their climb.

"Red skies at night, sailor's delight," Amanda said. She took a nip from the bottle.

Rebecca said, "Water is better to refresh a body than wine, Amanda," as Methos noticed that she might be playing the old game of 'What Do You See?' in the clouds. He was right when she triumphantly raised her finger to point out, "A trout," at a long, narrow cloud that Methos would have deemed a colorful cigar.

"And that fat, bearded woman wearing a tiara is ready to eat it," Amanda said pointing at another formation.

"A fat, bearded woman?" Methos asked, wondering what the hell she was looking at. "Looks more like a lounging wildebeest to me." He took the bottle from her. "You might have partaken a bit too much wine, Amanda."

"You see what you see, and I see what I see," Amanda retorted. "Diversity makes the world go round."

"You know what?" Rebecca said, "You two may like it up here in the clouds, but I have seen enough, and would prefer my feet to be placed squarely on the ground. I'm going down."

"We just got up here," Methos pouted.

"Enjoy yourselves," Rebecca commented as she cautiously placed herself between the limestone crack they climbed up through. "I have a feeling it will take longer to get down than go up."

Methos took her hand as she seemed more nervous now than she did when she was going up. "Are you afraid of heights?"

"No, not really. At least, I didn't know I was until I got up here. We're awfully high, aren't we?"

"Isn't it great?"

"Why go down now, Rebecca?" Amanda asked. She handed her the wine bottle. "I was hoping we'd have a picnic and have some private time together."

"We may have it down there, Amanda. I'm leaving."

"Oh, all right," Amanda groused. When she stood up, she didn't realize the block she stepped on was uneven and grabbed Methos, dropping the wine bottle.

"Pick that up!" Methos admonished. "This is sacred ground, you can't break bottles on it."

"Like I meant to do that." Amanda looked down at the spilled red wine on the limestone shell below them. "I'm sure this 'sacred ground' has seen more than its share of real blood."

"Accidents happen," Methos said with a shrug.

"I'm glad you agree with me. For once."

"No, I mean men did die here, but they were accidents."

"Oh, like not pushing the blocks up fast enough? Getting whipped in the back by mean foremen?"

"The workers weren't slaves, Amanda. They were paid workers. Do you think the Pharaoh wanted shoddy workmanship on his resting place? Nonsense."

"The men who built this thing were paid? I don't believe it."

"Fine. You're loss." Methos leaned close to her and smiled. "Be ignorant. You wear it well," he said then kissed her cheek.

"Rebecca, I'm not ignorant..." Amanda sulked. "Am I?"

"You don't want me to answer that, Amanda," Rebecca said hesitantly looking down the crack in the limestone. "Are you sure this was the easiest way down, Methos?"

Methos patted the space on the block next to him. "Come sit for just a bit longer, then I'll help you down. Going down is easier and faster than climbing up."

"Sure," Amanda laughed. "Can be real fast if you take a flying leap at it."

"Don't even joke about a thing like that, Amanda," Rebecca intoned. She looked down at the red stain on the limestone and said, "I do wish I had some wine so I could calm myself." The wind was flipping her long strawberry blond hair off her shoulders.

Methos took her hand, and then Amanda's, and took in a good, long, deep breath. "I could truly stay up here forever."

Methos tightened when the approaching immortal sensation webbed through his head and across his shoulders. He turned, smiling, to the rope at the fissure where it seemed to come from, before Rebecca, then Amanda seemed to have felt it. "About time you made it, Sina. I thought you'd stood us up," he commented before seeing that it was actually her who had made the climb.

He was momentarily confused about the hard set of Messina's eyes and mouth as she climbed to the top, and the sword in her hand didn't give him any comfort at all. The last thing they needed on such a small surface so far above solid ground was a cat fight. What did Amanda do now?

To Methos' continued amazement, Messina didn't even look to Amanda as her eyes were only focused on him. They were truly not the same eyes that had looked lovingly at him in the past, or even the grouchy eyes that she would cast at him if he woke her up in the morning when she'd preferred to stay asleep. In fact, he knew that look. It was the look of someone who was livid. At him. Methos decided that now would be a perfect time to start the climb down the pyramid. Messina had a hot temper, and she had concentrated it on him for some reason. Sometimes it didn't take much, and he wondered what he had done now.

"So, we didn't wait for you. I knew you knew the way," he offered as an appeasement thinking she was just brassed off that he was up there with two of his favorite ladies in the world.

She settled herself on two different height stones that made up the apex and actually swung her sword at him.

"What are you doing?!" he hollered, moving Rebecca back in order to get out of the way of Messina's unexplained wrath. "Climb down," he ordered to Rebecca and Amanda, then prepared to jump down as well. Whatever the hell was her problem could be settled on terra firma. He saw Rebecca's eyes widen in surprise, then he felt a slash and blood start to trickle down his back as he spun around in anger.

"This isn't a bit amusing, Sina!" Methos gritted his teeth against the pain and faced his lover. "Put down the sword and tell me what's got you riled."

"I have no intentions of putting my sword anywhere but through your neck, you bastard!"

"Messina!" Rebecca shouted in a low, serious tone. "Stop! This is Holy Ground!"

"This is my fight, Teacher," Messina roared, the sword up and ready to strike him again.

"Rebecca, climb down!" Methos said with well-founded anger. The last thing he needed was to be involved in a to-the-death challenge on Holy Ground. Perhaps with Rebecca and Amanda out of the way he'd be able to calm Messina down. "Go now!"

While Methos yelled at Rebecca and Messina, Amanda used the distraction and reached out to wrap her arms around Messina from behind. As soon as she made contact with her nemesis, Methos knew she was going to be overpowered and tried to stop her. He knew Amanda was eager to defend him, but she couldn't possibly count on the effect of Messina's rage, which Methos felt a bit overpowering at the moment.

With a growl, Messina broke free of Amanda's grasp, and Amanda reeled backwards towards the edge of the structure. Despite a futile attempt at rescue by Methos, Amanda tumbled over the side of the pyramid.

Rebecca, having ignored Methos' perfectly sound advice, put herself between Messina and himself after Amanda's try hadn't worked. When will women ever learn to just let me handle it?

"Think about what you are doing, child. This is Holy Ground, Messina. Think about what will happen."

"Pah! For that," Messina spit out, "I must take him or I'll never forgive myself!"

"Rebecca, just go down and look after Amanda," Methos told her. The situation was only escalating; the last thing he wanted was for her to be injured or beheaded from a rash swing.

"Messina," Rebecca said, "You'll regret hurting him or anyone! I know you!"

"Rebecca," Messina said deadly somber, her eyes focused at Methos. "Get out of here."

"Listen to me, Messina," Rebecca tried again. "This is foolishness. Methos is our friend and your lover."

"Do not remind me of how I have sullied myself, Teacher," Messina sneered first at Rebecca, then looked down upon Methos. "Believe me when I say I wish I'd never met that bastard."

Methos moved Rebecca to the crack. "One misstep and you'll follow Amanda the quick way. Please, just leave. We'll be down in a minute."

"This cannot be happening. You cannot let this happen!" Rebecca didn't bother to hide her worry. "Holy Ground and challenges do not mix; you know that, Methos."

Methos continued to guide Rebecca away from the fight. "Well aware of that, Rebecca, now get going, or I'll sail you off the side with Amanda."

Sending one last pleading look at Messina, Rebecca nodded and hesitantly took hold of the rope. Methos could see confusion and regret in her eyes as she eased herself over the edge.

"What the hell have you been drinking?" He accused Messina as soon as he felt Rebecca's buzz ebb. "Never mind. Take some time and cool down, then we'll talk this out once we're on solid ground and you're thinking rationally."

"I have not been drinking, you bastard!" Messina held her sword, covered with his blood, at the ready, "Luther told me an extremely interesting story."

"That's it?" Methos barked out a laugh. "I could use a good joke about now." He grimaced when he noticed Messina wasn't finding the humor in the situation. Whatever the other immortal had said to her must have been appalling, because Messina was beyond pissed. "What did that son of a bitch say to you now?"

Messina pulled herself up to her full height and glared angrily at Methos. "Let's see," she cocked her head and pretended to be in deep thought. "Hmm, for starters he told me to ask you about a mutual friend of yours."

"Pardon?" Methos didn't have to pretend to be puzzled. "I hardly think Luther and I have anything in common, certainly not friends."

"So the name Caspian doesn't ring a bell?" Messina quirked an eyebrow. "Or does it?"

The hair on his nape bristled and a flood of anger poured over him making it nearly impossible for him to see straight.. "Luther knows Caspian?" Methos, so shocked by her words, didn't even bother to hide his own amazement. "Caspian's still alive?"

"Shall I take that as a yes, then?" Messina took another swing at him, however, Methos was better able to defend himself and jumped out of the way.

"Messina, think about what you're doing! Think about where YOU ARE! This is not a place to discuss this."

"Draw your sword, damn it!! I did not trek up here to chat; I came to take your head."

Methos backed away and held out his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner. "And I'm afraid that I have no intention of losing my head today. Once again, I'm telling you to put down your sword and talk to me."

"I should think you are the one who needs to be doing the talking." Messina advanced on Methos. "Luther certainly had a lot to say about you."

"You're willing to fight me based on anything Luther would have to say? Since when have you taken anything that bugger had to say seriously?" Methos slid his Ivanhoe out of the scabbard he'd slung on his back before climbing the pyramid. Paranoia and instinct never allowed him to go anywhere weaponless. "His word is hardly trustworthy. I thought you knew that."

"Let's just say he convinced me." Messina stepped back once she realized Methos had armed himself. "I knew you were old and had skeletons in your past, but little did I realize some of them might have been my ancestors."

"I don't want to fight you, Sina."

"Do. Not. Call. Me. That." Tears of anger and betrayal had begun to slip past her defense. "I let you make love to me. You are nothing but a monster!"

"I'm not a monster," Methos argued.

"You butchered people, decimated villages, and you are not a monster?" Messina used her sleeve to push away her tears. "What else would you call it?"

Methos knew he had no chance avoiding a challenge unless he could calm her down. Once he calmed her down, he would get them back on solid ground and explain away the situation. Then he'd do something he hadn't done in centuries, he'd go on the hunt. Tracking down and taking Luther's miserable head would be his ultimate goal. He hated the bastard anyway. It was his humble opinion that the fewer people who were aware of his less than pristine past the better.

"Look, Messina," he was careful to use her full name this time. "You're angry right now, and you want to hurt me, but this isn't the time or the place for this discussion. Surely, Rebecca has told you of the consequences of fighting on sacred ground. Put down your sword and let's go back down. We can discuss this calmly and rationally, alright? Then if you still want to pursue this craziness, we'll go at it in a safer locale."

"My sword comes down only after your head is lying on the ground, Methos!"

"Don't make me fight you," Methos warned. "I think the world of you, but I won't give myself up to you. Walk away."

"I've never walked away from a fight in my life." Messina straightened her shoulders proudly. "I have no intention of starting now."

"Your pride is only going to get you killed," he warned her.

"You think so? I'm going to take your head, Methos. Nothing will stand in my way! Not Rebecca, not Amanda, and not some myth about Holy Ground."

