THE ELIZABETH SERIES
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

PARIS

By JoLayne
EnyaJo@aol.com

RATING: PG-15

CHARACTERS: Duncan, Elizabeth, Victor Bennett, James and Terry Payson, Thomas Davidson, Claudia Jardine (kind of), Diane, Sarah

SUMMARY: Duncan shows Elizabeth the Paris he knows and loves.

~~~~~

THURSDAY
FEBRUARY 7, 2013
PARIS

Duncan's mood lifted at Elizabeth's suggestion to show her why he loved Paris so much. "In fact," he said, "I'll show you three incredible reasons. Let me make a few phone calls, and then we'll be off."

Elizabeth went into the bathroom and unloaded the cosmetics and perfume she had in her purse to freshen herself up for the day ahead planned by Duncan. Because he was in a better mood, she was as well. He had said all along that he loved Paris, Methos loved Paris, and she clearly remembered Amanda making, what she thought was a similar ghastly comment as well. Elizabeth could never quite put her finger on why she hated Paris so much in her own mind. After so many years, of reinforcing a bad feeling about something she once felt, it never went away. In recent memory, Paris had been the place where Methos had killed her and could very well have taken her head while she was dead if not for Joe. It was where she thought she had lost Methos when Daniel had turned immortal; now it was the city where she accepted, without doubt, that her marriage was over.

As she freshened her mascara, she thought back to the years when she had seen Paris. There was a chill in the air that long ago day she tried hard and long to keep buried, it had been about the same time of year that it was right now. She closed her mind to it when there was a rap on the bathroom door. She heard Duncan call out, "Ms. Gordon. Are you ready?"

She adjusted her emerald green sweater and settled her denims on her hips before putting her cosmetics back in her purse and took one last look in the mirror. "Bennett," she mused. "Liz Bennett. Yes, it's about that time again..."

She opened the door and smiled at Duncan. He asked, "Were you talking to yourself?"

As she put on her trench coat, she happily demanded, "Show me the best of this city, Mr. MacLeod, because all I remember isn't good."

"Paris is the most beautiful city in the world," he defiantly stated.

"It smells. It's dirty. It's full of Parisians," she said as a dare to him to prove her wrong.

"You have to look past that."

Duncan took hold of the left flap of her coat and shook his head when he saw her sword. "Tut, tut, tut. Where we're going, swords wouldn't be welcomed."

She unhooked the sheath to her claymore and Duncan placed it in a trunk along with his katana. "Oh, good. We're flying out of Paris to do something today."

He took her arm, hooked her hand on his elbow, and escorted her to the door. "Look out, Liz. You're going to have the time of your life, right here in Paris."

"But first, you need to see Richie."

Duncan turned somewhat solemn, but then nodded that he was ready for that.

Richie's final resting place was the Cimetiére du Pére-Lachaise. If the dates on the headstones Elizabeth could see just inside the entrance was any indication, the cemetery was old.. A sense of peace had come over her as she stepped onto that hold ground. The multitude of trees seemed to stand guard over the souls buried there. As if the symbolism of vegetation wasn't enough protection, some of the graves were surrounded by wrought iron fencing.

Duncan stood just inside the entrance with his head low, so Elizabeth massaged his shoulders and gave him encouragement. "This was the other important reason you came back to Paris. Let's go see him."

"Joe put him here, in what has been known as the 'grandest address in Paris.'" Duncan walked slowly, looking forward stoicly. He read off names impassively, "Sarah Bernhardt, Oscar Wilde, Chopin, Moliére, Proust. They're all here with Richie."

To lighten the mood a bit, she asked, "Is Jim Morrison here?"

"Over there," he pointed to a mass of granite, marble, and ebony gravestones of every size, shape, and function.

Elizabeth looked at various stones, and areas that seemed to segregate one person's burial place from the next. As they took a right to go down another pebbled walkway that cut a path between the various heights of tombstones, she noticed one read, "Alice B. Tolkis." She stopped to take it in. Gertrude Stein is in the ground right between two normal, average, dead people. Graves did hold a certain fascination for Elizabeth, you could learn a lot about a person by how their loved ones buried them. She soon hurried to Duncan, who had kept on walking. She was glad he was 'on a mission' and kept on to Richie's grave. Judging by how distressed he was in New York after having seen Richie at the house, she hoped he could ease the guilt that he was still carrying with him about the horrible accident that resulted in Richie's beheading.

When he walked onto a grassy area less filled with graves than the older part of the cemetery, she started to lag behind him. She wanted Duncan to have time alone with Richie. Duncan stopped at a dark marble headstone that was nestled under a tree. His head went down almost immediately, and she wondered if she should join him or not. Thinking it would be best to leave him alone unless he asked for her company, Elizabeth looked at the other graves.

She kept on looking over to Duncan as he stood before Richie's grave, and before long, he had sat down on the cold, damp grass. She gave him the privacy he needed, but she could hear certain things. "Tessa," "Sorry," and "Joe," were words she could make out. Other than that, Duncan had a quiet one-sided conversation with the student he had beheaded. There weren't tears or anger, just a solemn dissertation of pent-up feelings that he was hopefully letting go.

When she took a seat on a bench yards away from Richie's grave, she wondered how many lost loved one's graves Duncan had taken the time to visit; to speak to them. She tallied all the times she had done the same, and lost count fast. It was comforting to revisit the mortals who were important in an immortals' life, even if they had died decades, even a century before. Seeing the dates on some of the headstones around her, she wondered how many of the mortals buried here had known immortals. In fact, since Richie was there, how many of those buried in these plots had been beheaded.

Duncan got back to his feet, brushed the back of his long coat, and stood silently at Richie's grave with his hands clasped together and his eyes closed. Elizabeth stood up, thinking he was about done with his mission, and he motioned her over.

"Have you ever met Richie?"

"Of course not. Although, I would have loved to."

Duncan took his wallet out of his back pocket and looked through it as Elizabeth looked at Richie Ryan's headstone. It was simple, yet elegant. "Friend" which was etched on it seemed to say a hell of a lot. Duncan showed her a picture of he and Richie, arms hooked over the one another's shoulders and smiling as if neither of them had a care in the world.

"This is how I'll always remember him. How he was. A happy young man who loved working out, had an easy smile, and an infectious laugh."

"And loved you," she added. "I can tell by the picture. Why haven't you shown me that before?"

"I didn't want to look at it before."

Duncan winked at her as he slipped the picture back into his wallet. "Talking things over with you the past couple of weeks helped me take that picture out again, come here, face what I did, accept what I did, and remember Richie. After all this time, it's good to just remember him. What he was, what he sounded like. He was a good kid."

"Just like his teacher."

She hoped his mood wouldn't turn dark as he continued to talk about him, knowing how Richie lost his young immortal life, but Duncan walked away from Richie's grave with an accepting smile on his face.

~~~~~

Because neither of them had eaten yet that day, they had a cup of cappuccino and croissants in the courtyard at the Louvre, watching people and drinking in the architecture of the old Louvre building against the quite modern I M Pei pyramid. Then, they walked through the museum's collections of sculptures, pottery, jewels, and swords. They spent most of their time in the Italian Renaissance wing fascinated by the Raphaels and Allegris. The bulk of their time there was spent in line to see the Grand Dame of the art world, Mona Lisa. Liz had never seen the painting before, which Duncan couldn't believe. "You've been in Paris how many times and you didn't see it?"

"Each time here, I was busy."

She said she knew what it looked like, and the line was long, but Duncan wasn't having any of it. He made them stand in line, and as they moved ever forward to her, Elizabeth was getting excited. She wished she was as tall as the Highlander, when she saw him stretch up and his eyes softened and he smiled. "She's just lovely."

