THE ELIZABETH SERIES
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE DREAM
By JoLayne
EnyaJo@aol.com

RATING: ADULT, if you're not of age, please push the back button now.
CHARACTERS: M Warren OFC Elizabeth, Antonio, Sofia, Brynn
Thayer
SUMMARY: Methos and Elizabeth decide to let the past lie as Warren
comes to Sintra with a fianc‚. Also, Methos does something completely
shocking to Elizabeth.
DISCLAIMER: Still applies from Chapter One

~~~~~

NOVEMBER 21, 2001
CASA SEGURA

Elizabeth was writing out the remembrances of what she saw around her
during all the wars she'd been a nurse in, starting with the battle of
Gettysburg. So far it was just an outline, all her memories attributed to
different fictional nurses. Taking a break, she looked out the window at the
bright sunny day after the storm of the night before. Methos' antique
cuckoo clock on the study wall that she had wound and made a point of
keeping running bonged the hour of five.

Methos was still sleeping. When she had breakfast ready at 10:30 that
consisted of toast and cereal, he seemed so relaxed, she didn't want to
wake him. Sofia and Antonio would be over after he got off work for
another training session and she'd like to inform Methos of the excitement
of Antonio's turning before he felt his buzz. Methos didn't like surprises
and he'd had too many lately.

When she checked on him again, at least he had turned over in his sleep,
there was life to him. She quietly walked out of the bedroom and
wondered what to make for supper, would have to go through the
cookbooks Sofia lent her. Something with a lot of protein, calories, fat,
everything Methos needed to get his old self back quickly. 

Methos heard her creep around the bedroom, and felt her buzz, but
couldn't even lift an eyelid. The bed was too comfortable and the pillow
was just fluffy enough. A fluffy pillow, one of life's luxuries he had taken
for granted all those years, and was without for months. In the midst of his
waking, he rolled over and grabbed Elizabeth's pillow and wrapped
himself around it. Then opened one eye to see the clock on the night stand
on her side of the bed. 5:10. Is that am or pm?

Fried onions. Must be pm. He slowly stretched and felt bones crack, then
yawned the last of his slumber out of his head. He sat up on the edge of the
bed, his long legs hanging over the side, then his toes rooted in the plush
carpeting. His body readjusted the kinks from how he had slept as he heard
the radio on in the kitchen. A pop tune that had been popular in Portugal
over a year before blared through the house. She wasn't listening to the
American station? He felt better, renewed, strong.

As he padded into the bathroom to shower off the remnants of the past, he
ran his hand unconsciously against his neck. Damn! That hair had to go
and fast.

Elizabeth was softly singing and swaying along to the Portuguese song and
turned with a saucepan of sauce from the stove to the counter and
screamed. Methos was leaning against the doorframe with a slight smile
on his face, his arms wrapped around his front. "Good morning," he said,
adjusting his stance at the doorway.

"Good afternoon," she corrected him.

Methos acknowledged the time, took a deep intake of the food in the air
and noticed the bright day outside the sliding windows of the dining room. 

She asked, "Smell good?" He looked well rested, younger than last night,
and he was wearing fresh clothes after taking a shower. His long hair
combed straight back did give him an appearance she did enjoy. But he
obviously didn't, as he was pushing the hair back from his forehead. When
she asked, "Would you like to use one of my ponytail holders."

"I'm not after MacLeod's look," he grumbled, looked at the makings on
the counter. "When is he going to grow up? I'm going to get a haircut
today."

"No," she whined, ran her hand through it. "I like it."

He grumbled, picked up a couple of pieces of cut carrots. She asked, "Are
you hungry? You missed breakfast. And lunch."

"I'm starving."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Like a rock."

He was so close, but it was too fast. She had to turn away to the stove
again to stop herself from kissing him and trying to make it lead further.
"Antonio and Sofia are coming over soon."

"They were here yesterday. You've gotten to be good friends again?"

"You saw that?"

He nodded, "I don't know if I'm ready for company."

"Well, they have to come. Antonio's in training."

He knew what that meant, didn't seem surprised. "By you?"

"For the time being." She squinted at the cook book in Portuguese. "Does
frito mean boil or braise?"

"Deep fry," Methos said, as he read it.

"Oh," Elizabeth stated, looking at the boiling water she prepared. "I've
never deep fried a thing in my life." 

Methos said, "Well, you use oil instead of water. What are you making?"

She lightly laughed, "I'm not sure anymore. I thought this was a casserole
or stew that I can reheat when they get here, or you woke up. I don't know
what it is if I have to deep fry it."

Methos grabbed some cut carrot pieces from the counter, remembered her
forays into cooking when they were together. "Have you taken any
cooking classes or anything?"

"No. Just been reading."

"It's not the same as doing or watching." He looked over the ingredients
cut up on the counter and took over. He smelled the meat chunks and had
to ask, "What is this?"

"Crow?" She teased. He happily got the joke and laughed with her. It was
a good sign that he remembered their last meal in Seacouver together, just
before their wonderful vacation in Hawaii. She didn't want to crowd him,
and if she went with her gut to hold him and kiss him, she wouldn't let
him go.

He started chopping the pieces smaller and asked her to refill the pot of
water to start again, then went through the cupboards to see what else they
had. Not much. She must have read the recipe and got only what was
needed. He'd have to improvise, but luckily, he was a great cook and
would whip up something nice, if not, edible. 

Elizabeth grabbed a soda and sat at the counter to get out of his way. "Did
you hear the phone ring this morning?"

"I didn't hear a thing."

"Warren called and he'll be here on Saturday."

"Cochrane?"

"Yes."

"As Antonio's teacher?"

"Yes."

Methos' eyes narrowed, "He killed his student."

"He's past that." They both knew what a tragedy can do to your mind. "He
deserves another chance."

He went back to the food, munching on another carrot. He was starving.
"How did it happen to Antonio?"

"He was shot by a hunter. Sounds like the shooter didn't even know he did
it. Antonio revived and walked home. He couldn't even tell Sofia about it
for a while, he thought he was insane."

That was no longer important, he thought about Warren, and that he was in
Greece during the Pyrius matter, and heard his real name. Methos hadn't
given him a second thought since. "What has he been up to?"

"Antonio's still working. He wants to have some normality in his life."

"No, Warren."

"He's been in Australia, a cop or detective or something." She didn't want
to admit that the last time she saw him was when she held a gun on him
right after shooting Duncan dead wanting to get away from them and after
Methos.

Methos misjudged her demeanor of her own sadness at the way she treated
them to think she was thinking again of Warren in Greece, "Has he been
telling everyone about Methos?"

"No. I'm certain of it."

"How?"

He poured himself a cup of coffee. "He's a good man, Methos. And, I'm
told he saved both yours and Duncan's heads from me." Elizabeth was
sorry to bring it up so flippantly, but said, "He can be trusted."

"Uh huh... maybe a change of scenery would be a good thing about now."

"You're not going anywhere without me."

"I wasn't planning on it," he told her and they both smiled. "We should
both leave."

"I can't, at least, not until Saturday."

As he moved back to the counter and mused, "Then you can meet me
somewhere."

"You're scared of Warren? There's nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm not scared," Methos said a little too forcefully. "I just don't enjoy
being around a lot of immortals. You used to feel the same way."

"I still do. But these immortals are friends. Until I met you and Duncan
and Amanda and Warren, I didn't really know good immortals existed."

"I wouldn't call Warren a 'good immortal'. He's more like a 'could snap
at any moment' immortal."

"That's unfair," she watched him throw ingredients into the pot. "When
Duncan asked him to take over the training of Antonio, he said yes without
hesitation. Granted, it may be to quiet his own demons of taking Andrew's
head."

"You know the name of the student he murdered? How well do you know
each other?"

Elizabeth smiled, "God, I love to see you jealous."

"Answer me, please?"

"I know Warren is a good man and he's going to be a good teacher and
I'm going to take care of Antonio until Warren gets here."

"Why? Newbies have to be careful, but they don't have to be babysat."

"Antonio is scared. When Warren gets here, I can tell him what we've
already covered in his training and even to see some of their sessions to
see if I've done it correctly. And see if it will work out. I've been a
teacher, but not for immortality."

"Why didn't MacLeod want to do it himself? He lives to take in strays."

Elizabeth nodded, "He almost accepted it, but Antonio's planted here and
it's best to keep him in his own environment if possible. Warren's willing
to relocate."

"He's willing to chuck everything to move to Sintra? I wonder why."

"Methos..."

"Do Antonio and Sofia know about me?"

"Oh, so you're not asking all this because you're jealous, you're nervous
for Methos' head."

"Both. Answer please."

"They know you're immortal, that's it. Your name is David Sommers and
are just a little older than I am. And they also know one other thing." She
walked to him and put her hand at his cheek. "That I love you very much."

Elizabeth kissed him, to thank him for coming back to her, for the loving
way he treated her last night. She was right, she didn't want to let him go.
He pulled back. Then said completely unromantic words, "You can do
dishes."

~~~~~

NOVEMBER 22, 2001

Methos walked into the drive just as Elizabeth did with the Jeep. They got
out and walked to the door together. She went to Lisbon to the museum
and he was hiking in the woods, exercising, he needed to get his build
back, but wouldn't admit that to her. She noticed his coat and felt the
sword. She couldn't figure out what it was, and took a look. It was a blue
enamel hilted katana. "Where did you get this one?"

"In my travels."

"You've picked up a lot of things in your travels. I think I have one you'd
like better. Follow me."