He saw that he had only a foot leeway before he would plummet over the edge, so he planted his feet. It was tempting to just walk off the edge and end the fight, but he knew Messina would follow him and take his head while he was unconscious. His heart sunk when she swung her sword at him once again. "I could have loved you, Sina, I really could have! Don't make me take your head!"

She swung her sword once again. Methos ducked, then straightened up and grabbed hold of her blade and pulled her to him as he stepped toward the middle of the apex. Her face wasn't even recognizable as it was clenched tight with hatred. It was a tale of killing heard that made her turn against him. Everyone turned against him after hearing of his escapades that happened a thousand lifetimes ago. "What Luther told you wasn't personal, Sina. Wake up! It's me!"

"You murdered my family! He told me it was you that delivered villainy to my ancestors!"

"Your... WHAT?"

"It was you and Caspian and two other bastards who had annihilated the village where my ancestors lived!"

"You don't have ancestors! They were just people who took you in, Messina." Methos voiced a harsh reminder of their status as foundlings. "What I did had nothing to do with-."

Messina struggled to release her sword from his grip causing them to tumble to the stones. Messina's blade clattered out of her reach. "So you admit it! You admit what you were!" She tried in vain to get her weapon back.

Since her sword was safely out of her reach for the moment, he took the time to digest all that she had said so far. Luther had somehow met up with Caspian, who's alive, and heard about the horsemen's activities, then related the story to Messina, which her adopted family had been victims of? It was so ludicrous, Methos couldn't believe, not only the chain of coincidences, but that Messina had taken what Luther said as the gospel truth, even though they had been friends, then lovers. She had to have known me! his head screamed. Do I account for nothing, just my past?!

"Sina," he said to appease her, then realized she took the affectionate nickname as a challenge in and of itself. "Don't be an imbecile! You don't want to push me! You know what I'm capable of!"

"Fortunately, I do now." she scurried on her hands and knees and reached for her sword as Methos made a grab for her. "Get your filthy hands off me."

Methos yelped as Messina's foot contacted with his chin as she scramble to her feet. "Don't make me do something you will regret."

"Just fight me!" Her blade slashed a wide gash along his chest. "This will be finished now."

"As you wish!"

Methos pushed away the pain from her blow. He had tried to make it clear that he wanted no part of this, but Messina was too stubborn to listen. He had to hope that he could manage to knock her unconscious before anyone's head became detached. All his long years he'd heard the stories of the consequences of killing on Holy Ground; he wasn't sure if they were true, and he had no interest in finding out.

Rushing forward at his words, Messina yelled as she launched into a series of blows. Although she was an accomplished swordswoman, her skills weren't able to break through Methos' considerable defenses. Patiently he waited as her blows became slower and more desperate. He knew she wouldn't last much longer.

Methos almost sighed in relief as she tired. This wasn't going to end badly after all. He'd knock her out any moment now and he'd beat a hasty retreat until she calmed down.

"I cannot believe Rebecca and Amanda would continue to associate with you given your past," Messina panted. "Or do they know?"

"That is none of your concern." Methos brought down his blade against hers sending it clattering away as well as sending her to knees. Methos advanced on her as she frantically scrambled for her sword. Realizing this was the perfect opportunity to take her out of commission, he reared back his hand intending to club her with the pummel of his sword into oblivion. He didn't see her pull a vicious looking dagger out of her waistband. With one frantic lunge Messina shoved herself back onto her feet and thrust her arm in Methos' direction. Methos cringed as the blade buried itself to the hilt into the tender flesh above his collarbone just below his throat. The shock of the proximity of the blade to his neck and possible permanent death sent his hand holding the Ivanhoe into a downward arc. He dropped to his knees as the wet thud of Messina's head hit the hard stone.

"Damn it," he muttered as the rough stone surface dug into his knees.

He tried to prepare himself for the unknown. He hung his head in weariness. Whatever was about to happen was not going to be pleasant. He could already feel the air around him grow ominously still as he reached for the dagger firmly embedded in his skin. . His fingers were almost to the dagger when all hell broke loose around him. The clouds began to churn and roll as the sky darkened. Lightening zigzagged across the sky and arched and hissed as it headed for him. The first strike lifted him off his knees and coiled around him in macabre embrace. Bolt after bolt surged and corkscrewed around him burning and scalding him with intense, brutal heat. His mouth opened to scream, but no sound escaped from his throat.

~~~~~

Rebecca couldn't clearly make out where she was jumping down the next ledge; it had gotten dark so fast. She certainly couldn't see any sign of Amanda. After Rebecca had cleared the treacherous limestone casing, she had skirted along a line of stones, thinking she had to have circled the pyramid at least once looking and calling for her. Thinking Amanda had most likely fallen all the way to the ground, and not wanting to be stuck on the pyramid in total darkness, Rebecca continued her way down trying not to think about all that happened at the top. How Messina could have been so angry was beyond her. She'd seen Messina riled and annoyed, but never saw blood thirst in her eyes. That she had challenged Methos was unfathomable.

She must be on the wrong side of the pyramid as she couldn't see a campfire in the distance, and walked carefully around the corner. Still not seeing a light of a fire, she continued walking, chuckling nervously to herself that the camp was probably on the other side, and she should have taken a right instead of left. Hearing a loud moaning below her and to her left, she called out, "Amanda? Where are you?" She was almost three fourths of the way down, and it was almost totally dark. Rebecca hoped it was Amanda she heard and not some animal waiting for dinner.

"Rebecca! I'm over here!" Amanda called out, obviously in pain.

"Thank the gods," Rebecca moaned and bent down in order to make the slight jump to the next stone, then again. "Just keep talking, Amanda. I can't see you. I'm coming."

"I can't move!" Amanda yelled out again. "Something's on top of me. How did I get down here, anyway?"

Rebecca was able to zero in on her and called out, "You don't remember? You fell from the top of the pyramid, Amanda. I'm pleased to say you survived it."

"Helps to be immortal."

Rebecca moved down two more rows of stones and walked down a ways to Amanda, who was on her back with a large boulder of limestone on top of her waist and thighs. Rebecca was pleased that her student smiled up at her and said, "If you could move this thing, I'll be fine."

Between the tugging and pulling of Rebecca, and the pushing and shoving of Amanda, the rock rolled off of Amanda and landed with a thud beside her, then down the side. With a bit of assistance, Amanda regained her footing and stood beside her teacher.

Suddenly, Amanda's eyes flared with fiery outrage."Did Messina push me off the top? I'm remembering now... the bitch pushed me, didn't she?!"

"Accidentally, I'm sure," Rebecca said, her attention back as far up the pyramid as she could make out. "She was angry at Methos, not you."

"Accidentally, my behind! That little back-stabbing," Amanda grappled for words to express her anger, "foolish, two-faced, slutty..."

Rebecca had only been paying scattered attention to Amanda's rage, as the clanging of metal against metal filtered down from the top of the pyramid.

"So what bug is up her butt?"

Rebecca humphed. "Amanda, your choice of words..."

Amanda ventured. "Lover's quarrel or what?"

Rebecca shielded her eyes and strained to catch a glimpse of Methos and Messina. "I hope that's the case, but I'm not certain of it."

"She's jealous of me," Amanda said confidently. "I'm sure she's noticed the way Methos looks at me, Rebecca. Of course she brassed off at him for that."

"Contrary to what you might believe, the world does not revolve around you, darling." Rebecca grabbed Amanda's hand. "Despite your charms, Methos does have other lovers. Besides, Sina isn't the jealous type." She gave Amanda a pointed look, "unlike someone else I know."

"I resent that." Amanda limped along behind Rebecca. "I am not jealous of Messina."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Right, Amanda. Lie to yourself all you want, darling, but I know you better than that. Methos is the only thing you talked about since we left France."

"All right, so I might be the tiniest bit jealous," Amanda allowed grudgingly. Rebecca's eyebrows climbed at Amanda's words causing the raven-haired immortal to grimace. "Fine, I am so jealous I could scream. Are you happy now?"

"See that wasn't so hard, was it?" Rebecca comforted. "Don't worry, you two will find your way back to each other. You always do."

The two women continued to make their way down the side of the structure. The sounds of the sword fight had died away, but the angry shouting hadn't. Occasionally, the women would stop and listen, but the distance and the wind made it impossible to understand what was being said.

"I love him," Amanda said abruptly.

Rebecca didn't have to ask who she meant. "Yes, I know."

"Really?" Amanda knew Rebecca knew they were lovers, but how could she know that she loved Methos. "How?"

"I'm not blind, deaf, or dumb, Amanda."

"When I'm away from him I miss him dreadfully," Amanda sighed dramatically. "Don't get me wrong. I have a smashing good time off by myself, but when I'm still and quiet, I miss him. He's like no other man I've known."

"First loves, true loves are like that, darling," Rebecca assured her. "They invade your heart and you're never the same after."

"I've never had to be around him when he was with someone else," Amanda whined. "Well, except you, but I do not mind sharing him with you."

"Courteous little chit, aren't you?" Rebecca pulled her along. "I suspect you have a hold on him that I would never be able to match."

"Whatever," Amanda muttered.

"Never underestimate your relationship with him, Amanda. I have never seen two people so right for each other."

Amanda opened her mouth to protest, but the solemn look on Rebecca's face stopped her. Not a hint of humor or teasing was visible; instinctively she knew Rebecca would never tease her about something so serious.

Clanking from the top of the pyramid started up again and seemed to echo throughout the entire Giza plateau. She remembered teasing Methos for taking his sword up during the climb, and he had mentioned, once again, that he never went anywhere without his sword. She looked up but couldn't see anything. Just what happened up there was still a blur to Amanda, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt whatever had happened was Messina's fault. She had actually pulled her sword on Methos? Messina had seemed so happy, so overjoyed to lord the fact that Methos was occupying her tent as well as her bed. What could possibly have changed her mind? Why had she challenged Methos? Was Messina afraid that Methos would abandon her now that she was on the scene? Amanda wagered Messina was feeling a bit jealous, too.

"Bitch," she said aloud.

Rebecca looked up from the ledge below her to ask, "What?"

"Messina...," Amanda said with wonder. "I just don't get her. I never have."

"Come on, Amanda. It's dark and chilly, and I don't like it here." Rebecca wrapped her arms around herself. "Something terrible is about to happen, I can feel it in my bones."

"You are just being paranoid." Amanda strained to look up at the top of the pyramid. "Methos is too smart to take someone's head on Holy Ground."

"He might not have a choice," Rebecca pointed out as they continued the remainder of their descent.

"Methos says that there is always a choice." Amanda followed her teacher. "He will knock her out or throw her off the edge, which is what he should do, and I hope he pushes hard!"

"I hope you are right." Rebecca didn't feel that confident at the moment, but didn't want to scare Amanda. Every instinct she possessed was screaming that something was about to go very wrong. "They should be down by now."

"Methos is the master of survival." Amanda knew Methos would come out of the conflict with his head intact. "We're almost at the bottom."

Blast Methos and his love of high places. Even though Amanda had taken the first part of her downward climb quickly, the rest of the way down the pyramid was slow and arduous, making sure she took the right steps. The stones that made up the pyramid were solid, for sure, but they were woefully unaligned and one could twist an ankle if they didn't step correctly. Worse yet, take a half gainer off the side again, which was the last thing Amanda wanted at the moment.

When Rebecca jumped to the sand, Amanda thought the other woman was going to kneel down and kiss ground. She didn't know Rebecca was so afraid of heights. Amanda hadn't felt too comfortable, but she didn't feel like reveling in solid footing as much as Rebecca had. Rebecca immediately looked up to the top of the pyramid, where it had gotten quiet again. Methos was probably getting Messina calmed down and they'd be joining them at camp soon to talk this all out. Amanda motioned for Rebecca to follow her as she set off in the direction of the campfire in the distance.

Suddenly, Rebecca's whole body, her entire being, stiffened and she took a great intake of air and didn't let it go.

"What's wrong?" Amanda stopped when she realized Rebecca wasn't following her.

"Something horrible has happened. Don't you feel it?"

"No... what?" Amanda glanced up nervously. "Methos would not take her head here. He knows better than that, I mean this is Holy Ground, for God's sake."

"I hope you're right about that, Amanda."

"Methos is the undisputed King of Paranoia." Amanda giggled. "The last thing he'd do is take her head here. He probably just knocked her out. Lord knows, I would."

"I suppose you're right," Rebecca sighed. The old immortal did play it safe every chance he got. "It just feels off, I can't explain it, but it does."

"Of course I am right." Amanda linked her arm through Rebecca's. "Let's go have a nice stiff drink while we wait for the lovebirds to come down."

Both women shrieked, "Oh my God!" and "Gods above!" as the sound of an object came bouncing down the face of the pyramid.

"Methos! NO!" Amanda screamed as she tore away from Rebecca. "Please God! Let it be Messina, please!"

The head skittered off to the left of them and thumped onto the sand. "I can't look! Who is it?" she asked as Rebecca started to it. "That had better be Sina!!" Amanda erupted and ran past Rebecca to the head. Long hair! "Thank God!" She used the tip of her shoe to turn Messina's head over, and then yelled, "Yes!" when it was revealed that it was indeed Messina.

She felt hands on her arm, and turned to see Rebecca's tearful face gaping at Messina's head. Amanda put her arms around Rebecca and didn't know what to say. Methos had survived, as if there had been doubt in her mind, that was all that mattered. Wasn't it?

"I know you liked her," Amanda offered.

"She was a part of me," Rebecca stated with a hard edge. "You all are a part of me. I don't believe it!"

"I'm sure Methos had his reasons. I'm just surprised the fight took so long."

"He was probably trying to get a handle on why..."

"Why did she challenge him, anyway?"

"I'm supposed to know that?!" Rebecca screamed, the pent up emotions flooded out of her. "Why! I never in a million years thought she was serious! I never should have left them!"

"Rebecca, you could have gotten caught in the middle. There isn't a lot of space up there."

"I shouldn't have left her!"

"Hey! She challenged Methos, not the other way around. It was her fault!"

"How do you know that? Just because you love him? You turn a blind eye to him! It's not healthy, Amanda! Stop it! Now!"

"He'll come down and he'll tell us what happened. Just relax."

Rebecca jerked Amanda's hand from her shoulder. "How can I relax? This should not have happened!"

"Ok. I understand. I see. Please. Just... I'm sorry." Amanda stared at Rebecca, feeling that her world had collapsed, not understanding Rebecca's reaction to it, and still not understanding what happened to cause a quickening. She hoped Methos would be down soon to explain it to them. Rebecca's body was shuddering from chill, or emotion, Amanda couldn't tell, but one thing was certain. "Come on, Becca, let's go back to camp and wait for Methos. He'll fill us in... I'm sorry."

Rebecca challenged her, "Are you?"

"Of course. I don't take beheaded immortals lightly. No matter who they are."

Rebecca lowered her head and accepted Amanda's hug. Each of Rebecca's cries was like a stab to her heart, and by the time they had arrived at camp, Amanda was tearful herself. The wind began to wail mournfully, and lightening crossed above them.

"Oh Goddess! We need to take cover now!" Rebecca gasped as the Quickening began. She grabbed Amanda's hand and they both ran as fast as they could to the shelter of their camp.

