THE ELIZABETH SERIES

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

HOLY GROUND

by JoLayne
EnyaJo@aol.com

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS: M, Amy, OCs Elizabeth, Claire, Guy Barstow, Jamie Parker, Sally

SUMMARY: The family moves to the manor Methos purchased on Ebay, which was the royal summer residence of King Alfred back in his day.

~~~~~

2012
The Claire Elizabeth

It felt great to get back to the ship after the long day that Guy Barstow hadn't been prepared for. The life of a Watcher was at times days, even weeks or months of boredom, but peppered here and there were watershed moments that could happen without a second's notice. He hadn't known when crawling out of bed that morning that he would be making a trip to European Watcher Headquarters in Paris to deliver a new Watcher recruit. Taking the Chunnel wasn't anyone's idea of a relaxing time, and twice in fifteen hours was agony. Guy couldn't wait to get into bed with his wife and sleep for the rest of his life.

The ship was dark when he walked up the plank, he didn't want to rouse anyone; a certain baby in particular. Katie Rose was a beautiful diversion during the day, but at night she could be a bearcat who wanted the moon, now. Since he didn't hear his daughter screaming, he took that as a good sign. Guy nudged open the nursery door to see a quiet lump in the crib. He walked softly down the hall to see Joey asleep in his bed, and then continued to his bedroom to find Amy had fallen asleep with the lamp on, while still holding a paperback romance novel in her hand. Why she needed to read smut was beyond him, not with me around, he smiled cockily. When he saw the empty ice cream pint on the night stand, he wondered what had happened to bother her. Either he had a tiff with Elizabeth, or Katie Rose had a traumatic time falling asleep.

Sleep was foremost in his mind, but Guy knew that he probably wouldn't get to sleep if his stomach kept rumbling. He never did get lunch and now at two in the morning, he realized he had only eaten the complimentary bag of pretzels on the Chunnel during both legs of his trip. He knew that with Myrtle, they had to have had a feast for dinner, and he went to the galley to scrounge for leftovers.

As he ate spoonfuls of mashed potatoes straight out of the bowl from the fridge, he leaned against the counter and wondered if Elizabeth would corroborate Megan's outlandish story. During the time that Elizabeth met Megan, there hadn't been a Watcher assigned to her, so everything he heard from the young woman was news to him. In fact, the only Watcher assigned to any of them had been his father-in-law, who's job was chronicling David Sommers, Methos. He had read Joe's work on the Methos Chronicle. Guy didn't know if he should be pissed or amused by the old man's tracking of the oldest man. Joe Dawson and Methos were tight, that's for sure. Guy wondered how much Methos had to bribe Joe to fool with Chronicles in such a blatant manner. Although, only those who knew Joe and Methos would know the logistics in the Chronicle were bogus. Joe was good. You couldn't quibble; the important things were in there. The Methos Chronicle still ended with the tale of him losing his head to Roger Horne. The Watchers still had his Ivanhoe on display to this day. That thought made Guy chuckle as he tossed the bowl into the sink and reopened the fridge for something else to devour, knowing that Methos and Amanda had stolen it, replacing it with a replica. He and Amy hadn't recorded that, and Amanda's Watcher didn't know what was stolen that evening, and didn't know who she broke in with. Guy didn't fill her in. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

As he ate an apple, a bagel, and three popsicles from the freezer, he replayed Megan's version of what happened in the warehouse in Chicago. It amazed him that not only Elizabeth, but Methos, had left a witness to immortal revival behind. Sure, they had to have been excited, probably scared, maybe exhausted, but really! Since Methos, Daniel, had been a Watcher himself, he should have just made an anonymous phone call to let the Watchers know her and her mother were there. Weren't they the least bit interested in keeping immortality a secret? He couldn't believe Megan as she related the tale of Elizabeth-or Angel as Megan referred to her -forcing her to actually help lift Methos-or Angel's boyfriend as Megan knew him-lift his dead body off a wrought iron spoke. Guy shook his head bitterly. You don't ask a mortal's help and then just take off! The poor kid's been confused for eight years. To Guy's mind, Elizabeth should have gotten Megan and Grace out of there, pretending to mourn her 'boyfriend', then gone back later and relieve Methos from the spoke. He hadn't been going anywhere.

There were times that Guy wondered how Elizabeth made it through 149 years of immortality. Her chronicle was vivid in his mind having read it so many times, and there were many times that only sheer luck had ensured her survival. That, and Joshua Logan's egotistical entertainment. On nine different occasions Logan could have taken Elizabeth's head without even breaking a sweat, but instead he had only killed her, letting her revive scared to death. Guy also knew of all the instances when she had gotten involved with abusive mortals. For the first time, Guy wondered if there was something behind her finding guys who treated her badly. He'd have to talk to Amy, she might have a thought about it. For now, he was beat. He chuckled because when he was tired he thought of new angles to things, but probably wouldn't remember it in the morning.

After snatching another apple from the bin and taking a bite, Guy walked into the hallway. He looked down the hall where Elizabeth's suite was, and noticed Claire's bedroom door wide open and there wasn't a light on. That was unusual. Claire liked a low light on at night and usually her door was just ajar. He walked to the door and saw that her bed was empty. He flipped on the light and saw that her closet door was open, and all her clothes were gone. Her art supplies and stuffed animals weren't scattered all over the floor. Worried, he ran to Elizabeth's door and burst in. To his amazement, he found the room devoid of immortals. Their closets had been cleaned out, the Renoir he had always admired wasn't in its place on the wall. When he walked through to their bathroom, empty drawers and a bare counter top greeted him. They hadn't taken a quick overnight trip. They had moved.

Guy went straight to Amy and shook her shoulder to wake her. "Where are they?"

"Hm? Who?" She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Oh, you're back. How did it go? What time is it?"

"Where are Liz and Dan?"

"In bed." She looked at her watch, "Where you should be. I'm cold." She tried to pull him down to cuddle with her.

"Where did they go?" Guy asked, shaking Amy again to make sure she was awake. "They're not here. Claire and her things are gone, too. They hauled ass. Why?"

Amy sat up and blinked a couple of times. She stared at Guy and asked, "They're gone?"

"Yes, along with their things. Are they coming back?"

Amy hiked up her knees, and wiped her eyes as she yawned. "Damn it. No, I don't think they're coming back."

"Not coming back?!"

Amy jumped and shot a look at her husband, startled. "Could be, wouldn't put anything past Liz in the mood she's in."

"Where did they go? You lost them?"

"I didn't lose them," Amy said, then chuckled. "They're around somewhere. We'll find them."

"Did you and Liz part friends or enemies?"

"Definitely not enemies," she compromised.

"For them to take off without you knowing, you and Liz had to have come to blows. I told you when you left that she was going to ask questions, did you answer anything?"

"I told her that Grace was dead."

"Good goin', babe! When did they leave?"

Amy got out of bed and went to the closet. "I don't know, I was asleep. Quiet down or you'll wake Katie Rose." Before Guy knew it, Amy was getting dressed. "You stay with the kids and I'll pick up their trail. They can't have gotten far by now."

"Let me just get this straight. You think the same couple we lost countless times, who deceived me claiming Daniel Gordon wasn't David Sommers, who was really Adam Pierson, who was really Methos, couldn't have gotten far?" Guy slammed the closet door, making Katie Rose cry out in her nursery. "If they got more than a half hour head start and they're pissed at you, we'll have a hell of a time finding them."

Amy got on her cell phone and soon said, "Sorry to wake you, what took you so long to answer?"

Guy was amazed that Elizabeth would have even answered the phone, but then Amy said, "What did you see today?"

She had to be talking to Freddie, their alternate Watcher who took over when they couldn't possibly be in three or four places at once. "Nothing at all happened? When did you last follow them?"

Guy finally went in to get his daughter, and found a bottle on the table, he talked softly to her as he walked back into the bedroom to hear Amy scream, "My fault? I was alone here with kids, that was the deal. Unless there's two of us with them, you or April are still on the case. Did she go to the play with you?"

Amy clicked the phone off and slammed it on the bed. "Damn it! Why does every damn Brit have to see every production of Henry V? I swear they'd line up to watch a backyard production if it were advertised! They could be anywhere, Guy! We have to get new backups, Fred and April are too unreliable." She kissed Katie Rose's head as she passed by. "I'll keep in touch by phone." She muttered as she walked out, "They can't have gone far."