When they got inside, she pulled a sword, still wrapped for travel, out of
the closet and presented it to Methos. He held it gingerly in both hands,
knew the weight of it, knew the shape of the hilt and could feel it through
the taped blanket with the flight ticket on it. "Is this? Mine?" He couldn't
help but smile.  

She handed him a paring knife and he opened the tape and admired his old
friend, his Ivanhoe, swished it around. Ah, it was as if his right arm was
complete. "Thank you," he smiled like a kid in a candy store. "It's good to
have it back. I asked Mac where it was and he said he didn't know. I was
worried because I couldn't remember what happened to it. I've seen a lot
of action with this. Thank you."

He grabbed her to pull her into a hug, and she wanted more. He pulled
back again and said he should oil his sword. She couldn't help but think of
the double entendre that was on her mind. She looked at the blue katana,
light, elegant. She swished it around. "Can I have this one?"

"Sure."

"Where are all the others?"

"I buried them up in the woods. I don't want any reminders."

"Why did you take them all to begin with?"

"Souvenirs."

She didn't want to think about his last eight months, and didn't want to
ask him to explain. She didn't need to know.

~~~~~

SATURDAY NOVEMBER 24, 2001
CASA SEGURA

Methos and Elizabeth were sleeping on either side of the bed, not at all
touching, facing away from each other, as it was more relaxing for
Methos, when they both awoke from the sense of a buzz. "What?...
Who?...," Elizabeth mumbled.

Methos was instantly awake and bolted out of bed, "It had better be
Antonio or Warren or I'm getting the hell out of here." The buzzes of
immortals were like a drug to him. One of the reasons he wanted to come
back to Sintra was to not experience buzzes except for Elizabeth's, and
settle down the demons that had reemerged.

Neither were used to immortals in the area, that's why they picked it for
their home away from the world of the game and the threat of a gathering.
Methos threw on some clothes and yawned as he went to the door to see
who had arrived, taking his Ivanhoe with him. He only lowered it, not put
it down, when he saw Warren's smiling face through the peephole.

Methos opened the door and said, "It's about time you showed up." The
only reason he was still there was to wait with Elizabeth until they could
leave after Antonio was taken care of.

"Hello to you, too," Warren smiled as he walked in. "You look better than
last time."

"So do you," Methos shut the door.

Warren didn't know if he should be offended or not. He looked around the
dark house. "Where's Liz? She's probably in a better mood than you are."

Methos looked at his watch, "It's 6 o'clock in the morning."

"I'm here now, I'm not going to come back later." Warren dumped his
bags on the floor and took off his coat. "Took the red eye and I've been
driving for hours. This place is kind of hard to find."

"That's why I like it." Methos looked at the bags and wondered where
Warren thought he was going to stay. "Didn't you get a hotel in town?"

"I came right here. I can't wait to meet my new student."

"They're probably still sleeping at 6 am on a Saturday, like normal
people."

"Boy, are you touchy." Warren looked around the living room, and
wondered how Elizabeth and David got together in the first place, they
were both having terrible mood swings. "Is that your normal state of being,
or are you just not a morning person?"

Methos vigorously rubbed his face to fully wake up and then softened.
"You want some coffee? I know I do."

"Yeah. If you have food, that'd be even better."

Elizabeth came out of the bedroom and regarded Warren, wondering what
he would have thought of her sticking that gun in his face. The only way
she knew he was past it was when he hugged her. "How are you doing?"

"I'm great. David's home."

"I see that."

Methos yawned. 

"I bet you had a long trip," she smiled at Warren. "Come on and sit down
and we'll catch up while he makes something to eat."

That was more like it, and Warren was going to happily follow her into the
dining room as she put on the coffee pot, but Methos held his arm.
"What?"

Methos paused, brushed his toes against the hard wood floor and finally
said, "Thanks for your help in Greece."

Methos surprised him. For an instant, Warren was speechless from the
man's juxtaposition. He said, "Yeah, no problem. I'm glad I could help."

When Methos just looked at him, he moved again to the kitchen. Methos
pulled his arm again. "You didn't tell anyone what you found out there,
did you?"

"Who would I tell?"

"You tell me."

Warren made a locking motion in front of his lips and said, "It's in the
vault." Then couldn't help but add, "Methos," with a smile that Methos
didn't appreciate.

They stared at each other. Methos wondering why he would smile at such
a thing as his name. Warren couldn't get over looking the mythical 5000
year old man who was wearing a baggy t-shirt, jeans, bare feet and wild
hair. The tight look on the old man's face was much the same as when he
watched Elizabeth see his history in the living room of the mansion that
Pyrius had purchased to torture him in private. "I'm not telling anyone.
You don't have to worry."

"Don't call me by that name. I'm David Sommers."

"Gotcha, mate. You and Elizabeth have a nice little homey atmosphere
here. I like the house. I'm glad you two found each other again."

"Why? You don't know us."

"I like it when people conquer their demons. Duncan told me a little about
you both leading up to Greece. He said you were made for each other."

Methos lightly nodded his head, but didn't say anything. Elizabeth's and
his history was between them, not for public consumption. Did Duncan
also tell him about his appetite for heads that he was still trying to
squelch? That he was impotent? He never should have admitted that to the
Scotsman on the phone the night before. 

Warren assured him, "I'm happy to hear it. You and Elizabeth are good
people. Are you both doing well?"

Except that he couldn't get it up, they were wonderful, but that also wasn't
for public consumption, Methos just nodded. When they moved to the
kitchen, the coffee was on and Elizabeth had bread out ready to make the
only thing she was competent, toast. "I'm not sure Antonio has the barn
ready for living quarters yet," Elizabeth said. "If not, where are you going
to stay, Warren?"

"I'll get a hotel."

"You can stay here," Elizabeth suggested, not noticing the knowing look
on Methos' face. He knew she'd offer. He liked having their own space. 

Warren said, "No. I'm expecting someone tomorrow. My fianc‚."

Elizabeth smiled, "That's great. Who is she? What's her name? Is she
immortal? No, she wouldn't be."

"Why not?"

"You're going to marry an immortal?"

"Yeah," Warren was overwhelmed by how women are excited about the
concept of marriage. "Her name is Brynn."

Methos stiffened, there can't be that many immortals named Brynn.
"Brynn what?"

"Brynn Thayer."

Methos relaxed that he didn't say Brynn Sawyer. But, she could have
changed her name. When Warren asked why, Methos only shrugged.
"Thought I might know her."

That got Elizabeth's attention. She knew it would be a possibility, but she
didn't want to meet a past lover of Methos' face to face. She was quiet at
the sink, thinking that she knew Cassandra, before finding out about their
shared history, but it wasn't the same thing. Although seeing Cassandra
again was difficult to say the least. Methos held her against her will. The
sex they must have had would have been... she tightened, 

When they felt another buzz, Warren went to the door. Methos told him,
"Wait," and went before him.

Warren stopped and let Methos look out the peephole, but asked, "Why?"

"You feel a buzz and just walk to the door?" Methos wondered what kind
of immortals he'd surrounded himself with.

"I want to meet my student. It's gotta be Antonio."

When Methos opened the door, it was. With Sofia. They brought a load of
Danish with them. After everyone greeted each other a good morning and
were settling in the kitchen, Warren pulled Antonio aside and told him,
"I'm going to tell you something straight. I feel that honesty is the best
policy when forging a new relationship. I don't know if you've heard
about me, if anyone has told you... I had a student before. 

Antonio nodded, "Yes. I know. Eu sou feliz tˆ-lo." Warren asked what that
meant, Antonio said, "I'm happy to have you. I'll try to talk better English
for you."

"Or, you can teach me Portuguese." The man obviously didn't know
Warren's whole story. He simply stated, "I killed my student."

Antonio is stunned. "Elizabeth didn't tell me that."

Warren figured she wouldn't have, and was glad that she didn't, so he
could explain it himself. "It was by mistake. I didn't mean it. We were
having an argument and I was upset and my mind was racing, I was
dealing with a lot of stuff... from the past. I took his head. Since then, I've
dealt with my past, my disappointments, my taking Andrew, that was his
name. I feel strongly that it will not happen again. I just wanted you to
know that."

Antonio's excitement of the prospect of a teacher and learning even more
changed to indecision with a hint of fear. 

Warren said, "If you decide I'm not the right teacher for you, I understand.
Even though you don't know me, you should believe me, I'm going to be a
good teacher. My head is in a better place now. I'm going to be a good
friend to you and your wife. You can count on me. I promise."

"Did you tell that to your other estudante?"

"Student?" Antonio nodded. "No. His name was Andrew Donnelly. No, I
didn't tell him that. I found him after he turned, took him on without
realizing what state my mind was in. I shouldn't have been his teacher,
Antonio, I was dealing with too much stuff. Hindsight is 20/20. So, I'm
telling you, you can rely on me. I wanted you to know the past."

"What was it that made you take his life?"

"Andrew was belittling my beliefs that I held dear for centuries."

"I'd never pensam...," Antonio stopped, remembering to speak English.
"Think to do that. To anyone."

Warren smiled. "We're going to get along just fine."

"What were your beliefs?"

"I'll tell you about it sometime, if you give me the chance."

Antonio looked at them all in the kitchen and said, "I know your friends.
You come highly qualified. I'll trust you."