~~~~~

To endure a Quickening is an unexplainable wash of pain and pleasure. The surge of another's memories and experiences crashing and smashing against your own could almost overwhelm you if you let it. For Methos, winning a challenge always elicited feelings he'd rather not have to handle. For him it was a fine line between mind numbing ecstasy and gut wrenching agony, a double-edged sword of conflicting sensations.

During his early years of immortality, the thrill of taking a Quickening had almost been too much. As years turned into decades and decades passed into centuries, he grew jaded to his everlasting life and sought out ways to alleviate the crushing tedium that marked his existence. Soon hunting down others like him became his escape, his goal. Each head he took left him sated for a while, but eventually he took up the hunt again. The power was unexplainable, however he knew it was something he needed to feel alive.

His quest led him to the vast, barren plains of a nameless country. Here he found others in search of the same pursuits, a band of brothers who shared the same goals. Soon the hunt took on new prey; after all other Immortals were few and far between. Mortals were numerous and oh so easy to slaughter. The band of brothers pillaged and ravaged those that dared to cross their path. A millennium spent in mindless chaos and destruction had drenched him in blood and lust and depravity. He had enjoyed every single moment of it.

The bolts of lightening pummeled his flesh, snaking through him, filling him with a sense of darkness he hadn't experienced in many, many years. Messina's memories flashed before his eyes in a blurring cascade, soon to be replaced by the bloody images of his past. Instead of dissipating, the force of the Quickening only intensified.

Time seemed to stand still as Methos was moving only as the Quickening allowed him. With each passing moment Methos found it harder and harder to keep a hold of his own personality. His mind reeled as long forgotten memories and emotions were dredged out of his subconscious. Instead of the nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach, which usually accompanied a walk down his gory memory lane, Methos felt the usual dread lift and a surge of pride swell at his past accomplishments. Something dark and sinister was doing its best to worm its way into him and no matter how hard he fought, it only weighed harder into his psyche. Struggling against the darkness, Methos felt his resistance weaken for a moment. Then, it slipped into him, something malevolent and evil, something very much like Death.

Long minutes later, the storm eased and Methos was slammed forcefully onto the stones. Regaining some awareness, Methos knelt on his hands and knees, his lungs straining to take in much needed oxygen, his heart pounding hard against his chest, his fingernails digging into the hard rock beneath him. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead into his eyes mingling with salty tears before the drops tracked down his cheeks and dropped to the ground.

He ached.

He hurt.

He mourned.

He lusted.

He dared not raise his eyes from the spot of stone he stared at with unerring intensity. He had to focus or….

NO!! he screamed silently. No!!

Breath in.

Breath out.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Think of anything but the growing rush of blood to his groin or the increasing sense of darkness that was beginning to pulse through him. The intensity of Messina's Quickening was surprising. Memories of their wild lovemaking and her intense hatred of him at the end swamped him, threatening his ability to keep his inner beast from bursting through his quickly fading self-control.

Messina.

Friend.

Lover.

Enemy.

Latest in a long line of people dead by his hand.

He'd warned her, begged her to put down her sword. Proud, defiant Messina didn't take him seriously. Those who were foolish enough to disregard him as a threat wound up dead. Permanently.

Slowly, he pushed himself upright and rested heavily on his knees. Wearily, he glanced around him. His Ivanhoe rested a couple of feet away, the blood covered blade glinted morbidly in the moonlight. Beyond his sword rested the crumpled corpse of his now dead lover.

Gods!!

He never wanted this. Taking the head of a lover was never easy, sometimes necessary, but never easy, especially when it didn't have to be that way. He didn't want her to die, but more importantly he didn't want to die either. His continued survival always took precedence.

He levered himself to his feet and trudged the few steps, then bent to retrieve his sword. As he straightened up, the campfire off in the distance captured his attention. He could imagine two figures huddled around the blaze. Two female figures.

Suddenly, the lust reared and stirred. Oh, yes. His mind filled with images of Rebecca and Amanda. His on and off lovers. Image after image of making love to the two poured through his head, but as the images continued, they took on a darker tone. Tenderness and affection for the two women was replaced by violence and hatred. The need to do them harm rushed through him. He wanted take them, make them bleed, make them feel the power he had over them.

NO!

He did his best to put a damper on the raging stream of emotions, but as time passed he felt his defense against the effects of the Quickening begin to weaken. He had millennia of experience blocking out unwanted influence, but the thrum of darkness was quickly tearing down his walls. He found it harder and harder to remember that Rebecca and Amanda were his friends, but then again so was Messina. She was dead. Permanently. By his hand.

Luther!

That bastard!

This was all his fault. Slinking into their fellowship, whispering words of discontent, stirring the pot, tearing them apart. Oh, yes, it was all his fault, except taking Messina's head. That was all him. Should've relieved the bugger of his head years ago, but Rebecca had always denied him the pleasure. Now look how things had turned out. Should've known the son of bitch was up to no good when he wormed his way into their reunion. Should've killed the bastard on the spot.

Should've meant absolutely nothing now.

Now it was too late.

Too late for Messina.

Methos' hand clenched the pommel of his weapon as he stared off into the distance. Messina was dead. Permanently. By his hand. Because of Luther. Rebecca was never going to understand this. He had killed her student. His oldest friend could never forgive him for this.

Never.

Ever.

~~~~~

He did it. Methos actually did it. Rebecca couldn't believe her student and friend was dead by her oldest friend's hand and on Holy Ground. If she had known the argument would have ended with Messina losing her head, she never would have left them alone. The height must have made her lose all nerve and good sense, making her get down off the apex of the pyramid at the first sign of conflict. She wondered if the height made Methos and Messina lose all good sense as well.

Rebecca was quite glad Methos hadn't arrived back at camp, even though Amanda was worried about him. Rebecca was afraid that Amanda didn't understand what Methos had just done. Taking a head on Holy Ground was a serious matter and one with potentially dark consequences. Rebecca's teacher had warned her against violating the oldest Immortal law. Even the most callous immortal wouldn't attempt such a dangerous challenge. Rebecca could only hope the Methos that came down off the pyramid was the same one she'd been friends with for centuries.

While she waited for the other shoe to drop, Rebecca contemplated the repercussions of what had just happened. Dear, fun-loving Messina was dead, and her oldest friend was responsible. Over the centuries, Methos had to have known how close she felt to all of her students, not just Amanda. An immortal could not bear children, so Rebecca's students were her mark on the world. Each and every one of her students were statements of her thoughts, hopes, ethics, and love just as if she had given birth to them. Even Luther. Luther was the dark side of her personality, and she still had hope that she could make him conform to the modern world.

Every time one of her students had met their end, Rebecca felt as if part of her soul had been ripped away. This time, Methos was the cause of it. Rebecca was glad Methos hadn't yet returned to the camp, and truth be told, Rebecca hoped they were prepared for when he did. He had to know what he did, and how Rebecca would find it hard-if not impossible-to forgive him for taking Messina's head, no matter what the reason could have been.