Even on her tiptoes, she couldn't get more than a peek at the upper part of the frame. "Is it actually a portrait of DeVinci himself as people claim?"

"It's of Lisa del Giocondo. Her husband was a silk merchant, Francesco."

"Were you on personal terms?"

"I ran into him once," he whispered. "The term 'ass hole' would apply to him."

"Sounds like a Spanish name, but if that's true, he must be French."

They giggled until suddenly the tall people in front of them moved and Elizabeth got her first unobstructed view of her. She gasped upon first glance as each line and shape and shading seemed to pop out at her. It was surprising to her that the painting was so small, and as she stared at it, she realized that it was painted on wood. She was caught in the Lisa's gaze when Duncan asked, "So, what do you think of her?"

"I've seen this image most of my life, but there's nothing like seeing the real thing. She's awesome." Elizabeth kept standing back to look at the painting, the strokes DeVinci had used, the texture of the wood base, and the golden frame. The entire package made Elizabeth just think, "Wow." She chuckled to herself that she wasn't literate or cerebral in her reaction; her emotion was entirely visceral.

She was almost in a trance, and didn't realize she was feeling another immortal sensation near her until she felt Duncan's arm rub against hers. She tore her eyes off the painting to see him looking around the area for whoever had interrupted their space. He took her hand and whispered to her, "Have you seen enough here?"

There were some teenagers standing behind them who were on tiptoes to see over her shoulder. "Sure," she said, and the teens immediately jostled her to take her place in the viewing area. She followed Duncan, who led her by the hand, right to the exit. "Who did you see?"

"I can't tell who it is."

Instead of opening the exit door and leaving, Duncan turned back around now that they weren't in the middle of a crowd. "What? Let's go," she urged. It was the normal thing to do when in a crowd feeling another immortal. Since he didn't leave, was still scanning the crowd and they could both feel the immortal, she guessed, "Amanda? Daniel?"

"Nope," he finally said. She knew he had zeroed in on someone. She turned to see a tall man with his arm protectively holding the shoulders of a shorter, more colorful woman. They both seemed deadly serious as they stared back at them. He seemed not only deadly serious, but familiar. He had brown hair and was wearing an unobtrusive tan coat over a white shirt and khakis, while the woman was far more colorful. It wasn't until he smiled and tipped his head back to symbolize relief and recognition that she realized it was James Payson, the sculpturer from Arizona she met while he was looking for directions and she and Claire were waiting for Methos to finish hiding his identity from the Watchers. He was also the immortal who threw himself off the Staten Island Ferry in reaction to a terrible New York City review of his work.

Elizabeth waved and smiled at him, sighing in relief the immortal wasn't a spouse or foe. Duncan asked, "Who's he?"

"His name is James, and if I remember correctly, she's his Watcher wife."

Duncan smiled in greeting as he maneuvered them towards the couple standing almost at the end of the line to see the Mona Lisa. He was whispering in his wife's ear. She was wearing a lime green, paint splattered top and pink oversized pants under a dark orange overcoat. To top it all off, she sported bright pink spiky hair. When Duncan and Elizabeth approached, she could see she had a stud on her nose, and Elizabeth assumed she had many more piercings on her body. "Hey, small world. How are you, Elizabeth?"

"Hanging in there." She shook James' welcoming hand and said, "This is Duncan MacLeod. James Payson." As the men shook hands, Elizabeth said to the wife, "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name."

"Terry," she said shaking her hand enthusiastically.

"Have you seen her yet?" James asked, tilting his head to the beginning of the line.

"Oh yes. She's a sight to see," Elizabeth said. Now that they had finished the introductions, she didn't know what to say to the couple she didn't know well but knew were no danger.

"Paris is so-o-o-o exciting," Terry said happily. Elizabeth wondered if she actually remembered her from New York. She continued eagerly, "James has a showing at the Galerie Bertin-Toublanc. You should come. The opening is tonight."

"She's always been my biggest supporter," James lovingly explained his wife's exuberant behavior.

"He's so nervous," Terry joshingly slapped his chest. "I just wanted him to do something today to get his mind off it."

"Where's your daughter?" James asked innocently. Elizabeth felt a pang of regret that she wasn't enjoying this day with her and remembered that James had seen and felt Claire's pre-immortal hum when they first met, and she was also on board the ferry when he took the half gainer off the side.

"She's with her father," Elizabeth said, hoping she didn't sound as affected as she was. She felt an encouraging hand on her then Duncan slipped his arm around her waist.

"Oh, this isn't...," James said.

Thankfully, conveniently changing the subject, Terry dug into her purse and pulled out a few cards. When they were thrust into Elizabeth's hand, she saw that they were entrance passes to the gallery. "They're having a cocktail thing at seven. Come and see his stuff. Buy a few pieces."

Duncan said, "I'm afraid we can't make it tonight. I have plans for the lady. How long will your work be showing?"

"For three days," Terry responded immediately and pointed to the cards in Elizabeth's hand. "Use them any time. He's really good."

"Will you stop?" James said to her a bit embarrassed. They moved forward in line to fill the space, and Terry started handing out more cards to those around them.

"If it was up to me, babe, you'd be as famous as Rodin."

James joked, "But then that would mean I'd be dead. I'd rather be in the land of the living."

"We'll be sure to check it out sometime," Duncan said. He looked at his watch. "We have an appointment in a half hour, Liz. We'd better get going."

"Nice to see you again," Elizabeth called out as Duncan pulled her away. She asked him as they went out the door, "Why did you want to leave so suddenly? We could have left right away, without even talking at all, you know."

"I like to know who's around me, and we do have an appointment in a half hour. Louis gets touchy when people are late."