~~~~~

TWO WEEKS LATER
BETHANY STONE MANOR
KENT, ENGLAND

King Albert's summer house was even better than Methos remembered it. For one thing, it had been modernized by the previous owners. Since it originally had to house a royal staff, then monks, there were a lot of rooms; because Albert loved his ceremony, there were high ceilings like those found in a cathedral on the first two floors of the massive mansion. Elizabeth was happy to find a working kitchen with most modern appliances; she would have a blast outfitting it to her specifications. Claire had taken over the seven-sided bedroom on the third floor, complete with canopy bed with velvet curtains. Methos had stayed in that very room back in 954. He chuckled to think that he had no idea back then that he would one day have a daughter sleeping in that exact same room. Methos had talked in glowing terms about every aspect of the house, but kept to himself the secret that he had shared that room with a certain minx. What Elizabeth didn't know didn't hurt her. All she knew was that Methos and Amanda had known each other in the past, not that they were on again, off again lovers for nearly a thousand years. Within a day, Claire had her art supplies set up in her bedroom and had already sketched the landscape outside her window.

As much as Claire loved her bedroom, she loved the lush green grounds most of all. Even though her parents were city folk, she had whimsical nostalgia of being surrounded by woodlands once again for the first time since leaving California. The terrain in Kent was much flatter with only rolling hills instead of mountains, but there was a lot of grass and trees in knolls dotting the estate that Claire loved to forage in.

Claire had brought back so much deadwood and logs to the house that Elizabeth inquired if she was going to build herself a playhouse or something. "Why do I have to?" Claire replied. "I could use that huge playhouse right over there as my studio," she pointed to the building that had once been King Alfred's servants' quarters

"Studio, huh?" Methos laughed lightly as he pulled her into his lap. "My daughter, the artiste."

"Don't make fun."

Methos saw that Claire was hurt and said seriously, "That's the last thing I'd ever do."

The servant's quarters weren't the only thing that they hadn't yet investigated thoroughly. The stables had at one time been impressive, fit for a king, literally, but had certainly seen better days. In both cases they had done nothing more than open the doors and discover various things stock piled and covered in dust, cobwebs and dirt. Abdul Fayed, who Methos had bought the estate from said he and his family had never used them, and were unaware of what was in any of the buildings on the property outside of the manor itself. As soon as Elizabeth had met the solemn Arab, she wondered why on earth he had owned the property, and better yet, why he wanted to sell it. "It was an investment and I wanted to outbid the Historical Society," he had replied. "I live to make British society suffer. I know it was not part of our deal, but if you would not mind," he told Methos with his hand out in a gentleman's agreement, "Do not allow the government or any part of it to own this estate again." Methos had accepted the handshake, but mentally decided it was his estate to do with as he wished.

Methos looked at his somber daughter too big for his lap and said, "If it's a studio you want, a studio you will have, Little One. Should we go clean it out?"

"Why?" she asked, taking not only Methos but Elizabeth by surprise.

"It's not going to clean out itself," Methos teased.

"No, I mean, how long are we going to stay here? When are we going back to the ship?"

Elizabeth and Methos exchanged glances suddenly seeing their move through her eyes for the first time. They had probably never outright stated, 'This is our new home,' because they assumed Claire would know that was the case. Methos said, "We're living here now."

"Here? What's here?"

"Our new home," Methos said proudly.

"Dad," Claire whined in that voice that indicated she was stressed. "Are we ever going to stay in one place? It's hard to make new friends all the time."

"No, it isn't. You make friends everywhere you go. You got on with Jamie quickly," Elizabeth said.

"That's because I have to. And where's Jamie? She's not here." Claire let that sink in for a moment before continuing, "You told me we were just going on an adventure the night we left home. I miss Katie Rose and Joey."

"I'm sorry you were confused, honey," Elizabeth said. "We'd like to stay here for a while."

"For a while?"

"For a long time," Methos countered.

"Am I ever going to have a home? A real home? We're always moving, just when I get used to a place, we leave it."

"Yes," Methos said confidently. "We're staying here." He stood up and said, "Stay here, I'll be right back."

He went to the desk in the study and pulled out the printouts he'd made of his research of schools in the area; something he'd done before even bidding on the estate. He had been thinking of holding off talking about school because Claire seemed to be enjoying her vacation from it all. Methos got back to the table as Elizabeth was telling Claire, "You're a

smart girl who will make friends here."

Methos sat next to Claire and put the pile of printouts in front of her. "Your mother and I would never in a million years bring you to a place without first investigating it. One of the first things I did when thinking of coming here was look at where you would fit in the best."

He flipped through a few of the printouts of schools in the Kent area and said, "After discussion with Lizzie, I think Mount of Olives School is the only option that makes sense. It's only five kilometers away."

"How come it's the only option?" Claire asked, getting interested in the conversation.

"Because it's foremost in math and science, and get this, art. They have a dance academy." As soon as Methos said that, Claire's eyes lit up.

"Dan," Elizabeth said. "As I've mentioned many times, you have to be at least eleven to go to that school. Claire only just turned ten."

"I'll get her in."

"Dad, I don't want you to 'get me in'. I want to be normal."

What a concept. Methos had flirted with making sure Claire had a normal life, but she wasn't normal, damn it! "You're my daughter, therefore you will never be normal."

"Dad." Claire took the printout of Mount of Olives School and grimaced. "This is a Christian school."

"It's a top-drawer institution of learning," Methos replied.

Claire's eyes were wide with confusion. "You never wanted me to be affiliated with one religion, remember? That's what you always told me. That's why I've never been to Sunday school or Temple like my friends, or former friends," she grumbled the last words.

Methos, not liking Claire maudlin, ordered, "Okay, that's it. Shake it off, Claire. You've led a life most girls could only dream of. You've seen a lot of the world, have met interesting people, your mother and I are not going to apologize for it. We're living here and you're going to Mount of Olives School." He held his hand up to Elizabeth, who was just about to speak. "I'll get her in."

"Then the other kids will look at me weird. I just want to go where I'm wanted."

Methos laughed. "Claire, when they see how smart you are, they're not going to care that you're only ten. I'll arrange a admission test. That way, it's not my money but your intelligence that will get you in. The other kids won't look down on you for being smart. That's why you should go to that school, intelligence is held in high esteem. All the students who go there are as smart as a whip, so you can't sluff off. You'll do me proud."

"And I had absolutely nothing to do with your smarts," Elizabeth quipped. She picked up the printout of Mount of Olives School, and said, "This is a boarding school, Daniel."

"Cool!" Claire said a little too quickly for her parents' comfort.

"You're not staying in a boarding school, I don't care how many kilometers down the road it is."

"They also have shuttles for day school," Methos said, having already worked that out in his head long ago.

"But if I stay at the school, I'll have more friends."

"If you invite all those friends you're going to make here, they'll never stop coming around. Especially when I get that swimming pool built."

"Dad! You're going to put in a pool?" Claire swept out of her chair and hugged Methos with everything she was worth.

"Oh, didn't I mention that before?" he asked lightly; actually, it had just come out of his mouth without any thought in the past at all.

"Thank you, Dad!" Claire snatched the printout from Elizabeth's hands and asked, "Can I get on the web and look up more about this school I'm going to get in to?"