~~~~~

TUESDAY NOVEMBER 27, 2001

When Elizabeth hung up from talking to Amanda, she didn't see Methos
around. They were still having a little bit of problems getting everything
out in the open. Since Methos had came home, they enjoyed a loving
atmosphere, but there was no sexual contact at all. She didn't make any
moves in case he wasn't able. He didn't make any moves not knowing
how he'd react to it in the middle of everything. They spent most of their
time together working out what happened in Greece and during their time
apart. Also, some of the things in the burned Pyrius journal, but only the
good stuff. 

His Bizzarrini was gone. She wanted to tell him that she got Amanda to
agree to come to spend Christmas with them, and maybe he could get
Duncan to do the same. Amanda and Duncan were talking, but they
weren't back together. If a little closeness would help them out, it was the
least they could do for them.

She decided to go and see how Antonio and Warren were coming along in
training, and when she did, there was another person who had just arrived.
Brynn Thayer was a gorgeous, blond, tall, skinny, smart and funny
immortal, your basic nightmare. As Elizabeth walked in to gab with them,
she remembered the first time she laid eyes on the fianc‚ Warren found in
Australia. To mention that Elizabeth felt inadequate was an
understatement. Brynn was sure of her self and darn it all, she was funny,
made everyone comfortable. From the moment she stepped foot around
them, she was one of the crowd, and Elizabeth couldn't help but like her.
Deep down, she wondered if Methos really did know her. The only time he
was in her presence, neither of them let on, probably for her and Warren's
benefit.

Methos drove by on his way home and stopped when he saw the Jeep
parked in front of Antonio's. He nodded to Brynn, and to Elizabeth, it was
obvious they knew each other. Elizabeth and Warren both saw there had
been something between them. She didn't like the look on Methos' face
when he first laid eyes on her, either. He wouldn't admit that he knew her.
When she asked him why the look, he said he didn't know what she was
talking about, but Elizabeth knew he knew exactly what she was referring
to. He only said the woman was pretty, he's not blind.

So, Elizabeth got him out of there, asked him to take her into town.
Methos made her drive, and he didn't have to bend her arm to make her.
Elizabeth told him that she already had licenses in five of the United
States, not legal, but she was a good driver. The wind through the window
made Methos' hair fly all over. He grumbled and held it behind his head,
then rolled up the window. "I'm cutting this bloody hair off."

"I like it."

"That's the only reason I've kept it thus far. It's coming off."

"Then I'll cut my hair."

"Like hell..."

Methos and Elizabeth were comfortable with each other's company once
again. Felt the love that was always there.

~~~~~

SATURDAY DECEMBER 1, 2001
CASA SEGURA

It was time they had fun. Elizabeth brought the bags inside and laid her
packages on the bed from women's and men's clothing stores in Lisbon.
After she'd taken a quick shower and did her hair, Methos still wasn't
back. It was getting to be after 6 and she wondered if she should worry as
he'd been gone all day. The black sheath looked different on her in that
bedroom than it did in the mirror at the store with it's lighting, but it was
okay. She attached her new hose onto her garter belt and slipped into her
new stilettos and tied the straps around her ankles. 

After putting on the pearl necklace and earrings, she noticed the scar on
her neck. She inspected it. Since receiving it, she'd been self conscious
about it and wore scarves or turtlenecks, but Methos would look at the
scarves and high necklines and know the reason. The necklace only
attracted attention to it. Or was that in her mind? She scrutinized it closely
with an eye of someone detached. It wasn't that bad, long, or deep. Was
just there. She was going to have it for the rest of her life, she just as well
start accepting it. Positioning the necklace perfectly over the scar, it was
barely visible, even to her eye. She chose to think of it as Methos had a
chance to take her head and he didn't, than as a remnant of Methos' rage.

Hearing the sports car make it's way to the yard filled her with relief. She
remembered when the sound of that car's engine filled her with dread and
would make the vision of Victor laying in a bloody heap return with
explicit clarity. Not any longer, Methos gave her so much, she couldn't
think of the bad, the past. She only wanted to look to the future, and did,
for the first time in her life. After a relationship would get serious, and she
was end up married, she didn't have the kind of satisfied joy that she felt
with Methos.

When she got to the front door, Methos was sauntering up the steps. The
smile on his face was the first thing she noticed, then the close cropped
hair do. Even though he said he'd give long hair a chance, he couldn't. He
rubbed the 2 inch hair on his head. "You don't like it?"

"It's fine," she shrugged. "But I liked the longer hair better."

"Well, get used to it. This is me." He walked into the house and gave her a
kiss. Then took a look at her, at her attired from the pearl necklace to the
heels, brushed his finger under the necklace against the scar. "Going
somewhere?"

"Yeah. With you, but I don't want you smelly. Take a shower and I've laid
out clothes."

"I just got back. I found a library and took out some books I'd always
meant to read."

He saw her standing with her hand on her hip. His plans were out the
window, he just knew it. "Where are we going?"

"To listen to music. Let's go."

"Are Antonio and Sofia and Warren and Brynn joining us?"

"Nope. We're not think about anything but dancing and enjoying
ourselves. Just you and me."

He smiled. "That sounds perfect." As he walked through the bedroom, he
saw a dark blue suit, suspenders, tie, shirt, socks, shiny black leather shoes
on the bed. He said, "That's not mine."

"It is now. I bought it today."

"I'm not wearing that."

"Why not?"

"I'm not wearing that in public. In a dance club."

"Why not?"

"It draws attention."

"You'll really draw attention if you wear jeans while I'm wearing this."

"No one's going to be looking at me when they get a look at you."

"Then why not wear the suit? Methos, it's a different clientele than you're
used to. It's upscale, yuppies. It's also opening night. They'll all be
wearing suits, or at least, very expensive shirts and pants, not jeans."

He relented, groaned as he put it all on after his shower. He'd lost weight
while he was gone, and she misjudged his size. The suit was a little too
big, but he was handsome, sophisticated, elegant. "Nothing good can come
of this," he moaned as she fastened his tie.

"Promise me something?"

"What now?"

"Leave the scowl at home. Your forehead is crinkling and we need some
fun."

He grumbled, "I'll try." Agreed. A little music, a little beer, a little
dancing, it could only make the situation brighter. The fact that she wanted
to spend quality fun time with him was a step in the right direction. The
past week had gone smoothly, even though he still couldn't perform,
didn't try to and Elizabeth gave him all the time he needed. 

~~~~~

DAN€A FELIZ

The club was north of Lisbon, off the main highway and nestled in the
woods. Their clientele hoped to be the many tourists and hikers and spent
their summers in Sintra and the surrounding area. The people in the club
seemed to be just that. Elizabeth finally danced with Methos again, for the
first time since Amy's wedding dance over a year before. As they gyrated,
they put their problems on the back burner. When a slow dance came on,
Elizabeth put her head on Methos' shoulder and enjoyed his touch, his
smell. She knew she was safe. Methos wrapped his arms around her and
whispered in her ear, "I love you, Lizzie."

Even though he hadn't made a move to make love to her, she felt his
warmth and knew it in her soul. Her heart soared when he said that, then
sobered up. They felt a buzz. He scanned the people and for once in his
long life, Methos hoped it was Warren. Or Antonio. No one looked in their
direction, except a man by the door. He had a slow smile, wore a cowboy
hat, tan-colored coat straight out of a spaghetti western. Tall, lean, long
hair and full beard. Elizabeth asked, "Do you know him?"

Methos sighed, "Let's go."

He grabbed their coats from their table and forced her to the back door, out
to the alley. Elizabeth was scared to death. Was he another Pyrius?
Another victim of the horsemen? Damn it! She didn't want to go through
it all again. "Who is he?"

"Jennings," Methos said as they made their way down the alley to the
parking lot. He seethed, "I can't believe he found me. Here of all places."

"What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Why is he after you?"

"He might not be. This could just be a coincidence."

"Then why are we running away?"

"You're challenging every Immortal now? I've been there, done that. It
doesn't help."

"I'd rather challenge and have you get rid of him now than for me to have
to do it later." As soon as she said that, Methos stopped, shoulders fell.
She gasped, "I'm sorry. That just came out. It's fear talking."

They felt the buzz again. Stephen Jennings was standing between them
and the Bizzarrini. Methos pushed Elizabeth to the wall and whispered,
"Stay here." Handed her coat to her and put his on as he walked to
Jennings and said, "I suppose I couldn't just... write you a check?"

Jennings laughed uproariously, slowly shook his head, "You do make me
laugh, Ben. That's why you still have your head."

Methos slowly, painfully smiled. "Yeah, I thought not." He was happy that
the urge that had driven him for the past months didn't invade his
consciousness, but knew that this meeting would only end in a challenge.
He could still make a run for it. But if he remembered right, Jennings was
pretty fast himself. Methos wouldn't give him the satisfaction of running
from him twice. 

"I don't want your money, Ben. I want your head. You've run from me
long enough." Methos motioned for Jennings to follow, which he did .
They walked through the parking lot to the woods. 

Elizabeth, who never did listen, waited until they were out of sensing
range, then followed. As she made her way into the dark woods, she heard
swords clashing together. The fight was underway. She ran to the sounds.
Through the trees, she saw flashes of light as the swords made contact
with each other. She hung back in the trees and watched. That was the first
time she actually saw Methos fight.

She watched with a smile as she saw Methos' style in a fight to the finish.
He kept his feet planted, only swung when he had an opening. He used all
his shoulder strength with every swing, block. Then she noticed
something. Was that an erection? She smiled, she'd know it anywhere.
Why did he keep his shoulder's hunched? She'd have to ask him.