"Who's Louis?"

~~~~~

Elizabeth soon found out that Louis was a man who was going to give them a private tour of the Eiffel Tower. When Duncan had introduced Elizabeth to the stout, gray haired man, she corrected his, "This is Elizabeth Gordon," with "Bennett. Liz Bennett." She noticed Duncan's reaction, but he seemed to take it in stride. In fact, he seemed to chuckle over it.

As Louis escorted them through the extensively modernized tower and all it had to offer visitors, including the old mechanics room where all the gears and machinery used to make the tower's elevators were serviced. The first level of the tower was filled with museum quality exhibits, shops, and what looked to be extremely expensive restaurants. Elizabeth was surprised and enthralled at the surroundings and would loved to have gone through some of the shops. Duncan said he'd like to go into a certain shop, but Louis quickly herded them to a private elevator.

On the second floor viewing station, Louis said proudly that the photos taken from there would be wonderful, in any direction. Since she didn't have a camera, Duncan told Louis that they'd just have to go back down to the first level to buy one. Elizabeth thought Louis was extremely gracious about the change in his itinerary. He had kept a close eye on his watch while keeping them moving through all the tower had to offer thus far.

She saw a shop with disposable camera, film, and batteries in one part of the display window and she was going to enter it. Duncan said, "Nah, let's go to this one," and pulled her across the wide hall to a ritzier one.

"Do they have cameras in there? I mean, ones I shoot and develop and that's it?"

"Yes," Duncan said, pointing to them.

Elizabeth noticed that Louis was acting nervous, probably because the itinerary had been blown and said, "You must have given him quite a few extra Euros for him to be patient with this detour." She took out her billfold to pay for the camera, but Duncan stopped her.

While he bought the camera, since there was no talking to him in chivalrous mode, she looked at some postcards in a rack. Before long, he rushed up behind her in the close confines of the shop and goosed her. "Duncan!" she cried out, not expecting his movement at all.

He laughed and put a hat on her head. "What's this?" She tried to pull the hat off to look at it, but Duncan moved her to a mirror and then put an identical hat on his own head. Her hat read, "J' et Stupide" with an arrow pointing to where Duncan's head was right next to hers in the mirror. His hat read, "Stupide". Elizabeth smiled, but groaned. "You didn't actually pay money for these, did you?"

Duncan let out a laugh and pulled the hats off their heads and put them on the rack. "Ah no, they're strictly for the tourists, I'm sure. But, I did buy you this." He presented her with the bag.

She took it and said, "Thank you. I'll make copies for you when I get the pictures developed."

Elizabeth opened the bag and saw there wasn't just a disposable camera in there. There was also a small black box with a ribbon on top. She looked at him to see his wide grin and raised eyebrow in an expression of expectation. "You bought me a present?"

He acted as delighted with the gift as she was as she dropped the bag with the camera and nervously pulled on the ribbon. "I was going to pick it up when we left, but since we're here..."

Inside the little box was a half inch solid silver bracelet with an etched filigree pattern sitting atop dark blue velvet. "Duncan... it's beautiful."

"It's engraved, at least I hope it is. I didn't take the time to check."

"For whom?"

"You, of course."

"Me? Wow! They work fast here."

"That was one of my phone calls."

"Ah..." Elizabeth was struck by how utterly sweet that was. She lifted the bracelet to see it as Duncan took the box away. Her heart melted as she read, "TO MARK THE FIRST OF ELIZABETH'S BEST DAYS IN PARIS" with a small heart to separate the S in 'Paris' and the T in 'to.'

"Duncan MacLeod...," Elizabeth said ready to cry the gift was so sweet.

She did feel a tear in her eye when Duncan hugged her. He whispered, "This is my Paris. I hope you're enjoying it."

"Completely," she said as he helped her put the bracelet on over her hand.

He primped it on her wrist and scrutinized it. "Yep. I'm good. Fits perfectly."

"You are good," she said pulling him into a hug again. "Thank you."

Louis cleared his throat and indicated his watch as he stared at Duncan. Duncan chuckled and said, "He must be the most anal tour guide in the place."

"Ah, give him a break, he's French. He can't help it."

They giggled as they exited the shop. Louis said, "Monsieur, you only have an hour of my services."

"Yes, Louis, thank you for allowing the detour. Onward, sir," Duncan said with a salute.

They returned to the elevator as Elizabeth admired the shimmer from her new bracelet. Louis continued his rehearsed routine as they rose, "The light at the top of the tower symbolizes that the tower is the guardian of Paris in golden apparel. If you notice," Louis said as he pointed through the glass to people on the stairs they were slowly rising past. "Visitors may climb the stairs, but only to the second floor, or 120 meters. At 300 meters, or to be specific, 320.75 meters including the antenna at the top, and 7000 tons, the Eiffel Tower was the world's tallest building until 1930. In the tower, there are 2.5 million rivets. Three hundred workers took the years from 1887 to 1889 to complete Gustave Eiffel's contribution to the World's Fair of 1889, which honored the hundredth anniversary of the French Revolution."

They kept continuing up in the elevator. Elizabeth had to turn away from the glass as she was getting scared of the height. She felt Duncan's hand on her back, which she knew was for comfort, and didn't want him to know how childish she felt. Louis said, "You could not have come at a better time, mademoiselle, as the view from the tower at this moment, one hour before sunset, is exquisite."

"Oh, good," she said tightly and took a deep breath.

Louis continued, "In high winds, the tower will sway at most twelve centimeters."

"Is that good?" she asked.

"It's phenomenal," Louis said. "This is the most solid structure on earth. It's height varies up to fifteen centimeters depending on temperature. The tower consists of 15,000 iron pieces and forty tons of paint."

The elevator opened and Louis bounded out, then indicated an old closed off stairway. "There are 1,652 steps to the top. Thank goodness you didn't have to take them, eh?"

"I wouldn't have," she said with a laugh.

Duncan laughed with her, and moved with her to the viewing area. Elizabeth drew in her breath as Louis wasn't just whistling Dixie. The view was fabulous. Notre Dame was breathtaking as its light stonework shimmered in the setting sun.

She took the camera bag from Duncan as he asked Louis, "Can we go up any farther?"

"Oh, no, Monsieur. This is as far as the public is allowed. The Tower was almost torn down in 1909, but the antenna was needed for the telegraphy. In 1910, that antenna became part of the International Time Service, along with radio since 1918, and television since 1957. That, Monsieur MacLeod is the extent of my tour. There is a refreshment bar and shops up here as well, or I could make a reservation in the Jules Verne for your dinner if you prefer."

"Ah, no thank you, Louis. I've already made dinner plans," Duncan told Louis and dipped into his pocket for more Euros. "Thanks for everything. You've been great."

Elizabeth was taking pictures of the city as Duncan stood behind her, his hand on the rail on each side of her. "Fabulous city, Paris...," he mused softly in her ear.

"I have to admit, from this angle it is."

"I have to admit, I've been up higher on the Tower in the past."

"Oh?"

"I took a quickening up there."

"OH?"

"Your husband never told you about Kalas?"

"The man who took Fitz?"

"Yeah," Duncan grunted.

"He mentioned it, but not the place. You took..." She looked down to the ground to judge how high they were off the ground.

Duncan lifted her chin so she was looking at the rest of the tower above them. "Up there."

"No!" The tower was smaller up there, not much room to move around, especially in a sword fight.

"The height added to the adrenaline of the fight, that's for sure."

"You're another one who's done everything at least once, right?"

"Well," he chuckled. "I don't like to think so. That would mean I'd never appreciate something for the first time ever again. I couldn't live thinking that way. Life is to be savored and treasured, each new day and experience not be thought of as old hat."

"Are you thinking about someone in particular?"

"No," he said unconvincingly, but he did change the subject, "I can't believe you've been to Paris and never visited the Louvre or the Tower."

"I wasn't here to sightsee." She shrugged then squinted in the distance. "There's your barge... I think," she pointed at the circled river around the cathedral.

He moved her finger a bit to the left and said, "No, I live... about there." He took her hand and used her finger to point a bit farther away, "There's about where Claire lives."

