THE ELIZABETH SERIES

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

CABAL

by JoLayne
EnyaJo@aol.com

RATING: ADULT

CHARACTERS: Methos, Amy, Duncan MacLeod, Elizabeth, Claire, A Couple of Immortals

SUMMARY: A former occupant of Bethany Stone Manor takes hold of Elizabeth.

~~~~~

NOVEMBER 2012
BETHANY STONE MANOR
KENT, ENGLAND

Even though Elizabeth was living in England and Methos had never taken part in the festivities of an American holiday without being coaxed, she was bound and determined to have a nice, home-cooked Thanksgiving turkey. It had been years since Claire had actually lived in America. To Elizabeth's chagrin, her daughter wasn't interested in celebrating Thanksgiving. The turkey and stuffing sounded good, but 'what's the big deal with the Native Americans?' was her attitude. All-American Elizabeth had been surprised when her daughter Claire had said, "We live in England, mother. Don't you think it's a bit odd to celebrate a holiday that has to do with thumbing your nose at the English when you live in England?"

"Just humor me, okay?" Elizabeth had told her and even made her stay home from school that third Thursday of the month.

"I have a math test on Thursday," Claire argued. "And I have ballet at 5:30."

Methos was no help. To his way of thinking if school was being held, Claire should be there. Elizabeth called the school to tell them that yes, they were living in Kent, England, but her family was American, and Claire would be celebrating the American holiday on Thursday. Claire would, of course, be available for the makeup exam on Friday, the weekend, or anytime the math teacher deemed convenient. When Mr. Steinberg got on the phone, he said he could see no good reason why Claire couldn't take the makeup exam after school let out on Friday.

"See?" Elizabeth told Claire, who was sitting at the dining table when her mother got off the phone. "No problem. I'm sure that Mr. Steinberg being Jewish has a lot to do with his outlook on life. People should be able to celebrate their customs, no matter what nationality or religion you are."

Claire asked, "What about Mrs. Gasper? She's not Jewish. If I miss a dance class, especially ballet, the foundation for all dances, I'll be behind."

"You can practice at home," Elizabeth suggested.

"But we're learning a new routine. Everyone else will have that extra hour with the new routine and I won't. It's not fair."

"Claire!" Elizabeth screamed and slammed the cleaning brush on the counter separating the kitchen and dining room. "Give me a God-damned break! You are not a deprived child! You get everything you ask for! You're staying home on Thursday and that's that!"

After Claire ran from the room mumbling it wasn't fair, Elizabeth caught hold of the counter and took a deep breath. She was dizzy and her insides were doing flip flops. She hadn't expected that emotional outburst, and didn't know if she'd ever get control of herself again. Elizabeth held her hands in front of her to see them shaking like leaves so she tucked them under each opposite armpit and leaned against the counter. That nagging voice in her head told her, "She's a brat. Calm down."

"What's going on?" she heard Methos ask, startled because she had not heard him enter through the open patio doors. "I could hear you scream out in the stables."

"Claire doesn't appreciate being parented," was all Elizabeth said before going upstairs to the one place she knew she could get some peace.

The third floor room, where she was still taking her time searching through a collection of things, did give her comfort as she walked in and then sat down on the rocking chair that she had set by the window. While she rocked in the chair that many had sat in, the wooden seat had a comfortable groove that perfectly conformed to her bottom, Elizabeth looked out the window at the 500 year old weeping willow that she had recently wanted cut down because of the vision of a hanging man. As she stared at it now, the vision of the hanging monk slowly materialized again. Elizabeth gradually became angry at the dead man's circumstance; how low and distraught the man must have been to hang himself. During the time she stared at the dead man and tried to find some reason why he was swinging there, monks materialized with their heads bent in prayer circling the weeping willow and the dead man Did they kill him? What the hell could a monk have done to warrant execution?

The monks slowly approached their dead brother and carefully cut him down from the noose. They carried him gingerly to an area alongside Methos' stables, that he was still renovating by himself. Elizabeth had many times said he should just hire someone to do the work, but Methos always replied that he wanted to do it himself.

As if it was happening right at that moment, one of the monks came out of the stables with a shovel and pick, then all the monks started hacking at the grass and earth to bury their brother. Elizabeth was enthralled. She was unaware that she had gotten out of the rocking chair to stand at the window, her forehead resting against the cool glass. Her eyes were focused on the ceremony below her.

Methos walked right through the burial scene on his way to his stables from the house, and didn't even seem to falter when he stepped onto the hole that was being dug. As Methos walked into the stables, the dead monk moved. Elizabeth stared at him to see if she had really seen his head move. Then his hand rose and his body convulsed. His shoulders grew in size and Elizabeth knew he was taking a reviving breath. He was an immortal!

As the monk sat up and peered at his brothers, the other monks shrieked and scattered. Elizabeth didn't pay attention to them. She only had eyes for the immortal monk who got to his feet and rubbed his neck as if working out a kink. He slowly straightened, and his eyes drifted up to the house, then to the window she was standing at. She clearly saw his face when the man with short dark hair and piercing eyes looked right at her, and smiled.

~~~~~

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2012

Just as they were sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner, the phone rang. "Let the machine get it," Elizabeth said as she put the perfectly roasted turkey on the table. Carving knives were sitting by a platter in front of Methos. He looked at her and asked, "You want me to carve the turkey?"

"Of course. You're the man of the family." Elizabeth ignored the second ring of the phone and sat with her linen napkin on her lap. "My father used to have the honors. Those were the days."

"You don't talk about grandpa," Claire said, jarring Elizabeth to the fact that she may have made a blunder. "Where is he?"

"He died before you were born," Elizabeth said guardedly, not wanting to open a can of worms. She and Methos had decided that instead of lying to Claire about their long lives, they would just change the subject. Elizabeth reached over to put Claire's long curly, flyaway, hair behind her ear. "We should say grace first."

Claire looked at her in shock, then to her father and giggled, "To which deity?"

"Indulge her, Claire," Methos said. "This is mom's day."

When the phone rang again, Elizabeth threw her napkin on the table and stalked to the phone. "What the hell do you want?" she screamed into it.

After a slight pause that had to be the product of surprise, she heard a female voice that Elizabeth had to search her memory bank to remember. "Hey, nice to talk to you too. Do you answer the phone like that all the time?"

Amy Katherine Thomas Randall Barstow.

"So, you found me," Elizabeth replied curtly.

"Took a spot of work, but yes. We always get our woman," Amy said gaily.

"Where's Megan?"

After another brief pause, Amy said, "Megan is in Watcher school. How have you been?"

"Haven't you been watching?"

"Sure, but I was wondering how you are personally. It's been so long since we talked."

Not long enough. Elizabeth said, "You don't care about me, so don't even pretend. It's tiresome."

Elizabeth hung up and watched Methos expertly carve the turkey. He had already taken off one thigh and drumstick, carved the moist dark meat, and was now slicing the breast in perfect uniform slices. He would use the carving knife to slide under the piece and with the fork, made sure it made it to the platter, where it was nestled with the rest of the meat in an appetizing arrangement. Dark on one side, white on the other. He had obviously done this before. Why did he have to pretend all the time? To her? "You never told me you knew how to carve a turkey."

"I have eaten in my life." Methos shrugged and continued carving as if the turkey were a work of art.

"Dad can do almost everything," Claire said with pride, and snatched a piece of dark meat from the platter.