Jennings was a good fighter, scored a cut on Methos' leg. She flinched,
wanted to rush in with her own sword. Rules be damned! That opponent
looked massive and was delicate and graceful with his sword. She pulled
the blue hilted katana out of her coat, but held back. Felt really good that
feelings of Methos' safety came to her. Jennings pulled a switchblade out
of his pocket as Methos' back was turned in a spin.

Elizabeth yelled, "He's got a knife!"

Methos blocked the dagger's progress to his side. With a swift and sudden
whish sound of the sword, Methos swung the Ivanhoe and slashed
Jennings' left hand, making the switchblade drop to the ground. Looked
over at Elizabeth and smiled his thanks, knowing she was there, knowing
she wouldn't stay put at the car. 

Elizabeth noticed a man standing in the trees to the right. He was wearing
a trenchcoat, took a picture with a small camera. There wasn't a buzz
coming from the man. If he found out who was fighting Jennings, Adam
Pierson, ex-watcher, David Sommers, Methos could be exposed. 

Methos had the fight under control, they talked as they swung, played with
each other. He was smiling more than she'd seen that man smile since they
were in Hawaii. She couldn't hear what was said between them but
Methos seemed to be playing with him, had the situation under control.
The most important thing on her mind was the watcher in the woods. 

Elizabeth backed up, then walked around behind the watcher. She was
very careful where she stepped on the fallen leaves on the ground, she
didn't want the man to hear her. She took her spikes off and slowly made
her way behind him.

Elizabeth couldn't help the crunching of leaves under her feet, but the
sounds of the swords clashing drowned it out somewhat. She rushed
behind the watcher, held her sword up and hit the man over the head with
her sword's hilt. He fell like a stone. She hoped hadn't killed him. Felt for
a pulse. It was steady. He'd just have a headache when he got up. She took
the camera and inspected it. It was a digital camera with a weirdo lens. She
looked through the viewfinder. The weirdo lens was night vision. Pretty
cool. And, the photos he'd taken would be interesting to see, if he was
Jennings' watcher, or hers, or Methos'. 

After slipping the camera in her coat pocket, and fumbled through his
pockets for any kind of notes he might have taken. She didn't find
anything but a cell phone, so she turned her attention back to the fight.
Methos told her he didn't like a long fight, but there he was, extending it,
dancing around Jennings, who was in bad shape. Blood oozed out of at
least three places that Elizabeth could tell on his light clothing. Methos
had to be showing off to her, and she liked it. A lot. 

Although Methos was dressed in dark blue, she could see the slash on his
leg, but she didn't see any other wounds. She cringed at the amount of
money she spent on that suit, but it was worth it to see him in it. He was a
magnificent fighter. Too suave for his own good in the suit after shedding
his trenchcoat. James Bond, eat your heart out. The way he toyed with
Jennings, Elizabeth thought maybe he was going to let the man go. Even
though she didn't want to admit it, she wanted to see Methos take that
quickening. He was fairly challenged, and she wanted to witness him
receiving one.

Then, Jennings kicked Methos and he fell back. He spun in time to miss
getting the sword implanted in his skull. Methos spun again onto his back
and when Jennings was on top of him, kicked with full force at Jennings'
crotch. Jennings fell to his knees, Methos got to his feet from his prone
position in one elegant, swift movement. Elizabeth enjoyed watching him,
then Methos sliced his Ivanhoe across Jennings' chest again. Spun around,
looked down at his opponent. He whispered something and took his head.

Elizabeth watched as Methos took Stephen Jennings' quickening in full
force, standing through the whole thing. He roared with delight and
Elizabeth could about imagine what he was feeling. She was getting hot
just watching her damn fine looking man. Methos had his hands on his
knees, stooped over, taking deep breaths when it was over. That's what he
looked like from afar during the time of great ecstacy, spent energy...

Elizabeth went back for her shoes, sheathed her sword and walked into the
clearing. Methos steadied himself and quieted his body after yet another
quickening. When she appeared in front of him, he gauged her reaction.
"He wouldn't back down. I had to take him."

"I know." She wanted him to know that she didn't think he was reverting
back to old habits, it was fine that he took the head, and she enjoyed
watching it. "Fresh start, remember? How do you feel?"

He straightened, "Peachy."

Elizabeth took the camera out of her pocket and took his picture. He didn't
like it. Then saw the digital camera. "Where did you get that?"

"From the watcher in the woods," she nodded to the direction where the
mortal still laid.

"What watcher?"

"The one I knocked out."

"Is there anyone else around?"

"Not a soul. I looked. He must be Jennings' watcher. I haven't seen
Maxwell, if he's still mine. Is there a lot of turnover with the Watchers?"

"Give me that," he said, taking the camera from her. He opened the flap
and took the photo card out of it and brushed off all fingerprints from it.
The Watchers had a lot of tools at their disposal and neither of their prints
could be on it if they wanted to find out who interfered. He dropped the
camera on the ground. As he moved her back to the car, he wondered
about turnover. He was still under the impression that his watcher was Joe,
but that could have changed.

Elizabeth wanted to ask him all sorts of questions, who Jennings was, how
they knew each other, what he did to him in the past, if he was following
him, was it a vendetta... but would wait. Thankfully, they had all the time
in the world to talk.

Methos was glad to feel the pain of the quickening. It was something the
last ten heads he'd taken didn't give him. He didn't feel them. This one, he
did, but the rumbling in his loins was a welcome remembrance of how a
sane immortal received them. He held onto Elizabeth as they walked back
to civilization and the car in silence. They got into the Bizzarrini and
Methos drove them away. Elizabeth felt his bloody leg, "Does it still
hurt?"

"Nah. It's healed. Thanks for the warning, but I can take care of myself.
Although I hate getting cut."

"You're welcome."

"I thought I asked you to stay by the club?"

"You told me, you didn't ask me." She smiled as he groused. "You looked
good, Methos. Is that who he was, someone after Methos' head?"

"No."

"Then, why was he after you?"

"I owed him money."

She laughed. "You owe someone money? Can't pay your bills?"

"This was in 1790."

"How much did you owe him?"

"$1200."

"WHAT? In today's money, that's gotta be..."

"More than I had in my pocket at the time."

"Why did you owe him so much?"

"A poker game got outta hand."

"So, it wasn't anything..." about the horsemen...

"No," he emphatically stated. "We only met that night. I just had a bad
hand and didn't have the cash on me. Well, I had a good hand. Full house,
9's over 3's. He was a better cheater. Full house, 10's over 6's."

"So, why didn't you just give him an IOU and pay it later?"

"He pissed me off. The bidding got out of control. You couldn't just say,
'Oops, sorry, bet more than I brought' at a poker game in the wild, wild
west. You were hung for things like that. In my case, beheaded. Jennings
had a lousy temper," Methos shook his head at the remembrance. "He
slapped a bar maid across the room because she got him scotch instead of
tequila. I didn't need any of that karma. I took off when he got the hint
about my lack of funds." Methos was silent for a moment, taking a turn
and stewed about that night so long ago, "I was watching him like a hawk.
I don't know how he cheated. I distinctly remember stacking the deck so
he'd get 6s over 10s."

She wasn't paying attention to his soliloquy. Only one sentence he said
was what she pondered over. "Did you help the barmaid?"

"Huh?"

"You said he slapped the barmaid around." She remembered customers in
her place in Gettysburg and it wasn't lady-like to fight back. Luckily, she
had friends who helped her out.

"That barmaid kicked him in the groin, wearing shoes remarkably similar
to yours." She looked at her spikes. "That's why I ran. I wasn't as properly
attired for a fight with him."

Elizabeth decided she would have liked that barmaid. That was 70 years
before she ran her bar and wouldn't have ever thought of being so bold.
She smiled, "You had a sword."

"I wasn't in the game." He remembered the last head he took before taking
himself out of the game. In 1750, he had to take the head of his lover in
Mexico. That was a tough one to take, but it had to be done. That man
found out he was Methos and was ready to blab to anyone who'd listen
because he was ticked at him. 

"So, he's been mad at you for all those years? You never saw him again?"
How many more were out there gunning for him? Just one night of playing
poker would get you a life long enemy? She really needed to start paying
attention to how she treated people.

"I ran into him around... 1900. Around the first time I ever laid eyes on
you as a matter of fact. He was still pissed."

"Why didn't you just pay him then?"

"I tried. He wanted my head instead. I wasn't going to have any part of
that."

"Are there any more out there that want your head?"

"Of course. I've lived a long life, met and pissed off many people. That's
why I'm illusive. That's why I change my name, in case anyone gets a beat
on me without my knowing." Like Pyrius, he thought. Pyrius kept very
good tabs on him over the years. He cringed to think how many others
might be out there.

Elizabeth watched him as he drove. He looked really good in that suit. She
rubbed his shoulder as he drove the sports car. He finally looked at her.
"What are you doing?"

"You look really good," she purred, started rubbing the back of his silky
neck.

Methos glanced back at the road, full of himself, confident. He swerved
the car to the side of the road, scaring Elizabeth from the suddenness, and
pulled to a stop on the side of the road. "Get out," he told her.

She was at a complete loss. What was that for? "Get out," he said again,
opening his door.

After he stepped out of the car, Elizabeth wondered where they were. With
that smile, she knew he was getting hard, did he expect them to do it on
the ground in the middle of nowhere? Would they? Could they? Could he?

She got out and saw Methos' face across the top of the car. He smiled and
reached back into the car, flipped the driver's seat forward and the back of
it down. Smiled at her and said, "Get in."

He slid into the backseat. She laughed. He yelled, "Get in here!"