It was awe inspiring to see the city from this angle, and she realized cities did look a lot different from above than in the midst of, as is the case with New York City. To see where her daughter laid her head at night from that angle, Elizabeth knew she would remember the sight. Probably when she was in bed having a restless night, that vision would help calm her and lull her to sleep.

Elizabeth leaned back against Duncan and soon her head was nestled in his neck. When she realized what she had done, she brought her head forward and peered back at him, he smiled and delightfully looked at the city he loved and rested his chin lightly on her shoulder. Elizabeth looked back at the sight laid out before her, and saw what she thought might be the warehouse where Methos almost took her head.

Feeling her stomach do flip flops, she realized once again that it was the circumstance, not the building, that gave her bad memories. Just as she was thinking about Methos, she felt an immortal sensation invading her and Duncan's space. "Oh, God. Please don't challenge anyone up here. I believe you've done it before, just don't do it again."

"That's the last thing on my agenda."

They didn't have their swords. The Louvre and Tower both required security screens, and they didn't think they'd be meeting up with not one but two immortal strangers in one day. They both scanned the glassed in viewing platform to find out who was emitting the buzz. Once again she dreaded the thought that Methos and/or Amanda could be partaking of the fabulous view from the tower as well. She didn't want either of them to bring her down and spoil what was shaping up to be not only her best day in Paris but the best day of her life; since Duncan had been focusing on making it special just for her. Forgetting about how her life had fallen apart had been her plan with Duncan and she didn't want Methos to show up and remind her of it.

"A kid," Duncan whispered to her.

"What?" Elizabeth couldn't believe that a child could be an immortal in the first place, but to be in this crowd and expect to survive? She imagined that very young immortals cowered from crowds, rather then choose to be in the midst of them in case another immortal was around.

She followed Duncan's eyes to the young, smiling face of a man she knew was certainly not a child. Elizabeth couldn't believe it. She had spent most of her immortal life running from immortals, and had kept up the practice during her years with Methos, yet she had now run into two immortals that she knew. She was beginning to believe there might be something to the old adage of Paris being a magical city. She nudged Duncan, "Did you plan this?"

"Plan another immortal? Um. No."

The immortal who had intruded on their taking in the view was Thomas Davidson, and he made his way through the crowd on the viewing platform to them. Immediately, he swept Elizabeth into his arms and kissed her cheek. "How ya been?"

"Hey, the soup man," she said kissing his cheek in return. Duncan cleared his throat, so Elizabeth told him, "Duncan MacLeod, Thomas Davidson."

"The Duncan MacLeod?" Thomas asked staring at him. "I suppose so, you fit the description." He stuck his hands in his pockets and took in the sight of the Highlander. "There certainly can't be two of you."

"Excuse me?" Duncan asked, having offered his hand, but Thomas hadn't taken it.

"I know your wife," Thomas said seriously.

When Duncan started blankly at Elizabeth, she shrugged and said, "He gets around."

"What are you doing with him? He's married." Thomas turned to Duncan, "Your wife's pretty upset. Don't you think you should go and see her? Liz. I don't understand you at all."

"You know Amanda?"

"I've had more than a few run-ins with her over the years, but yes. I saw her this morning, and she's a wreck."

"Did she happen to tell you why she's 'wrecked'?" Duncan was clearly riled and didn't bother to hide his irritation at Thomas, who had always been doggedly loyal to his friends. When Thomas didn't respond right off the bat, Duncan said, "No, of course not. Because if you found out what she did, you wouldn't... what the hell am I explaining my marriage to a complete stranger for?"

"Okay. I think it's probably time to," Elizabeth started fearing a fight would break out. Not with swords, but fists, which would have been just as awful.

Before she could finish her suggestion that they say good bye, cut their losses and get going on their own peaceful ways, Thomas jibed, "Touchy, touchy! You don't quite live up to Amanda's vision of you, that's for sure. Liz, what are you doing with this putz? Do you know what he's done?"

"Duncan's a good friend. My best friend."

Thomas stepped forward, probably too much for Duncan's comfort, so he shoved the younger immortal back.

"Just stop it, both of you!" She put herself between them as they were now the cause of a scene. She noticed Thomas' collar was open and spotted the XXXIX scar he had received in the heat of battle, reminding her that Thomas had a hot temper. Duncan wasn't cool, calm and collected in the heat of the moment either. He usually did a slow burning brood before erupting, but Thomas obviously hit upon a sore spot bringing up Amanda. As much as she and Duncan had tried to forget about responsibilities and failed marriages that day, this incident just confirmed that Amanda was never far from Duncan's mind.

Before either man could say another word, Elizabeth said, "I'm leaving. Thomas, great to see you again. Duncan, you coming or not?"

He walked to the elevator without a backward glance as Thomas glared daggers at him. "Really, Liz. Him? Amanda's broken up. Have you seen her?"

"Yes. I have. You obviously don't know the whole story, Tom."

"What's more to know? That guy left her when she needs him the most."

"Amanda's sleeping with my husband, Tom." Obviously affected by that news, and probably a bit confused as she knew Amanda never did tell the whole story unless she absolutely needed to, she just said, "You don't know what's going on. I wish this meeting had gone better, but... I'm glad you're doing okay and maybe we can catch up again one day."

Duncan had let the descending elevator full of people go and looked at her upset. Another elevator opened and people filed out onto the platform. Duncan tilted his head to indicate that he was on it and if she wanted to, she needed to follow now. She quickly brushed her lips on Thomas' cheek, "Keep surviving, Tom. Hopefully we'll meet up again soon."

"Bet your ass," she heard him say as she ran to the elevator.

Duncan brooded in the back of the elevator, there was a mass of people between him and her. Every few seconds she would look back and smile at him, and it seemed that by the time they reached the ground he was returning her smile.

When the elevator doors opened, the crowd poured out, spilling Elizabeth to one side in the lobby. She waited for Duncan to depart and told him, "Sorry about that."

"What did you do?"

"Well, he had a lot to say about Amanda."

"So she laid her magic words on another man. What else is new?" Duncan put his arm around Elizabeth's waist to escort her to the exit as he checked his watch. "We have just enough time to make our next stop."

"You still want to..." Elizabeth watched his expression as he opened the door for her. "Don't you want to see Amanda?"

"Why?"

She chuckled, and wondered why he was covering his feelings about Tom reading them the riot act about poor Amanda. Well, if he could do it, so could she. "I don't know about you," he told her. "But I'm starving."

They walked out into the now evening air, and Duncan hustled her to the Metro. "You got that right. We haven't eaten since this morning," she said as she hooked her hand in a strap suspended from the ceiling as all the seats were taken.

"The next stop is the best stop. We're going to have too much fun."

"Don't tell me we're going to Euro Disney next."

"Is that still even up and running? Not on your life."

They got off at the Blanche station, and walked up the steps to street level. It was only when she saw the universally known spotlighted windmill atop a building with loud music, she knew their next stop was the Moulin Rouge. Duncan had his arm around her shoulders, so she hugged him as they walked. "I love that movie."

"This is nothing like that movie. It's even more frenetic in real life. Watch out, Liz. We're going to have a ball."

There were people in line to get in, but Duncan walked Elizabeth right past them to the guard at the door. Duncan had pulled his wallet out as they walked, and flashed a card at the man. He nodded and opened the door for them. "Good evening, Monsieur MacLeod."

"You've been here once or twice, eh?"

"Once or twice."

Elizabeth walked into the lobby and tried to take in every single old or reproduction playbill of shows that had been held in that building over the years. Soon, Duncan slipped her coat off her shoulders, and he took it to the check room. Based on how the people outside were dressed to get in, and everyone in the lobby being dressed to the nines, Elizabeth felt woefully underdressed in her sweater and jeans.