Before they knew it, she was running up the wide stone staircase. They could hear her shoes tapping up the second staircase as well. Elizabeth asked him, "Are you going to put a dance studio and strip mall in the yard as well?"

"If that's what she wants. Kids today," Methos shook his head. "They just can't enjoy nature and architecture alone. I've always had a nice place in my heart for this house. Do you like it?"

Elizabeth smiled and said, "Feels like home here. Reminds me of Pennsylvania. There are rolling hills, lots of green, clean air, knolls of woods."

"Should we find something else permanent?"

"You'd have a hussy fit if we left here, and now you've convinced Claire this is the place to be."

"But it is what you want?"

"I want to be where my family is. That's all I want. If Claire is this excited, and we told her we're staying here, we'd better stay here. No more selling and taking off when things get a little hairy."

Methos said, "Claire has seen the world, she speaks five languages, two proficiently, and speaks French with a German accent, not easy to do, but also hard on the ears, but she has fun. She has more things in her closet..."

"That we keep leaving behind," Elizabeth interrupted him to mention. "We do have to look at it from her point of view. It's got to be hard. We should try to make it 'normal' for her."

"How can her life be normal when she has two immortals for parents," Methos mused. "You know, my hesitations about taking her on had nothing to do with what Claire would want when she got older. Never entered my mind. Am I too selfish?"

"No, you look at all the angles. I appreciate that. We never stop learning how to parent, I guess. I think we've done a fine job. Claire isn't killing small animals or anything."

"Your barometer for good children is scary to say the least," Methos said chuckling, then he was down to business. "I researched all the possible institutions of learning in the area thoroughly. Even though Mount of Olives School is a Christian school, it still has an amazing curriculum. It will make her try hard, she shouldn't get bored. I've taken her into consideration." He took the printout again. "I looked at schools before seriously making a bid for the house."

"You're a wonderful father, Methos. Don't let anyone tell you that you aren't, not even Claire. She's a kid and doesn't know what's good for her. We know best. Right?"

"I hope so."

"Methos? Does living in a house called Bethany Stone and having Claire go to a school called Mount of Olives have anything to do with holy ground?"

"Can't hurt. And even though we're in the middle of 'nowhere', somewhere's quite close with the train stop to London only three kilometers away. Eurostar link is only twenty miles in the other direction to get on the Chunnel."

"Are you hesitant about anything?" she asked, seemingly vacillating.

"No, of course not, why?"

Elizabeth only shrugged and went around the counter to her kitchen. "It's nothing. I've just had some weird dreams since coming here."

Methos joined her in the kitchen and hugged her. "It's new to you. I feel like I've come home. Even though it seems that Claire's going to like it here, if you don't, tell me. We'll leave."

"I like it. I really do. It reminds me of home, and you like it so here's where I'm going to stay. I'm sure the dreams are just..."

When she couldn't complete her thought, Methos asked, "Do they have anything to do with Amy?"

"No, why?"

"You left her pretty suddenly, and after being with her almost night and day, it's got to-"

"I'm fine with her not knowing where we are. Let her do her own work for a while. I delivered Megan to her, bet she got a lot of brownie points for that! We paid for her food, board-"

"Settle down." Methos laughed as he held her. She felt so tense so he started kneading her shoulders and she almost melted against him. A little rub down wouldn't feel too bad for himself either. When he asked if there was any possibility of it, she smiled, took his hand, and led him up the stairs to their master bedroom.

~~~~~

AUGUST 2012

Over the next few months of summer, Methos not only brought men in to pour them a swimming pool, but he also cleaned out what had once been King Albert's stables. He cleared out everything down to the solid stone walls. He had been thinking of writing a textbook on English History as he had with Ancient Egypt and Greece but decided to first get the grounds looking as grand as Abdul had decorated the house. He wanted the stables to be as impressive as they had been back in the day. He purchased beams and lumber to recreate exactly what he remembered. Elizabeth sat atop one of the low stone walls and watched him work. "Are you thinking of getting back into the horse stabling business?"

"No," he said, almost out of breath from the effort of moving a ten foot long, six by six inch beam that would eventually hold up the entire thatched roof that he would fabricate. "Just personal use. Do you want a horse? Claire already put in her order. 'It has to look like Santo, Dad, but not exactly like Santo or I'll miss Santo even more'." He shook his head. "Kids."

"Well, she is a kid. I want one that looks like Callie, not exactly like Callie now, but a black one. And I won't be naming it Black, no matter how much you want me to," Elizabeth teased.

"Get down here and help me, or get back to writing."

Methos stretched and wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. He had convinced Elizabeth, after she had finished updating her kitchen, to finally sit down and finish the novel that she started many years before about Civil War nurses and being a female witness to the Battle of Gettysburg. He had made a quick trip to get the disks her writing was on, as well as a few other things from the storage garage he had bought in Switzerland during the time he was selling off everything Methos; after the Watchers had found out Adam Pierson was David Sommers, who was actually Methos. Sometimes even Methos' mind whirled at the events of the past decade. In the evenings, Methos wrote his English History textbook while Elizabeth worked on her novel in their shared office on the second floor. The study was outfitted with two desks and laptops, and they would play the game of one-upmanship seeing who could type the longest on their individual projects.

"It's too hot out here, and you look like you have this taken care of. I'll go to work on my book until the roast is done." She hopped off the low wall. She heard Claire and the only friend she had met so far, a red headed boy two years younger than she, playing in the pool. "Watch Claire, okay?"

"She can swim."

"But I'm not sure Timmy can. Just keep an eye on them, please?" Elizabeth had been jumpy about that pool since it was put in. To have a condo complex pool was one thing, there was a locked gate to it and usually a lot of people were around. This pool had a fence around the paved patio area surrounding it, but it didn't lock. Anyone who wanted to could fall into that pool. Methos had teased her stating that if there was someone walking around their property, they deserved to drown in the pool.

"They'll be fine."

Elizabeth went back into the house and felt the coolness of the stone floors and walls. In the winter, the stone composition of the house could be brutal; they'd have to have plenty of blankets and sweaters. For now, it was perfect. No air conditioning was needed, even if it was in the 90s outside, which, Elizabeth chuckled as she surmised, was the intention when the summer home had been built. She walked up the stairs to the study and suddenly felt utterly alone as her hard heeled shoes clunked and echoed on the stone steps. As soon as she got into their study, she put the stereo on softly and got herself a beer from the fridge that Methos kept well stocked. She looked down at Methos working hard in the stables, and thought to bring him a beer. She heard laughter from the pool area and was glad that Claire had found a friend, even though she had told them it was tough. Were all children so dramatic? As soon as she started school, she would fit right in. Of that, Elizabeth was certain.

As she watched the children in the pool, the bright sun beating down on them, Methos in the shade of the stables struggling with that beam, Elizabeth couldn't stay inside any longer. She took another beer bottle from the fridge, and decided to join them. In fact, she decided to don her bathing suit and swim a few laps.

She noticed her laptop was running and didn't remember turning it on. The last time she had used it was the day before, and surely it would have gone into sleep mode if it had been on since then. It was opened to her word processing program, the cursor was blinking on the nineteenth page of her novel. The paragraph it was on was about the Union Cavalry General Beaufort's arrival in Gettysburg. It was only upon the arrival of his troop's that the citizens' nerves reached a fevered pitch. Some rebs had been in town for days, and Elizabeth and the town were wondering if the Union was just going to sacrifice their town to the enemy. Since Gettysburg was a 'crossroads' town with five major roads intersecting it, the citizens had wondered why there hadn't been any word of the North coming to stop the Rebs, who had come into town from the North. There was chatter, speculation that if the Rebs came from the North, they must have overtaken most of Pennsylvania and maybe even New York. Even though reliable news was hard to come by, gossip was not at a shortage. With the sight of the men in blue coming in from the south, people cheered, gladly giving them water and food after their long journey, and begged them not to leave the town unprotected.

Those days came back so clearly to Elizabeth. She had heard all the rumors, innuendos, and predictions that most of the men in town had volunteered since she owned one of the town's major watering holes, the Tiger's Eye Tavern. As the memory of those days returned so vividly, she sat down in her chair with the two beers in her hands, gathering her thoughts in case something else came to mind to add to what was already there. She must have been sitting there too long and her eyes were playing tricks on her. The blinking cursor grew larger and changed color. Elizabeth blinked her eyes to make sure she wasn't seeing things; she could have sworn that the letters of all the words on the white screen slowly turned blood red. No matter how many times she blinked, now the letters were seeping blood down the screen. She dropped one beer and didn't realize that the bottle shattered at her feet. A piece of glass embedded in her ankle. She was totally focused on the blood flowing down the screen. She reached out to touch it. The whole screen display was red, deep scarlet and letters started to form. They read WHY ARE YOU EVEN BOTHERING? IT WILL NOT AMOUNT TO ANYTHING.

Just as she registered what the words actually said, the screen went white, then the frame of her word processing program returned, and only the words she had typed remained. Elizabeth chastised herself and shook her head as she finally realized that she had dropped the beer, "Oh for God's sake!"

"Do not say that!" a low, mean, irate voice boomed throughout the house. Elizabeth ran from the study, down the hall, down the stairs, and outside as fast as she could, as if her life were at stake.

Methos looked up as she bounded into the stables with the beer in her hand. "Hey, how did you know I could use one?"

She chuckled lightly, as she looked back at the house, "When do you not want a beer?"

He held out his hand for it, but she was focused on the house. "Well?"

"Hm?" She looked at him, wondering if she missed something.

Methos took the beer from her and slammed it back. After gulping half of it, he panted and said, "That hit the spot." He noticed her bleeding ankle and asked, "What happened?"

Since her mind was elsewhere, Methos led her over to sit on the sawhorse and pulled her leg up to take a look at the wound. She was still looking at the house, and he could feel her tremble. To his amazement, he saw a piece of brown glass which he knew came from a beer bottle, sticking out of her ankle. "How many of these did you have?" he teased as he pulled out the glass.

She looked at him confused, then to the piece of glass in his fingers, then jumped and swatted his arm. "God dammit! OW! Warn me before you do that."

"You shouldn't have said that, Lizzie," Methos said seriously.

"Say what?" Elizabeth licked her hand and rubbed at the blood.

"Swear. This was a monastery, you know."

Her breath caught, but before she could respond, he started laughing. "And your daughter doesn't like your potty mouth. She'll think you can't think of anything else to say."

Her eyes drifted again to the house and she said, "She just might be right."

