THE ELIZABETH SERIES
CHAPTER 68

MISSED OPPORTUNITIES
by JoLayne

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS: Methos, Amanda, Duncan, Joe, Elizabeth, Claire, Nick Hartford, Megan Willis, Tina Fallon, Al Cartwright, Leon, Lyle Giavini, Mike Triviati, Cynthia, Immortal, Hondo

SUMMARY: While Elizabeth and Duncan go to Philly to see Hondo, Methos, Amanda, and Claire go to New York City to see them. A Watcher is pulled into the Crusade, without being aware of it.

NOTE: Thanks to Paula and Jim for their help.

~~~~~
FEBRUARY 12, 2013
PHILADELPHIA

Elizabeth and Duncan arrived in Philadelphia well after dark. She had directed Duncan to Independence Park, where the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall stood, because that's where she remembered Methos taking her down a small enclosed alleyway to Hondo's establishment. The one and only time she had been there was when Methos needed to get rid of his Adam Pierson persona; finding it at night a dozen years later was a nearly impossible task. Duncan finally suggested that they get a good night's sleep and try again in the morning. Since they were right there at Independence Park, Duncan pointed out the four diamond luxury hotel, the Omni, just down the street from Independence Hall. Elizabeth agreed immediately, it would certainly beat a Super 8.

As soon as they entered the sky lit, cathedral ceilinged lobby, Duncan announced his hunger and pointed out the Azalea Restaurant. Its rich wood facade and cut glass double doors looked impressive enough to make Elizabeth examine her clothes. She wasn't dressed well enough for that place, and probably hadn't packed anything with her that would even get her in the door, even though she had packed everything she actually owned when they left the St. Regis. If only she hadn't been so rash to leave that beautiful black lace sheath back in Paris.

Elizabeth smiled at Duncan as she teased, "I don't see an open dress shop close at hand, and I'm sure jeans and a sweatshirt wouldn't get me in the door." She suggested, "We could just order room service."

"All right," Duncan said easily and walked to the front desk. He asked if they could get a suite or connecting rooms if at all possible. It felt right to her that Duncan had taken a step back from the intimacy they had shared in Paris and requested separate rooms or a suite. She loved him dearly as a friend, but declaring love on a more personal level no longer felt comfortable to her. She figured it didn't for him either. They hadn't talked about it, just moved back from that direction.

The desk clerk announced that the only suite the hotel had available was the Penthouse. Duncan handed over his credit card.

"How much is that suite?" Elizabeth asked, thinking Duncan didn't need to pay for everything.

"Don't answer that," Duncan told the woman. "Just put it on my card." He told Elizabeth, "My treat."

"When will I be buying something for you?"

"You can buy me anything you want any time you want." His brilliant smile almost made her melt. She made a note to at least pay for dinner, and the rest of their stay in Philly, however long that might be. She now had a mission in life: to get the all important paperwork necessary to make finding the perfect job for herself possible, but also to make Methos, and more importantly herself, feel she was stable enough to take care of Claire, and to make her daughter proud of her. Elizabeth had a goal to work towards, but no schedule. They could be in Philly for a long while, actually.

As the credit card was going through, the woman said, "We recently renovated the Penthouse, and I know you'll be pleased, sir. It's 2,000 square feet, marble bath, refreshment center, grand piano, robes, big screen television, an executive desk with an internet connection, and don't forget to call down for your complimentary massages."

"Complimentary what?" Elizabeth swooned. She checked the clock on the wall behind the woman. "Is it too late to get a massage tonight?"

"24/7, ma'am. Should I make the arrangements for massages now?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said without hesitation.

Duncan added, "The sooner the better."

~~~~~

The air was chilly, clammy; the accommodations sparse. Joe usually hung out in places with interestingly dark mood lighting, but this wasn't fit for man nor beast. In fact, it reminded me of that mysterious, loopy 90's television series, Twin Peaks, because of the red satin draperies in various places. I expected a dwarf or giant to make an appearance at any moment. But no, the only one with me was Joe. "What the hell do you want?" he snapped at me in his usual brand of greeting when something bothered him. I thought it nice that Joe was comfortable enough around me not to hide his true feelings, but he didn't have to be so abrupt. To my mind, I hadn't done anything. Yet.