Duncan whispered something to the man who greeted him, knowing him by name, and then Duncan motioned her over. "Mademoiselle Bennett," the man said. He pronounced Bennett with an uncharacteristic accent on 'net'. "Right this way." Upon seeing that Duncan was fine with it, Elizabeth followed the man to a hallway, then an unmarked door. He opened the door and inside was a dressing room. She had an instantaneously horrid thought that she would have to go on stage, but the man explained, in English, "Monsieur MacLeod has had this ensemble prepared for you. Take your time getting ready, and meet him back in the lobby."

"O-kay," she said confused, but went along with it. After the man left and she looked over what was 'prepared' for her, she gasped in delight. On the sofa was a black lace sheath dress, a pair of black stilettos, black gloves that would go up to the elbows, and most amazing of all, a seemingly endless strand of delicate pearls that she was certain were real after biting one of them. "Duncan MacLeod," she said as she wound the strand of pearls over her head, again and again, and it still fell to her waist, "You are one magnificent schemer." There was a pair of drop pearl earrings which she held up to her ear to check herself in the mirror.

He had guessed her size right, and had even thought of panty hose. Too bad Elizabeth hated panty hose, and was glad she had shaved her legs just a few days ago. They weren't too bad. She just applied some powder to them from her compact and slipped her feet into the shoes. She made sure she put her new silver bracelet over the black gloves, then didn't know what to do with her clothes when she was ready to go back to the lobby.

There was a knock on the door, and Elizabeth opened it to see a young woman with a black case. "I am Yvonne," she said taking Elizabeth's hand to shake, careful with what was probably a hot curling iron. "I am here to fix your hair, Madame."

"You're kidding," Elizabeth replied delighted.

Yvonne sat her down in front of the lighted mirror and set the curling iron on the counter, then plugged it in. As she brought hairbrushes, pins, and combs from her bag, she told Elizabeth with a smile, "Just sit back while I work my magic,".

She worked fast to give Elizabeth an up sweep, talking the whole time. When she realized that Elizabeth wasn't responding to her questions, she said, "Just put your things on the sofa and we will pack them up for you."

"Okay. This is all so... overwhelming. Do men do this often with their ladies here?"

"The high rollers do," she confessed, her thick French accent making it hard to figure out what she was saying.

"Is this your job, just fixing hair for the women who come in that aren't dressed properly?"

"Oh, no, madame. I am hair dresser to the cast. You are staying for the show after dinner, no?"

"I have no earthly idea. I'm just going with the flow," Elizabeth smiled and then laughed. This was the most unpredictable and glorious day she had spent in a long while.

"Voila," she said, and started packing her things. "I hope that will be satisfactory."

"It's marvelous. Thank you."

A cloud of hair spray descended over Elizabeth's head, so she closed her eyes and waited for it to settle. Yvonne had packed up, but before she left, she pulled out a small bottle and squirted some of its contents behind Elizabeth's ears, then on the pulse points of her wrists. "You have a good evening, madame. Don't worry about your things, you will need nothing for the rest of the evening. Just leave them on ze sofa. You have a very handsome man out there."

"Don't I know it. Thank you so much," she had said to Yvonne, but she was obviously in a hurry to the get cast ready as she was gone with only a backward wave.

Elizabeth checked her hairdo in the mirror. Her hair was pulled back with ringlets flowing down each side of her face, and a mass of curls that went down her back. The top of the back of her dress was low, so she enjoyed the sensation of her hair against her skin. She couldn't believe all the angles Duncan had covered with a few phone calls while she was wasting time in the bathroom that morning, knowing that he would be seeing Richie's grave. He was an amazing man, indeed.

She neatly piled her clothes on the sofa, left her purse on top of the pile as it didn't go with her outfit, and walked out to the hallway. She spied Duncan standing there in a tuxedo, and had to take a moment to realize that she actually knew that drop dead gorgeous man, and in fact also considered him her best friend.

When he saw her, she was warmed to read from his expression that she looked good enough to have dinner with. She couldn't wipe the smile off her face as she walked to him, and he hugged her. "You look beautiful, Lizzie," he whispered in her ear.

"You fix up mighty well yourself there, Highlander." Not only did he look better than she had ever seen him, he smelled great too. Someone must have splashed him with French cologne. She couldn't place it, but it was a smell she wasn't soon going to forget. "How I look, and feel, is all due to you. You had to have made a hell of a lot of phone calls this morning. I do believe you've thought of everything."

Duncan produced a rose, which made her laugh in surprise and the knowledge that he had indeed thought of everything to make her forget all her cares and concentrate only on him and their evening. "I'm usually quite thorough. Still hungry?"

"I'm starving."

They were escorted to their table; a half circled booth on a balcony that overlooked not only the main stage, but had a clear view to the two side stages as well. Duncan kept handing coins to almost everyone they had encountered who helped them in any way since walking in, and she wondered just how many Euros this was costing him.

Before she even had time to breathe and take it all in, the wine waiter came over to serve what he said was their best champagne. As soon as it was poured, Duncan proposed a toast, "To us, the only necessary people in the world."

"There are quite a few I'd like to forget." She clicked her glass against his and savored the warm bubbly as it lingered in her mouth then slid down her throat.

Their first course, Champagne Oysters, which was accompanied by a luscious sauce crÈme, came almost immediately. When she tore her eyes off Duncan long enough to pay attention to the surroundings, she realized that all the women serving the tables were topless. It seemed entirely appropriate as the walls were red, the furnishings were gold or black, the drapes were heavy velvet, and the background music was gaily riotous.

They enjoyed their second course of a portobello mushroom salad with roasted asparagus that was to die for. The nutty, woodsy flavor of the perfectly cooked mushrooms along with the light vinaigrette sparingly used on the asparagus created a delicious concoction. "You don't suppose they give out the recipe, do you?"

"You just have to come back here if you want the dish again," Duncan replied with a wink.

After the champagne was gone, another waiter came with a bottle of vintage wine and poured both glasses after getting Duncan's okay. On both side stages, couples filed in and started dancing provocatively.

"The show is starting already?"

Duncan said, "They're just warming up, which they know is part of the show."

Elizabeth drank her wine and picked at the dish, worried she was eating too fast as she watched the dance on each stage.

"This dish is fantastic!" He took another forkful, then lifted his eyebrows at her now empty glass. "There must be a hole in that glass. I can fix that right up."

As soon as the last morsel of the salad was off her plate, a waiter came with yet another plate. Their third course, Les Crepes de Mer, was crepes with sautÉd shrimp, tomatoes and onions inside, with a tarragon cream sauce outside, and fresh tomatoes and herb potatoes surrounding them. As she gasped at the amount of food on the plate, Duncan said, "See why I wouldn't let you eat since the croissant?"

One bite of the crepe made her about melt. "Oh. My. God."

"What?" Duncan asked concerned.

"I think I've died and gone straight to heaven. This is delectable."

Elizabeth actually didn't know what heaven was until she took a taste of her dessert, white chocolate cheesecake with Godiva liqueur chocolate cream sauce. As with all wonderful things, a taste was all that was needed. She pushed the plate back and took hold of her wine glass.

"You don't like it?" Duncan was half way through his dessert.

She feared that if she ate the whole thing, not only would Duncan think her a pig, but she'd have to be carried out of there on a stretcher. "I'm stuffed. All that food really ruined my appetite."

Just after the waiters swept through the room and collected the dishes, the main stage lit up and at that moment, the show began, precisely at eleven. Elizabeth's mind was in a whirl. Not only was her stomach full, but her head was swimming from the champagne and wine. Add to that the sight of a hundred dancers with feathers, sequins, rhinestones, colorful sets, acrobatics, raucous music that eighty musicians blared, and Duncan holding her as they sat close together in the booth.

Duncan had signaled the waiter, and he came with two snifters of brandy to help settle the meal. In their darkened booth, compared to the light of the stage before them, they toasted once again. She offered, "To you. Thank you, Duncan."

He kissed her cheek and put his arm around her to allow her to snuggle into him. With her head leaning on his shoulder, watching the show, Elizabeth couldn't remember the last time she felt so energized but still at peace.