He was back! Elizabeth moved her seat back forward and crawled in.
Methos was sitting in the middle of the seat, his legs spread. As soon as
she was within reach, he pulled her on top of him and yanked down her
coat, kissed her deeply. She pulled her arms out of the coat and felt
Methos' hands on her shoulders, then on the fabric of the top of her dress.

She pulled away from the kiss and said, "Don't rip this dress."

Seams tore. His hands found the stash and she watched him paw her chest,
felt his hard on under his pants. "Mm, okay," She moaned as she popped
the button on his pants and unzipped him. "You'll just have to buy me
another one." 

He lifted his hips and they were both glad he wouldn't need a truck of
viagra to get with the program again. "I haven't made out in the back of a
car for years," she said as she pulled him free from his pants. "It was
really, the only thing I ever enjoyed about cars."

"I do it every once in a while."

"Yeah, I saw." Methos looked at her. She turned his attention back to what
he was doing, not what she said.

~~~~~

CASA SEGURA

Methos walked through the woods, there was a light up ahead beaming
through the trees. The sun. Crack of dawn. It used to be the worse time of
day for Methos. In recent years, he only saw the sun rise if it was a good
night at a bar and he was on his way home from a lover's apartment. He
emerged from the trees to a field. He studied the sun as it crept it's way up
past the horizon. The sky was red, clouds looked like pink cotton candy.
"Red skies at night, sailor's delight. Red skies in morning, sailor's take
warning." He wasn't going sailing, so he didn't take note of it.

The field took on a rustic cast from the lighting of the cloudy morning sky.
A white house sat in the distance at the end of a winding gravel road. It
looked like their driveway in Portugal, but the house certainly wasn't at all
like theirs. It was familiar, but Methos couldn't place it. Methos looked
down at his hand. He held a set of car keys. This time and place seemed
familiar, but he couldn't place it. He walked toward the house. 

There was a soft rhythmic cry from a child. A scrawny white cat nuzzled
up on his leg. Methos bent over to pet the cat, but it skittered away. He
watched the cat go to the house, which was now bright orange. What was
he doing there? Who's keys are these? Suddenly, nothing was familiar.
That crying baby didn't let up and he looked around, but couldn't see
where it was from. It seemed to be from the high weeds he was walking
across, but it was no where in sight. 

A bird cawed it's good morning from a tree in the distance. Further in the
distance, he heard the howl of a wolf. The bray of horses. The buzz of
insects. The house... it was stucco. It was their house outside of Sintra.
Methos walked through the knee high weeds toward home. It was pleasant
with the sounds of animals in the forest, the birds in the air, the child's cry
turned to soft laughter.

Another sound drowned out the reverie. The clank of metal hitting metal
echoed over nature's early din. The swish of swords. He turned around to
see them the white lights of Immortal's swords making contact ripped
through the reddish, dank air. He ran away as fast as he could, not noticing
the drop off on their property. He fell the hundred feet to the ground.  

The clangs and crashes rose in volume. He lifted his head and saw the
white lights. He jumped up. The battle was right in front of him, Elizabeth
was in a heated fight with a large man. Methos wondered aloud, "Lizzie?"

She turned in his direction, wearing an bright yellow parka. The young
man, kid really, that she was fighting, raised his sword, Elizabeth sole
attention was on Methos. She smiled over her shoulder at him. He
screamed, "Duck!"

Elizabeth's head flew off her shoulders as the man made his killing slice.
Methos watched her head hit the ground, her body slumped. "NO!"
Methos took his sword out of his coat and madly slashed at the man. 

Pyrius was out of reach. He pointed his blade at Methos' nose and spoke,
"I stole another one of your wives!" He heinously laughed, "You'll never
defeat me!"

Methos slashed his Ivanhoe to the left, the right, then realized no one was
there. He screamed, "Come back here! You little bastard! You're dead!" 

The only response he got was a piece of paper floating from the sky. Like a
center fielder waiting for a pop fly, Methos paced back and forth, head in
the air, to get the paper. When he reached for it, it was a passport. He
stepped back as he scanned the document. He picked out the word, Paris.
He tripped over something, fell to the ground. He looked back at what he
fell over, it was Elizabeth's headless body. Pyrius' laughter rattled in his
consciousness. He blankly stared at what was left of her as he shook. He
held out his hand, that vibrated as it made it's way to her back. Elizabeth's
head had landed yards away. It was a lump, really. Hair and blood matted
over a mound in the high weeds.

Methos ran for her head. Grabbed it, lifted it up. Pyrius' maniacal laughter
reverberated in his brain. As he turned toward the laughter, a smattering of
bloody gold coins fell from Elizabeth's mouth. The laughter stopped, as if
cut off in mid stream. 

Methos trudged back to her body with her head in his hands. He placed her
head back where it should rightfully be, on top of her shoulders. Her eyes
stared blankly ahead. He leaned down and kissed her lips, getting no
response from her remains. Placing a hand over her dead eyes, he closed
them shut. Her face was facing up, her body was facing down. That was
wrong.

When he turned over her body, he fell back on his butt, stunned. From her
throat to her crotch was a constant, deep slash. Her insides were fluffed up
like a baked potato after baking, slit, and squeezed open. He screamed.
"Elizabeth!!"

Methos kicked hard. Elizabeth reverberated with the sudden movement
out of a deep sleep, almost scared her to death. She tried to clear her head,
figure out where she was. Methos kicked her square in the back pushing
her off the bed. 

He screamed at the top of his lungs, "Elizabeth!" When she cleared her
head enough, awoke, she lifted her head to see a pillow sailing through the
air at her. She ducked in time and it thumped against the wall. "Liz!"
Methos screamed again.

She crawled on the bed, "What?"

He focused on her. "Liz!"

"What?!"

Methos was elated that she appeared right in front of him, head attached to
her body, talking. He grabbed her, pulled her over him and laid her down,
wrapped his arms around her, then his legs. "Lizzie," he cried, head on her
chest. 

"I'm here. I'm right here," she said as she held him, tried to calm him
down, wondered what the hell happened. He cried with no regard to pride,
embarrassment, just in relief of the fear that hadn't come true. Elizabeth
caressed his back and asked, "What is it? What happened?"

"I--," he couldn't speak, shook with his head nestled in her neck.

She said, "Did you have a dream?"

"It was a nightmare," violently shaking his head.

She lifted his head, stroked his face, dried his tears, but they still flowed.
"It was just a dream. It wasn't real."

"I've had..."

"You've had what?"

"I've had dreams that came true." He anchored his elbows on the bed,
grabbed her head to have her full attention, demanded, "You have to
promise me. Swear you will listen and no back talk. You have to work out,
you're not in shape. You have to carry a sword with you at all times. You
will never let down your guard. You have to remember to plant your feet.
Do you plant your feet when you fight?" She smiled at the genuine
emotions he was laying out for her, and not caring what it would look like.
"What is so damn funny?"

"Nothing's funny. It's sweet."

"I'm not doing sweet. I'm doing serious! You have to promise me. None
of those playing moves I've seen you do when you practice with Antonio.
All that fancy crap that MacLeod uses. You remember the basics. Get the
fight over quickly, but run away when you can. Never, ever have skis,
skates, or ridiculous shoes on your feet again, ever!"

"Not even pumps?" She teased.

He didn't like the smile that she wouldn't let go. Waited for her to
complain about being ordered around like a child. He knew she would, so
he said, "You have to live, Lizzie. I can't breath without you. Promise
me."

Methos was so serious and had so forcefully revealed his feelings,
Elizabeth couldn't help but shiver with excitement. She lifted her head to
his and nestled his nose with her own. When she lifted up and kissed him,
he devoured her, then laid his head back at her neck. She told him, "It was
just a dream."

"Not if I dream it again. They always come true if I do." The last vivid
dream was when he dreamt of the cellar. The bunker. The shadow, Pyrius.
He lifted his head and demanded, "Say my name."

"Methos."

"I have to continue hearing that," he mashed his forehead against hers and
moaned, "I'm only alive when I'm inside of you. So, promise me."

"I promise, Methos." She wiped away the last of the tears that streaked his
face. "Who says you don't do sweet? That's the kindest orders you've ever
given me." Then she realized all that he had said. "What do you mean, I'm
not in shape?"

He liked her curves, wasn't 'fat', but wasn't in shape. "You got tired when
we walked through Sintra the other day, just carrying shopping bags."

"Do you realize the incline on those streets? They're more vertical than
San Francisco."

"You have to get in shape to protect yourself."

He couldn't stop the shaking from his dream. Even Elizabeth wrapping her
arms and the blankets around him didn't calm him. He kissed her,
admittingly so, as if it was for the last time. She could feel his heat on her
leg. His arms were clenched around her body, completely enveloping her.
She moved her leg and his member fell between them peeking out from
the slit in his boxers. She squeezed her legs together, making him hike an
eyebrow.

When she reached down and pulled at the waistband of his shorts, he
smiled, then shook, he knew that woman was going to be taken. He moved
his hands under her Rangers jersey and onto her breasts. Elizabeth heard
him sniff back the tears and wondered what in the hell he dreamt, but it
was just a dream, or nightmare. She had them too, but they were garbage.
Hers hadn't come true. Her nightmares consisted of Methos spurning her
at every opportunity. There he was holding her. His clenches, demands
that she better herself, made her feel absolutely loved by him and her
whole body tingled from excitement. 

He fondled her nipples making them stiff pebbles. She felt the hard curves
of the muscles on his sides, followed them with her fingertips. His body
wasn't back to how it was before Pyrius, but he was close and wondered
how he got himself into shape again. He certainly didn't exercise in front
of her, just one kind of exercise that they'd started that night in the car. He
lifted up. She opened her eyes to see him roll over and slip out of his
boxers then pulled down her panties. 

When they were off her and on the floor, he brushed at her pubic hair, bent
over and kissed her stomach. She laid her head back again and shut her
eyes. Every movement of Methos danced through her body as his tongue
slithered in and out of her belly button, then down the curve to her crotch.
She grabbed the hair on his head, sorry he cut it off. As she opened her
legs farther, his tongue flickered in and out of her. Her hand brushed his
back then clamped onto the brass headboard when he lifted over her. She
rolled toward him, clamped a leg around his hips.

Methos rolled them back, positioned himself on top of her, between her
legs. He kissed her, melding her juice with the saliva in her mouth. Then
he moved his mouth down, kissing and licking her until he reached her
shoulder, and that damn scar that he gave her. Elizabeth arched her back
and widened her legs, lifted her hips, waiting impatiently for him to come
on inside.

He gently entered her, careful not to stir anything but desire and the feeling
of wanting more. They frantically went at it in the car, and he wasn't able
to finish. Elizabeth didn't seem upset, or disappointed, he remembered her
words, "It's okay. I love you." They didn't seem to help his masculinity.
The drive home was quiet. They retired for the night without a word. She
wanted to talk, but he stopped her from saying a thing.

So he went slow. Didn't think of Pyrius or Prima or what he did thousands
of years ago, just focused on the woman underneath him, not what he did
to her in his madness. He was convinced she was going to be taken from
him. Elizabeth was going to die and he didn't know what to do to make
sure it didn't happen. He had to show her how much he loved her, and
went slowly. He wasn't going to lose his hard on this time.

Her hand unclenched from the spoke of the headboard and he took it.
Kissed it, sucked on her fingers as he slowly moved up and in, down and
out. Waves of electricity flowed over her in the darkness as she bent her
head back further into Methos' pillow. He pulled her legs around him and
continued the slow, steady pace as his tongue traced that scar that he was
going to have to face as it was a part of them now. Even though he wanted
to get farther into her, he held back, until she start lifting her hips to meet
his thrusts and grabbed his tensed, then relaxed butt cheeks. 

"Please," she whispered. "Don't stop." He looked into her eyes, begging,
hoping that they could consummate it together. His stomach flipped from
the overpowering emotion he felt for the woman and her eyes peering up at
him. A soft moan escaped him as he pumped faster, deeper with each
pounding until they were riding the crest of the waves.

She let out a loud groan as she knew he would be ready to release into her.
It had been so long since she experienced him in all his glory, the Methos
she loved and admired, wanted him beyond belief. Shudders started in her
crotch and flowed through her legs, then the rest of her body as Methos
grunted. He ejaculated but continued to pump through their wetness as he
knew there was more to be released. He pulled at her legs and held himself
inside her. Every muscle in his body was tense and vibrating. Then
pumped again. Elizabeth gasped as she reached orgasm, and he was right
with her, keeping his final thrust inside. He rocked them back and forth,
heard a soft cry come out of Elizabeth's mouth. The satisfaction of a job
well done and the flush of her embrace and seeing that her body was
shuddering and sweating, her eyes clenched with ecstasy, he started to
giggle from relief.

When he shrunk, he fell out of her, relaxed his grip on her leg and under
her arched back. She fell flat down on the bed, straightened her neck.
Tears flowed from her eyes. He laid his head on hers and said, "Did I hurt
you?"

"God, no!" She shook her head, opened her eyes, melted at the sight of his
golden green eyes just inches from her face. He grabbed her and rolled
them over. Her hair fell on his face and he pulled it into a ponytail and
pulled her to him. "I missed you."

He started missing her already. When she laid flat on the bed, he curled up
on her side and held on. Wondered how long it would be before they were
over. "I've never lived this life before," he confessed. "I have a lover,
finally, who understands everything about me... an immortal," he added
with an amazed moan. "A woman that I worship."

"Let's not get carried away," she laughed, tried to control her breathing.
"That's high standards to live up to."

Methos made her look at him and warned, 'You have to be ready. That
nightmare is not coming true."

"What in the world did you dream about?"

"You were taken."

"By who?"

"Pyrius."

She flinched, lifted up. "Methos, that's not going happen," adamant. "He's
dead. I took his head, remember?"

"It was too real. You're going to face danger. I know you are. You have to
be ready."

He scared her again. The game. Even though she'd started training a
newbie and he was still training just a half mile down the road, it was all a
far away predicament of her life that Methos wanted to put back on the
front burner. "Yeah, you said that... I've taken heads in the past."

"Each fight is a new fight," he said as if he were teaching her. When she
sat up, he held her arm. "Where are you going?"

"You threw my pillow at me." He let her leave him long enough to pick it
up off the floor and laid her back down at his side, where she belonged.

, he thought to himself as he spooned
himself behind her. 