"Nice to see you, too, Joe," I said, trying to inject a touch of lightness into the mix.

"Did you do this?"

I looked around the darkly lit... oh, it's a basement. I have no idea where I am, but the low mechanical hum I was picking up wasn't one that made me feel welcome. "I've done a lot of things, Joe, but I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's all gone to hell," Joe said with that doomsday frustration that I had seen many times over the years.

"What now? Mac get a hangnail?"

I spotted Joe's laptop on a rickety folding table and remembered my purpose for seeking out the grumpy man. I made a beeline for it, and it didn't take long for me to remember how to get on line with Joe's personal computer. Just as I was about to enter my old Adam Pierson password, the laptop snapped shut, almost catching my fingers. Joe's scowl made me say, "This is too damn familiar. What the hell is your problem?"

"They've all been taken," Joe shouted. "I don't know where the hell they are!"

"Who?"

"Liz. Mac. Where the hell are they?"

"In New York, the St. Regis Hotel, probably not room 1120. In fact, they're probably in the throes of passion as you're shouting at me. I should be the pissed off one." In order to prove my point, and to satisfy the burning jealousy in my gut, I flipped the folding table over. The laptop crashed to the floor. It made me feel better, for the moment. All I could see was Elizabeth and Duncan thrashing around in bed. What else could I throw?

Seeing nothing but Joe, I yelled back at him, "Why are you so angry?" Joe simply wanted Duncan MacLeod to be happy, so what if he was with my wife!

"You don't understand."

"Try me."

"I can't. We can't talk here. They're listening."

"Who?"

"THEM!" Joe shouted. It seemed as if he would have punched me for being an idiot if I wasn't fast enough to move away from him, which I was. Getting into a slug fest with a paraplegic wasn't at the top of my to-do list.

"Well, thanks for giving me a great visual I know I won't be able to get rid of; since you're no help to me, I'll be going now."

"You can't just walk away. You don't know what's out there," Joe said as if I was a child and had thought to play in heavy traffic.

Joe grabbed my arm and suddenly I couldn't move at all. It felt as if I was being smothered, slowly sinking into oblivion. I tried to get hold of Claire, who just appeared out of nowhere, but she ran away. I felt pleased about that. She ran instead of sticking around. I taught her well.

Claire appeared out the corner of my eye and was screaming something as I fell to the floor, being unable to do anything except wait for the total silence and darkness to commence. Gods! I hate this feeling! Why did you kill me, Joe?! I wasn't in pain, just couldn't move and felt my soul slowly ebb away from me. A terrible feeling of impeding doom, with no possible way to remedy it, came over me.

I heard Elizabeth's voice talking softly to Claire, and I tried to make out the words. All I could do was turn my head in their direction. I saw Elizabeth stumble closer to me with determination in her eyes. Then she turned her head to the right. I followed her line of vision to see Duncan standing there. Claire screamed, "There's no time, Mom! You have to choose!"

Elizabeth clutched her heart as her eyes drifted from Duncan, standing erect and as strong as ever, to me, numb for some unknown reason on the floor. Just when I was ready to scream out that it should be a simple decision to make, for the sake of the Gods, Elizabeth came to me with every hint of the love she ever had for me written on her face. She told me as consciousness drifted away from me, "It was very simple. Of course, you're my choice. You've always been my-"

Methos' head popped up, and he took a great gulp of air as if he had just revived. It took a moment for him to realize where he was as it was dimly lit, not recognizing the phone in front of him. It was on the back of the seat in front of him. A tray was on his lap. He felt confined, then realized it was the airline's seat belt. He looked behind him down the aisle to get his bearings. The dull light strip on each side of the upper fuselage and dots of personal lights made him dizzy as the plane was again rocketed by turbulence.

Claire said, "I don't like these bumps, either, Dad," holding his hand tightly.

"Ah, turbulence. It's okay. Just think of it as potholes. Don't worry about it." He gave her hand a squeeze, then released her in order to rub his face, trying to get the dream out of his head. He assumed the latter part of the dream was just his inner self bemoaning the fact that his wife was with another man. The beginning part, with Joe, that was what had him confused and concerned.

He saw Amanda in the aisle seat a row ahead of them looking back with a Vogue magazine in her hands. There was a slight smile on her face, probably thought it funny he would have jumped with the turbulence. He asked her, "Have you heard from Joe lately?"