~~~~~

Elizabeth had only gone into the house again when Methos was finished for the day and Timmy had gone home. She had been going to mention the strange occurrence with her laptop to him, but figured he'd only make fun of her again. Just after moving in, she had finished with a shower and could have sworn there was blood in the water. Methos had made fun of her then, saying it was only rust and called someone out to clean the pipes. He had also told her that the dreams she was having were just nervousness about the move and reaction to missing Amy, though she was loath to admit it. Why would he take the letters of her novel turning to blood, then insulting her, seriously?

Claire had been in a good mood over dinner, the roast and potatoes came out perfectly, then Methos turned Luther Vandross on the stereo and wanted to dance-which could only mean one thing. Methos in an amorous mood was not going to be spoiled by, what she chose to deem, 'a little eye strain' earlier. In fact, Methos had never been so carnal as he was in Bethany Stone Manor. On their way to the bedroom, Methos made a detour into the study's fridge because he didn't grab a beer downstairs. "You took my mind off beer, can you imagine?"

As he went to the fridge, she noticed that her laptop was off. For all she knew, the vision could have just been another dream. A day dream. She casually asked Methos, "Has anything odd happened to you since we've been here?"

"Odd? In what way?"

Elizabeth could only shrug, just before Methos took her in his arms and then casually opened his beer behind her back. At least he offered her the first sip. As she drank, he spotted the mess from the broken beer on the floor. "You stopped cleaning up after yourself?"

Before she knew it, he was carefully picking up the pieces of glass and was a bit huffy when he said, "It soaked into the floor. It's going to smell in here."

"You think of beer as cologne, so what's the difference?"

While Methos was busy with the spill, Elizabeth reached over and turned the laptop on. Nothing was out of order while it was coming to life. After everything was loaded, she clicked into her word processing program and opened her novel, paged down to page nineteen. There weren't any words of criticism, or red colored letters.

Methos folded his body against her back, his arms held her commandingly around her waist. She leaned her head back against him and said, "Not mad at me, huh?"

"No use crying over spilled beer," his voice reverberated against her ear making her shudder. She quite enjoyed the little pecks he sprinkled down her neck and across her shoulder, nudging the strap holding up her tank top out of his way with his nose. His hands became Magellan as they surveyed familiar territory under her shirt. Before she knew it, she was swept into his arms and was being carried to their bedchamber. There was some spilled beer on her jeans from the bottle having been jostled when he made his grand maneuver, but that was the least of Elizabeth's thoughts.

~~~~~

SEPTEMBER 2012

Just before the shuttle to Mount of Olives School arrived down the lane from Bethany Stone Manor, Claire's parents gave her a few words of encouragement. Claire had been adamant that she didn't want her father to drive her to school; she wanted to ride with the other kids. Her eyes flashed to the couple of teens on the bus. Elizabeth tried to pull her into a hug, but Claire said, "Mom, they'll see," and pulled back.

"Just remember you belong there, Little One," Methos instructed her as he handed her the well-stocked backpack he had carried to the shuttle stop for her. "You sailed through the entrance exam, you're in classes where you'll blend right in, and you'll come to love it. Have fun, listen to the teachers, and make sure your shoes are tied."

"Dad, I'm not five."

"And don't eat crap for lunch, make only nutritious choices," Elizabeth added.

Claire grumbled and rolled her eyes as she walked to the steps of the shuttle, and stared up at the driver, who was a bright bundle of good will. "Good morning," she said. "Claire, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Claire said happily, and stepped up. She turned and waved goodbye to her parents, and disappeared.

Methos and Elizabeth stood arm in arm watching the shuttle take their daughter away. Claire had been so nervous-more so than at any other time in her young life-that morning getting ready for school. Elizabeth and Claire had gone into London for school supplies and to outfit Claire with dance accessories. During the visit, Elizabeth expected to see Megan on every street corner. It required only the self-admonishment of 'She's probably in Timbuktu learning Watcher secrets by now... or dead,' for Elizabeth to relax enough to enjoy the day in the city with Claire. What had been constantly on her mind since Guy and Amy whisked her away was whether Megan was open to the life that would be forced on her by Guy Barstow, Mr. Tenderness. Elizabeth felt better now that the Watchers were out of her life. The bitterness of Amy's secrecy was still gnawing heavily on Elizabeth, so much so that it colored the years of friendship the women had shared. Every time she thought of Amy, the only emotion she felt was outright anger.

Elizabeth watched Methos stand proudly until the shuttle had disappeared down the woods that covered the lane. "You know, I've been thinking," Elizabeth said, then paused.

"Something you're quite good at," Methos replied as he kissed her head, then took her hand to walk back home.

"Really? Wow, what a change. Last time anyone mentioned my intelligence, I was an idiot."

Seeing confusion on his face, she just brushed it off. "Been thinking about Amy."

"Do you want to find her?"

"No. That's the last thing I want to do."

A flock of terns landing in the pond at the edge of their property caught her attention. They all had black heads and white bodies, but she studied each of their distinctive wings. They ranged from grey to beige to spotted, a couple were striped, but all belonged to the same family. There were times when Elizabeth wondered why all humans couldn't get alone, even with their differences.

Methos wiggled her hand he held. "Then what about her?"

"Why haven't they found us, or do you think they have and we just don't know it because that's our new relationship now, they stay hidden?"

"No one's around," Methos stated firmly. "I've been keeping my eye on things."

"Amy and Guy aren't stupid, this is their job, or do you think they've asked to be reassigned?"

"Could be they just can't find us," Methos said lightly. "We haven't talked to any mutual friends to tell where we are, and there's a big world out there. More than likely, the last place they would have looked was fifty miles from where the ship was moored."

Elizabeth felt gratified that Amy may very well be going crazy trying to follow their tracks. Wonder what the Watchers think about her losing them. But it couldn't have been that simple. "You bought this estate, all they had to do was look up any purchases Daniel Gordon's made recently."

"All Daniel Gordon's bought in the last year was my boots in Barcelona. All I had on me at the time was Daniel's VISA card."

"Oh, God, I love it when you refer to yourself in the third person. Amy could have tracked my purchases, so I've been using cash."

"Daniel Gordon didn't buy Bethany Stone Manor. You know," Methos chided, "you really should take more of an interest in our finances. I was wondering when you'd ask."

"Money grows in your pocket, so why should I worry about it? So, who bought our house?"

"A chap by the name of Bennett Hiccock. If Amy knew where to look up such information and was paying attention, she may have figured that out. Guy, certainly would, since he knows your chronicle, but I guess they can't see the forest for the trees."

Elizabeth gasped. Bennett was who she considered to be her 'favorite husband' (Before Methos) whom she had killed in a car accident; she had kept his last name for decades. Hiccock was her maiden name. "You chose my name as a new alias? How sweet."

Methos shrugged. "I've used most everything else at one time or another. It's not a new alias, just the owner of the this property. We've received surly letters from the British Historical Society about their keeping an eye on this place, and we're Mr. Hiccock's grand nephew."

"Got it. Thanks for telling me. If I do happen to meet anyone around here, I'll be sure to let them in on the cover."

"You have been awfully homebound."

That surprised her, not that she was in fact a homebody lately. She knew she was sticking mostly to home, except for the quick shopping sprees with Claire. She had even had the groceries delivered after ordering from a local grocer's web site and paying cash with hefty tip when the delivery boy arrived. She hadn't even struck up a conversation with him. No, what surprised her was that the solitary life didn't bother her. Usually, she needed to be a part of the mortal community she lived in and Methos was the curmudgeon, almost needing references before even having a meal with a newfound friend. Once you've grown up in a small town, you crave some version of it for the rest of your life. Yet, for the time being, she was content with just her husband and child. Maybe spending a year crammed into a floating vessel with two other couples, two other kids, and employees had made her sour on sharing space with others, or having to strike up conversations when most everything had already been discussed.