"Almost?" Methos asked jokingly. "I'll have you know I have carved almost any animal you eat. And some you wouldn't care to. Ever."

"Like what?"

"Hyena. The meat is extremely tough."

"Why did you eat hyena?"

"Was on safari and there weren't any delectable lions or zebra around."

"Zebra? That's like eating a horse," Claire grimaced. "Why didn't you just go to the store?"

Elizabeth had sat down and started to fill their plates with mashed potatoes, yams, and cranberry sauce. "Your father? Do something the easy way? I don't think so."

Claire laughed along with Elizabeth and soon Methos joined in. She was happy the conversation stopped before Claire got too inquisitive about how Methos had picked up his many talents. They'd have to tell her that her father was older than dirt, but that conversation was for another day.

Methos doled out white meat for Elizabeth, dark meat for Claire, and a mixture of the two for himself, then sat down to look over the table filled with Thanksgiving bounty. "This was a good idea, Liz. It all looks good enough to eat."

Claire ate a piece of meat with her hand and said, "All this food is going to ruin my appetite." She flipped a piece of skin at Methos' plate and said, "This is a lot better than zebras or horses."

"Say," Methos said. "I've been meaning to ask you adorable women something."

"What's for dessert?" Elizabeth snickered. Ever since she had hung up on Amy, she felt better. Without realizing it, Elizabeth had cared if Amy was alive and was still on the job. It gave her a lot of comfort to hear Amy's voice. Maybe they could have a civil discussion and clear the air... in another decade or so.

"No, actually," Methos said then paused as he chewed his mouthful of Cambodian bread topped with whipped garlic butter. "Since I'm about done with the stables-"

"You're about done with the stables?" Claire asked with exaggerated awe.

Methos looked from her to Elizabeth and said, "She got her cheekiness from you."

"Are you sure you're almost finished with the stables?" Elizabeth asked. She laughed as she said, "Maybe there's a beam a quarter inch off plumb or something. Should get some experts out here to see, right?" she asked Claire, who laughed with her.

Claire shook her head and commented, "You're so cute, Dad," as she took a forkful of potatoes.

"Thank you," Methos said as he waited for the females to quiet down. "Actually, I was thinking of stocking the stables. Even though you show me no respect, would you like some horses?"

"You want to go back to running a stable?" Elizabeth asked. Methos was in his element in California, but it was a lot of work.

"Only for our own personal use. I'll even let you name mine, if you're nice." He smiled at Elizabeth, who never let up about his naming Black the color of his coat.

"You did well with Callie and Charlie," Elizabeth offered, with a smile.

Claire was ecstatic, so much so, she jumped out of her chair to wrap her arms around Methos' neck. "I miss Santo, can I get him back?"

"You remember Santo?" Methos asked her. It was hard to know what Claire did and didn't remember from her tender years. Methos looked at Elizabeth, who wondered if Santo was still in the land of the living. Methos said, "No, we can't take Santo back from Dallas, but I could get you a new horse, all your own."

"We won't be leaving him behind again, will we?" Claire grumbled, sitting back in her place at the table.

Elizabeth and Methos exchanged a look. One never knew where one would be in a year or two when one is an immortal. "I like it here," Elizabeth said. "And you obviously do," she indicated to Methos, "so, I think we're going to be here for a very long time."

"We can go buy stock this weekend," Methos announced, as if it was settled.

Claire was pumped and happy. "Have I ever told you that I love you, Dad?"

"Not in a very long time. I'm not sure why I do all these nice things for you when you don't."

"Because I'm your kid."

"Oh, that must be it."

Soon, Methos and Claire lapsed into their habit of speaking French, even though Elizabeth could only pick out a few words. Claire had offered to teach her in the past, but that just seemed too odd to Elizabeth. She should be teaching Claire, not the other way around. Besides, Elizabeth hated Paris, France, and everything connected to it since the second World War, and the time Methos treated her like dirt after her dark quickening.

That time after Elizabeth took Pyrius' head and the events afterward when she and Methos were hurtful to each flooded her memory once again. She had gone to Paris after Methos, ignoring Duncan's sage advise, thinking that if he did take her head, that would be all right with her. She'd still be with him. Even though she said those words to Duncan before leaving Seacouver, and all the way to Paris she was telling herself that, Elizabeth was still surprised when she faced Methos and he yelled, slashed, and killed her. If Joe hadn't been there, there wasn't any telling what would have happened. For now, all Elizabeth had to hold onto was the fact that Methos hadn't taken her head.

The voice that had taken residence inside her head since moving to Bethany Stone Manor told her, "But he did slash your neck. Remember? If not, look in the mirror!"

Claire asked in English, "Mom? You listening?"

"I don't listen to the French language."

"We were talking English," Claire said as she mopped the rest of the gravy on her plate with her bread and plopped it in her mouth. "We were talking about what kind of horse to get."

Elizabeth got up from the table with an eerie sensation in her head and body. The fleeting remembrance of the dark quickening she had received from Pyrius almost made her want to throw up. The remembrance of the look on Methos' face as he ran his blade over her throat while on top of her in her apartment in Seacouver wouldn't fade.

"Not white," she said, turning away from them both.

The rest of the day was a blur, but she came back to rational thought once again when Methos found her in the third floor bedroom and asked if she was ever going to bed. Claire was already asleep after Methos had spent an hour going over fractions with her.

"Yeah," Elizabeth said, getting out of the rocking chair. Her legs were tingling from having fallen asleep and she was surprised to see that it was nighttime. She honestly couldn't remember anything since she left during the horse conversation. She stomped her feet to get them back to the land of the living as Methos chuckled at her.

"You have to find a hobby, dear," Methos said, sweeping her up in his arms and walking her out the door. "Don't worry, Claire and I did all the dishes."

He laid her on their bed and she pulled him on top of her when he stood up. Methos asked, "Are you hungry? We hollered if you wanted some leftovers for supper, but of course, you didn't answer."

"No, I'm fine." Elizabeth was confused and held onto Methos tightly. She hadn't heard them. She was sort of hungry now that he mentioned it, but she didn't want to move from where she was with Methos covering her and playing with her hair as he was leaned on one elbow.

"Claire came up to see where you were and you said you were still cleaning out that room."

"Well, you have the stables, I have the house."

"But you only seem to be concerned with that room. What's the attraction?"

She wasn't sure, but said, "The architecture. Haven't you seen the nooks and crannies built in? The furniture is a find. Antique dealers would give their right nut for some of those pieces. I wonder if when it's presentable, we should move in there."

"Could be." He slid his hand down her side and commented, "You're getting quite thin again. You should eat. Want me to get you a plate?"