She shook her head and said sweetly, "Not for a couple of days."

"Is he all right?"

"As far as I know, why?"

"Just thinking."

Amanda chuckled, "That's not always a good thing," and then sat straight back in her seat and continued reading.

"I think I'll give him a call." Methos took the phone off the hook in front of him and held it, pausing. Knowing this wouldn't be a quick call, needing international operators, etc., Methos looked at his watch wondering how long it would be before they landed. The screen that usually showed movies or television programs now had a map with a blip on it. He assumed the blip was their plane. If the green was land and blue was the Atlantic, Methos guessed they would go through landing procedures before he could even get an international operator to connect him to Joe. He decided to just wait and call Joe when they had their feet firmly on the ground.

~~~~~

PHILADELPHIA

As soon as they walked into the opulent suite, Duncan dropped his bag and headed for the grand piano that took up a corner of the living space. Elizabeth went straight to the window and looked out at the lights of Philadelphia. The dome of Independence Hall, the Liberty Bell Plaza, and the Bourse were close by with the lights of the city, the shining capital off in the distance. A peaceful feeling swept over her, just from being back in her home state. Her turning immortal had been so traumatic after going through the horrendous three days of the battle. She never knew why it took so long for her to return to the land of her birth, having shied away from it after she turned. She had only gone back after accepting she had lost Methos forever. She made a mental note to come back more often. Maybe a trip to Gettysburg would be in order. After she thought Methos dead, she had taken that big step and gone back to the place of her mortal life and her turning. With Claire along, Elizabeth had felt comforted, not spooked. She hadn't stopped at her parents' graves because Methos had made his re-appearance. She had 'talked' to her parents recently, seeking advice for how she had so terribly messed up her marriage and hadn't been there for her daughter.

The feeling of numbness and bewilderment that she had felt when the news that Methos' head had been taken, while removing all traces of Methos for the Watchers' benefit, swept through her again. Uncontrollable shivers took over her body when she remembered that it was she that had actually almost taken his head. Her! How had she allowed Pyrius to take so much control over her actions? Again Elizabeth had a hard time accepting that she had actually done that. Once again she had to tell herself that her actions were directed by the paranormal, not by her, or she couldn't live with herself.

Slow melodic piano music played behind her, and she turned to see Duncan was providing the music. "I didn't know you played the piano."

Shyly, he stopped and shrugged. Elizabeth was going to tell him to continue, but there was a ring at the door. Duncan, clearly shy about his playing, got up to answer it. Elizabeth hadn't ever seen Duncan embarrassed about anything, and was disappointed by the intrusion. When she saw that it was a male and female at the door, each holding a case and fold-up massage table. She was quite pleased when Duncan invited them right in to start to work their magic on their tired bodies.

~~~~~

NEW YORK

As Amanda stood in the taxi line, Methos took Claire's cell phone out of her backpack to call Joe. Methos turned his back to the wind as he placed the call, then invited Claire under his coat as she was visibly shaking. He didn't know if it was because of the cold- realizing that snow flakes had started to come down- or because she was tired. They'd certainly had a long day.

When he finally answered, Joe seemed to be in a good mood. "Where the hell are you guys? I called earlier to say I held some tickets to the show for you three."

"We're in New York."

"Why?"

"Claire wants to see her mom on her birthday."

Claire looked up to him and smiled. He caressed her face and smiled thinking, 'The things I do for this girl.' They could have waited until morning to go to New York, but Claire had excitedly told him to get them on the seats when Methos told her there were some available in a couple of hours. He usually did what Claire wanted, his life was devoted to turning her into a viable, passionate, intelligent immortal, and she had a good head on her shoulders, thanks to him.

"That's great," Joe said. "Have you seen her or Mac? How are they?"

"We just landed, Joe," Methos said disturbed. Why was he suddenly so cordial? Talking about those two was beyond Methos, and he hadn't liked his dream. He got right to the point of why he called instead of rehashing a relationship he didn't care to even think about of late. "Joe, are you still working for the organization?"

There was a pause. "You know I'm on the Board. That's about it. Why?"

Amanda got to the head of the taxi line, and Methos knew that they were going to have to take the next one or lose their place in line. "Is everything all right?"