~~~~~

Hours later, Elizabeth fell back against the stable wall spent. Their day had consisted of a swim, a light lunch, then Methos wanted Elizabeth to help him thatch the roof. She started out handing the straw up to him as he tied the bundles into place. After one row, Methos grumbled something about the gauzy oversized white shirt she had donned over her bikini and half stepped down, half jumped off, the roof and started to relieve her of it. He lowered her to the soft dirt ground of one stall in an almost manic make out session, then ended up making love fast and furiously, as if they had never had enough of each other and never would again.

The strap of the halter top was toast; it had been years since Methos had been so inattentive to the survival of her clothing when he was filled with desire. She tossed the halter. "You'll be buying me a new swim suit, buster."

He laid the torn halter on his chest and the straps over his shoulders to model it. "One in every color, my love," he said with a laugh, then posed for her as if he were walking down a runway in New York. He thrust his hip out and tossed his head as he sauntered back the other way.

"Methos! I didn't know you had it in you."

"Just don't tell anyone," he said as the halter fell off and he zipped up his jeans.

As she tied the tails of the gauze shirt around her waist, Methos gathered her into his arms. "It's been a while since you were such a tigress."

She bit at his lips then said, "Whaddya mean? We've been doing it daily since we got here. Maybe that's why I love it here."

"There was an extra savage quality today."

"You started it."

"I take full responsibility," he purred as his hands brushed against her back and dirt chunks fell under the shirt. "Maybe a shower is in order," he suggested. His lips caressed hers and the pulse of want again filled her. She jumped into his arms, and he spun them around laughing, as he made his way into the house.

"ENOUGH!" that caustic voice she hadn't heard in weeks boomed in her head.

When she jerked in Methos' arms, they fell and Elizabeth was flat on her back. Methos had landed on all fours on top of her, and then laid down to continue kissing her, his hands moving madly across her side. He pulled at the bikini bottom and it snapped against her waist. "Hold it," she said, but didn't really want him to stop. He had snickered as the thong broke and his hand massaged her. What's gotten into him? But don't stop...

"SLUT!" the voice crashed her ecstasy. Elizabeth fumbled to get Methos off of her, much to his amusement. Thinking they were playing, he overpowered her in no time.

"ENOUGH!"