Soon, they had joined the rest of the crowd clapping, and were on their feet by the time the finale with two dozen topless cancan dancers graced the stage. Elizabeth whistled spiritedly as they took their bows, then danced off stage. The crowd was still on their feet, so they came back for three curtain calls.

When the house lights came up, they followed the crowd out of the theater. She was going to get her things from the dressing room, but Duncan said that was all arranged. He got their coats from the coat check, once again, dropping a coin in an open palm, then helped her put on her trench coat. "What about my purse?"

"Ze purse is in ze package as well, Mademoiselle Ben-nett," Duncan said in an exaggerated French accent that made Elizabeth giggle, even though she was far from a 'mademoiselle' and he knew it.

The cool night air felt good and Elizabeth's head started to clear from the food, drink, and song. "We have one more stop to make," Duncan said, putting her hand on his elbow once again and started walking.

"You can't possibly have anything to top what we just experienced!"

"Something to calm us down," was his response; he was mum on where they were off to.

"What about our stuff? It's not sheathes and pearls, but I don't have a lot of belongings since my house burned down."

"Don't worry about it."

"Did I thank you for these duds, sir?"

"Yes. Your smile was all I needed. Oh, since you're in heels, come this way. It's too long a walk."

They took the stairs down to the Metro again, taking the 2, and got off at Charles DeGaulle Etoile. Back up on street level, Duncan flew open his arms and said, "Now look at that and tell me the City of Lights isn't magical. I dare you."

The Arc de Triomphe was brilliantly, elegantly lit up behind Duncan, who was doing a pretty good impression of Vanna White showing it off. Elizabeth laughed and stuck her hands inside Duncan's coat to hug him. "It's exquisite. But you outshine it all, Mr. MacLeod. This was a perfect day. Thank you."

"Success!" He raised his arms in victory as she laughed. Thinking her head was going to explode from drink, and feeling tipsy on those heels, she just held onto him for dear life. Never, did she want to let him go. But she was unsteady on those heels, so she took off her shoes, and Duncan stuck one in each of her pockets. They sat down on a bench to take in the sight of the Arc and the cars driving past and held each other.

His hand went up and down her arm. "You're really cold."

"Not that bad."

"Time to go." Duncan hailed a cab, and soon they were basking in the warmth of a heater. She could feel the alcohol working on her system as she laid her head against Duncan's shoulder and almost fell asleep.

Duncan had to rouse her when they reached their destination, his barge. "Should I let the cab go?"

"If you don't mind. I don't want to check into a hotel tonight."

"Right answer," he said and paid the fare.

He had to help her up the plank of the barge, as she was laughing and still feeling drunk and full. Beside the door were two brown papered packages. Duncan picked them up and gave them to Elizabeth as he unlocked the door. "More gifts?"

"Our things from the Moulin Rouge. Remember?"

"Oh yeah, guess I'm just greedy. You know, you've spoiled me. I'm going to expect more gifts every time I turn around now. Bad, Duncan."

The silence of his barge was a sudden juxtaposition to either the blaring or circumstantial sounds she had experienced all day. Duncan had taken the packages and walked farther into the barge not bothering to light his way. Her suitcase was on the table, so she decided to get ready for bed. She thought for once that going to sleep would actually feel good. For the first time in months she wanted to just close her eyes and savor the day she had spent, and hopefully fall asleep.

She sifted through her suitcase to get the New York Islanders hockey jersey that she had bought as soon as she got to New York after leaving Amy's at New Years. Not because she was a fan of the team, or even hockey in general, but because air knit polyester was the most comfortable fabric she had ever slept in. She had received her first jersey back in the 50's from a boyfriend who wanted to get her into the sport he loved so much. She didn't stay long with him, but over the years, she still thanked Hank Drummen for introducing her to the apparel.

She lifted the bright orange and black accented away jersey from her suitcase then reached behind her to unzip her dress. After it fell to the floor, she stepped out of it, unhooked her bra and dropped it and then pulled the jersey over her head. She pulled the pins and comb from her hair and ran her hands through it to loosen the curls. She took off the bracelet and gloves, then put the bracelet back on, and wondered where her wristwatch went to. After carefully shaking out any wrinkles in the dress, she put it on the top of her suitcase, then looked through her bag for her watch. When she didn't find it in there, she remembered taking it off at the Moulin Rouge after putting on the gloves, and wondered if it was in the package they had sent. It was only when she turned around to look for the packages that she remembered she wasn't alone. Duncan stood staring at her wearing a bemused grin with a blanket, sheet, and pillow in his hands.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to get an eyeful."

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry. I really have to stop drinking," she said embarrassed, taking off the long strand of pearls and carefully laying them on her clothes in the suitcase. She had a one track mind when she drank, and right now it was telling her to get to bed now that she was in the mood to have a good night's sleep, she hadn't even remembered that she wasn't in her own room, and Duncan had seen too much.

He only good-naturedly shrugged. "Don't stop on my account. You must be beat."

"After a day like today, what do you expect? I'm not 21 anymore."

"Oh, yeah. You're such a decrepit old broad. Take my bed." Duncan started to fix the leather couch for himself, but she stopped him.

"No. You've done enough for me today. You sleep in your own bed. I'll be fine here."

"No, I've slept on this couch a lot. It's fine for me."

"About like your couch in Seacouver? Too short for you? No. I insist. Take your own bed. Really." She took the pillow from him and had to scoot him back farther in the barge where his bed was. Before he went, against his better judgement as he said, she hugged him. "Thank you so much for today. You don't know how much it means to me."

"I loved it as much as you did."

"Even the Cimetiére du Pére-Lachaise?"

Duncan kept a hold of her around her waist as he said, "Especially the Cimetiére du Pére-Lachaise. It was good to talk to him. Tell him... God, I miss him so much."

"I wish I could do more for you."

"You've done more than enough. You brought me back to Richie. I really think I was able to make peace and put it all into perspective today."

"Mark the calendar. Duncan MacLeod and Elizabeth Bennett had a red letter day. You and Richie, me and Paris."

"I can't believe the hatred you've had for this city. I love it. Always have."

"I see now why you do. Where you here during World War II?"

"For a couple of months."

"But you already had an affinity for the place in your heart by then."

"And World War I, and the French Revolution as well. Does that count?"

"More than likely!"

"I know Paris during peace and war, so... it's been a second home to me."

"Where's your first?"

"The Highlands, of course." Duncan gave her a winning smile and tightened his hold around her waist. "Sleep well, Liz. Do you need anything?"

"Not one more thing, Duncan." She kissed his cheek, thinking she had never been more comfortable with him in her life and he had seen her on good days like her wedding in Las Vegas to Methos, and on the worse days, such as after taking Pyrius' head.

After Duncan locked the door then disappeared down the darkened barge, she slipped between the folded over sheet on the couch, pulled the blanket over her, fluffed the pillow and put it behind her head, laid back, straightened the bedding, and closed her eyes. She opened her eyes to feel for her watch. Was it too late to call Claire? Oh, how she would have loved to experience the Louvre and Tower with her. She supposed that Methos had already had the opportunity to show it to her. Damn him. She saw a clock on the wall and it was almost two am. Elizabeth turned on her left side and told herself to call her daughter straight away in the morning. The events of the day with Duncan flew through her drunken head, and she felt good that she had once again tried on her old last name, the one she kept reverting to when each of her relationships went bad.

######
1940
######

It took the bombing of Pearl Harbor for the United States to join World War II, but Elizabeth Richardson had already been nursing since the Blitz on London began in 1940. Churchill had just become Prime Minister, and the country was optimistic that the war with the Axis forces would soon end.