"Sure. I haven't even been called to a meeting since the last quarter."

"Dad," Claire said, walking out from under Methos' coat. "Come on, I'm freezing."

A blast of cold air hit Methos after Claire vacated her space under his coat, and Methos wanted nothing more than heat. "Ok, Joe. I gotta go. Keep in touch with me if anything comes up."

"What do you mean? You don't care to know about what... wait a minute, do you think they found out about you again?"

Methos walked with Claire to the taxi that Amanda had already entered. Claire climbed in, and Methos said, "No, nothing like that. Just... keep me posted. It's good to hear your voice." He gave Joe Claire's cell phone number and told him to take care of himself.

"Like I never do," Joe joked, and then Methos hung up and got into the nice, warm cab alongside his daughter.

He would call Joe again when they got to the hotel, and hoped it wouldn't be too late to call Paris. Not that Joe would be asleep, but he might be on stage. That old mortal man sure had a lot of energy. Just thinking about Joe made Methos miss him terribly. Joe had been the one mortal he really felt a kinship with before meeting and falling in love with Elizabeth. There were no more nights at Joe's bar hashing out the present as well as the past. Since Caroline died, Methos had shirked his responsibility to be the friend Joe could rely on. Methos intended to make a point to change that once this little side trip to New York was finished.

~~~~~

TEMPE, ARIZONA

At the stroke of seven, Nick Rockford vacated his nondescript company car outside of the Palo Verde Condominiums and walked to the building door, humming the last tune that was playing on the radio on the way over. He was looking good, feeling good, and he was sure this night would be the best of his life, if everything went as planned. This would only be his third date with Megan, and he was going to make sure they actually got through this one. If the Watchers would just keep their nose out of their business and allow Field Watchers some semblance of a private life, and if their assigned immortals didn't suddenly decide to take a head or change location, this date could actually find its way to the usual conclusion. Neither of their other two dates had lasted through dinner before one or the other was called because of some "important event" happening.

Their last date was cut short when Nick got word from his backup that his immortal, Lorena Caldwell, had decided to book a flight to the Cayman Islands. She would be leaving in two hours on a private jet, which meant he would have to endure the torture of getting a fast commercial flight. Since she was an investment banker and usually stayed at the same hotel, Nick normally wouldn't have been quick to hop back to work so fast. Because it was his responsibility to show young Willis the ropes, he had to make a good impression. Rule number one for a watcher was that work came first. Always.

Having the young, lively red head under his wing was tough from the get go. He had been instantly attracted to her, but the thought of sexual harassment charges had keep him in check until he was sure she was interested. Just after finally asking her out for dinner, maybe a movie, with the promise that they wouldn't talk business, she was assigned to double cover James Payson. Since she was fresh out of the academy, Nick thought that was a bit rushed. Usually new recruits apprenticed for at least a year before getting an assignment of their own. Double coverage was usually assigned to immortals thought to be planning a challenge or who had done something rash, such as finding out about their watcher and committing mortal murder. Being assigned to Arizona, Nick knew every immortal in the state. James Payson was only 100 years old and had never challenged an immortal in his life. He had accepted challenges, and came out the victor, obviously, but he certainly wasn't an immortal that could be classified in either category that demanded double coverage. It was after a little bit of investigation on the database that he found out that Payson's new wife, Terry, was his watcher. It all became clear then. The watchers wanted to make sure that Terry was keeping a correct Chronicle.

Willis' assignment turned out all right for both Nick and Megan, actually, as James Payson and Lorena Caldwell both lived in Mesa. Megan never feared calling Nick for advice, or to talk if things were too boring for her. Watching a sculpturer and an investment banker left plenty of opportunity for cell phone calls between them. Nick was usually pleased to hear from her and they developed a great telephone relationship. He hoped that with this date, things would move to the more intimate. Now that she was back from gay Parree, Nick was really looking forward to the evening. Weeks ago, he had made reservations at the Arizona Statehood Day Celebration at the Biltmore, just a stone's throw from Watcher HQ, in hopes of wooing the lady and having her end up in his bed. Wearing his one and only tuxedo, he couldn't wait to find out what kind of sexy number Megan would wear.

Megan opened her door, her long red hair not dolled up as he expected, but pulled back into a pony tail. She wasn't wearing the gown she said she had purchased specifically for this evening, but wore jeans, a leather jacket, t-shirt, sneakers, and carried a backpack.

"Mm," she purred as she kissed him. She had never been so forward, and Nick actually took to her gesture, thinking that the very public gala wasn't the best idea he ever had. Plans can certainly change. "Just seeing you all cleaned up, sharp, and sexy makes the news even worse."

"What news?" He braced himself for a let down. He gazed at her bag, coming to realize that there probably wouldn't be a date at all.

"I need to gather all my information and present it to the Watcher Board in Los Angeles tomorrow afternoon."

He knew it... "To make sure your Chronicle on Payson jibes with Mrs. Payson's?"

"I suppose. But then, when they do, as I'm sure they will," Megan said. "I might get an actual assignment of my own."

"And you'll be off to anywhere on the planet."

"Nope. I'll be in Phoenix or LA. No more snow for me. That's what I asked for, that's what I'll get."

Nick laughed. "A new recruit doesn't ask for their own location. They're told where to go."

"This one does."

"I know you have talents, but what makes you so special to make them bow to your will?"

"I have money. I don't need this job, I just want it."

"You can't quit the Watchers. Once you're in, you're in for life."

"That's not what I heard."

"From whom?"

"Amy Barstow."

"Who?"

"The watcher who brought me into this organization. She's quit in the past. You just have to be quiet about it. I know that if you go public or do anything stupid, you might get a bullet in the head when you least expect it, but it's possible. And I'll do it. I don't need the bucks."

Nick looked at her in amazement. She had mentioned she had money before, but she'd never been so willful in her attitude about it or the watchers. He looked past her into her condo, which he had never been in before. He spotted Louis XIV furniture, paintings that looked like they weren't reproductions, and most impressive of all, a plasma flat screen TV and an expensive, extensive stereo system. "Will you remember the little people on your way up the ladder, Miss Thing?"

"Only if you buy me a number three with Orange Slice at Mickey D's on the way to Headquarters. I'm famished."

"What a cheap date."

"This time," she said with a smile and planted a kiss on his cheek. When Nick smiled back at her, she murmured, "Oh, if only I didn't have to make a plane tonight. You'll drop me off at the airport, right? I perish the thought of leaving my car in long term parking."