~~~~~

Since coming down from the pyramid, the night had become ominously still; it was almost too much for Amanda to take. As she sat curled up in a blanket to fend off the chill in the air with Rebecca and the others, all she could hear was the crackling embers of the fire. It had been too long since Methos had taken Messina's head. He should be coming back soon. Part of her wanted to jump with joy that it was Messina who lay dead, but the other, more rational, part of her was terrified of what shape Methos would be in when he finally rejoined them. As each minute passed, her fears only intensified as her mind imagined the worst. She hoped against hope that the legends were wrong about Holy Ground; perhaps someone had been bragging, and the tale had taken on a life of its own. The uneasy feeling tingling at the base of her skull and nagging at the pit of stomach did nothing to ease her fears.

"Do you think we should go and get him?" Amanda whispered, still afraid to make any loud noise in the silent darkness.

"I'm not sure what we would find if we did," Rebecca's words were icy as she shifted her sword across her lap. "It's best if we wait here, Amanda, and I suggest you have your sword handy. Just in case."

"Surely, you're kidding me. Methos is old, older than you, maybe the Quickening won't even bother him."

Rebecca drew herself up ramrod straight. "Do I look like I am in a joking mood?"

"No, but-"

"Then do as I say, Amanda."

Reluctantly, Amanda pulled her Excalibur across her knees and prayed silently that Rebecca was over-reacting. Methos was positively ancient and extremely paranoid. She was totally convinced that he wouldn't take someone's head if there was the slightest bit of risk to himself or those he cared about.

"It's just a legend," Amanda spoke up bravely. "He'll be down shortly, and he'll be the same old Methos. You'll see."

"Don't you think I want that too, Amanda?" Rebecca's voice rose. "I've lost one friend today; I don't want to lose another."

Amanda pushed to her feet. "This is nonsense. I'm going to get him and prove it to you."

"You. Will. Not." Rebecca jumped to her feet and grabbed Amanda's arm. "Sit down, Amanda."

Amanda's jaw dropped open and she prepared a scathing retort, but the look of complete and utter sadness on Rebecca's face stilled her tongue. Instead, she jerked free and flounced back to her spot in front of the fire.

Deciding Rebecca was serious, Amanda observed each of her companions. Rebecca was in a trance looking at the flickering flames through the smoke of the fire. ValJean was snoring loudly in the back of his wagon, passed out from too much whiskey. After Rebecca and Amanda's arrival at camp, the two mortal drivers had asked what that abnormal lightening storm was, where it came from, and why it had stopped as quickly as it had started. No answers had stopped them from asking, but Amanda noticed confused stares between the two before they shrugged and headed for their bedrolls.

She knew that Rebecca was in pain. She knew that Rebecca thought of Messina as a daughter. Messina's head was still lying on the sand where it had fallen. Amanda wondered if burying it would make Rebecca feel better. Funerals usually did bring closure to the heart. Funerals and time. Looking at Rebecca's tight demeanor and stony stare made Amanda think it was too soon to even mention it.

Where is Methos?

It was almost to the point where she couldn't bear to just sit there any longer. She had to... do something! Amanda thought to sing, in hopes that Rebecca would join in, but only one song came to mind.

Come, charge your glasses, let us raise
From dull oblivion's slumber,

A gallant nymph, well worth the praise,
Whose feats no man can number. Her hand, like Caesar's, grasp'd it all,
Till envy mark'd her station:
Then like great Caesar, did she fall
By foul assassination.

For every letch alike prepar'd
She valu'd not a button
And culls of ev'ry humour shar'd
The charms of Jenny Sutton!

She noticed that Rebecca was staring off into the distance waiting for Methos' return, so she fell back into silence. Maybe it wasn't appropriate after all. She tried to find sadness for Messina's death as Rebecca felt, but ever since she had first met Sina they'd been at odds. Amanda still couldn't get over the fact that she was Methos' latest conquest. Sometimes she truly wondered about the old man's taste.

~~~~~

None of the rage and lust churning through him had dissipated on Methos' long climb down from the top of the pyramid. His muscles ached from the Quickening and the descent down the tall structure; all he wanted to do was curl up on his nice soft pallet and sleep for the next couple of days. However, he knew he wasn't about to be afforded that luxury. As soon as he went back to camp, Rebecca and certainly Amanda would bombard him with questions that he didn't feel like answering.

Suddenly the barrage of dark emotions swelled through him again, clouding the calm he'd struggled for after the Quickening had ended. With each step he found it harder to maintain any semblance of rationality. No matter how hard he fought it, the darkness invaded his mind and his soul.

He stopped at the base of the pyramid and leaned against the cooling stone. Every nerve ending in his body screamed as he did his best to drown out all the warring voices that screamed inside his head. The loudest one, and the one he was most inclined to follow, urged him to vent the pent up cruelty that simmered just below the surface. The urge to smash and bash, maim and injure was like a living thing. A tiny little voice bade him to seek out Rebecca and try to explain what had just happened, but the tiny voice was being strangled by the much louder voice of violence.

With each step he took towards camp, he realized he was standing on a precipice, balancing precariously on the brink of a yawning chasm of choices. Would he make the right one? Tell Rebecca the sordid tale of his confrontation with Messina and risk her wrath or brush the whole affair off callously and lose one of his oldest and dearest friends? Neither option held any appeal for him.

Remembering the journals and other personal effects he'd brought with him, Methos realized he couldn't leave without retrieving them. No one had ever gotten a glimpse into his journals, and he wasn't about to let them start now. Just maybe Rebecca and Amanda would steer clear of him and let him leave in peace. Not bloody likely when he felt the presence of the other two immortals creeping closer.

"Methos!"

He closed his eyes and winced. Rebecca. She wasn't going to let this just disappear. He swallowed the urge to flee in the opposite direction, but without a horse and some supplies, he was doomed to death from dehydration or worse. Truth be told, immortal or not, he did not like dying. Even temporarily. On the other hand, he didn't mind being the one doing the killing. Straightening his shoulders, he continued walking, still ignoring the two women.

"Stop, Methos!" Rebecca warned, her voice crackling with emotion. "I think we need to talk about what the hell just happened!"

"I have nothing to say to you. Leave me be, unless you care to end up like your student."

Methos refused to halt his forward progress. The tiny shred of humanity he had left was steadily disappearing. His only mission was to get to his personal effects and get the hell away from here before it was too late. Go somewhere where he could lick his wounds and make plans. Oh, he had plans. He could count the number of people who knew of his true identity and his bloody history on one hand. Luther knowing of this tidbit of information was totally unacceptable. He'd hunt the son of a bitch down and kill him. Luther liked to think himself the master of pain infliction, but Methos knew he could out best the dark skinned immortal in matters of torture. He let mental images of afflicting grievous amounts of pain on Luther overtake his mind as he finished the journey to his tent.

"Do not ignore me, Methos. I said we need to talk!" Rebecca yelled as she jerked him around to face her. "Tell me what happened."

"She challenged me; she lost," he replied with more than a touch of bitterness. He pulled free from her hold as he closed the last few steps to his tent.

"Why, Methos?" Rebecca ran to catch up with him. "Why kill her? You usually walk away."

"I suggest you turn around, and Leave... Me... Be!" he spun around and glared at her. His chest heaved as the rage, hatred, and lust that had been simmering just below the surface rushed into drown him. "It's what we do."

Rebecca was stern, following him right into his tent. She hollered at him as he was lighting his oil lamp, "It is not what we do! What you did is only what people with little imagination or choice do!"

Methos spun around, jarring her, which was his plan. "Many words could describe me, but having a lack of imagination is not one of them, Rebecca. Back off! Now!"

"Sina was angry, but I also saw confusion in her eyes. Why did you do it?"

"It was her or me! The bitch. She was just the latest in a long line of supposedly superior beings," he said with growing annoyance, "who thought they knew all the answers." By the time he said, "Sina didn't even understand the questions," he was shaking with fury. "It was her or me, Rebecca. Would you have preferred her to descend that pyramid?"

"Of course not. I see you aren't willing to discuss this in any way, shape, or form, so..."

Methos noticed Amanda hovering at the tent flap. He ignored Rebecca to warn Amanda, "You, I have absolutely nothing to say to you so don't even bother uttering one word in my direction. Just let me collect my things, prepare a horse, and get the hell out of here!" Amanda had her mouth opened, and looked to be about to respond to him. "Not that you've ever said anything worth listening to."

"Methos! I will not allow you to treat people like this. We aren't disposable or here for your amusement! Apologize to her, now."

"Who?"

"Amanda!"

Methos only snickered and continued packing his things. As if Rebecca, as much as he had always appreciated her, could make him do anything. Groveling was not on his agenda. Amanda was a big girl. She could take it. He spied a look at Amanda, still standing at the opening, as he tied the top of his bag and slung it over his shoulder. When he turned around, he was met with a full force slap in the face.

Stunned, Methos dropped his bag and grabbed Rebecca's hair, the fragile strand of sanity snapping like a delicate spider's web. Amanda jumped when Methos' berserker's yell filled the tent. Methos' hands slipped from her hair and slid around Rebecca's neck and tightened like a noose. Rebecca's ivory skin turned from red to blue as the oxygen supply diminished. Methos was fascinated by the sight, and squeezed harder. Her fingernails clawed into whatever part of Methos' skin they could find. As Rebecca fought back, the lamp tipped over in the struggle.

"Let go of her!" Amanda yelled from the doorway of the tent. "Methos, you're hurting her!"

Methos chuckled. "Really? My intention was far more deadly than that, Amanda darling."

Amanda took a step forward. "You have to stop this."

"Why? Because you say so?" Methos growled. "I am not one of your sniveling suitors, Amanda. You do not control me."

"The Quickening is making you act like this," Amanda eased forward. She did her best to keep her breathing even and her actions calm. Methos was acting like a rabid animal. "Let Rebecca go, please. For me."

"Naive, darling, Amanda." Methos still clutched the now unconscious Rebecca. "When will you learn that the world does not revolve around you?"

"I am just going to pretend you did not say that." Amanda knew Methos couldn't really mean what he was saying or doing.

"I meant exactly what I said."

The flame from the overturned lamp began to lick at the papers that had been scattered during the scuffle. Soon the bed linens had ignited and began to smolder. Amanda glanced frantically between the flames and the other immortals. Methos seemed to be in no panic to move away from the fire that was beginning to rage around him.

"This is crazy, Methos. We need to get out of here before we burn to death." Amanda felt tears starting to burn in her eyes. This was quickly becoming a nightmare.

"Afraid of a little fire?" Methos smiled as Amanda nodded her head. He released his hold on Rebecca, who landed on the ground with a dull thud. "Burn to death a few dozen times, and then you will truly know fear."

Methos glanced down at Rebecca's prone form. "You wanted her. Come and get her."

"Just let us leave in peace," Amanda whispered as the fire grew even more intense. "I will beg if I have to."

"I'm sure I'm not the first man you have had to beg, am I?" Methos leered. "How many times have you played the whore, hmm?"

"Why are you saying these things, Methos? I love you."

Methos leer turned into a smirk. "Love? Please, Amanda, your sense of humor is killing me. Now if you want your teacher, come and get her."

Amanda ducked her head and hurried over to where Rebecca lay. All she had to do was drag her out of the tent and out into the fresh air and then everything would be all right. She knelt down and tugged Rebecca into a sitting position. Gently, she slipped her arms through the other woman's and pulled her to the flap of the tent. She was within a few feet of the entrance when the unmistakable feel of a razor sharp edge eased across her neck.

"Leaving so soon?" Methos pressed the edge of the blade a bit harder into Amanda's neck.

Her first reaction was to ignore him and continue her progress to the fresh air, but the pressure of his sword on her neck rid of her of the thought. A cautious glance in his direction assured her he wasn't joking. Instead of the usual mischievous sparkle, his eyes brimmed with hatred.

"You said we could leave." She lowered her eyes to the floor.

"No." Methos knelt down and ran his finger along her jawline. "No, luv, I said if you want her, come and get her. Big difference."

The heat from the growing fire was stifling and Amanda was finding it hard to breath, but she knew Methos was going to leave them in here if she didn't get them out first. Showing her fear was the last thing she needed to do at the moment, however, the longer she was in Methos' less than hospitable presence the harder it became to keep calm. Despite knowing him for centuries, Amanda was terrified of the man next to her. The man who went up the pyramid was not the same man who came down.

Methos hovered closer to her, his breath hot against her cheek. "How disappointing. Thought you were more of a fighter." His hand snaked from her chin to the back of her head and pulled her closer. His mouth ground harshly into hers. "Perhaps all you need is a little motivation."

Amanda closed her eyes before any tears could fall. "Why are you doing this? This is not you, Methos."

"Oh, but it is." He stood up and yanked Amanda with him. A smile crept to his lips as tears began to stream down Amanda's cheeks. "Let us take this outside, shall we?"

"But, Rebecca-" Amanda reached for her teacher as Methos pulled her out of the tent.

"She's immortal remember," Methos replied as if she was a child. "She still has her head. For now."

Amanda jerked her arm free and ran towards the campfire. ValJean could help her, unless he was passed out from too much drink. She spared a backward glance in the direction of the burning tent and saw Rebecca crawl into the sand away from danger. Thankfully, Methos had not seen her yet. Her only hope was to keep Methos distracted long enough for Rebecca to recover enough to be of assistance.

"Help me!!" Amanda shouted over and over as she ran across the sand. "ValJean, help me!!"

The noise of the commotion had brought their caravan drivers running armed with their pistols. Amanda ran faster when she saw them.

"Shoot him!!" she yelled as she neared them. "He's gone mad!!"

Their confusion was apparent. Still half asleep, they looked at Amanda as if she was the one that had gone mad.

"Damn it!! I pay your wages!" She skidded to a halt in front of them. "Shoot him now!!"

One of the drivers raised his weapon. Before he had time to level and aim, he gasped in surprised and grasped the dagger that had come from seemingly no where to embed into his chest. His eyes were wide with shock.

"Afraid to do your own dirty work, Amanda?" Methos advanced his position causing the other driver to run in the opposite direction. "It has always been your style to have a man take care of you."

Some of Amanda's fear was being replaced with anger. "Shut up!"

"Why? Because I speak the truth?" He reached out and pulled her to him again. "You just need a real man to tame you."

"And I suppose that man would be you?" Amanda struggled to break free from his grip, but his strength was no match for hers. "Let me go, damn it!"

"Make me," Methos whispered before he crushed his mouth to hers.

Amanda felt her stomach revolt as Methos continued to kiss her. She had been kissed many, many times by him, however this time was different. Everything about him was different. The sparkle that usually had his eyes dancing had been replaced with a hard, blank stare. His hands, that had normally treated her with respect and reverence, dug cruelly into her flesh. Amanda knew she had to get away from him soon, or the situation was going to get ugly quick. Amanda closed her eyes and mouthed a silent prayer that she could stop this before Methos did something they would both regret. Stifling all her fear, she took a deep breath and pushed with all her might against him. Her feet flailed and kicked while her fingernails aimed to shred and tear, she knew she had fight dirty to get away from Methos.

"The kitten has claws." Methos only gripped her tighter. "You have lived how long, Amanda? Pardon me for saying, but how in the world have you kept your lovely head attached?" He stroked her neck to her collarbone. "You must really acquire some better fighting skills. It is a shame you fight so poorly."

"I do not want to fight you, Methos."

"Then you must not want to live." His hand drifted down and rested against her breast. Amanda jerked when it dipped behind the bodice of her blouse and ripped the material exposing her to her waist. "On the other hand, I could keep you around for other purposes."

Amanda's pained wails only encouraged Methos. With a sneer aimed solely at her, he mimicked her screams."Keep on screaming!" he encouraged Amanda as she continued to intensify her struggle to wrench herself from his less than tender embrace. "Gods, I love it when they scream!" he roared as he rubbed his face against her neck, biting hard on her collarbone as his hands explored her body roughly.

Amanda tried to maneuver her knee between his legs to give him a good, swift kick, hoping it would make him come to his senses, but no matter what she did, his hold on her remained firm. Methos was a tall man, a lean package of muscle and sinew. A beautiful, deadly package of strength and grace now determined to rip her apart. His hands, legs, and head were everywhere mocking their once affectionate relationship with tainted caresses that held no trace of love. She shut her tearing eyes and gathered as much strength she could. Her attempts to put a halt to this horrible situation were getting her absolutely nowhere. Somehow, someway she needed to distance herself from this perverted version of Methos and fight for her life. Despite the overwhelming urge to struggle, she forced her body to relax. Her skin crawled and her teeth clenched tight as she took a calming breath.

"Bitch!" Methos growled when he felt her body go slack against his. "I thought you wanted to live."

"I do, you bastard," Amanda whispered as she remained still in his arms.

"Then fight me!" He lowered his face next to hers, so that they were nose to nose. His grip on her loosened minutely. "Make it worth my while."

Taking full advantage of the opportunity, she jerked her arm free. Before he had a chance to recover, she raked her nails along his cheek, digging in with an intensity born of fear and anger. She smiled with satisfaction as his blood oozed to the surface in the wake of her hand.

Methos' head jerked up as he howled in pain and surprise. Amanda felt her courage seep over her as she reveled in her small victory. Blood dripped off his face onto hers, which gave her a giddy feeling that Methos was fallible. Maybe she wasn't doomed to meet Messina's fate after all.

"How's that, hmm?" she purred as he wiped the blood from his face. "Worth your while, now?"

Amanda's sense of triumph faded like fog on a hot summer morning when Methos shoved her to the ground. The sick feeling in her belly returned as she watched Methos smear the still flowing blood in a diagonal slash across his pale face. The face looking back at her held no trace of the man she'd loved for centuries; it had been replaced with the face of a monster.