"Nope. Don't you dare move." Elizabeth said, holding him tight as if he was going to disappear and leave her all alone. "I just want you."

~~~~~

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2012

"I don't know why you two insist on walking me to the bus every day," Claire spouted as they neared the lane at the end of their drive.

Methos said, "We don't have anything better to do."

"And we want to make your life a living hell." Elizabeth laughed as the school bus drove up and stopped at their gate and Claire started to cringe.

"No one else's parents walk them to the bus. Will you two not do it anymore?"

"Give us a kiss," Methos said with a huge smile.

"No way!" Claire said, walking faster. "Bye." Then, out of hearing range from the kids in the back of the bus, all yelling and laughing with each other, Claire turned around and whispered loudly, "And don't be here when I get back."

"Oh, we have her permission." Elizabeth turned to Methos and asked, "Should we take off to parts unknown and let her fend for herself?"

"Bora Bora is nice this time of year," Methos replied, both parents enjoying the act of teasing their child.

"It's nice in Bora Bora all the time, Dad," Claire said.

"Since we're going to be in Bora Bora," Elizabeth told Claire, "You can find your own way to dance class tonight."

"Don't forget to make yourself some vegetables for supper," Methos added.

"And the phone bill is due. Can you pay that for us?"

Claire rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Parents...," as she walked to the bus.

"We won't be here to embarrass you after school, Little One, so don't you worry," Methos said as he smiled and waved to the kids who turned to look at them. One girl giggled at him with her hands covering her mouth. "What's your name?" he asked her through the open window.

"Dad!" Claire yelled mortified as Methos walked to the girl's window.

The girl was almost collapsing from a mixture of surprise and embarrassment as she continued to giggle. Methos reached out his hand and said, "I'm Daniel, Claire's father."

"I know," the girl said with her hands still at her mouth, her face red, as she hiccuped.

Another girl called out, "She thinks you're cute."

The giggling girl suddenly lowered her hands and yelled at the offending girl, "I do not!"

The door of the bus shut and started to move. Methos picked Claire out at the front of the bus and waved farewell. Claire was looking the other way, but he did have an audience in a load of girls at the back, who waved and hollered, "Bye," out the windows. He told Elizabeth, "I have quite a fan club."

But, Elizabeth wasn't there any longer. He saw that she was making her way up the drive in a quickened pace. He jogged to catch up with her and repeated with pride, "I have a fan club."

"More than one," she said, indicating the trees with a nod of her head. "Barstow's watching."

"He has been for quite a while. I wonder where my watcher is," Methos said, draping his arm over Elizabeth's shoulders as they walked back up the long drive to the house.

"Who cares?"

"You do. I do. What's up with you lately?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, right. When we first met, you and Amy were best friends. How come the very thought of her makes you bitchy of late?"

"She thinks I'm an idiot and I know she's nothing but a moocher."

"Excuse me?"

"You saw her finances after Kevin died, she had to find a new man quick, you weren't going to support her forever, or have you?"

"Not at all. She's even made payments on that money I loaned her."

"Sure she could. She was collecting a paycheck as a Watcher while we were providing her room and board while sailing her around the world. Then, she's mad at me for not letting the Watchers know Megan saw you revive. Like that's my job."

"In that regard, I'm as guilty as you are. I just wanted to get us all out of there."

"That's right. You're the oldest one; you should have known better, and yet, she never once called you an idiot. No. That's my ball and chain."

"She didn't call you an idiot. Would you lighten up? Sorry to bring her up. You were actually in a good mood this morning, for a change. What do you want to do today?"

"Finish stripping that chest in the-"

"In the room that has your attention," Methos cut her off. "You should have something else to do."

"Like you should talk," she said, indicating his prized stables.

"You know what I mean. Over all, you haven't even left the house for a thing. I noticed that you order from the local grocer over the Internet. That's not healthy."

"You know what?" Elizabeth noticed Methos tighten at her sudden remark. "No, I'm not mad. I think you're on to something there."

"Whew." Methos smiled. "Lately, it's hard to tell how you're going to react to anything. You can be mad as hell at me one minute then fucking my brains out the next. Like last night." He kissed her forehead as she pulled him into a hug. "Thanks for that by the way."

"No, thank you." Elizabeth kissed him lightly, playing with him as she flitted her tongue against his lips. When he would try to grab it with his teeth, she would pull it back. "Thank you for last night, being patient with me. Sometimes I feel like there's another person inside of me." When she said that, she wondered how he would react. She had finally verbalized the presence of the voice and visions, even just a part of them; she really needed his advise on the matter.

Unfortunately, true to form, Methos snickered and said, "Like me? That can definitely be arranged." The soft kisses he sowed across her cheek and down her neck made her almost melt. If it wasn't for the fact that Methos scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the house, she might have done just that.

"I think we just thought of something to do while our child is in school," he purred as he set Elizabeth down on the bed. She had a hard time separating the want for her husband from the irate voice screaming at her that it was all wrong. "Enough," it told her. "You two are like rabbits. Haven't you had enough?"

"No," she moaned as she clutched at Methos for dear life. She felt that if she denied him and herself this pleasure this afternoon, it might be irrevokable. Methos was like an animal clawing at her, covering her, biting her, and Elizabeth loved every minute of it. After he was inside of her, her whole body was reacting and drinking him in. She lived to make love to Methos, and he certainly hadn't been denying her as of late. But with a twist. It was like he was otherworldly when he ravished her. Elizabeth opened her eyes in order to see Methos' flush face, twinkling eyes and pouty, swollen lips, only to look into a face she never thought she'd see again.

PYRIUS!

That mad Greek was on top of her. The immortal who had kidnaped Methos, tortured him, and was prepared to take his head according to his deep seated, sick plan, if not for Elizabeth, was caressing her, kissing her, pumping inside of her. "I killed you," she moaned as Methos was riding her.

"A bad mistake, Elizabeth," Pyrius told her, caressing her cheek, then pinching it and pulling her hair.

When Elizabeth screamed, "NO!" She could hear Methos' laugh of delight while Pyrius' face was twisted with glee just inches from her own. She struggled to get free, but couldn't move from his weight.

"Sorry, Lizzie," she heard Methos' voice say as his fist relaxed the grip on her hair, although he continued groaning with each thrust. "It's all your fault," he said, then chuckled as he continued his motion.

He thinks it's all a joke! Doesn't he know? She slammed her eyes shut to close herself off from seeing the face of her tormentor, but her body was relishing and responding to ecstacy. As Methos flooded inside of her, her head was pounding wildly from both satisfaction in the aftermath of Methos' expert gyrations, and revulsion at seeing that long-ago face that had made her life a living hell.

"You're a tigress," Methos said proudly as he rolled onto his back. "But I can tame you. I think you scratched me."

Elizabeth looked off to the side to see Pyrius sitting in the lounge chair where Methos spent a lot of time reading. She hiked herself up on an elbow in shock. It wasn't a dream. He's really there!

Pyrius put his finger to his lips. "Sh. This is our little secret. Oh, do I have plans for you. For us." He pulled his long frame from the chair and walked to the bed. Elizabeth was frozen in fascination and an eerie need for him to be closer to her. A glance at Methos indicated that he wasn't seeing this, his eyes were closed, and if history told her anything, he'd be asleep in no time.

"No need to bring him into this," Pyrius said, laying softly on the bed on the other side of Elizabeth from Methos. He gently urged her to lie back down and laid his head next to hers as he lightly fondled her breast. "At least, not yet."

She felt foolish lying there, seeing and allowing a ghost to touch her. She felt cold, lost, alone, even though she was lying right next to her husband. The love of her life. Pyrius' cold touch made her nipple pinch up and goose bumps covered her breast. But she didn't want him to stop. "You're dead," she said to him.

"Only if you wish it." His voice was low and encouraging like a warm breath in her ear.

She covered his hand with hers and said, "No. I don't wish that at all. I'm so sorry about what I did to you."

"I know. I've been watching you. After all, I am a part of you. You will make it up to me." Pyrius kissed her and said, "All in due time."

~~~~~

Methos was walking through thigh-high weeds in a place that he thought awfully familiar. His groin was still trembling from making love to Elizabeth, and his mind was clear. They'd been through so much together, but now they had each other, Claire, and a new life. Things couldn't get any better. Could they?