~~~~~

NEW YORK

The snow was no longer gently falling by the time Methos, Amanda, and Claire arrived at the St. Regis. The wind was whipping the snow through the skyscraper canyon stronger than any blizzard Methos remembered living through. As soon as the doorman opened the cab door, the three of them burst out of the back seat and ran through the revolving doors to the hotel.

Methos went straight to the check in desk as he shook the snow off his open coat and his hair. Claire immediately walked over to check out the atrium with swimming pool which could be viewed from the lobby. The smiling young lass behind the desk was a pleasant diversion for this long, hectic day. "Two rooms, suites, if you have them, please."

She perkily asked, "May I have your confirmation number, please?"

Methos quickly read the attractive young blond wearing a brass name tag showing Cynthia. "Um. Is that mandatory, Cynthia?" He smiled coyly and leaned against the high desk, making sure he displayed his little boy lost look to explain, "I was going to call, but we had a plane to catch. The trip was short notice." Methos hoped he didn't actually bat his long eyelashes when he asked lightly, "Are there rooms available?" while gazing into the woman's azure blue eyes.

Cynthia winked and said, "I'll see what I can do."

Amanda rolled her eyes at the moment that drifted between Methos and Cynthia, and said, "Can we hurry this up, please?"

"Why are you in a hurry?" Methos asked her pointedly.

"I'm this close to 5^th Avenue and you don't think I'm going shopping? Shopping is the only thing that could lighten my mood right now." She looked at her watch, probably to see if Barney's was still open.

Methos asked Cynthia in an off-the-cuff manner, knowing that the question might be mute anyway, "Is Elizabeth Gordon registered?" as if he knew his wife was. All he needed was her room number.

"We cannot let out information on the other guests, sir," Cynthia responded disappointedly.

Methos took out his wallet and slid it across the desktop with his driver's license showing. "She's my wife." He indicated Claire looking through the floor to ceiling glass windows to the pool. "This is her daughter."