~~~~~

Luther was miles away on his horse, chewing on a piece of jerky, congratulating himself for what just might happen after his little chat with Messina. All he had to do was suggest certain things; it didn't take much from him for her to fill in the pieces of his lie to her. He knew that the one thing that had simmered deep in her psyche was the annihilation of her village before she was even a part of it. He laughed when he remembered how she had been so easily swayed to think that her lover was the reason for it. Because Liam, Methos, carried his undetermined old age with such an arrogant swagger, it was a major victory indeed. He was so glad he had crashed their little party. Not one of them welcomed him, and he had every right to be there.

When he heard crackles and rips through the air, Luther knew it could only come from a Quickening. He turned back to see a massive storm atop the Great Pyramid. He laughed long and hard, pondering the awesome amount of people who were witness to Liam's-Methos'-failure to control himself. He knew Methos was a caged animal inside that controlled facade he wore like a glove. Just a little needling was all it took to make him explode.

For an instant, Luther felt a hint of reservation. What if Messina's anger had bested the old man? Immortal fights could always go either way depending on so many factors. Luther, by instinct, had turned his horse back as he had to find out which immortal was now beheaded. As he urged his horse to a gallop, the thought occurred to him that this might not turn out well at all. Either Liam's head was taken, or Methos had taken the head of his innocent lover who had simply leapt to the wrong assumptions. Either way, that proud pompous bastard had what was coming to him. All the years of being looked down at by that extremely long nose had been worth it for Luther to know that he had bested the ever-powerful, all-knowing Methos.

Luther felt an immortal sensation sweep over him, so he slowed his horse to try and make out who had invaded his space in the dark. A great conflagration could be seen over a string of palm trees, and he could tell there was a great tower of black smoke in the air above it. A horse was pounding its way closer. Luther grabbed the hilt of his sword from its scabbard and held it threateningly in the air. Thoughts that it could be Liam coming after him made Luther savor the opportunity to be able to take the man's head himself.

A horse and rider burst through the line of palm trees and slowed when he obviously felt and saw Luther. "They're all dead! He's a madman. He's killed the men, Amanda, oh God... Rebecca!" ValJean barked urgently.

The idiot didn't have any fear for what was in front of him, only what had happened behind him. Usually, the sight of Luther holding a sword, ready to strike, was enough for immortals to tremble with fear. Once again, Luther felt the thrill of victory as ValJean slowed his horse. It had to have been quite messy back there. He couldn't wait to find out what had transpired.

"On Holy Ground!" ValJean wheezed. He was totally out of breath, but continued to bark out words that Luther had no time for, "We have to get out of here or the whole place will be swallowed into the earth! We must go! NOW!"