They can certainly get worse, an annoying voice told him. It was a voice that seemed familiar, and he tried to place it. He had heard that subtle voice off and on since they had moved to Kent, to Bethany Stone Manor, but he had always pegged it as being his subconscious mind. The sun was too bright, the satisfaction was too strong within him to pay any attention to it now.

Methos heard arguing by the trees, one of which was the 500 year old weeping willow that Elizabeth had so callously wanted have cut down. But this isn't our property. Where the hell am I? He spun on his heels and saw, off in the distance, Casa Segura. Portugal? I can't be in Portugal. What's my tree doing here?

The arguing was getting louder, and he made out one of the voices to be Elizabeth's. He was on his way to the ruckus when he was stopped short by a beefy hand on his arm. Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod placed his bulk between Methos and his wife in the midst of an argument with some unknown person.

"What do you want?" Methos said, pushing him away.

"Your wife, of course."

That made Methos spin around to stare at the Highlander. Duncan smiled that cocky, prideful, know-it-all smirk he was famous for. "Excuse me?"

"You never deserved her. Look at her." Duncan pointed to Elizabeth and a shadow jostling with each other under the branches of the willow tree. "She's still taking care of your messes. Will her job ever end?" Duncan laughed. "Probably not."

"Duncan! You have to help me!" Elizabeth shouted as Methos ran to her. The shadow had her by the arm and tears were rolling down her cheeks. "Please! Help me!"

Methos grabbed her away from the shadow and walked her away protectively. "It's all right, Lizzie. I'm here now."

"Not you!" Elizabeth shoved Methos away and ran the short distance to Duncan, who had sauntered over to them. She threw her arms around the Scot's neck and they kissed each other hungrily as if they had been doing it for years. Not for the first time. Right under his nose. They had to have been sneaking away together for over a decade!

Jealousy burned within him as he pulled his Ivanhoe from its sheath in his coat and yanked Duncan back. Elizabeth had her sword in her hand, and swung it at Methos. "I don't want to do this, but I have to," she said as if she was talking about cleaning toilets. Methos conked Duncan on the head with the hilt of his Ivanhoe so he couldn't also come at him. This was insane, but Elizabeth had her sword raised to him again.

"This is foolish, think about what you're doing!"

"I know. But I can't help it. I need to do this."

Methos stepped back but on the defensive; if she was to unwisely take another swipe at him. Incredibly, Elizabeth actually fought him. Methos soon swallowed his disbelief and fought her as he fought every other opponent in his long life. That low voice reverberated from the trees, "Take him! Now! You owe me!"

Methos stared as he spun around during a move with his sword, but couldn't see anything but shadow by the tree. In broad daylight, he couldn't see a thing that was just in front of him. He looked to see if the voice had come from Duncan, but the Highlander was still passed out in the weeds. Elizabeth made a quick upper cut to Methos' head, which forced Methos to duck and roll to avert contact. He had enough, Methos went in for the kill, but only to disarm her. "Don't you dare attack me!" Rapid, controlled swings made Elizabeth move back and back until she was almost in the copse of trees. Methos' Ivanhoe got embedded in the willow tree, barely missing Elizabeth's head by mere inches. If she hadn't tripped, she would have been beheaded for sure.

Husband and wife stared at each other as they both tried to catch their breath. Then Elizabeth crumbled and cried out, "I can't take him. He's better than I am."

"Just do it. Do it now while he's unarmed," the voice said.

Both Methos and Elizabeth looked at his sword in the tree's trunk. Methos tried to get it out, but needed to solidify his footing. While he wrestled with it, Elizabeth got up from the ground and pushed him back. He was unarmed and there was a look of murder in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said as she swung at him.

Methos ducked and body tackled her, pulling her sword out of her hand at the same time. He rolled off her, and he stood at attention on his feet, with her sword tip hovering to close to her nose for comfort. "Shame on you," he said before spitting on the ground and walking away.

"Here," he heard behind him.

He turned around to see Elizabeth catch a pistol and aim it at him. "There's always a way. Even to take your head, Methos," she said as she shot him in the chest.

Methos fell back feeling as if his world had collapsed. He gasped for breath as he saw Elizabeth stalk to him. She dropped the gun and retrieved her sword from his grip. The impact of the bullet in his chest made it impossible to move. He was shot in exactly the same place that Angel Bancroft had shot him in the elevator in Chicago. She had shot him twice! The first time, she didn't know what she was doing, but there wasn't any indication of indecision about her now.

Elizabeth raised the silver cutlass sword above her head and smiled as she said, "There can be only one!"

As the sword came down on Methos' neck, he sat up gasping for breath. He rubbed his chest, he realized there wasn't a wound, and he was in bed. Elizabeth was sleeping soundly next to him, naked, and she was positioned as if holding a hand by her cheek. Her face didn't display any of the fierce determination of that final swing to his neck. In fact, she looked happy and content.