She didn't know if that came from her or the annoying voice in her head, but whoever that came from, she needed to get away. She needed to clean off! Only when she got a hand free and slapped him did a startled Methos release her. She jumped to her feet and ran into the house.

~~~~~

Methos spent the rest of the day in the study typing continuously. She had thought to write a little more on her own project, but his surly stare wasn't something she wanted to deal with at the moment. Men... Methos had already had sex three times in twelve hours, the man wasn't deprived.

Only one of the many rooms on the third floor hadn't been inspected since they had moved in at the end of spring. The number of rooms they had discovered and inspected to see what each one's purpose would be was at least seventeen; Elizabeth lost count. All rooms had been cleared out, and left simply furnished with tapestries, velvet or wool draperies, and oriental rugs on the hard wood floors. She climbed up to the third floor with that one room in mind. There had to be a way to expel her burst of energy, so she trekked to the room in the northwest corner of the manor. Claire had gone to its door upon their arrival when she was madly running around, looking at the entire house, but stopped short at the doorway when she threw open that door. It was messy, Elizabeth had thought. Claire was quite the neat freak, so she probably didn't want to get dirty in there.

Elizabeth stood at its door and slowly turned the knob. The door opened by itself when she let go, and a feeling of comfort flooded over her. It was pitch-black inside, but she could see from the light of the hallway that it was still packed with stuff. The cleaning fairies, or Methos, hadn't explored it. It had obviously been used as storage by not only the previous owner, but the monastery as well, considering how much dust she could see from the doorway. This was one room that hadn't been modernized, Elizabeth searched for a light switch and came up empty. She treaded softly through the room's perimeter so as not to bump into anything, to where she figured a window would be, yet didn't know how she knew that. She felt the far wall with her hands. She trudged over blindly until she felt fabric, and then the window frame. She drew open the floor to ceiling black velvet curtains and light flooded into the room. Dust was floating heavily in the air. As she shook out the drapes, a coughing fit seized her.

She covered her mouth with her hands as she pulled drop clothes off the antique furniture, inspecting each find as she went along: a bureau, a sideboard, an end table, a bed whose wood posters had carved snakes wrapped around them. There were oil paintings laying haphazardly here and there, some out of their frames. Wooden crates, trunks, and cardboard boxes were in the corner and also on top of what she thought had to be priceless furniture; she had seen similar items in antique galleries in New York marked with exorbitant prices. She wondered why Fayed and his family hadn't moved anything, as it was obvious from the footprints in the thick dust on the floor that she was the first one to walk in that room in decades.

Elizabeth got excited upon finding some of the items because they were beautiful and she quickly figured out where she'd like to put some pieces in the house, but also because she was finding them. It was like shopping, and she didn't have to whip out a charge card, or cash, as was the case recently. She felt similar to what Carter must have felt like as he discovered Tut's tomb. Elizabeth tried to push Amy from her mind with a laugh. "She'd shit if she had possessions of this stuff." She remembered a certain afternoon before Amy was going to marry Kevin Randall when they walked all through Soho and Chelsea visiting every antique and furniture store in order to outfit their new apartment.

When Elizabeth felt the sudden regret of losing Amy's friendship, she leaned back against a wooden chest and heard, "Do not be sad." Comforted, she took in a deep breath to clear her mind. "You have work to do." Those words overwhelmed her. She took a look at the mess in the room and knew she could be in there for days, weeks, cleaning it all, polishing the furniture and hoping to fix the paintings. Methos had spend his time on the stables, and took help when it was offered, but this room would be her project. She wanted to examine every single item and take great care in deciding where it would go in the manor.

With a glance out the window, she saw the shuttle in the distance. Claire was home from her first day at school! Elizabeth ran to the door, but something made her stop and take one last look around the room. She wasn't sure what the feeling was that kept her there, but when she took hesitant steps to the door, she was now free to walk out.

By the time she got to the front door, Methos was walking back to the house with Claire and a red haired girl. Why didn't he tell her he was meeting Claire at the shuttle? For a moment, she felt left out. He was able to hear all about Claire's first day and she wasn't. As she meet them at the gate at the end of their driveway, she could see, then hear Claire chatter away, and saw Methos' proud grin as he listened to her.

Elizabeth hugged Claire, and was pleased to feel her arms go around her waist, not fighting the show of affection in front of a stranger as Claire was apt to do as of late. "How did it go, Little One?" she asked as she kissed Claire on the head.

"It was so great! I love it, Mom. Dad was right, I blended right in."

"I'm always right," Methos said, irritating Elizabeth by the way he pompously said it.

"Sally didn't even knew I was only ten, right?" Claire said, looking at her friend.

Sally giggled at them, more than likely from nervousness. Elizabeth told her, "Hi, Sally. Nice to meet you." From the unique red color of her hair, she was going to ask if she had a younger brother by the name of Timmy, but Claire interrupted her.

"Can she stay for dinner?"

"Sure." Elizabeth hadn't thought to prepare anything. She was busy with Methos and that room all day, and didn't even realize it had been time for Claire to come home. "Care for pizza?"

"Yum!" Sally said. "My mom doesn't make pizza. Too fattening."

Looking at Sally's spindly legs, Elizabeth asked, "Are you in dance as well?"

"That's where we met," Claire said.

"I've been in dance since I was five."

"Like me," Claire said and both girls giggled. "Come on, Sally, I'll show you my room."

Before long, the girls were running at top speed to the house. Elizabeth looked to Methos casually and tossed out, "You could have told me you were meeting her at the stop."

As she walked away, she heard Methos said, "I called for you, but you didn't answer."

Elizabeth walked back to the house, bummed because she was now supposed to make pizza when she would rather further explore that room and all it's goodies. Methos took her arm. "Don't walk away from me."

"I'm not fucking you right now, I have things to do," Elizabeth spouted as she walked into the house. She made a beeline for the stairs, feeling Methos behind her. "You have the menu for dinner, your turn to make it," she told him without turning around, and hoofed it up the steps three at a time.

~~~~~

One of the few things that Methos didn't like about their new location was the lack of takeout and delivery. Methos knew how to make the perfect pizza pie, but it would take hours to prepare the dough to a perfect consistency, and Elizabeth knew it. Why did she open her big mouth and get their mouths watering for pizza when she knew there wasn't time to make it? He rummaged in the fridge and freezer and saw a lasagne that was part of Elizabeth's once a month cooking idea. He took the saran wrapped pan and put it in the oven, even though it was frozen solid. He turned the oven to 475 and walked to the study, fully expecting Elizabeth to be in there.

When she wasn't working on her blasted book, which was where he had assumed she had hurried off to do, he walked through the second floor to their bedroom. Again, he didn't find her, but he felt her buzz, she had to be somewhere close-by.

Since she wasn't on the second floor, he went up to the third. He soon found the door at the end of the hall open, filled with the last rays of daylight. He had ignored that room since it looked to be so much work to clear out. First things first; he had the stables and an art studio for Claire to finish. Elizabeth was just standing in the corner, staring at the four poster bed when he entered. He sauntered in and, with his hands in his pockets, he took in all the room's possessions. It looked like a storage dump for the house; it seemed that the furniture could never have been this room's furnishings from day one. An ornately carved dining chair caught his attention, and he seemed to remember one such as that in the dining hall back in King Alfred's day. That is if it wasn't blanketed in dust. He ran his finger along the back rail of it to see bumblebees in flight. It was from the dining hall, a room on the first floor which now had the entertainment center and comfortable chairs and sofa on one end of it, and the rest of it was bare. Clean, but bare. It had good acoustics for watching movies with surround sound.

Elizabeth still hadn't moved. "I put a lasagna in, if you're interested."

She jumped so suddenly, he stepped back, startled as well. "You scared the hell out of me," she seethed.

An immortal could be startled by the presence of another? There was only one time when she had been lapse in the immortal buzz department, and that was when she had been under the influence of a drug and brainwashing. "Get a hold of yourself," he said lightly.

"Lasagne? I thought the kids want pizza."

"Of course they do, but they'll live."

"What lasagne?"

"I found one in the freezer."

"Good going, Methos," she said as she passed him near the door. "It will take five years to heat a frozen lasagne. I have to make dinner once again. I'm getting awfully tired of it."

He grabbed her arm. "Hey, what's wrong with you?"

"I'm maid and chef cook and bottle washer around here, and it's getting mighty old." She yanked her arm away. "What I want to do has to wait because my family is hungry. Fine. I know the drill."

Methos trailed after her, not in the least liking her attitude. "What do you want to do? You were lost in space as far as I could tell."

As Elizabeth waltzed down the stairs, she yelled, "I was thinking." She stopped and faced him at the top of the steps. "If you say one word about how difficult that would be, so help me-"

"Time out," Methos said casually. He bounded down the steps to her and said, "You have to chill."

"Then you make dinner."

"Fine, I'll make something, since lasagne isn't going to cut it. No problem."

The look of irritation on her face relaxed to befuddled. "You will?"

"Sure."

"Then why didn't you before?"

"I put a lasagne in the damn oven, but that's not good enough."

"It will be a charred ice cube, Methos. With how long you've been alive, you don't know the concept of thawing frozen food of that mass before you bake it?"

Methos laughed. "Okay, now you're talking about my intelligence. Time to make tracks."

"Oh, that's right. You're all knowing, the font of wisdom."

He glared at her as he passed her on the stairs, but teased, "For that tone of voice, no dinner for you."

"God, you're annoying," she mumbled as she walked back up the steps.

As Methos watched her disappear upstairs, he was livid. "I just told her I took care of dinner, she has to make an issue of it? What the hell is wrong with you!" he shouted up the steps, and got only an echo in response.