~~~~~

SUNDAY DECEMBER 2, 2001

Elizabeth awoke to see Methos still clasped onto her body. He was so
peaceful. Comfortable. She had to go to the bathroom, but didn't want to
as any movement could disturb him. She wondered if he was dreaming
about her decapitation again. No, his mouth was in a slight smile. At least,
she hoped the thought of her beheading wasn't pleasant to him. 

After Methos woke up and massaged her shoulder then down her arm, she
let the motions of his fingers wash over her, loving every moment. Then,
she realized that his fingers were focused on one spot. She opened her eyes
to see him poke and knead her bicep. He wasn't massaging her, he was
checking her muscle tone, not anything remotely sensual. "You need to
exercise," he said.

She moaned, "It was just a dream. I'm in shape. And I'm not going to
challenge anyone. Not Pyrius, which is impossible by the way, or anyone
else."

"Let's spar."

She sat up and laughed, "You're kidding." When she looked back at his
face, she saw that he wasn't. "Methos, I know how to fight. And I know
how to run."

"I just got you back, I'm not going to lose you."

"Not in your wildest dreams," she said off hand, then looked at him. He
didn't like that comment at all. "You aren't. You're saddled with me for a
hell of a long time. I'm not going anywhere." She got up, "Except to the
bathroom."

"You have to be ready."

"I'm always ready."

As she walked into the bathroom, he yelled, "You're not listening to me!" 

He laid back and took his watch from the night stand and put it on. The
watch was a unimpressive Timex, that did have one feature that he didn't
have much use for, a date. It was December 2. One hundred and three
years ago, he first laid eyes on Elizabeth in Wyoming. He remembered that
night and never in his wild dreams would he think that the woman after a
one legged immortal would ever be important in his life. She was just as
beautiful then, but skinnier. Granted, she was wearing a corset, but the
folds of the dress she wore revealed a small waist, her forearms were
dainty but swung that sword well. She had to defend herself as she was
falling back from his Ivanhoe. Would she still be able to do it? She wasn't
far from her training then, had she slacked off?

He figured she wouldn't take him seriously, as she hadn't that morning,
and wondered if he should do something extremely serious to drive the
point home that he was not going to lose her. Ever again. Only on his
terms, not some immortal's, or hers. 

He got out of bed when he heard the tub water run. Damn, he wanted to
take a shower. Methos walked in the bathroom just as Elizabeth was
stepping into the tub. He stopped in his tracks and scrutinized her form.
There was muscle tone there, but she also jiggled. When she smiled at the
prospect of company, he shook his head, no. "I want to take a quick
shower. I have something to do."

She offered, "I'll wash your back."

"Not now," he took her hands off him and said, "We'll be in here for hours
if I let you have your way. Scoot. I had something to do." He directed her
to the door and shut it behind her. 

Elizabeth stood naked in the bedroom wondering what the hell he was
thinking. Yes, he did keep her on her toes. She got back into bed to
prepare the questions for him after he finished. His smell of his pillow was
comforting as she fell back to sleep.

She felt a kiss on her cheek and turned to see a dressed Methos tell her,
"I'm going out for a little while. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

He was at the door before she could turn over. "Where are you going?"

"You'll find out." Then he was gone.

The only thing she'd done while he was out and about was take a hot bath,
dress and make coffee even though he'd been gone for hours. She was
sitting on the front porch to take in the bright afternoon sun when the
Bizzarrini made it's way up the drive. Without a word, and while he kept
the engine running, he came to collect her and walk her to the car. 

When he opened the passenger door, she finally had to ask, "Where are we
going?"

"You'll see."

He waited for her to get into the car, she didn't. "Ah, no. I want to drive."

"This is a stick."

"I know."

"It's a very expensive car."

"I know. Can I?"

"I don't know, can you?"

"Okay, Mr. Grammar, may I?"

"Let's take the Jeep."

"I want to drive this."

"I've seen you drive this."

"Please?"

He took a deep breath and said, "Be very careful."

"Is that a slur?"

"It's not a slur, it's... this is my baby. Be careful."

She got into the driver's side and made herself comfortable. "What you
need in this thing is a really good stereo," she said. "A CD player. Should I
get you one for your birthday?"

"I don't celebrate birthdays."