Elizabeth's last husband, Carl, had left her the summer before for one of her circle of friends, so her life was once again her own. The rest of her mortal girlfriends in the college district of New York City were going to study at Oxford, and they convinced her that if she was going to start a new life, she might as well do it with old friends in an old country. It wasn't long before the European war took command of Elizabeth's choices. The Germans took to blasting the beautiful, old architecture of the city, and soon, she had faked papers to allow her to nurse at London Hospital.

One calm night, Elizabeth and the other nurses were taking a spot of tea during an uncommon lull in the sometimes seemingly never-ending round of victims brought in to be mended. Sarah, the supervising nurse with wide hips and jovial grin turned up the radio and started to dance to the song and sing along, "A tisket a tasket. A green and yellow basket, I bought a basket for my mommy, On the way I dropped it, I dropped it, I dropped it. Yes, on the way I dropped it," when there was an emergency announcement.

A nightclub in Chelsea had just been hit by a German night raid. Everyone immediately prepared for the poor souls who would soon come in. The ever-so-serious Dr. Potter rushed in, taking off his coat and tossing it in the corner. Sarah said, "Oh, Doctor. You haven't left as of yet. We need you, I'm certain of it."

It wasn't long before the wounded started to pour in on foot or by stretcher. Elizabeth had assisted in setting broken bones and prepping the injured for surgery before she was relegated to a section of the ward to clean and stitch cuts that had already been looked at and deemed wounds that weren't serious. After working for what seemed like forever, but a look outside showed it was still dark, she walked back out to the dimly lit waiting room for her next patient. The rooms of the hospital that had outside windows had to be lights off to keep the building hidden from German eyes in the night skies, so the room was only lit by lantern and candles.

The line of people waiting to be mended was getting shorter, and for that, she was thankful. She stretched her lower back that ached from hunching over to tend to patients for so long. Elizabeth was about to choose a woman with a cut on her upper arm to be next and follow her to an interior room with better lighting to be cleaned and stitched when the doors burst open. A dashing young uniformed soldier with unmanageable jet black hair and a bloody gash on his cheek rushed in but the little girl with long blond hair lying limp in his arms took her immediate attention. She was dirty, as if she had been dug out of the ground.

Elizabeth rushed to them, and pulled the man down the hall as she asked, "What happened to her?"

"She was found in the rubble, ma'am," the man said in a thick British accent. His deep voice sounded ready to break when he said, "I don't know if she's dead or not. I just pulled her out and ran here. Help her, please!"

"Who is she?"

"I have no idea."

She pointed to an empty padded table for him to put her on, and he did immediately. He stepped back not knowing what to do to help as Elizabeth felt for a pulse. "How is she? Is she alive?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes. Barely, but she has a pulse." Elizabeth noticed another nurse walk past the door and yelled, "Diane! Help me here!"

The young and energetic nurse came right in, saw the situation, and started to hook a blood pressure cup on the girl's arm as Elizabeth put her ear close to the girl's nose. She squeezed her nostrils and there seemed to be no difference in her breathing pattern.

"We need to clear her breathing passages," Elizabeth told her. Diane and Elizabeth suctioned the girl, and soon she was taking fuller breaths.

Diane commented, "She must have had her mouth closed when she was covered with rubble."

"Sweetie," Elizabeth called to the girl. "Can you hear me?" She took her hand and held it, waiting for a reply.

Diane asked, "Do you think an X-ray would be in order if she doesn't wake up soon?"

"More than likely," Elizabeth replied, hoping the girl would react. A head injury would be terrible; a concussion was a real possibility. If she wasn't awakened soon, the girl could lapse into a coma. Elizabeth lightly poked her ribs to get a reaction, then smoothed the hair from her face to take a better look at her. She couldn't have been more than five years old. What she was doing outside at night, probably alone unless her parent or parents were still in the rubble the officer took her out of, no one would ever know. There were many stories to be heard and discovered in the thick of battle, but for now, all Elizabeth knew was that she had to get the girl to wake up as soon as possible.

Doctor Potter stormed by and saw them in the room. He called, "Diane, come with me. I need another assistant on this one," as he continued on down the hall.

Diane left without a thought and Elizabeth kept on talking to the girl as she grabbed a fresh wash cloth and dipped it into the now dirty water in a basin.

"What can I do to help?" the officer asked.

"Fill that basin with clean water for one," Elizabeth said. She lightly tapped at the dirt on the girl's face as she soothly asked, "You have to tell me what your name is, so you'd better wake up and tell me, sweetie."

Elizabeth dipped the cloth in the fresh water, then turned back to the girl. To her delighted amazement, the girl's eyes were fluttering. "Hello, there," she said gently, just before the girl started to cry.

The officer was worried, probably thinking she was in pain. Elizabeth said, "No, this is a good sign. She's just scared." She asked the girl as she continued to gently clean up her face and arms to see if she had more wounds, wondering where the dried blood had come from, "You're in hospital, honey. What's your name?"

"Mary," the girl stuttered. Her eyes flooded with tears.

Sarah brought a young couple past the door and then asked them to wait in the hall and walked into the room. "This must be Mary McCorkindale?"

Elizabeth was ready to say she was Mary when the girl lifted her head and must have seen her parents in the hallway.

"Momma!" she cried out and tried to get off the table. The young mother swept into the room and held her daughter tightly. "We were so worried," she cried as she held her girl. "Is she all right?"

"The doctor should look her over, but I think a bath and a quiet night is all she needs," Elizabeth said.

Sarah had brought the father in and Elizabeth saw the officer wipe blood from his cheek. His own wound was still fresh and definitely needed to be tended to. "Can you finish up here, Sarah. This officer needs stitches," Elizabeth said as he pointed at him.

"I have it in hand," Sarah was confident, taking the washcloth from Elizabeth.

Elizabeth moved the officer to another table that just been vacated and had him sit on it. He was very handsome, and quite tall. When he sat on the table, she could only see his chin. Well, stretching up would be a nice change from hunching over, so she pulled a portable lamp stand close to his cheek and started to clean it off. "What's your rank?"

"Captain Bennett, ma'am," he said.

"You did a marvelous thing tonight, Captain Bennett. You saved that girl's life."

As she moved the cloth to the wound just under his left eye, he said, "Victor." She moved her eyes to look into his deep blue ones and saw a wild and wicked sparkle in them. "And you are?"

"Elizabeth."

Even though the process of tending his wound, which did indeed need stitches, he covered his pain well, or she was a miracle worker. She knew she wasn't, so she gave him a lot of credit for swallowing his discomfort with every puncture of his skin. He told her about his evening, the first night to himself since he had received his current rank. He was going to meet some other officers on a night's leave at the nightclub, but they were late in getting there. The explosion happened as he was three blocks away. He found the girl and rushed to the hospital. "So, my night with no worries or responsibilities went right out the window."

"Was that nightclub lit up? Is that why it was targeted?"

"Nothing's lit up, ma'am. Elizabeth. That's a pretty name. For a pretty lady."

She tied the suture and cut off the excess as she smiled, warmed by this man she didn't know but who was a hero to not only that little girl but she assumed many. He felt his wound and asked, "Are you done here?"

"With you, yes. Doesn't look too bad if I do say so myself. Only four stitches."

Suddenly, he jumped off the table and brought Elizabeth into his arms and then held her hand as he spun her around. "What are you...?" she asked while laughing.

"If I can't dance at the club, I thought a whirl with a pretty lady would ease the disappointment."

Elizabeth giggled, then caught the surly glance of Sarah, who was still comforting Mary's frightened parents. She took hold of her nurses' uniform skirt and curtsied. "Thank you for the dance, but I must see to more wounded, Captain. I'm still on duty."

"Alas. I guess I'll just have to offer my services to you and the hospital. Don't just stand there, patients await."

The horror of the evening and wounded was eased a bit by Victor's teasing and comforting attitude as he talked to the people, getting them water and making a few laugh even though they had just been through a terrible ordeal.