Before long, ValJean's horse was kicking up sand as he brought it up to a full gallop and then disappeared into the darkness. Luther kept hold of his sword and kicked his horse to get him back to the scene of destruction as soon as possible. The threat of volcanic activity, earthquake, or any of the other horror stories he had been told about what would happen with a challenge on Holy Ground were an afterthought. What was foremost in Luther's mind was seeing the aftermath of his game he was proud went off just as he had planned. He had bested the 'master manipulator,' and he was sure his teacher would not be very happy with him.

~~~~~

Rebecca's head pounded furiously along with her heart to the point where she feared both would explode. Her throat burned as she gulped in quick, desperate gulps of oxygen. The noxious taste of ash and smoke nearly made her retch as she fought through the haze that surrounded her. It was several minutes before the fog cleared and the realization of the day's events came crashing back down on her. As she looked back at the collapsed and burning tent, she heard screams that she finally deemed were not her own. They were coming from Amanda! She had to find her, but the process of even lifting one arm proved to be a daunting task in her present condition.

Unable to bear the sound of Amanda's pain-filled cries anymore and not eager to find out the reason for them, Rebecca flopped over onto her side in a valiant attempt to collect her shattered thoughts and emotions as she pondered all that Methos had done since they had climbed the pyramid without a care in the world earlier that day. Had it only been just a few hours? Rebecca contemplated the loss of her first student, taken by her oldest friend and sometime lover; a man who she had put so much trust and hope in had changed Rebecca's life horribly with the swing of his sword and the brutality he had elicited, not only on her, but also on the one woman Rebecca thought he loved above all others.

When Amanda's cries suddenly stopped, Rebecca's head popped up and looked around at the ruined remains of the camp: the smoldering embers of the once roaring fire, the hastily made horse tracks in the sand, and the disheveled blankets they all had been sitting on surrounding the fire. Methos' nude body shone in the moonlight, and he wasn't still. She nearly vomited when she realized he was crouched over a prone Amanda.

Rebecca rose to her feet, only to fall down on her knees as she allowed her body one more violent cough to loosen the tightness in her chest. She hadn't heard Amanda cry out in a long while and the longer she watched the more it became clear what Methos was doing. Spurred on by panic, Rebecca made it to her feet again and stumbled in the direction of where Methos was raping Amanda. With each step she took, she got a better view of the violence being committed against her favorite student.

She ignored the lingering pain that seemed to envelope her body as she focused her sole attention on the travesty that was before her. A dagger glinted in the moonlight off to her left and she took off running toward it, slowing only long enough to take hold of it. Only when she had the hilt in her hand did she realize that the dagger had been buried in one of her driver's bodies. No thought was given to the man's senseless death, her only thought was getting Methos away from Amanda, even if it meant using the knife against him. As she warily approached him, she could hear him moaning and growling as he pounded savagely into an unconscious Amanda.

"Rebecca, how lovely of you to join us."

Rebecca jumped in surprise when he looked up from Amanda and addressed her. She didn't bother to hide her shock when she saw the rust colored stain that marked his face. Methos was gone and Death was firmly entrenched in his body. Never in her long life had she been this scared. While Amanda remained blissfully unaware of Methos' stint as one of the harbingers of the Apocalypse, Rebecca knew enough details of his gory past to be terrified of the man grinning maniacally at her.

"Get off of her, Methos." She did her best to remain calm. The last thing she needed to do was rile him anymore than he was at the moment. "This is crazy."

Methos tilted his head and thought for a moment. "You're right." He thrust one more time into Amanda and then fastened his pants. "Sanity is vastly over-rated, Rebecca. Now be a good girl and put down that knife before you get hurt."

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Methos." She straightened her spine and met his eyes.

Methos raked his eyes over her. "You and Amanda have the same fiery spirit. I have always loved a woman with spirit."

"Get away from her now," Rebecca growled.

"Make me." Methos stepped away from Amanda. "If you think you can."

Rebecca closed the short distance that separated them with a chilling howl. Her dagger remained clenched firmly in her tight fist, and with a burst of speed, she flung herself at Methos. She pressed the blade deeper into his flesh as he trumpeted in pain. Like a flower that closes in on itself for protection, Methos' shoulder blades constricted when he felt the dagger blade scrape against his back. Soon, Rebecca was rolling down a small incline in the sand as Methos got to his feet with a blood-curdling yell. She hadn't killed him, but at least Amanda was free of him.

With the last roll, she got to her feet as Methos charged toward her. Her feet got twisted in the deep sand, making it hard for her to maneuver away from him. Just as she turned her back, she felt her hair get pulled hard and she jerked back against Methos, just before they both fell to the ground. He flipped her over before she knew what had happened and pawed her roughly.

"Methos! Stop! How dare you!"

She was appalled by what she saw. His cheek was red with matted blood, his eyes were dull and lifeless, and his hands were caked from a mixture of blood and sand. He had become what he had told her he was once: a monster, pure and simple. The only explanation she had was the quickening atop Holy Ground. For the first time, she truly wondered if the world had closed in on itself because of it. All the tales she heard about what would happen on Holy Ground were enough for her and every Immortal she knew to stay away from mixing swords and sacred stone. When she could smell not only Amanda but also Messina on him-and what he had done to them both-Rebecca's fear, confusion, and hesitation became outright repulsion.

"I will never look upon you with the same eyes again," she related with brutal honesty. There was no way she could forgive that man for inflicting such pain.

She heaved breaths as she swatted him away and got to her feet. His dead eyes seemed to come to life by her words, and his tightly set mouth slowly rippled into a grin. As Methos stood up, his trousers fell down, his soiled shirt rippled in the wind. Rebecca stepped back from him, but he grabbed her arm. "You are a pompous little slut, who pretends to be so chaste. I know better."

When she couldn't free her arm from him, she was going to revert to a swift kick, but he tackled her and she sunk into the sand with his full weight on top of her. She was dizzy from exhaustion and the heat of the night as she felt his thumbs on each of her cheeks. Her head had descended so far into the sand that she couldn't move. In fact, her whole body was sinking further and further into the sand, and she felt she was going to be swallowed up in no time.

"Will not look upon me with the same eyes," Methos mimicked her in a sickening sweet child's voice. Then his eyes descended into squints once more and his voice grew louder and deeper, "I can see that you never see anything again with those eyes." His thumbs moved from her cheeks to her eyeballs, and he pushed down hard on them.

~~~~~

Luther had felt the Immortals long before he entered camp. He crept behind the smoldering tent in order to get a private view when he saw Methos on top of his sainted teacher. Just like the bastard to have a congratulatory roll in the sand, and Rebecca's sudden shriek interested him more. He was just wondering how Amanda would think about her beloved Methos having a go at her teacher. Luther rubbed his hands together in anticipation when he saw Amanda levering herself to her feet. He smiled in genuine glee when he realized he was about to find out. He crept closer as he watched Amanda scoop up Rebecca's discarded dagger. From the look of it in the moonlight, it had been used at least once to end a life. Luther sank to his knees behind a crate to watch what would happen as a topless Amanda was trying her best to hold what little cloth was still covering her to move along with her.

Rebecca was doing her best trying to fight Methos, who was making as much noise as she was. Luther almost didn't want it to end and have Amanda leave them alone for a moment longer, but Amanda stabbed the dagger in her hand into Methos' back, cutting off his bluster.

Luther watched as Rebecca fought her way out from under him, and noticed blood on her face. She grabbed her face and fell down where she had come to a stand, with Amanda immediately comforting her. He just drank in the sight as one of the drivers, whom Luther hadn't even noticed in the shadows, came forward to kneel next to them. Rebecca accepted his help to get to her feet, and the three of them walked to the horses that were already saddled. Once in a while, Luther could hear Amanda shout, but couldn't make out the words, as her head turned back to Methos, dead in the sand with the dagger still in his back.

It didn't take long for the three of them to ride off, and Luther noticed that Amanda still hadn't covered her nudity as she seemed to just stare off into the distance. None of them even noticed him, didn't give any indication that they felt his presence as he certainly felt theirs. It was a wonder what trauma could do to an immortal who would lose their protective instinct.

Now, it was just him left with Methos. Luther took in the warm, clear breeze with a great, satisfied sigh, and toasted the fact that he could do whatever he wished to the bastard he hated since the time he had first turned immortal. Luther sauntered to Methos' corpse and knew that he wouldn't revive with that dagger in his heart. Only if it was removed would Methos once again breathe. Only if Luther wished it would Methos live to see another day. It was a joy to have so much power in his hands. All Luther had to do was take the bastard's head while he was still dead. But what was the fun in that?

Luther's chuckle rang out in the dark desert night. Torture was so much more fun.

~~~~~

The trio rode in absolute silence for the better part of an hour before they dared to stop. All during their hasty escape, Amanda had felt the steady stream of tears coursing down her cheeks. She had urged her horses ahead of the others so they wouldn't see her cry. She had suffered enough humiliation to last her a lifetime. The one man she loved above all others had violated her body, ripped her clothes, and shattered her trust.

"It wasn't really him," she thought aloud.

Rebecca dismounted her horse and came to stand beside Amanda. "Put this on, darling," she handed Amanda a shirt she had grabbed on their way out of camp. "I wish I had a strong drink to offer you."

Amanda shrugged into the shirt. "We should go back-"

"And what?" Rebecca whispered. "Let him kill us?"

"He was not himself, Rebecca. Methos would never..., you know that."

"Amanda, you are in shock." Rebecca reached out to draw her close, but Amanda moved away.

"This is all her fault," Amanda pulled her denial around her like a cloak. If she could blame this on someone besides Methos, she would not have to hate him. "She challenged him!"

"And he killed her," Rebecca reminded her harshly.

"My point, exactly," Amanda said. "She made him kill her, and her Quickening did this to him. Methos never fights unless he is backed into a corner, and you know that as well as I do."

"Yes, darling, I realize that, but that man was not our Methos," Rebecca tried her best to be soothing. "It is best if we put distance between us and him."

"We cannot leave him out here like that," Amanda replied dumbfounded. "We have to get him help."

"No, we don't, Amanda." Rebecca crossed her arms and lectured her student. "I cannot after what he has done."

"Oh, but Luther, King of Mayhem and Torture, is continually forgiven?" Amanda retorted. "You know that if this would have happened to one of us, Methos would help us."

"Do not be so sure, Amanda. I have known that man too long, and he usually bolts at the first sign of trouble," Rebecca said as she strode over to the horses. She untied the canteen and took a long swallow. "I guarantee he would tell you to run now, if he were in his right mind."

"But he is not, is he? We have to help him," Amanda gathered the reins of her horse and swung up into the saddle. "Are you coming with me or not?"

"I will not let him kill another student of mine." Rebecca's eyes welled with tears as she grabbed Amanda's hand on the reins. In her most authoritative voice, she demanded, "Leave him be."

"I cannot do that, Rebecca," Amanda's own eyes filled.

"You are so rash!" Rebecca erupted. "How could a student of mine fly so blindly into danger? Back to danger. You are safe now, Amanda. Embrace it, cherish it, do not throw it away."

"He is in trouble. If you were half the friend you claim to be, you would go back with me."

The women stared each other down after the dare, each on different sides of one issue that neither would back down from. Rebecca noticed that the driver, who had been waiting out of listening range had slowly sauntered his horse closer to them during the conversation. "Wesley, please give us privacy. We will only be a few more minutes," she told him, then said tightly to Amanda once the coast was clear, "You are completely rapt up in denial of what happened to Methos. He took a head of a lover on Holy Ground."

"And I seem to notice that the earth has not collapsed under my feet or hot lava has not come to sweep away Egypt, not to mention Giza. Pompeii is just another falsehood cooked up by lazy teachers who want their students to toe the line without giving any thought to actually telling them the honest truth!"

Rebecca pushed at Amanda, making her fall off the horse with a thud to the ground. Rebecca stood tall above her as she intoned, "Holy Ground is never a place for a challenge. He knew that. He took her anyway," Rebecca growled at Amanda as she cowered and cried in shock of her gentle teacher's act, regret for mouthing off, and fear of what her teacher was saying.

"Yes, the natural balance of the earth has not been upset-that we know of as of now-but there are always dire consequences for such a heinous act. Look what he did to you, look what he did to me!" Rebecca indicated her sorry state of physical presentation. Her clothes and skin were either singed or filled with soot after being in a burning tent, and her face, which Amanda hadn't wanted to look at too closely for fear she'd know why, had heavy tracks of dried blood running from her eyes. Amanda now remembered that Methos had been hurting her in some way when Amanda killed him.

Pulling at what was left of Amanda's clothes, she yelled, "He did this to both of us, US! The two people he always claimed meant more to him than anyone or anything. He is NOT the same!" Rebecca grew in a deep breath and then stated simply, "We must leave."

"You are right, Teacher," Amanda agreed as she stood up and tried to dignify herself by straightening the shreds of the top of her dress and the skirt. "He is not the same, and he is not because of what happened. He was defending himself. He had every right to do that. Methos needs help. I am going to give it in any way I can."

"You will die."

"I will revive."

"Then you die again."

"I will revi-"

"Not if you lose your head," Rebecca said before Amanda could defiantly intone her new mantra. "Besides, why do you need to? Why you? He was loving someone else. He did not choose to be with you at this time. He does not want you there. He would tell you that if he could."

"But he cannot do that, think as he usually would, can he? We have to go back. Yes, he was with someone else. I felt like a third wheel since we have been here. But she is gone now. Besides, above everything, Methos is our friend and deserves our help."

Amanda got back up into the saddle of her horse and almost pleaded with her gaze."You cannot stop me. Will you come with me?"

Rebecca stared sadly at her student. Amanda only made a move when Rebecca relented and stepped back with a shake of her head and turned away. Amanda urged her horse back in the direction they had just traveled, kicking it to make gallop at top speed.

"May the gods have mercy on your soul," Rebecca whispered. "Both of your souls..."