"Oh, that's right," she smiled as she put the car in reverse and Methos
grabbed the dashboard.

~~~~~

SINTRA

Methos scrutinized her every single move and pushing of pedals and
shifting. He was a total back seat driver. Commented on everything.
"Well," she said as they entered the city. "Where was it you wanted to
go?"

He pointed down a street. "There."

She turned, slowly, scraped tire on the curb. He just looked at her as the
gears groaned. She did it on purpose. "I'll get used to it."

The road was steep and Methos held onto the dash as she was going a bit
too fast. "Park here," he pointed at the curb in front of a caf‚. "You do
know how to park, don't you?"

"Leave me alone," she said with a smile. After she got it parked without a
scratch and turned off the motor, he reached over her to set the parking
brake and grabbed her hand and pulled her out his side of the car. 

He shut the door and made sure it was locked as Elizabeth smiled at the
people eating or ordering at the caf‚. "You're hungry?" She remembered
when he was late in Seacouver, only to get a chef prepare a special meal.
And make arrangements for the perfect vacation in Hawaii. She couldn't
imagine what he had planned, but she couldn't help but be excited.

"No, come with me."

"Where?"

"You know, you'd drive me nuts if I didn't love you." He took her arm
and moved her down the sidewalk. "Let me rephrase that. Because I love
you, you drive me nuts."

"You sweet talker, you," she put her arm around his waist as they walked
by the people in cafes and shops and coming out of church. Then, they
stopped. When the people were finished filing out of a little church that
Methos had pointed out where he was killed in a duel before, he steered
her toward the steps. "I see," she whispered. "I'm not going to hang
around on holy ground until you're sure that dream is going to come true."

"Just come on," he said, taking her hand and leading her inside. 

After all the people had vacated it, the church echoed with every footstep
they made on the terra cotta floor. The ceilings were high, the wood of the
altar was teak. They stood half way up the aisle and noticed that someone
forgot their hat in one of the pews. Methos took her hands in his and
asked, "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes."

He didn't like that she was looking at the stained glass windows. "I want
your undivided attention."

"Okay."

When she finally looked at him, he recited,  
"somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though I have closed myself as fingers,
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: rendering death 
and forever with each breathing
(I do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands..."

After finishing the poem, he kissed her fingers. Elizabeth smiled, "That's
e.e. cummings. He's one of my favorites." Methos reached into his pocket
when she asked, "Did you ever meet him?"

"No, but it's a great poem. Apropos, don't you think?"

"It's beautiful, and I can read into it."

"Do that. I mean every word, even though I didn't write it myself." He
opened his hand and two gold bands shone in the candlelight. 

She asked, "What're they for?"

"I know you've seen wedding rings before, Elizabeth. Only this one,
you're going to wear for the rest of your life."

She stared at him dumbfounded. "Excuse me?"

"'Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures
prove'... Let me put this ring on thy finger... soon." 

"Oh, my God," she stepped back.

"You should take your God's name in vain in a church, Liz. It could be
bad luck."

Her hand flew to her heart, "You're serious. You'd better be serious. This
isn't a joking matter."

"No, I've never been more so, Lizzie. I love you and want to walk the rest
of my days beside you."

"This isn't just... make the chick feel better because you're positive I'm
going to bite it, is it?"

He cringed, that was exactly what Alexa said when he came to her bedside
with two rings. "That is the last thing I want."

"Methos," she paused. Looked around, sorry she said his name before
checking to see who was in the vicinity.

"I need to keep hearing you say that," he smiled. "Don't you want to be my
wife? I know I haven't been a picnic, but--."

"Don't I want to be your wife?" She laughed. It was the funniest question
he ever asked her. "I know your policy about immortals. You've stated it
many times to me. I thought it was to give me the hint to not ever expect
such a thing."

"Life is short when you actually think about it. We can't lose anymore
time together. We have to cherish it."

Elizabeth thought about the nine months they were apart after Pyrius. She
crumbled as she hugged Methos. He said, "Can I take that as a yes?"

She asked, "Are you sure?"

Pulling her head back and brushing her hair off her face, he said, "With all
my being, I need to walk alongside you as an equal. You're my partner."

She was ready to explode with the surprise and giddiness she felt. "I
actually tried to kill you. I can't believe that was ever in my head."

"This may be old hat to you, getting proposals, and accepting them, but I
don't do it that often. Would answer my question?"

"Yes," she stammered, "Yes!" 

Methos looked off to the side, the priest was standing there with a bible in
his hands. She was surprised by him. Methos introduced her to him in
Portugese and told her, "He doesn't speak English."

"Nenhum problema," she said. "Antonio and Sofia have been teaching me
a little more."

They walked to the altar and the priest joined them, who pulled Methos'
hand in front of him and placed Elizabeth's hand on top of his. He said, "O
caros, n¢s estamos aqui junt -lo ambos nas liga‡ es. [Dear ones, we are
here to join you both in the bonds of holy matrimony.]" 

Elizabeth thought she was going to fall on the floor. She'd married six
times and they all made the spit go out of her mouth. She wondered what
Methos was thinking. Did he want a clean getaway? She'd let him if he
did.

Methos felt the sweat bead on his neck and forehead. He'd been married
68 times and it was never taken lightly. His last wife, Alexa... they were
married while she was on her deathbed. He was able to give her one last
thing. One sign that she was deeply loved on this earth. Then she died, not
even four hours later. Would he have married her if there was a miracle
cure for cancer? Before Alexa, he went centuries without finding a special
someone to tie his life to. He had been determined all day to go through
with marrying Elizabeth, seemed like a grand idea, but as he stood there in
front of a priest and alongside her, he wondered if the emotional dream
was the only reason he was marrying her. That she was about to die. He
would give her one last thing to know she was deeply loved on this earth,
could that be why he was doing it?

He looked at Elizabeth's face and at her hand over his. She looked as
nervous as he felt. Their past rumbled through his mind. What he did to
her. What she did to him.  Was this really what he wanted? His armpits
heated. He swallowed hard and repositioned his feet. He was always
nervous when he stood in front of a holy man with a woman at his side.
This feeling wasn't abnormal. Both Elizabeth and the father were looking
at him. Did he miss something? "Hm?"

The father repeated, "Vocˆ faz exame desta mulher para ser sua esposa
[Do you take this woman to be your wife]?"

Elizabeth noticed that he was lost in thought, leaned close to him and said,
"You don't have to."

"Sim [Yes]," Methos told the man.

When the father turned to Elizabeth and asked, "Vocˆ faz exame deste
homem para ser seu marido [Do you take this man to be your husband],"
she studied Methos' body language. She wanted him for her husband more
than anything in the world, but not if he wanted to take a long hike during
the ceremony.

Methos told her, "Say sim. Then we can get out of here and start our life."

"Really? You really want that?"

"Yes."

"Okay," she smiled, her insides leapt. When she looked back at the father,
who was still expecting an answer. "Sim!"

The father smiled and asked, "Vocˆ tem os an‚is para significar seu
compromisso [Do you have rings to signify your commitment?]"

Methos took them out of his pocket and showed her the inscription inside
his. ME. She smiled, "Is that one yours and mine says 'You"?"

She saw that they both had ME inscribed. He said, "I shortened it. It stands
for Methos and Elizabeth. One entity. Together. Forever."

"That would be hard to get all that on a ring."

"Right," he smiled. "And it was difficult to get the jeweler to open let
alone inscribe the rings, so we know what it means."

She wondered why he used his real name in front of the priest, but realized
the man didn't know a word of the English what Methos said. Elizabeth
felt like busting out crying, "I really should have known you had this up
your sleeve. I could have done something for you."

"I have it right here." He gave her the man's gold band. 

After she slid the ring on Methos' finger, the father announced, "Eu
pronuncio-o agora homem e esposa [I now pronounce you man and wife],"
he said with a great smile. He held out his arms and told Methos, "Vocˆ
pode beijar seu mulher  [You may kiss your women]."

Elizabeth asked, "Your what?"

Methos grinned as he said, "My woman."

She asked the priest, "Posso eu beijar meu homem? [May I kiss my
man?]"

"Sim," the priest smiled. As did Methos, when she stretched up to kiss him
on the lips.

"Are we feeling all right about this?" She asked him.

"Oh, yes." Methos turned to the father and said, "Agrade‡a-o, pai [Thank
you, father]."

He opened his arms to the heavens then back to the couple, "V  na paz e
ande com Christ [Go in peace and walk with Christ.]"

They thought he was finished and turned to walk away, start their life. But
the priest put his hands on each of their heads and said, "Vocˆ ‚ casado
nos olhos do deus [You are married in the eyes of God]," startling them
both.

Elizabeth asked, "What about the eyes of Portugal?"

"Who cares about the eyes of the world? It's nice to have a secret,"
Methos smiled.

~~~~~

CASA SEGURA

After Methos drove them back to the house, he lifted her into his arms and
carried her over the threshold. Elizabeth appreciated the custom, but said,
"You're a little too late, aren't you?"

"It's never too late."

He set her down on the living room floor and shut the door. The lighting
flashed on his wedding ring, then on her own. She would have to get used
to wearing one again, a ring from the man she would love forever. This
time she knew she would. "Methos?"

Seeing her hold her ring on her finger and scrutinizing it, he said, "Don't
tell me you wanted a diamond."

"No. This is perfect." She lifted his left hand and kissed his wedding ring.
"I don't know if this marriage is legal, but we were married in front of
God, my God, and I take it very seriously. This wasn't just a lark on your
part, was it?"

"No."

"Well, I'm going to give you an out. I don't want you to ever think you
have to be here with me, for any reason other than you want to be with me.
I never want you to wear this after you don't feel the need to. Just take it
off. Okay?"

"You taking off is more inevitable."

"I'm not going anywhere. That was a dream. This is reality. Do you want
change your mind?"

"No, no. I don't want that at all."

They stood looking at each other. Elizabeth seductively asked, "What do
you want to do?"