As he made his way back down to the kitchen, his stomp thudded loudly through the house. He slammed pans from the cupboard to the stove top and opened the fridge again for items to use to make a dinner. "No one's going to tell me I can't make a meal. You think you're the only one who can cook? When she figures out what bug is up her ass, she's going to have a lot of apologizing to do." He took out a carton of eggs and heard children's giggles outside. Immediately he felt better. He paused long enough to watch Claire and Sally climb up the five hundred year old tree in the front yard. It's bottom branches were low enough to just walk upon, the next branches seemed to be spaced perfectly apart so a leisurely climb was in order. He and Claire had climbed that tree many times to sit on the thick horizontal branch that was almost nine feet from the ground.

~~~~~

Elizabeth felt bad when she returned to the room on the third floor. For the life of her, she couldn't even remember when she was last in that room, let alone what she had planned for it. She walked through the room slowly, touching each of the possessions, thinking that she'd remember soon enough. Maybe she did snap at Methos for no reason, maybe she should have tried to salvage the lasagne and just say, "Thank you, honey, for making the effort." But, she wasn't in the mood. They had a staff of ten who came in twice a month to dust, vacuum, wash windows, and tend to the grounds, as the estate was just too damn big for them to handle. All laundry, dishes, making of beds, and general picking up was the family's responsibility. Elizabeth had told the cleaning crew to just skip this room and the fourth floor, which was empty and not being used. Now she wondered, since there was so much work to do to whip this room into shape and clean its furnishings, if she should ask the crew to work its magic in here as well.

Those curtains have certainly seen better days, Elizabeth thought as she felt the heavy black velvet. She could try her hand at sewing new ones, even though she hadn't sewn a thing in over fifty years. "It should come back to me," she said brightly, put it sounded false.

"Do not change a thing," she heard the by now familiar voice fill her head.

She leaned against the window and wondered if she was truly cracking up. She had heard that people hear voices not their own, but then were medicated and had to go through years of intensive therapy. "What a shrink would think of me," Elizabeth tossed out. Now that the thought had entered her mind, she tried to pinpoint the moment when she started to feel a bit 'off'. Taking a stab in the dark, she thought maybe it was when Amy had her baby. Could she be jealous? Claire didn't need to be tended to anymore, she was somewhat independent and liked spending time by herself. Was that why she had picked that fight with Amy? She wanted her own little Katie Rose? Or, it could have been that she had wanted to take a head on her own, and got Milroy. Was Milroy not incorporated into her essence? Or perhaps she missed the others? At the time they left the ship, she and Methos were quite relieved not to have so many people so close at hand. Or maybe it was writing that novel. Reliving the time she lived through a battle in the Civil War and was turned so viciously might have brought up more than a few fears and regrets.

"Logan," Elizabeth said aloud. "He wasn't worth anyone's time then, why have I spent hours thinking about him when I can't even use it in my story?"

Embarrassment over how the Irish immortal had used and tormented her for so long almost crushed her. The thought that, at any one of the nine times she had come across him after turning, he could have taken her head instead of just killing her made her both thankful she was still alive, and pissed as hell at allowing it to go on for so long. Elizabeth made a pact with herself right there and then. She wasn't going to let anyone scare her anymore. She had taken many heads, she was living with a cagey old man, she had survived a year as Angel Bancroft. Elizabeth was no one's push over, and would make sure that she wasn't ever again.

Proud of herself, she glanced out the window to see Claire and Sally making their way up the old tree. She hoped Methos was paying attention. God only knows how graceful Sally was, though she was in dance. She should be able to keep her balance, right? Suddenly her world tightened and all she could see was a vision on that vertical branch that she knew the girls were heading for. Claire loved sitting on that branch, it was so high she had said, "It's like I'm hovering in the air," with her arms wide as if she were a bird. At that moment, all Elizabeth could see was a crude rope tied to the branch, and on the other end of the rope was a man swinging by the neck. The man was facing away from her, with dark, short hair, and was clearly dead. He was in a monk's dark brown sackcloth habit and his sandaled feet swung slowly a foot above the ground.

She saw Claire reach the branch, and it seemed as if she didn't see the man. Elizabeth ran to the door, down the hall, down the stairs, past Methos in the kitchen, and out the patio doors to shriek at the top of her lungs, "Get down from there, now!"

Horrified, she glimpsed at the monk still swinging, and ran to the tree. She grabbed Sally around the waist and pulled her to the ground. Claire, sitting on the branch, laughed. "Mom, what's the matter?"

"GET DOWN NOW! Don't you see it? It's right there!" Elizabeth pointed at the hung man, who was now gone.

She could see the petrified look on Sally's face, and Claire frozen on the branch, that did not contain the noose. Methos ran out from the house, and asked, "What's going on?"

Trying to recover at least some small part of her pride, Elizabeth looked away and chuckled. "It's getting late, too late to be climbing trees," she said in a calm voice, but didn't feel calm at all. "Come down, Claire, dinner's ready soon."

Looking sweetly to Methos, Elizabeth asked, "Is it?"

"It's probably burning," he said shortly before jogging back into the house.

Sally had backed away from Elizabeth when she got too near, so Elizabeth said, "I'm sorry I scared you. I was also concerned that you'd fall. You're parents would have my head if you got hurt."

"I'm in gymnastics too, Mrs. Gordon," Sally said. "I do back flips on a balance beam."

"Oh, cool," Elizabeth said, not knowing exactly what that meant. She tried to figure out how she could have seen that dead man, then noticed a shadow of the tree at a peculiar angle on the ground. Looking up to the window of the room she was in, then back to the shadow, she realized it could have been that, and her vivid imagination. All that writing about killing and maiming during the Battle of Gettysburg had to be messing with her head.

"Get down, Claire," she told her daughter again. "Dinner's almost ready."

After shepherding the kids inside, she stood at the patio doors and took one last look at the tree, to see the dead monk again. His head was off to the left and his body slowly turned around with the tight noose at his neck. Elizabeth jumped back when he opened his eyes. She bumped right into a hot cookie sheet that Methos was bringing to the table.

"Careful!" he said, adeptly moving the platter and catching Elizabeth before she fell.

When she turned back to the tree, the dead monk was gone. "Omelets," Methos announced. The table was already set for four along with plates of toast and bacon. Elizabeth made her way to a chair and plopped down upon it, her gaze not drifting off the tree outside. The kids gladly held out their plates as Methos slid an omelet on it, and placed one on Elizabeth's plate, the last on his own. She watched him put the cookie sheet on the counter and take off the oven mitt, then take his place next to her. They stared at each other for a moment before he broke into a smile. "Omelets aren't good enough?" he teased.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and looked at the feast in front of them. "No, I mean, yes. Of course. It looks great, thank you."

She could still see the tree outside, which was now just a tree, not a gallows. She asked Claire to shut the blinds so she wouldn't have to see it anymore. She looked to Methos, who was taking a healthy bite of his omelet and wondered if he would be willing to cut that tree down. Sally passed her the plate of bacon, and Elizabeth smiled at her. "I'm sorry I scared you before."

With only a shrug in return, as she was busy eating, Elizabeth saw that Claire was also beyond what had happened outside. The three of them at the table chattered about school and their day, and Elizabeth tried to join in and eat, but she had lost her appetite, and her interest in what teachers Claire liked the best.

~~~~~

After midnight, Elizabeth walked to Claire's room and saw that she was asleep, her door was ajar and a lamp was on low in the far corner. Methos must have taken Sally home and put Claire to bed, again without mentioning anything to her. Granted, Elizabeth had spent what she now realized was hours in that room, most of it dabbing one of the paintings with a damp rag to erase some of the dust from the hardened brush strokes. It took a long time to see what the picture actually was, a scene of Jesus' interment in the cave after being crucified. She didn't know if her eyes were still playing tricks with her, but she could have sworn that a tree in the background looked exactly like the five hundred year old tree in the yard. "I'm just seeing things," she had admonished herself. "Get a grip! You've been writing too much about war and death, this was a royal residence, so there were more than likely hangings, this was a monastery so it was a monk. Come on, Earth to Liz. Shape up."

As she sat on her knees next to Claire's bed, she brushed her daughter's long, dark, curly hair away from her forehead. Claire was so adorable when she slept but didn't look anything like she did while awake. Her eyes were clamped shut, her mouth was curved down so that the corners and the bridge of her nose were scrunched up as if it was hard work to sleep. "Sleep tight, Little One. Sorry I wasn't here to tell you good night. It won't happen again." A light brush of Claire's cheek made her relax her face a bit, and Elizabeth wondered if she was having bad dreams. "Welcome to the club," Elizabeth whispered, before kissing Claire's cheek and adding, "I love you."