Methos had to get out of that bed; he moved as if the forces of hell were on his butt. Seeing her kiss Duncan and shoot him in the chest in order to take his head were to vivid to set aside. He couldn't deem the two acts as just a dream. His dreams had been prophetic when dreamt three times in a row, but he had never once seen his own demise. He wasn't going to go on with his life as if he hadn't seen a warning. He had tough decisions to make, and he couldn't procrastinate.

~~~~~

Elizabeth finally awoke by actually falling out of bed. She thought she had rolled over to cuddle her husband, but instead, ended up face down on the floor. She sat up and shook her head wondering where she was, what time it was, and where Methos was. After ferocious sex and pleasant dreams, she was hungry. As she pulled on her robe and walked into the hall, the cool stone under her feet and a breeze from the open window at the end of the hall, made her feel years younger. She felt free and easy, and dropped her robe on the stone floor as she made her way through the huge three storey house looking for Methos. Maybe they could christen another room in the house. There were only four more to go. The third floor room would be the last. She and Methos would make love on that big four poster and then she would feel that this was her house, her husband, her life, and it would be complete.

As she walked outside naked, she felt the chill of the wind, and needed Methos more than ever. He had to be in that damn stables. They'd already done it in there, many times, so maybe she could convince him to come back inside. The kitchen had yet to be utilized properly for something other than food. Or the dining room table. Or both. But they'd have to be quick. She could tell by the placement of the sun that Claire would be coming home soon. Elizabeth felt Methos' buzz and walked into the stables.

Sure enough, Methos was raking out the straw in one of the stalls. She walked up behind him and placed her hands over his eyes. She rubbed her chest against his back and murmured, "Are you as hungry as I am?"

Methos jerked, dropped the rake, and spun around. The surprise on his face grew when he looked at her. Elizabeth pulled his hands up to cover her breasts and said, "Please, sir. May I have some more?"

He averted his eyes as he picked up the rake and said, "Not right now, Ms. Twist."

"Why not? Claire will be back soon. We have time."

"No, she won't."

Methos didn't look at her as he went back to his task of rolling the straw off a stack in the corner to cover every inch of the stall.

"She won't? Why not?"

"She and I talked, I guess you weren't around, and decided she would be better staying in the dorm. Mount of Olives is a boarding school and she wondered if she wasn't as close to the other kids because she wasn't staying there. She's going to try it. I packed her things and brought them to her this afternoon. While you were sleeping."

"Something that major, and you couldn't talk to me about it?"

For some unknown reason, Elizabeth wasn't as mad as she thought she should be. With Claire gone, she could love Methos anytime she wanted. They were old, but they certainly weren't dead, and there were times when they had to collect themselves because Claire called for them or walked into the room. She was only a few miles down the road. It wasn't like she was gone forever.

"You weren't around," Methos repeated. He set the rake against the wall as he came out of the stall and said, "I'm going to have to put gates on the stalls if we're getting horses in here."

"Sure. My standing here in the all together does nothing for you?"

Methos whistled. "You do a lot to me. How do you feel?"

"I feel wonderful."

"About Claire."

"That's okay. If she wanted too, who am I to say she can't?"

"You're her mother."

"I know. Can we change the subject?"

Methos was on guard, and Elizabeth couldn't stand for him to be guarded in her presence. From her recollection, they'd had a great time together just a short time ago. What time was it anyway?

"To what subject?"

"Like, you're wearing too much?"

Methos took a work shirt from a hook and tossed it to her. "You're making me lose focus."

"Good." Elizabeth dropped it to the ground. She took his cheeks in her hands and kissed him tenderly. "I want you to focus on me."

"Kind of hard not to," he said before she kissed him again, putting his hands on her back. Elizabeth felt his arms hold her, and then his hand trail down the small of her back and massaged her bottom. A shot of electricity surged through her and she rubbed her body against his as she kissed him deeper.

Methos pulled his mouth away and to the side. "I had another dream."

Elizabeth's head fell back. "Oh gods, we have to move again?"

"Gods? Since when have you said 'gods'?"

"You rub off on me." Elizabeth put her hand on his crotch to get the ball rolling, but he pulled her hand away.

"It was a pretty vivid dream."

"It was just a dream. I'm real. I'm here and I want you."

"It was about... It was... I have to take it seriously," Methos moaned as she rubbed him again and this time he didn't deny her; for awhile. Then he moved away again and said, "I love you, Elizabeth, but it scared the shit out of me. I tried to put it aside. I can't. I came out here to make things ready for the horses we're going to buy, but I just can't let it go. I can't live my life like that dream was nothing. Quit that!"

Elizabeth giggled as he took her hand from him and stood back.

"It's not funny! You've got me... stop screwing with my mind!"

"What? You only like it when you initiate it?"

"Get your mind off sex, this is real, this is serious. You took my head!"

Trying to decipher what he said, she stared at him, her mind a blank. "Excuse me? From what I see, your beautiful head is still on your magnificent shoulders."

"You're playing some kind of game I don't want to be a part of." Methos walked into the workshop and picked things up only to put them someplace else. "After telling Claire she had to stay at the school and making arrangements for her to get a room, I was going to pack my own things and get the hell out of here, but I couldn't."

"Thank God!"

"Now it's god. This is what I mean. You act like a depressed school marm one minute, a whore the next; you're saying 'gods'; you're not the same from one day to the next; you spend all your time in that goddamn cave of a room upstairs. You took my head!"

"Gosh," Elizabeth said after taking it all in. "I sure am a nutcase, aren't I? You buy a place I'd never seen or even thought about before without telling me; you expect me to love it as much as you do right off the bat. Then when I do, you get mad at me for appreciating some furniture in a room. Now you've dreamt that I'll do the one thing you know I would never do? I don't think I'm the one with the problem, Methos. I think you'd better look at yourself. I realize I haven't been the best mother since moving here, I don't like to go out and about because it's BORING here, so if I do find something to help keep my mind busy, I apologize. I know I've spent a lot of time in that room, just as you've spent all your time out here. When we have gotten together you've acted like a savage maniac. Good thing I'm immortal, you can get pretty rough."

"Speak for yourself. I think I stopped healing from the scratches on my back when I was talking with the dean."

Silence held the air for a moment until they both started laughing. Elizabeth looked at her fingernails to see some flesh under them. She cleaned under her nail with her teeth, then remembered doing that while in Pyrius' kitchen with Duncan and Warren Cochrane the morning after Methos had fled. The flesh tasted the same as it did that morning so long ago.

Methos held her and traced his finger along her breastbone as he said softly, "Look, why don't I finish with the stalls so we can buy horses tomorrow morning. Then I want your undivided attention."

"I'll wait and watch. I like to watch you work."

Methos looked at her with what she thought was confusion for a moment before kissing her and saying, "I love you. You do know that, don't you?"

"I live for it."

He kissed her again and exhaled deeply as he stepped back. "You're looking pretty appetizing."

"I hope so."

"I'll be quick, then we'll spend the rest of the day and night in bed."

"Or other places," she said, just imagining all the places she'd have them do it. He disappeared from the workroom and she again looked under her nails. There was some dirt or Methos that she couldn't clean with her teeth, so she looked around for an implement to use. A machete was hanging on the wall. Methos had cut thatch for the roof and it might be a bit dull, but it looked shiny. She decided that he must have sharpened and oiled it before hanging it up. He was a maniac when it came to keeping blades in perfect condition.

Elizabeth took it off the hook and felt the machete's weight in her hand. A bit heavy, balanced, it was a nice knife. As she used the tip to scrape under her left pointing finger her head started to rumble. Soon, her finger was bleeding and she instinctively put it in her mouth.

"You fool! Stop thinking with your crotch and get out there!"

She didn't like the intrusion of the voice, and dropped the machete.

"Pick it up!"

Elizabeth did without a thought. The voice told her, "Now that I'm truly inside you, you will finally listen to me. You know what to do."

"What?"

"What else? Kill him! Take his head as expertly as you did mine!"

"Whose?"

"Methos, you imbecile!"

Elizabeth shook as the voice beat down on her but still held the machete. "But, I don't want to."

"I know you do not want to kill him, Elizabeth," the voice said in a soothing tone. "But you must know it has to happen. I tried for 2500 years to do it and failed. You are not a failure. You can do it. I know you will."

As if someone was steering her, she walked out to the stables and heard Methos in an end stall. He was whistling while he raked. The voice said, "He never deserved happiness. I hope you had a good time with him, because he has to die. If I could do it, I would. You have to do it."

"No I don't. I don't have to do anything."

"YES YOU DO! You killed me! You kill him!"

She ran back into the workroom and tried to hang the machete on the hook. It fell to the dirt floor of the work room. "PICK IT UP!" she was commanded, and did as she cried.

Elizabeth tried one more time to hang up the offending machete, but it fell again. "PICK IT UP!"

Pyrius appeared in the workroom and took hold of the back of her head and moved her to the ground. "Pick it up, Elizabeth. Take it. Hold onto it."

She held the fifteen inch machete in her hand; she was blinded by the sting of tears. "Prima," Pyrius told her. "My sainted mother. Jasep. My best friend." Elizabeth cried out as the memory of Pyrius' quickening flooded her. She saw Methos do those horrible things from her perspective hiding under a blanket Pyrius' father had thrown over him to protect him from the monsters. Prima's cries came to Elizabeth. Methos had raped her and Pyrius could do nothing to help her without revealing himself. "My village. Multitudes, thousands, maybe millions of people. He butchered them."

"You could have stopped him but you didn't!" she defiantly yelled and slashed out at Pyrius.

He was even more livid. "I was a child! I did not even realize what he was doing to my mother until she was DEAD!"

Pyrius slapped Elizabeth and she fell back onto the workbench. A splinter went into her side. He moved forward as if he was going to kill her himself, but was stopped. Elizabeth had to grab hold of the workbench when she saw the intruder's face. "No, you're dead too!" she wailed as she was staring at two of the quickenings she had collected. Pyrius, and Joshua Logan, the Irishman who was on the Union side during the Civil War, and who had played with her in her youth because he blamed her for the loss of his leg.

"I have a better idea," Logan told Pyrius in his Irish brogue. The two looked at each other in agreement and smiled. Elizabeth couldn't move from fright and disbelief as they both moved toward her, Logan limping on a wooden cane.

Pyrius grabbed her right hand holding the machete after she swung it at him and the blade when right through him. "It is your choice, Elizabeth. You or Methos."

"I can't kill him. I can't," she plead with him as Logan grabbed her left hand and planted it on the workbench. Elizabeth couldn't move it. His sneer was the last thing she saw before Pyrius brought her right hand holding the machete down on her left wrist.