~~~~~

Once again, Methos revived exhilarated with new life. The only bad thing was that once again he had to feel the tip of a blade at his throat and the black grin of his enemy above him. If his hands weren't tied behind his back, Methos had plenty of options to rid the world of that black bastard. If the situation was reversed, Methos' sword to Luther's neck, yes, Methos could have plenty of fun. Because he knew the sadist waste of humanity had been having fun inflicting torture over the last two lives Methos had lived, he urged him to start inflicting some more. "Cut me," Methos grunted in throaty voice that startled Methos only for its intensity. "Come on," he urged Luther, holding his blade at Methos' throat. "Cut me, I'm ready." It would only make the moment when the tables would turn so much more exciting. He could really recapture those long buried hostilities, to the world in general and idiots with power specifically, whole-heartedly as soon as he got free from the ties that held his wrists.

The women. They hadn't been around for quite a while. He wished they would see how he was suffering under Luther's control, and Methos had to admit that he had. He hadn't experienced such pain and misery with each flogging, each deep cut on his chest, each kick to an already broken bone. If the lash mark, cut, or break would heal, Luther would make another appear in the same place. A weaker man would have caved. He would have cried. He would have begged for mercy. Not Methos. Methos went in the other direction and made each agonizing infliction not make him wail in pain but laugh in enjoyment, wanting more. He hadn't felt such power of diverting mundane human emotion such as agony into ecstasy in so many millennia. Why he had taken such great pains to suppress his true nature was beyond him at the moment as all Methos wanted in the world was more.

"Do it, you coward!" Methos demanded as he lifted his head, making the blade sink into the skin of his neck. The prospect of beheading himself on Luther's solid blade made him laugh with glee. There was nothing like a torturer being confounded by its victim. When there was a break in Luther's stance, solid hold of the blade to his throat, the coward, all talk, no action, Methos took the opportunity to finally turn the tables. Methos had felt the ties loosen over time, and knew that if he dislocated his shoulder, and was off the ground, he could take matters into his own hands.

"You are sadly mistaken... I am not a victim!" Methos' voice boomed as he hiked his legs up, swinging against Luther. As Luther fell off-balance, Methos leapt to his feet, pulled hard on his arms, making sure the right shoulder gave away, then fell back to the ground in order to fold his body through his arms, all the while sucking back the immense pain of each maneuver.

Luther got to his feet with his sword just as Methos was sliding his shoulder cap back into place. He could feel hot tears going down his cheeks from the pain, and knew his entire body had to be red from anxiety, but he didn't make a sound, not even a whimper. Whimpering was a sound Methos had always loved while he was riding with his brothers. It was a sound that had made him angry while he was trying to subdue his true nature for 2500 years. Now he was just counting the minutes until he heard Luther whimper. It would happen. He was now free to make it so.

~~~~~

Halfway back to camp Amanda began to question her decision to return. Stubborn to the core, most of her bravado in front of Rebecca stemmed from her teacher's demand that she not help Methos. In all of her long years, the one thing she detested most was being told what she should or should not do, especially by those older and supposedly wiser than she. Time and again, she had rushed headlong into many foolhardy situations because she refused to be bossed around. She knew it, accepted it, but what could she do? She couldn't deny her true nature...

"I really should think before I do," Amanda muttered to her horse.

She grimaced at her own words. How many times had Rebecca uttered the same sentiment over the course of their friendship? Amanda wished she had a coin for every time. She could buy a small country with the money. On the other hand, Methos had often laughed at her spontaneity and teased her unmercifully when her best laid plans went up in smoke. Of course, he didn't find the amusement when those plans involved him in any way. She recalled at least one occasion when he threatened her bodily harm when they escaped in the middle of the night with the local law enforcement on their heels.

"No, I owe it to him."

After what he just did to you? Rebecca's voice echoed in her mind.

"It was not his fault," Amanda argued. "It was Sina's fault. She is the one to blame for all of this! Stupid bitch!"

The fact that Rebecca was their teacher was the only thing the two of them had in common. That and Methos as a lover, Amanda reminded herself, which only intensified her anger at the now dead immortal. Sina had been arrogant and self-righteous ever since Amanda had known her. Perhaps that was one of the many reasons she and Amanda had never been close.

Not for the first time this evening Amanda wished she hadn't gone sailing off the side of the pyramid. Deep in her heart of hearts, she knew she could've made Methos walk away from the fight or at least evened the playing field with the haughty bitch. Try as she might she couldn't think of what possible reason Messina had for wanting Methos' head. If ever there was an immortal whose philosophy was live and let live it was Methos. He didn't fight unless he absolutely had no other choice.

"I am glad you are dead," she yelled at the heavens while she pictured Messina's face. "I never liked you. Never!!"

Her yelling startled her horse and it took several hard yanks on the reins to settle the beast. Once she had the horse calm, she squinted her eyes and tried to get her bearings. Off in the near distance she made out the vague details of the now smoldering camp. An eerie stillness hung in the air. The normal sounds of the dessert night were non-existent.

"Well, the earth did not swallow us all up," Amanda snickered. "I guess the legends were wrong after all."

Except I have lost all shreds of my sanity! Methos' cold voice of earlier reminded her.

"I will make it right."

Do not count on it, darling. Maybe I like it.

Amanda gripped the reins tighter and urged the horse onward. As she drew nearer to the camp, an unnerving feeling began to creep up and down her spine. Though the ground was still intact, a weird energy emanated and seeped from the ground and the air. The hair on her neck and arms began to rise and every muscle in her body tightened . She took a deep breath and hoped the feeling would go away, but much to her dismay it remained. Hastily, she reached down and drew her sword from the leather scabbard fastened to the saddle. The heavy blade gave her a measure of security. She knew enough not take a head, but at least she could take him down temporarily and that's all she needed to do.

That worked so well for you earlier, Amanda. A tiny voice inside her head pointed out. He is stronger than you. He raped you! He will likely kill you again. Perhaps permanently this time! Rebecca was right, just leave him be!!

"Be quiet," she intoned, and then yelled desperately, "Shut up!! Shut up!!"

Denial? Is that working for you, Amanda? Face it, Methos is lost and you cannot save him!!

"I know what he did," Amanda argued back. "Never think I do not know what he did, and I will deal with that when Methos is back to his old self. But until I get him back that cannot happen, now can it?"

You tell me. The voice snickered. Maybe he is not the only one whose gone a little crazy, luv. I mean for God's sakes you are trying to justify your actions. To yourself!

"That may be true," Amanda pointed out, "so I will ignore you for now on."

Maybe if you listened to me you will not end up dead, hmm? But no, you have to try to 'save' him, no matter what.

"I do not have a choice."

That is where you are oh so wrong, You always have a choice.

"This time I have no other."

The surge of presence drew Amanda out of her musings and reminded her of what she was facing. The usually strong buzz of Methos thrummed along her spine, and as she got closer, she was able to determine a second immortal presence.

"What the hell?"

Amanda kicked her horse into a gallop. Her hair whipped against her cheek as she closed the distance. Sand sprayed out as she jerked the horse to a halt just outside the camp border. Tightening the grip on her sword, she dismounted and hurried to see what was going on. She silently prayed whoever was there was too busy to notice her presence. Quietly, she made a wide circle and headed off in the direction of the immortals.

~~~~~

"Messina found out what you are, and she could no longer handle the memory of even being in your arms," Luther croaked as Methos tightened his hand around his throat. "She was so easily led."

"Most young ones are, but as you know, you all are young in my eyes," Methos said. "She assumed I would not fight her, but she certainly was not the first to make such a ridiculous assumption. Too bad, though, I enjoyed bedding her."

For the first time, Luther noticed how detached Methos was from the whole situation. While the oldest immortal's temper had flared repeatedly, he now seemed to have it under iron control. That had Luther worried. Keeping Methos off balance had been his key strategy. Losing the upper hand with Methos could prove to be a deadly mistake.

"Do you honestly think you are the first immortal to come looking for my head?" Methos asked. "This head has been attracting our kind for millennia, and here I am." He bared his teeth in a wide grin. "I still have my head, and you are likely to lose that slab of fat above your shoulders."

Luther felt the edges of consciousness begin to blur as the lack of oxygen became apparent. "I do not fear death."

"Maybe not now, but there are things worse than death," Methos said. "You see, I might have been known as 'Death' once upon a time, but with our kind there is so much more fun to be had when dying is not so permanent."

To make his point, he raked his dagger along the center of Luther's chest. The blood welled from the shallow cut and began a slow migration along his rib cage. Methos loosened his grip on Luther long enough for the other man to recover his breath. He yanked his leather belt from his pants and looped it around Luther's wrists. Once he was assured of the bonds' effectiveness, he drug Luther over to one of the now smoldering tent posts and secured the bound immortal to it.

"You lack the true skills, my friend," Methos leaned in close. "All you will ever be is a two-bit thug; you lack the finesse to be anything else. To truly torture someone, to make them scream and writhe, is an art form. Oh, it can be so easy to slash and hack, but it takes the hand of an artist to master it."

Luther's eyes widened as Methos squatted next to him and began carving. The stinging pain of the myriad shallow wounds coupled with the ever-increasing blood loss once again sent his vision into blurriness. His helplessness made him feel more vulnerable than he had in decades. Causing his own pain was one thing, but being on the other end of the torture was proving another matter altogether. The fact his tormentor was Methos, the oldest known immortal, only added to his apprehension. The table had been turned on him and he wasn't happy about it.

"Come on, Luther," Methos prodded him in the side when Luther's eyes closed. "Surely a 'master' torturer like you can take more than this. I thought you got off on pain."

Muttering something too soft for Methos to comprehend, Luther quit fighting the darkness that loomed. He knew Methos wasn't done playing with him and his head was safe for the moment. It was futile to fight him, however, he knew that his body had to heal if he had any hope of escaping when the right moment presented itself.

"Stupid bastard," Methos said when he noticed Luther had passed out. "Rest while you can."

Feeling exhilarated, Methos lifted his hands above his head and roared to the heavens that he would truly be the One. No immortal or man could stop him. The newly-unburied emotions that Quickening had unlocked in his soul burned through him, invigorating him more than he had been in centuries.