"You don't know if your own wife is registered at this hotel?" Cynthia asked suspiciously. He could see the rapid change in her demeanor as soon as the word 'wife' was mentioned.

"It's been a terribly long day, week, actually, so I've pretty much lost track of things. My ex-wife, actually. Or soon to be." Methos ignored Claire's narrow eyed stare as she walked to him. "If she is registered, could you call up to her room, please? Her daughter would like to see her."

Cynthia looked at Claire, and then put her hands back on the keyboard. "What was the name?"

"Elizabeth Gordon."

After punching in some information, she said, "Sorry. No one by that name is registered here. Anything else?"

"Just the rooms, please," Methos said as he took his credit card out of his wallet. He looked down at a disappointed Claire and said, "Well, we'll just ring up her cell phone once we're in our room."

Amanda rubbed her hands together. "Oh, long, hot bath, here I come."

Methos took the two key cards for the only available suite, and bade the fair Cynthia adieu. Amanda grabbed her key card for a regular room and groused to Methos, "Why do you have to make moon eyes to every woman we come across? At least we're on the same floor," she said. "I can use one of the rooms in the suite for any purchases I make, right?"

She pushed the up button for the elevator and was amazed that Methos walked right past. "Ah, Einstein," Amanda called to him. "Rooms 852 and 864 would be on the... eighth floor. How 'bout that?"

Methos stopped and returned to Amanda and sighed. "I'm going to walk through the hotel to see if Claire's mother is here registered under a different name. I know that stationery came from the St. Regis. I'd bet my life on it. I can't be wrong about that."

"Are you going to knock on all the doors, Dad?" Claire asked, liking this idea. Methos wondered if bringing Claire to New York and accomplishing a little old fashioned detective work to locate the person who hadn't answered her cell phone was giving Claire false hope. He was doing all this for her benefit, not his own. To his mind, the more time between visits with Elizabeth, the better. But, if he truly thought about it, analyzed the dream he had on the plane... no. He didn't want to think about it or what traipsing through the hotel was actually about.

"Nah, just see if I... see traces of her," Methos said, keeping alert to any immortal sensations.

It wasn't until they were going up the stairwell to the fourth floor that Methos felt a tightening in his back, and a chill ran up his nape. An immortal wasn't too far away. He noticed that Amanda was feeling the same. Claire, on the other hand, was running up the stairs without a care in the world. It would be nice if the immortal was familiar, but one never knew in a large city. Methos ran to stop her from opening the door to the hallway. "Hold on, Little One," he said, taking her hand off the latch. He saw Amanda put her hands on Claire's shoulders protectively, then Methos opened the door and looked both ways down the hall.

A short, thin, red haired man in an old corduroy suit wearing round spectacles was standing cautiously a bit down the hallway. Methos wasn't pleased when Claire bolted through the door, Amanda having tried and failed to hold her back. "Is Mom here?" she asked.

"I have no problem with you. I just want to go about my business," the nervous immortal said.

Methos nodded, "No problem."

The immortal hesitantly walked past Methos and Claire, then stopped. "Have you been registered at his hotel long?"

"No," Methos answered abruptly.

"Hm. I've felt one of us for the last couple of weeks, but never came face to face. Just fair warning. Watch your head," he said, then gazed at Claire.

Methos knew that he was probably feeling her preimmortal hum, and put his hand on her shoulder and stared the shorter immortal down. Don't you dare say one more word, Methos thought.

The immortal walked quickly to the stairwell. Methos steered Claire down the hallway away from him. Claire asked, "Dad, what was he talking about?"

"He's drunk. Ignore him."

Claire looked back at the immortal. "He doesn't look drunk, Dad."

"Let's try this way," Amanda said, going down another hallway.

"He doesn't look drunk at all," Claire said, not willing to drop the subject. She had stopped walking and was now turned around, staring at the immortal.

Methos tried to get Claire to move, but she wouldn't. Stubborn lass when she wanted to be. Amanda called to her, "Hey, Claire, look at this."

Methos and Claire looked down the hallway and saw Amanda looking at a painting on the wall. Good for her, she was trying to get Claire's attention on something else. When Claire was younger, it was so much easier to do. If she wanted to play with a priceless vase, a brightly colored toy would do the trick to change her focus. Now it took much more. Methos in some ways dreaded the oncoming years until Claire turned, which he hoped wouldn't be for at least fifteen years, for all the diversions he would have to come up with to keep immortality and Claire's future a mystery to her.