Claire turned around in the bed, still fast asleep, and was now facing away from her. Not wanting to wake her up, Elizabeth got to her feet and padded softly to the door. Claire had another long day tomorrow and should get her sleep. Elizabeth's internal clock, on the other hand, was off. To her, it seemed like the middle of the day, she had so much energy.

Luckily, when she entered her bedroom, she saw that Methos was awake. He was in the middle of yet another thick tome that he held across his chest as he laid in bed. Only the lamp on his side of the bed lit up the large room. As she kicked off her clogs, the floor was cold. She sat on the side of the bed and asked, "Should we make a fire?"

"If you want to, but I'm comfortable," Methos said half-heartedly; he was clearly still reading.

She laid on top of the covers and put her head on Methos' arm. The book was in Latin. She looked up at his eyes, still reading at his normal fast pace. To her, it was odd that people could read or speak, or even understand, so many languages at once. "Do you dream in English?" she asked him.

"Sometimes," he said as he read.

"I didn't only want to make a fire because of the chill in the air. A roaring fire is quite romantic."

Methos finally took his eyes off the words on the page and grinned at her. "You need a fire to stoke your pilot light?"

"Do you think we can cut that tree down?"

"I can't believe you're talking about the tree I think you're thinking of. Are you insane?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?" Elizabeth replied in a huff, sitting up again.

"It's a five hundred year old tree, you can't just lop it down and burn it for firewood."

"No, I wouldn't want it in the house. It's just an accident waiting to happen. What if Sally fell off and broke her arm or leg? How would we explain that to her parents?"

"'Sorry, she fell out of the tree.' It happens," Methos said with a chuckle. "They'd understand, but it wouldn't happen. Sally and Claire aren't going to fall out of the tree."

"Can we at least put a fence around it, so kids can't just climb it? A high fence?" One high enough so that she wouldn't have to look at it again.

"What is the problem with that tree? It's older than you are."

Elizabeth grumbled at that. "Most things are. If I have to hear that I'm young or naive, or stupid, one more time-"

"Hey, hey," Methos countered, then rubbed her back when she faced away from him. "You really need to chill."

"I don't need to be reminded of that either! All you do lately is tell me to relax or fuck me, there's no happy medium?"

Methos was so quiet that she turned to look at him, to see he was dumbfounded. She asked, "We can't hold a conversation anymore?"

"Not if it involves chopping down a historic tree." He laid back down and opened the book again. Subject closed.

"What did you do with the lasagne?"

"Put it back in the freezer, is that okay? Was that what I was supposed to do?"

Elizabeth went into the bathroom and took a quick shower. The irritation washed away along with all the dust and grime from the room. By the time she was done, she felt refreshed. She put on a robe and walked hesitantly back into the bedroom, not knowing if Methos would feel any different. She was sorry she was picking fights wherever she could find them, didn't like it, and didn't quite understand it. She knew she loved it here, but on deeper thought, didn't know why.

To her surprise, Methos was still awake, and was still reading the book. It was now laying on her side of the bed as he was on his side, head in hand, flipping the pages. She spooned him from his side of the bed and asked, "What's the book about?"

"The crucifixion of Christ from Pontus Pilot's interpretation."

Elizabeth was jarred, as she had just spent hours cleaning off a painting of the very same thing. "A little light bedtime reading, huh? What made you pick that up?"

He shrugged. "Gotta read something."

Elizabeth laid her chin lightly on Methos' shoulder and asked, "Will you translate it for me? Can you do that? Read in Latin and tell me what it says in English?"

He shot a glance at her, then smiled. "Your Christian upbringing might be offended by what the man had to say."

"His deeds offended me long ago. I'm past being offended by him, or anyone else. I want to..."

"What?"

"Share in what you're doing, okay? If it's holding your attention, I want to know it."

Methos kissed her cheek and said, "Hold onto all religious beliefs you have. Here comes the opposite view."

"Do you mind if I add commentary?" she asked lightly with a smile of her own. It felt good to smile, and mean it, feeling that she hadn't for a long while.

"I will insist on it, to get another viewpoint."

"Another view? Jesus Christ was killed by that man, and I hope he's burning in hell as we speak."

"You believe in hell as well?"

"Sure. I've seen it on earth, there's gotta be a repository for the Pontus Pilots, Hitlers, and Bin Ladens of the world."

"You like a happy ending, in other words," Methos said with a chuckle.

"Who doesn't?" Elizabeth crawled to the end of the bed and hiked her elbow up to hold her head. She waited for Methos to begin, but he was busy smiling at her. He had such a wonderful smile, especially when it was directed at her. He took a bit of time bringing her up to date on what had happened before the place where he was in the book, and she took it in as he was brief and to the point. Then he began to read. To himself, then spoke in English.

"No, read it in Latin as well. I want to know what it's supposed to sound like."

"Yes, ma'am," Methos said, then went back to the beginning of the page and started again. His low voice made the odd sounds come to life for her, as if they actually meant something to people. To her, they were guttural sounds. When he translated a line or two at a time, she tried to made sense of what he had read with what he had translated. Pilot was rounding up an army to instill order in the book, and Methos was reading with gusto, using appropriate different tones of voice for each line.

When Elizabeth laughed, he stopped and asked her why she had. "You'd be a great actor. Have you been one at any point?"

"I don't like to talk about it," he said in a jokingly dismissive tone.

"Oh, oh, another story. Might be more interesting than that asshole. Tell me about it. In Latin."

"Then you wouldn't understand it."

Elizabeth crawled up his body and pushed the heavy book off the bed taking it's place as she wrapped herself around Methos who steadily held her. "Was it Shakespeare?"

"What else?"

"Who did you play? Romeo?"

"Gertrude."

"Hamlet's mother?"

"There weren't actresses back then. It was my first and last time on the boards."

"This, a gotta hear. First, about your outfit."

Methos said as if he was a gay fashion designer, "Oh, it was a lovely emerald green, what you would now called an empire cut gown that flowed to the ground. One could only get a glimpse of the silk slippers upon my feet. Underneath, I wore extremely binding black tights."

"In the groin area?"

"I was too big for my breeches," Methos said which made them both giggle with gusto. It felt good to laugh with him again and she held him tighter in response.

"So far, so good. The visual I have is..."

"I dropped every single prop I was given, I called Claudius Horatio, and almost set the Globe on fire."

"Oh, Methos, my Methos." To lay with him, setting aside any silly worries or needling irritations was bliss. She had denied him earlier in the day, but for now, all she wanted was to be loved by him. To forget about everything but him. No tree, no room, no voices, no worries about isolation from society, if she was a good parent, or if her IQ would skirt around 100. Methos hadn't bitten on her statements about her stupidity, in fact, he had seemed confused by them. If he wasn't calling her stupid, then who was? It seemed to be pounded into her at all times. Was it Amy's comment to them all after she had left the deck, that "Elizabeth had done a stupid thing eight years ago and..." When Methos had filled her in on that, Elizabeth had felt like finding Amy and pulling every blond hair from her head.

As Methos was showing her how much tenderness there was in the world, and she felt a rush of love in her heart, she wondered why she was so mad at Amy. It wasn't the first argument they had in their relationship, and certainly wouldn't be the last. Or maybe it was. Amy was mortal, so a blowout such as that followed by Elizabeth leaving without explanation could be considered the end, and she wouldn't want anything to do with Elizabeth again, either.

There were rumblings in her mind about feeling sad for the loss of Amy, but also that voice telling her she was better off without that meddling tramp. "And look who else she slept with," the voice rattled in her head. The man who was on top of her had also been on top of Amy. As Methos was kissing her, he had more than likely kissed Amy the night Kevin was murdered. Each touch on her body from him felt like a violation. As she pushed Methos off and got out of bed, the voice was quite pleased. "Oh, shut the hell up," she muttered as she stalked to the room on the third floor.

Continued