While Luther was out, Methos did the age-old practice of the Horsemen after a good kill. He rummaged through Luther's clothing to find any treasures. Mortal victims usually did not have more than a few coins. For a long while, Kronos wondered why they put up such a fuss to fight them so hard, or at least as hard as they could to protect their possessions. It was Methos who had pointed out to him that it was probably their life and the lives of their loved ones that made mortal men fight so hard, so fruitlessly. Methos remembered Kronos looking so confused, but he had slowly acknowledged that might be the case. It had seemed that the mortals with families were the ones who had fought the hardest.

Methos knew that Luther had no one in his life to love or to fight for, and a gold medallion was the only possession Methos found on his corpse. Looking at it in his fist in the moonlight, Methos determined he could trade it for a good meal, anyway, and shoved it into his pocket. Wanting Luther to wake up and join the Game once again, he traced the tip of his sword over Luther's dead cheek. Soon, a crude "M" was etched on Luther's black skin, and Methos was disappointed that it would heal over.

Roughly kicking Luther over so that he was on his back, Methos continued to carve ancient symbols on his chest. Because he wanted to get closer, and the Ivanhoe was too long and clumsy for detailed work, he pulled a dagger out of his boot. In order to really be up close and personal with artwork, one had to use a dagger. He sighed calmly when he felt another immortal presence come into his range. The sensation, combined with the blood on his hands made him lust for another to inflict pain upon.

"Methos!" He heard Amanda shout as she reined her horse to a stop sending sand swirling around the horse's legs.

"So the kitten has come back to play," Methos leered. "I hope your claws are sharpened this time. It makes the game so much more entertaining, I have to say."

Amanda leapt off her horse and approached him with trepidation. She noticed that he was hunched over what appeared to be a corpse. A weak buzz mingled with Methos' nearly over powering thrum let her know that the other person was an immortal. Then it dawned on her who the corpse might be. Luther. Honestly, she had to admit that the thought of Luther at the mercy of Methos wasn't something that bothered her much. Luther had been almost as much of thorn in her side as Messina.

"Continue. Do not let me stop you," she urged as her eyes flitted from him to the corpse. "You know I have always loathed that man."

"Or you could join him, Amanda."

"I have been at your mercy quite enough, thank you." Amanda kept her distance and held her sword in what she hoped was a menacing manner. "Now, let us just call it a day and get you some help."

"Help?" Methos laughed, then his face melded into a maniacal smile. "You are going to need help."

Amanda pursed her lips and gave his words deep thought. "No, I am the relatively sane one at the moment. You, on the other hand, are not the most stable person in the world."

"Yes, it is a rush!"

"Nah. Personally, not a big fan of torture," Amanda said as her eyes flitted from him to Methos' current plaything.

Methos snickered and turned away from her. Luther had begun to rouse and Methos was determined to see just how much the other immortal could take before he screamed like an infant. While his new lease on chaos and destruction left his blood singing, it also made him arrogant beyond measure. Never in his right mind would Methos have turned his back on an armed immortal, even Amanda, but now he ignored her.

~~~~~

The sight of Luther's mutilated body repulsed Amanda and she couldn't bear thinking about the travesties of earlier in the evening. Allowing herself to dwell on it wasn't going to help and she needed her wits about her until she had Methos subdued. Even though she hated Luther more than anything on earth, what Methos had done to him made her feel a bit sorry for him. A bit. More than that, though, she was mortified by the change in Methos, even since she had last seen him. Rebecca would faint dead away if she got a look at Methos' crass demeanor, snarling face, maniacal thought process, and all the blood he must have voluntarily smeared upon himself. Wondering if any of it was hers didn't take more than a moment of reflection as she had to do something fast if there was any hope of getting Methos away from this madness. She couldn't let him fall further into the pit of disgust and rage that he had seemingly embraced with gusto. His current demeanor was totally unrecognizable and she feared what he may do to her if he set his mind away from Luther and onto her.

Part of her wished Rebecca were here to help her get Methos under control, but part of her was relieved that Rebecca wouldn't have to see how far Methos had slid into the depths of darkness. At least if her plan went south, she'd be the only one hurt.

When she realized that Methos had his back to her, she refused to let the opportunity pass without taking full advantage of it. Realizing that if she got within arm's distance of him, he'd have her in an instant, she carefully eased back to her horse and the daggers that were tucked safely in her saddlebag.

Hearing a low moan, she cast a glance back to Luther and Methos. To her amazement, Luther had revived and within an instant, Methos was again cutting and screaming his superiority over Luther's newly reawakened, wailing body. Watching him mutilate Luther made Amanda want to vomit.

"This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me," Amanda mumbled as she got into position and waited for the right moment. "Methos!"

Methos turned at the sound of her voice. His normally generous mouth was stretched into a tight frown. She had no doubt that he was angry at being interrupted, bloodied, and snarling like a hungry wolf. She only had one shot so she'd better do it right; if she missed, Methos could turn on her. Getting a clear shot at his chest, she aimed and with an ease born of practice, expertly sent the dagger sailing through the air into his heart. His eyes widened as he reached to remove the blade, but Amanda sent another dagger his way landing with equal surety in the muscle of his heart.

"You bitch...," he moaned as he slipped to his knees, then flat on his face when death had overtaken him.

Amanda shrugged her shoulders. "It could have been worse. You will certainly thank me one day; you are getting help if kills you, Methos." She nearly laughed at her own words. "Then I intend for us to have a nice little chat."

Luther's laughter startled her and she looked over to where he remained tied to the tent post. "What the hell are you laughing at, Luther?"

"One must find the humor where one can," he replied cryptically. "Untie me and I will be on my way."

"I wasn't born yesterday, Luther." Amanda walked closer to inspect Luther's bonds. "As far as I'm concerned you deserve everything you've gotten. I came back to help Methos, not you."

"Yes," Luther snickered. "Help is just what he wants, I think."

"Shut up!" Amanda jerked her leg and aimed it at Luther's side.

"Planning to finish what your lover started?" Luther didn't flinch away. "How sweet that the mighty Methos is brought so low that a mere woman has to save his neck."

"God, do you ever get tried of hearing yourself talk?"

Amanda chose to ignore her urge to kick the annoying man at her feet. Instead she hurried over to Methos' prone body and made sure he wasn't about to revive anytime soon.

"He does not look very formidable now, does he?"

Even though Luther was tied up and out of her hair, she didn't want to be alone with him any longer than necessary. She certainly didn't want to be alone with both of the lunatics if Methos revived. It was a good thing he still had one dagger in him; it might be the one straight to the heart that prevented him from reviving. He wasn't going to be at all pleased with her when he did revive, so she would have to make sure he didn't.

Disregarding Luther, since he was the least of her worries at the moment, she said a slight prayer of forgiveness then shut her eyes. She couldn't look at what she was about to do. Methos hated being dead. He had revealed that to her not long into their relationship. However, considering how badly this night had turned out, she figured they were even. She stabbed the dagger she held hard into Methos' heart to make sure he would stay good and dead so she had control over him. Then, with a few glances at Luther to make sure he hadn't gotten loose, she hitched the horse she rode back to camp to the last remaining wagon. After much effort and strain, she managed to load Methos' body into the wagon.

"I have won," Luther stated with pride as she covered Methos' body with the blankets that were still laying in the sand surrounding the dead fire ring.

"You have won nothing."

"He took her head, which he would have normally never done. He defied Immortal Law and took her on Holy Ground. I reminded him of his past."

"What past?" Amanda asked irritably.

Luther only intoned, "If not for you, I would have had his head."

"Go ahead and try, but you can't, can you?"Amanda nodded to him still bound. "Too bad Methos did not gag you as well."

"What would our teacher think of you leaving me here, tied up and defenseless?"

"At this point I could not care less what Rebecca or anyone thinks. Why? Are you afraid?"

"I am scared of nothing," he countered with defiance. "I want him to suffer what he will indeed suffer, which will make my victory even sweeter. He will know that it was my hand that forced his. My plan went perfectly."

"Blah, blah, blah. You think what you want. He is a better man than you will ever be!" Amanda roared as she clapped the reins hard across the horse's backside to make it start out on what would be an extremely long and hard journey.

~~~~

EPILOGUE

Amanda wiped the sweat off her brow. Finally, she was there after not expecting such an arduous journey. Methos owed her in the biggest way possible. Carting his dead body from Egypt all the way to France wasn't a task she ever wanted to repeat. She swung down out of the wagon and landed lightly on the ground. She surveyed the huge rock structure in front of her. This was the place. If a cure for Methos existed, it would be found here.

Gathering up her courage, she crossed the courtyard and banged on the heavy wooden door. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally felt someone approach. She smiled as the presence of an immortal registered. She nearly threw herself into the man's arms when the door swung open.

"Darius!"

"Amanda?" Darius braced himself against the door jamb while he got Amanda under control. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Darius," she sniffled then the tears began in earnest. "Things could never be worse."

"There, there, child," Darius stroked her back. "Whatever it is, it cannot be that bad."

"You want to bet on that?" Amanda countered.

"Come in and have some tea." Darius moved to usher her into the monastery. "We can discuss whatever is troubling you."

Amanda sniffed and made a face. "No tea, Darius, please."

The priest smiled. "First Methos, and now you, make fun of my tea." At the mention of Methos' name Amanda's crying became louder, which Darius noticed right off. "Did you and Methos have another quarrel?"

"He's dead," she managed.

Darius smile faded. "Methos? Dead?"

Amanda nodded. "I killed him. He's in the wagon."

Pushing Amanda aside, Darius ran to the wagon. A blanket shrouded lump took up most of the space. His knuckles turned white as he clasped the sides. Methos was one of his oldest and dearest friends, and now he was dead.

"Why, Amanda?"

Amanda walked around to the other side of the conveyance. "He forced me. I had no other choice."

Darius swallowed hard. Amanda and Methos had been lovers for centuries. Whatever had happened must have been bad, for Amanda loved no other like she loved Methos. He blinked back his tears and cleared his throat.

"Pull the wagon around to the back," Darius directed. "We shall give him a proper burial."

"Burial?" Amanda looked puzzled for a moment. Then she realized that Darius had mistook her explanation. "He's not dead, I mean not permanently, anyway." She grabbed the blankets and tugged them aside to reveal Methos' head was thankfully still attached to his body.

Darius breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his old friend's corpse. His relief quickly faded when he took in Methos' condition. "How long has he been dead?"

"Since I killed him in Egypt," she replied matter of factly.

"Sweet Jesus," he mumbled. "And that was when?"

"I'm not sure, really," she said, "Time drags on when you travel. How many days it has been... I have no idea."

Darius reached down to dislodge the dagger, but Amanda stopped him with what Darius found was an ominous warning, "You might want to hear what I have to say before you do that."

"Fine." Darius climbed up onto the wagon seat and waited for Amanda to join him Once she took the seat next to him, he slapped the reins and headed for the stables. "Start from the beginning," he ordered her. "Tell me everything, and do not leave anything out."

THE END

Back to Connection