~~~~~

A ringing telephone woke Elizabeth up, and she heard Duncan gruffly say, "Hello!" when he managed to get his hand on the receiver in the back of the barge. After a moment, he asked, "Claudia?" incredulously. Then he asked in a hushed voice, "Where are you?... London?! It's... three am there! Haven't you heard of sleep?"

Elizabeth had no idea who Claudia was, and stretched as she shut her eyes again to go back to sleep. Duncan continued to talk, or listen, on the phone, and Elizabeth realized she had to use the powder room. She tiptoed down the barge, past Duncan in bed, and into the bathroom.

When she was finished, so was Duncan with his phone call. Elizabeth teased, "Girlfriend?" as she was making her way back to the couch.

"Claudia, you mean?"

"Yeah, the one on the phone."

"Claudia Jardine. Have you heard of her?" Duncan asked proudly.

"Um..." judging from his expression Elizabeth would have liked to give an affirmative answer but the name didn't mean anything to her.

"She's a kid I kind of took under my wing when I sensed her as a preimmortal. She's a concert pianist, and still a spoiled brat. Imagine calling me at this time of night because she's bored."

"Well," Elizabeth chuckled. "At least you have a good relationship with her."

"About like the one you have with that brat we saw at the Tower? What was his name?"

"Thomas."

"He knows Amanda?"

"I guess. I haven't seen him since... well, the year Amy and Kevin got married." She neglected to embellish her response, and hoped he wasn't so jealous of Amanda's relationship with any man that he'd needle her for details she didn't have.

"And the other one, James? What's his story?"

"I ran into him the first time when I was in Arizona with Claire. You know, right before you came to tell me a certain old goat was dead."

Duncan reacted with remembrance of when he told her Methos had been taken. "And he didn't want your head?

"No." Elizabeth sat on Duncan's bed to say, "He wanted directions. The second time I saw him, he wanted to off himself, but went about it in a terribly unthoughtful way for an immortal. He jumped off the Staten Island Ferry."

"He just wanted attention."

"He got it. That's his watcher wife with him. I thought Watchers were supposed to blend in, not be flashy, not call attention to themselves."

Duncan chuckled. "I suppose if you are not known by your assignment. Since James obviously knows... What about the other one? Thomas. He looks like a kid."

"He's older than I am. Which isn't old, I'll grant you. He died in the Revolutionary War. I think he said he was a teen when he turned." Without thinking, she laid down and planted her head on her hand to talk to Duncan.

"He seems to be a good friend to you."

"He is." At one time, he was more than just a friend.

"Oh?" Duncan seemed interested, and mimicked his head on his hand to listen to details.

She realized that she had laid down with him on his bed, and sat up. "Geez. I really need to stop drinking."

"Oh, stop it. You aren't drunk. Be comfortable. Unless you want to go to sleep."

"I'm not so tired anymore. It was just after the lights and music and dancing, to the dark night and silence here, it all hit me. But now, I'm wide awake. Are you tired?"

"Claudia put the kibosh on that. She has a way of doing that."

"Has Claudia turned?"

Duncan nodded. "By someone who wanted to capture her talent so she could play forever."

"Bastard!"

"It wasn't a good decision," Duncan understated. "It took a long time for Claudia to feel relaxed enough in her immortal skin to play the piano again, but she's done it. Performs with world famous orchestras. Pain in the ass sometimes, but the kid has too much talent for her own good."

By the way Duncan talked about her, she thought Claudia was very important to him. To be turned before your time. She remembered that Chuck Montgomery had turned himself and turned out clearly wrong. Not wanting to remember that fiasco that lead to the death of her friends, and not wanting to think about Claire turning before her time, Elizabeth changed the subject to Duncan himself. "You're a miracle worker."

Intrigued, he asked, "How so?" not at all ashamed to fish for compliments.

"Now when I think of Paris, I'll think of today. I've always thought that war and Methos' attitude whenever we were here would prevent me from ever enjoying this city." She looked into Duncan's eyes after her mentioning Methos, but he didn't even flinch. "What did you do in the war?"

"Which one?"

"Two."

"In 1943, I was sent on a mission from DeGaulle."

"That's all you're going to say about it?"

"Mission successful," was all he said. She knew that war stories weren't one of the most fascinating tales to relate for an immortal, as they would sooner remember the people.

"Wish mine had been."

"How so?"

"In 1940, maybe early 41, during the winter, I was a nurse with British soldiers smuggling plans to De Gaulle. I was the only one who made it through, after reviving. The plans were gone." Sorry she brought it up, she didn't want to remember the brief friendships and tragic circumstances or their deaths, or her treatment at the hands of Frenchmen who had found her after reviving. Thinking she was in the hands of allies, she had gone with them, only to be used as no woman should.

To change her thoughts once again, she said, "I was still nursing in France, Cherbourg, when I met Thomas for the first time."

"Which side was he on?"

That made Elizabeth laugh, and she only shook her head. Duncan could be such a man at times. She asked since they were in a talkative mood, "How many wars did you serve in?"

"All the wars to end all wars."

Duncan was more twice as old as she, but he had energy to spare. His chest taunt, his stomach sculptured, how he was skilled with a sword. He would have been the envy of any opposing army.

"I served here in France during the first world war as well. 1917. I was a medic at a country hospital. There's where I met an immortal psychologist by the name of Sean Burns."

"Immortal shrink? Maybe I can get an appointment."

Duncan wasn't appreciating her joke when he asked, "You remember that red haired man at your house?"

Her breath caught as Duncan confessed, "That was Sean. So, he isn't exactly taking appointments anymore."

"Oh, Duncan. I'm sorry."

"Why? I took his head."

"Why?"

"Dark Quickening."

There was a time, not so long ago, when Elizabeth didn't believe in the concept of dark quickenings. Methos had agreed with her when he came back to her in Sintra after she had come to terms with Pyrius. After her experience at Bethany Stone Manor, she had begun to revise her thinking on that. Dark Quickenings were indeed quite real. For Duncan to believe they were real, that was good enough for her.

She was going to ask if he was another dead immortal that Duncan had to get over, but he said, "I feel Sean with me." He laughed lightly. "I know it sounds crazy, and maybe it is, but... there are times when I try to guess how Sean would think about things, and I get the answers. In his way. I know he forgives me for what I did. If I didn't, I know I never would have been able to go on."

Wanting to wipe away the sadness he displayed, she leaned closer to kiss his cheek. Before she knew it, he had turned his head, and the kiss had landed on his lips. She felt his hand on her back, and it wasn't something she wanted him to take back. She scooted closer to him and caressed his cheek as she continued the kiss. Soon, he was laying on top of her, his warmth spreading throughout her entire body. It wasn't just comrades in immortal guilt, it wasn't just friendship, it wasn't just gratitude for the day and night he had showed her that made her move him over and lay on top of him. It was pure, unadulterated lust, and she couldn't get enough of him. As he kicked the blankets away, she sat on his hips and lifted her jersey over her head. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her as he nestled her chest then his lips nuzzled her nipples as his hands roamed up and down her back. His touch was everywhere from her chest to the nape of her neck to the small of her back as he rubbed her cheek against his hair. If there was anything in the world she wanted at that moment, it was Duncan MacLeod.

He flipped her over and covered her as he gazed into her eyes. Elizabeth's insides were melting as she peered back at him. His thick eyebrows framing his dark eyes, his smooth skin against hers, his strong arms holding her. The whole package made her know exactly where she wanted to be, and where she wanted to stay. The rest of their night was a rush of unfettered, sumptuous, bliss. Duncan so ably replicated the great beauty she experienced at the Louvre, the great heights of the Tower, and the pure debauchery of their dinner and show with each movement. Both of them took turns serving the other. All the years of platonic friendship fell by the wayside as they enjoyed all the other had to give.

Continued