Methos purred into her ear, "I have the perfect idea."

"I was hoping you would," she smiled, then about fainted when he licked
behind her ear, just the way she liked, without being slobbery. 

He opened her coat and positioned a hand on her hip. Then pulled out her
sword, confusing her. "Take this." She did, then he pulled his sword out of
his coat and stepped back, held the sword out, waited.

"What? Is this an ancient custom I'm not aware of?"

"I'm going to attack you and you defend it," he waved his sword, readying
them both for it.

"No, I'm not. Not with swords and not in my house."

"Come on," he clinked his sword against her blade. 

"I'm not fighting you."

"No, you're going to show me what you can do. I've only seen you take
Logan." He nudged her sword up and said, "Come at me."

"No." The memory of her sword to his neck on holy ground and his
putting swords to hers in Seacouver and Paris were too much. "Was that
really why you married me? I'm not going to lose my head, so if you want
the ring back, take it."

"I married you because I love you, idiot! And you need to know how
serious I am that you take care of yourself because it's the two of us now.
We're going to go through this life we have left together. So, come on,
show me what you have."

"No swords."

He put the Ivanhoe gently on the couch and said, "Okay," motioned for her
to attack him. "Come on. Let's see how strong you are."

She laid her sword against the wall and sauntered to him. She pulled the
sleeve of her sweater up and flexed her upper arm muscle. 

He laughed. "I'm not scared. Come on."

Elizabeth teasingly pushed him. Before she knew what happened, Methos
grabbed her arm, swung her around, yanked her arm up behind her back
between them and locked  his other arm under her chin and said, "Now
what? That didn't take much."

She warned, "You don't want me to kick you in the groin."

He giggled, actually giggled, "You could try... but it ain't going to
happen."

She tried to struggle out of his clench, kicked back at his knees, stepped on
his feet, the arm behind her back jerked with her movements as he didn't
let it go and she exclaimed, "Ow! That hurts."

"So do something about it."

She jerked forward, but Methos just went down with her. He didn't loosen
his grip at all. "That hurts! Ferida!"

"So, get me off you."

She turned to look at him, smiled, "What if I don't want to?"

"I'm an immortal who can't wait for your quickening. Pretend I'm Logan
with two legs. What do you do?"

"Well, first of all, I wouldn't have laid down my sword."

She got him there, he nodded, "Glad to hear it. Okay, I'm an immortal you
trust. Warren Cochrane. He's the skittish type and you're convinced he's
Mr. Goody Two Shoes. What if you put your sword down and he gets you
into a head lock? What do you do?" She kissed him on the cheek. 

Methos turned his head and kissed her deeply, not once loosening his grip
on her wrist or neck, then said, "I don't appreciate my wife kissing other
men. But that's beside the point. I still have you in a headlock."

"Your wife?" she smiled and he nodded, with a heart warming smile of his
own.

"I still have you in a headlock," he reminded her of the task at hand.

Elizabeth muttered, "You're no fun," as she tried to slip her wrist behind
her back from his hold. Didn't work.

He moved them to the right, toward the couch. "See my sword over
there?"

"Yes," she said, still trying to slip her hand away, but every time she
moved it, her nerves and muscles cried out. 

"Pretend it's Warren's." Methos said, "It doesn't look so threatening, does
it? What is it... five feet away? It's no big deal." The tone of his voice was
low and serious. It made her more uncomfortable than her arm was. He
continued, "You think you can get out of this situation?"

"Yes," she grunted, then hooked onto his arm under her chin and yanked,
tried to spin herself around. He was faster and, still holding her arm that
had deadened, grabbed his sword from the couch, pushed her to the floor
and before she knew it, she was laying on her back with the Ivanhoe to her
neck.

After she got the gist and screamed from the remembrance of Seacouver,
Methos quickly pulled the Ivanhoe back and set it down behind him. She
sat up to get away, not knowing if this was a 'practice session' or the
remnants of the maniac. Either way she didn't like it. He pushed her back
down to the floor. She spun around and elbowed him in the face. "Good!
Keep going," he encouraged her to keep fighting.

She looked back at him and saw he was enjoying it. For what purpose?
She didn't care. When she tried to stand, he took her ankles and flipped
her back down. Before she knew it, he was again on top of her. The only
part of her not held down was her left leg, so she raised it and kicked him
in the butt. It only made him laugh. She grabbed his face and pushed him
up, then rolled. He was always right there. With every movement, she
couldn't get the best of him, and he kept laughing and prodded her to keep
going.

They continued wrestling, until Elizabeth finally gave up from exhaustion.
Her arms and legs fell to the floor and said, "I give."

Methos grinned down at her, "I always win. You will eventually. This is
just the first lesson."

He was so full of himself. It was true, but she didn't like his uppity grin.
So, she lifted her shirt to flash him then sat up. Methos only laughed
harder, "Yes. You have mammary glands, I don't."

When she was on her feet, he leapt up and tackled her again. She laid on
the floor, "Hey!"

He kissed her deeply as he took her left hand in his, then put it over his
neck. Then he whispered, "But I have something you don't."

She chuckled, "But I think I'm going to have it in about a minute and a
half."

Methos started to unbuckle his pants and grunted, "Whatever happened to
foreplay? It can be quite a nice experience." 

~~~~~

DECEMBER 23, 2001
LISBON AIRPORT

As soon as Amanda got off the airplane, Elizabeth cornered her. Amanda
groaned, "Liz, I know. I'll only call him David around other people."

"It's not that," Elizabeth said, pulling her into a hug. "I missed you."

"Oh, honey," Amanda squeezed her back. "I missed you, too. And you're
over Pyrius, and over James, and you're back with," she looked over at
Methos walking out of the newsstand, "Him. It's great."

"I don't want any kind of James talk in front of David. Ever. It was my
stupidity to get into that situation in the first place. I put down my sword in
front of him. It won't happen again." 

"You know what secrets can do. I kept too many from Mac and he may
never forgive me for it. Don't do that."

"No, please. He's so concerned that I'm going to lose my head, I don't
want him to know I was compromised so recently."

"Why is he worried?"

Methos reached them and kissed Amanda, "Nice flight?"

"Yes, thank you for asking."

"We have a date at another gate."

"Huh?" Amanda asked while Methos took her hand and steered them
away. Elizabeth smiled and picked up Amanda's bag and followed.

Methos told her, "There's another passenger we have to pick up."

"Who?"

Elizabeth took her other arm and said, "David invited Duncan to come for
Christmas without knowing I invited you. His plane is arriving in about a
half an hour."

Amanda stopped. "No, he's going to think I set this up."

"Why," Methos asked. "I invited him and I can't be swayed by you." He
pointed at Elizabeth and said, "I can be by her, but not by you."

She stamped her foot. "What a thing to say!"

"I'm kidding. Gods, you can't take a joke anymore, Amanda?"

"With you, it's hard to tell when you're not serious. You're not used to
telling jokes, are you?"

Amanda took her bag from Elizabeth and noticed the wedding ring,
screamed, "Lizzie!" making most of the people in the vicinity to jump.
Amanda dropped the bag and grabbed her hand, then Methos'. "Is this?"
She stood with a silent smile on her face as Methos walked around her to
put his arm over Elizabeth's shoulder. 

Elizabeth said, "Yep, he's my old man."

"In more ways than one," she hugged them both. "This is so great. What
made you do it?"

Methos and Elizabeth looked at each other for the other to answer.
Elizabeth was going to say that he had a dream that spooked him, but
Methos said, "The great disabler, Amanda. It was love..." He smiled and
sauntered ahead of them to Duncan's gate.

When they got to the gate to pick up Duncan, Amanda hung back, wanted
to see what would happen before making herself known. As soon as he
appeared at the door, her heart flipped. He didn't see her as he greeted
Methos and Elizabeth. The smile on his face was wide and he seemed
carefree. She saw Elizabeth point her out to Duncan and was relieved that
he didn't cringe. In fact, his smile was even more welcoming and walked
to her and kissed her on the cheek. "It's good to see you, Amanda. You're
looking well."

"Thank you, Mac," Amanda really meant it.

Duncan grabbed Methos' hand, looked at the wedding band, shook his
head. "I didn't really think you were telling the truth." Then he looked at
Elizabeth and kissed her cheek. "Are you happy?"

"Ecstatic," he said, ironically. What would Duncan expect him to say?

There was a bit of sadness in his eyes that his smile couldn't quite cover.
They felt a new buzz and turned to see Brynn walking down the hall with a
tote bag. "Hey," she announced to them. "Can I get a ride home?"

The smile that appeared on Methos' face was annoying to Elizabeth, but
matched it and said, "Sure. The more the merrier. It's good thing we
brought the Jeep."

"And you are?" Amanda asked, looking the tall blond immortal with the
killer legs showing from the short miniskirt that Amanda would think
twice about wearing.

Brynn extended her hand, "I'm Brynn Thayer, Warren's fianc‚."

Duncan grabbed her hand, "Very nice to meet you. How is Warren and
Antonio getting along?"

"I'm not sure. I've just finished up the last bits of business back in
Australia."

Elizabeth told Duncan, "They're fine. He was a wonderful suggestion for
Antonio's teacher."

Duncan took Brynn's bag and walked her down the hall. Amanda wasn't
to happy about that and tossed her bag to Methos and followed them.
Elizabeth laughed, "Brynn does bring out the best in us, doesn't she?"

CONTINUED in Chapter Nineteen - In Spite of a Dream

    Source: geocities.com/enyajo/elizabeth