~~~~~

Methos held his wife and traced his finger along her breastbone as he said softly, "Look, why don't I finish with the stalls so we can buy horses tomorrow morning. Then I want your undivided attention."

"I'll wait and watch. I like to watch you work."

Methos decided to put the dream and all thoughts of his impending doom to rest. His wife was delectable and he wanted her now more than ever before. He wanted more than anything to stock the stables and have his daughter back at home. He could have overreacted about the dream. It was vivid and seemed too real, but he had to dream it three times before it could be taken truly seriously. He'd been dreaming for 5000 years, he wasn't so easily spooked by a nightmare. Yet she had kissed Duncan. Again. Twice he had dreamed that his best friend and wife had kissed and looked to be enjoying it. Both had denied that they had ever slept together, but Duncan had confessed that he had indeed kissed Elizabeth while Methos was gone after the Pyrius quickening. No, he wouldn't bring it up. He would think about it another day. Methos kissed Elizabeth again and said, "I love you. You do know that, don't you?"

"I live for it."

He got a flash of warmth in his loins and kissed her again. He exhaled his immediate lust and stepped back. He would focus on their evening together, and decided that it would start with a nice, hot bath. "You're looking pretty appetizing."

"I hope so."

"I'll be quick, then we'll spend the rest of the day and night in bed."

"Or other places," she said.

Ah, yes. That's my wife. There wasn't a chance in hell she'd take his head. He took hold of the rake and entered the last stall to be prepared. He wondered if he should get a gelding or a mare for Claire and tried to figure out the perfect fit for her. He would go and get her in the morning and bring her home. She hadn't been too upset about being placed in a dorm, she had indeed wanted it, but she was surprised that it had happened so fast. Methos had told her that Elizabeth and he would come to see her that evening, and now wondered if Claire would be upset if they didn't show up. He had other plans for Claire's mother. One night shouldn't matter.

He stopped raking when he heard Elizabeth walk into the stables, then make a hasty retreat. "Don't tempt me, Lizzie, I want to get this prepped for tomorrow," he told her working faster to get done quickly and resumed whistling. He thought he heard her say something and asked, "What?"

Then he heard what sounded like Elizabeth crying in the workroom. Gods, that woman can go from hot to cold faster than anyone I've ever seen. What happened to the good mood?

When he heard her shout something, he stood the rake against the fencing. She was talking to herself in the workroom. Making plans perhaps, he thought hopefully. Elizabeth usually did talk to herself while making out a grocery list or what she needed to do that day. When he reached the door of the workroom, Methos almost fainted.

Elizabeth was sinking against the workbench to the ground. He wondered if he was seeing things. He could have sworn she had chopped her own hand off. Blood was everywhere; spurting out of her left arm at the wrist. A bloody machete dropped from her right hand and the look on her face was one of pure fright. She told him in a child's voice, "I couldn't kill...," then closed her eyes and fell to the ground.

Methos felt as if he was in another world. He couldn't take his eyes off the cockroach flitting across the workbench. Elizabeth always hated bugs, but to take a machete after them and hit her arm instead? Horrified, Methos ran to her and lifted her shoulders up and onto his lap.

Elizabeth looked up at him with wide eyes; blood was everywhere, on her, him and the dirt ground of the stables. She held her arm up and tried to scream, when she saw her limp left hand joined to her arm by a flimsy flap of skin, but no sound came out. She started to convulse and he knew she was dying. He fit her hand tightly to her wrist to reconnect it; flesh wasn't at all a solid material. Her hand could tear off and would never fuse back on during the healing process. Once a body part is gone, it's gone.

She was moving jerkily and convulsing, and he worried that the skin holding her hand to her arm would rip. He fumbled with her to hold her arm still and straight; her hand would reattach if that vulnerable piece of stretched skin held. As Elizabeth took her final breath, Methos kept hold of her bloody hand and arm, and just waited until she revived.

Her mouth was agape; her eyes were wide open; a look of surprise was frozen on her face. She was dead. Methos let out a wail. He didn't care that blood had saturated his knees as soon as he had touched the ground. He would have to hold the wrist just right for the hand to reattach. Methos knew she would be in great pain and maybe shock over what had happened when she revived.

What the hell happened!?

Try as he might, he couldn't figure out how in the hell the machete he had used to cut thrash for the roof could have almost severed off her hand. Elizabeth didn't care for bugs, and a three inch cockroach was climbing down a slat of the wood bench. Did she try to kill it and her hand got in the way?

He knew that the healing wouldn't happen right away, and if she saw what she had done, she might jostle enough to lose her hand. He needed to hide the damage from her, and had to admit that the site of it sickened him. He held her wrist and her now purple, swollen hand, waiting for her to revive and the healing to begin. All he could hear were his deep breaths and a yelling in his head for her to hurry up and revive. Then, Methos realized that her hand was facing the wrong way. He righted it, and waited. "Come on," he urged her on. "Wake up!" When Elizabeth took an intake of air, he lined up her hand and wrist and held on with all his might. He needed all his might, because as soon as she awoke, she struggled to get away from him and screamed bloody murder.

The blue healing thankfully started, and Methos held her hand and wrist, watching the skin start to sew magically back together. Elizabeth's screams eased to dull moans. She stared blankly, as if in a trance, when he tried to get her to react to anything that had happened once her hand was reattached to her arm. "Lizzie?" he asked. Getting no answer, he patted, then slapped her cheek. "Liz! Talk to me."

Elizabeth clamped her eyes shut and turned away.

~~~~~

Pain filled Elizabeth's world when she took the cleansing intake of air. Pyrius! A ghost! Tormenter! He has her by the hand! She couldn't get away, as much as she tried, he wouldn't let her go!

It was only when the pain in her hand stopped and she saw Methos' face that she relaxed. She thought that it might have all been a dream. She hadn't really see Pyrius, she couldn't have. They were a part of her, as much as all the heads she had taken, they couldn't possibly be real. She relaxed totally into Methos' warmth as she told herself that she hadn't seen them and didn't do anything that they wished.

"Lizzie?" she heard a far away voice ask. Before she could answer, someone slapped her. She looked at Methos to ask why he was hitting her, then Pyrius' head of short black hair took shape on Methos' right. "Liz! Talk to me," she heard and saw Methos tell her, but she was too stunned to move. They weren't real. There wasn't any way they could be real.

She shut her eyes and tried to fend them off. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Methos kissed her, then lifted her into his arms. His voice was heavy and worried when he asked, "What happened?"

Elizabeth knew then exactly what happened, but couldn't tell her husband. He would lock her away, or worse, leave her, if he knew how she had lost her mind. She huddled into a fetal position, half-heartedly pushing Methos away, just wanting to be alone and not see Pyrius' head. She would not look at him, but she could hear him. He was talking to Logan, another of her quickenings. "You did not help me, Irishman. In that case, you are not needed," he said with callous whimsy. Methos had laid his head against hers. He felt so comforting. As long as he was with her, she knew she would be all right. As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw Pyrius' maniacal smile. The apparition said, "Close call there, Elizabeth. I will give you time, then you will do my biding without a second thought."

Elizabeth bolted to her feet, pushing off Methos, and ran into the house. She needed to get all the blood off of her, and collect herself to figure out a way to reclaim her sanity.

~~~~~

Methos had been pushed back on his ass as he watched Elizabeth run away from him. Something was definitely going on with her, more than an accident, and he couldn't be more relieved that he had gotten Claire away from the madness. Madness. Yes, that's what this was. He got to his feet and heard the sounds of birds chattering outside. Inside, the bare ground of his work area was covered with blood. He had to have known something was afoot when safely ensconcing Claire at school. She was an adventurous lass and might come home. Methos grabbed a shovel and turned the dirt over to cover the traces of protein Elizabeth had left all over. She had almost cut off her own hand. The prospect of that made him shudder. She would certainly lose the game the first time an immortal caught site of her. Sure, it was her left hand, not her sword arm, but your whole body was needed in a fight, and most of the time a hidden dagger came in handy. Elizabeth wouldn't have been able to use any of those skills.

He shook off the thought of Elizabeth's brush with immortality without a hand only to concentrate on remembering his dream. He had prophetic dreams, but blast it all, he usually had to decipher them. Their meanings never made clear sense until after the fact; case in point the importance of the coins in his previous dream about Elizabeth's death. If he had remembered and made the connection with the coins that he dreamt coming out of Elizabeth's mouth, he might have figured out that Cameron James would be the one to take her away from him.

He leaned against the wall, one foot lazily over the other, arms planted across his chest, head bent. He needed to remember the entire dream. During the waking hours, it was more unclear. Methos closed his eyes and tried to relive the entire dream from start to finish.

It was bright sunshine when Elizabeth tried to take his head in his dream. He wondered about the importance of that. There was bright sunshine in his former dream, the one that had signaled that Elizabeth would lose her head. She was taken after nightfall. Should he conclude then, that whatever this current dream was signaling will probably happen at night. Would it?

Methos got back to the dream and remembered hearing arguing, Elizabeth and Duncan MacLeod arguing. He didn't know what that meant; they hadn't even talked to MacLeod since he and Amanda married. Methos tightened when he remembered that in his dream Duncan had told him that he wanted his wife, that he didn't deserve Elizabeth, that she was always taking care of his messes. Well, he had felt guilty about the whole Pyrius mess, if he was able to feel guilt. After all the years of numbing his emotions, Methos was still unclear as to what guilt actually felt like. He decided that it must be guilt because it was still creeping into his dreams long after the bastard was history. Also, Methos figured he had always been a bit jealous of the youthful Duncan MacLeod. He and Elizabeth had a good friendship, and there was that time during his absence after she took Pyrius that she and Duncan had almost slept together. Maybe that was still needling him and that's why it was in his dream. It was only after prying hard that Duncan finally admitted that he 'almost' slept with Elizabeth, but he only confessed to that after she was thought dead. Had they? Had they since?

Elizabeth, in his dream, was so frantic. She had wanted help, but not from him. She wanted it from Duncan MacLeod. Methos groaned; he figured he was not only guilty about the past, but jealous of his wife and friend as well. "Damn it, but I hate dreams!"

But there had to be more than just emotions that Methos was adept at burying in that dream. He dreamt it too vividly, always the same, for it to just be that. He thought about the rest of the dream and tried to keep an open mind about what it all meant.

The rest of the dream was Elizabeth trying to take his head. In his dream, after Methos fell from her gunshot to his chest, she would have done just that if he hadn't woken up. What he then remembered was a voice coming from the tree on their property. He tried to concentrate on who might own that voice, but nothing came to him.

"Well," he finally told himself after his head started hurting, "I'll probably dream it again tonight, and I'll make sure I take notes."

He went to the house to see if Elizabeth had showered and was more in the mood to talk about what she was thinking or doing when she almost cut off her hand. As he opened the door to the house, a shiver went through him. It was so powerful that he had to lean his hand against the counter to figure out why he shivered so violently. Because of her close call? Because he couldn't figure out the significance of his dream? Was he concerned about Claire being all alone at school without a real reason as to why?

Methos felt Elizabeth's immortal sensation and knew she was near. At least she wasn't in that damn room upstairs. Maybe she was waiting for him and they could have a coherent conversation. He found her curled up on the couch in the TV room on the first floor. She had wet hair and was wearing her red robe with an afghan over her legs. CNN was on and she wasn't watching it, her eyes were closed. She looked so young, so vulnerable, as she laid there with traces of tears on her cheeks. He knelt down to her and took her hands that had been curled under her neck. Methos tenderly kissed her and asked, "Are you feeling better?"

She nodded slightly and looked up at him with wide eyes. "I don't know what happened."

"Are you all right?"

"I think so, I'm not sure. My head hurts." Elizabeth lifted up and gathered Methos into her arms. Her hair and body smelled fresh after the shower and she seemed to be talking rationally. He held her tight as he heard her start to cry. The sound of it rattled his stomach, not wanting sadness in their lives anymore.

She jerked her head up and asked, "Where's Claire? Is she all right?"

"She's at school, remember?"

Elizabeth looked around the room, then grabbed his wrist to look at his watch. "Late dance class?"

"No, remember? I told you I enrolled her in the dorm. She's staying there now."

"Since when?"

"Liz! I told you and you were fine with it. Are you saying you don't remember that?"

"I'm just confused. That's right," she murmured. "I remember now." Methos wasn't sure she did. She said, "I need to see her. She must be lonely. Bring me to her? I need to see my little girl. Just to know she's all right."

"Sure. I wouldn't mind tucking her in myself."

Elizabeth stood up and chuckled. "You can try, but she might not let you." She seemed to have shrugged off the worry without trouble. Methos worried about her demeanor, it changed with the blink of an eye. "Our daughter has become quite independent, at least when other kids are around. Does she have roommates?"

"One. Mary McDonald. I did a quick search of her family through the school records and she seems like a nice kid."

Elizabeth laughed and swept her arms around him. "I love you. You think of everything."

"Why, thank you. I have to."

~~~~~

When Methos and Elizabeth arrived at the school and made their way to the dorm room that Methos had brought Claire to earlier, they tiptoed and tried not to get caught. Not that it would be a crime that parents of a student would be checking up on her, but they crept anyway just for old time's sake. It wasn't a bad idea to keep honing breaking and entering skills. You never knew when they'd come in handy.

Methos got to Claire's door first and saw that there wasn't a light shining from inside. He put his hand on the knob and noticed there wasn't a lock. He would have to change that. His daughter should be able to shut out any danger if the gods allow it to come to her. He opened the door slowly. The slight squeak of it made Claire sit up in bed. "Who's there?"

"Just us," Elizabeth whispered as she walked past Methos and immediately sat on Claire's bed and held her. "I needed to see if you're okay."

"Huh?" Claire asked. She was confused, tired, and somewhat annoyed that she was woken up. At least she wasn't the normal bearcat she was when she woke up before she was ready. Methos walked over and knelt on the side of the bed. He brushed his hand protectively down her back. She leaned over to kiss him. "Why are you here?"

"Do you want to go home?" Elizabeth asked, careful to keep whispering so as not to wake Mary in the next bed.

Too late; Mary turned in bed and looked at them. She rose up on her elbow and switched on the bedside lamp. "Who are you?"

"We're Claire's parents. We needed to see her. Go back to sleep," Methos told her.

Elizabeth stood and helped Claire out of bed, a bit against her will. "Let's go home."

"Mom, I'm in my pajamas."

"Get dressed. Daniel, get her clothes."

"I don't want to go home," Claire said.

Elizabeth looked stricken, though Methos felt easy about it. "Why not?" she asked.

"It's the middle of the night, Mom. I have a test in the morning."

Methos brought his family outside and shut the door behind them so Mary couldn't hear them. Claire asked, "Shouldn't you be in bed, too? You're the parents, and you're coming here? What's going on?"

Methos knew there was a lounge down the hall and steered them to it. Elizabeth balked. "Get her things. I want her at home."

"Mom," Claire began, but Methos kept them walking. He didn't stop being forceful until they were seated in the still dark, vacant lounge. "What is going on?" Claire demanded.

Methos stopped Elizabeth from talking as she seemed to still be determined to bring Claire home, which wasn't at all what he thought would be best for the time being. "We just need to know how you're doing here."

"It's my first night, how am I supposed to know?"

"Do you like it here?" Elizabeth asked as she patted down Claire's wild bed hair.

"It's okay. I'd like my charcoal pencils. I forgot them when you made me pack so fast."

"I'll bring them first thing in the morning," Methos promised.

Claire looked at her parents and asked, "What happened now?"

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked defensively.

"Every time something happens, we have to leave. You moved me here because something happened, and now something else happened, didn't it?"

Methos didn't like that his daughter was so intuitive in this case. "I don't either."

"And you're not going to tell me, are you?" When she got no response, she asked with all her youthful confusion, "Why do things happen to us that don't happen to other people?"

"How do you know it doesn't?"

"I talk to people Dad."

He shrugged and said, "Luck of the Irish."

"We're not Irish. By the way, what are we? Oh, that's right. I'm not your daughter, so you have no idea what I am."

"Don't you ever say that!" Elizabeth yelled, a startling contrast to the quite conversation, making Claire and Methos both jump. She patted Claire's hand and said, "You know how I hate talk like that. You're mine and your father's, don't ever forget that. That's why we're here. If you want to come home, please, come home. If you're comfortable here, that's fine too. Whatever you want, honey."

"I want to know what happened."

"Well, you can't have everything," Methos said. "Sorry to wake Sleeping Beauty, but we needed to see you. Now that we have, get back to bed. You have school in the morning."

They walked back to her room as she said, "It is all right here. Not the best, but... I suppose I can't come home yet."

"We only do what's best for you, Claire," Methos said. "I know it's confusing, but you'll realize when you're older that all we've done, we've done with love for you."

"You just like confusing me."

"That too. An extra bonus." Methos kissed her after she got back into bed and then Elizabeth tucked the blanket up under her chin.

"Mom?" Claire asked as she took her mother's hand.

"What honey?"

Claire lifted her head to whisper and Methos leaned in close to hear her say, "Don't make a fuss. Mary's a gossip and I'll never live it down."

Methos smiled and turned around to see that Mary was faced the other way and he could hear her snore. Elizabeth kissed Claire and said she'd visit her during break the next day. "Don't do that, Mom. Parents aren't supposed to live here too."

"I'm not living here, I just need to see my girl."

Claire smiled and offered, "You can walk me to dance class."

"What time and where?"

"Here, 4:30."

"We have a date." Elizabeth kissed her again and stood next to Methos as they stared down at her. Claire looked totally uncomfortable with the scrutiny, but Methos saw that he had a beautiful daughter. Her long, black curly hair was like a halo around her oval face.

Claire finally spoke up, "Thanks for making my night eventful. Are you going to stand there all night?"

Methos shut off the lamp and said, "Nope. We're going. If you need anything at all, you call me."

"We're not supposed to."

"Do it and I'll take care of it later."

"Dad," Claire said laughing. She knew he did have a way of covering her breaking the rules. Someone else's rules, not his. "I love you guys."

"Ditto, Little One." Methos moved Elizabeth to the door as he said, "Good night."

~~~~~

After Methos' own shower, Elizabeth seemed to already be asleep in bed. He flipped off the light in the bathroom and walked around the bed. She wasn't sleeping peacefully, the covers were tangled around her legs and his pillow was on the floor. He did his best to straighten everything without waking her, and then crawled in next to her. She woke up and laid her head on his shoulder and ran her hand over his chest. "I'm glad you got rid of Claire," she said.

Methos looked at her. At this point, he knew he had to find an immortal psychiatrist or something to deal with her multiple emotions and flip-flopping mind set. Too bad Sean Burns wasn't still among the land of the living. He could really use his help now. Elizabeth reached her body up and kissed Methos softly, and the kiss turned more passionate.

"No. Not now. It's been a long day," Methos countered.

Elizabeth got back on her side of the bed. "All right."

"How did it happen? Why did you do it?"

"You will not drop that subject? On the way to Claire, on the way back from Claire."

"I'll ask until I know."

"I don't know!" she snapped as she punched her pillow and then laid her head on it. He was ready to put distance between them until this was straightened out when she seemed to be crying. When he looked at her, she turned away to hide her face. "I don't know," she squeaked. "There's only two options."

"Which are?"

"I'm a klutz or I'm insane." She turned over to look at him, scared. "Methos? I think I'm losing my mind. What can I do?"

To push it tonight might not be a good thing. Things always looked better in the morning. She had to be as tired as he was, and they could think straight with the light of a new day. He was also anxious to dream his dream again to get more clues. Maybe losing his head by Elizabeth in his dream was about Elizabeth almost losing her hand. It would have certainly lead to the loss of her head if she had accomplished it. "Just go to sleep, Lizzie," he purred as he was almost asleep himself and closed his eyes.

Methos did re-dream that dream and he was aware of it. He took notice of everything it in with great care as he knew he needed to remember it all. It happened all again, just as he had dreamt it before. It was like he knew it was a dream but he couldn't stop it all from playing out. He remembered thinking during the sword fight with Elizabeth that it was a dream and he could call it all off if he could just wake up. If he could just wake up, it wouldn't happen. He wouldn't dream it again. The voice from the willow tree called out and Elizabeth's confidence crumbled, just as it had before in his dream. Thinking he might be able to control his dream, he told her, "Just wake up, Liz! You can do it!"

She looked at him with a maniacal smile that sent a shiver down his spine. "I CAN do it," she said, raising her sword.

She wasn't acting like she had in the dream in the past, worried that she couldn't best him and asking for advice from that unknown entity. She didn't pull the gun from her pocket. She didn't do anything but walk toward him with the sword in the air saying, "I CAN do it. I can take your HEAD!"

Methos made himself wake up and saw the ceiling of their bedroom, then a flash of sunlight reflecting on something over him. Something long and smooth. A sword blade! "I will take your head!" he heard Elizabeth announce with gusto. Her face appeared above him, she was holding the sword up. She wailed, "There can be only one!" just as she lowered the sword down on him.

Continued