Claire walked to Amanda after the immortal got on the elevator to look at the painting. "It's a replica," she announced. "The original is in the Louvre, right Dad? Do you think they have any real Renoirs here? But then again, it's just a hotel."

Amanda chuckled. "Can't get anything past you," she said and took Claire's hand to walk on in search for Elizabeth and/or Duncan. Methos hoped Amanda was wrong.

~~~~~

PHILADELPHIA

Why is he not moving?

He has to hear me. I'm making as much noise as I can without making-

"Take him!"

He won't be quieted. You have to hear me, please hear me...

"Take him! Now!"

"I am," Elizabeth shouted. "Hold your goddamn pants on, if you have any!"

With her outburst, she watched to see if Methos woke up. He didn't. Suddenly the voice tickling her brain was no longer distant. Pyrius appeared on the other side of the bed, his focus drifting from her to the sword she held in her hand.

"Do it, Elizabeth," he instructed her again with what seemed to be a tired voice. "End the torment. Only when he has paid his debt will I be gone."

"Wake up, damn you!" Elizabeth shouted at Methos, laying on his back in bed, looking as if he was enjoying this. His eyes had to be closed as a cover for his brain which was never at rest. He had to hear what was going on. "I want that asshole gone!"

She heard Duncan scream, "Just stab him! Don't take his head!"

Elizabeth was confused by the shifting scenery from their bedroom in Bethany Stone Manor to the cold cement basement of the house in Delphi. Methos was alternately lying in bed and hanging bloodied, chained to a wall. Then, Methos disappeared. Elizabeth called out to Duncan, "Where is he? Did Pyrius kill him?! Where the hell is he?"

Duncan appeared before her, holding his leg with a gaping stab wound. "Just stab him. I want him to live!"

"Stab who?" Elizabeth felt this was so familiar, and realized that Duncan was referring to Pyrius. She spun around to find him. She didn't want Pyrius' head. She never wanted his quickening. She saw the sword in her hands and moaned in great pain. The sense of deja vu was too strong to hold the sword upright. "Oh, God, Duncan. What I almost did... my God, I could have killed him."

"You have to kill him!" Pyrius' voice boomed at her.

Methos' soothing, yet worn out voice called out, "Don't let the darkness take over your soul, Lizzie. I've lived too long with fear. Don't let it take you over."

Elizabeth looked up, realizing she was on the floor and Duncan's dead body, dead by her hand, was on top of her. The shard of glass embedded in her palm. She saw Methos' face. He seemed so concerned. "We're here to help you," he said. His voice echoed and she thought she was in Kent, yet he had told her that so long ago in Greece. "We're going to help you through the visions, the words, things you saw me do... but only if you let us."

Elizabeth started to calm, and wanted to tell Methos that she was sorry she took Pyrius' head. She was sorry she had walked into their bedroom with a sword raised intent on granting Pyrius' wishes. "Just help me think straight," she pleaded to Methos.

He told her, "I'm not going to leave."

Elizabeth felt as if he had ripped that cold, sharp shard of glass out of her hand and stabbed her in the heart with it. "You left me! You didn't stay! Don't lie to me again!"

"Calm down," he told her, still peering over the edge of the bed. "Just calm down."

"Elizabeth, do what is ingrained in you. Do what is natural!" Pyrius urged her to strike.

Elizabeth was once again standing over Methos' sleeping body on their bed. He had abandoned her when she needed him most: when she took her first dark quickening; when she had taken care of the one man who made him pay for all the deeds he had done for over a millennia. "You lied! You left me! You didn't stay!" she shouted at Methos, hoping he'd wake up and... leave again. She was so close to bending to Pyrius' will, and knew instinctually she didn't want that.

Methos was no help; he was just lying there as if he was dreaming about his next beer being brewed. Pyrius had appeared strong, commanding at her side, putting the sword back in her hand. "There can be only one, Elizabeth. Do you really want that bastard to win? There can be only one."

"There can be only one," she recited along with Pyrius' hypnotic voice. Collecting all her rage and strength, Elizabeth lifted her sword and screamed, "There can be only one!"

Only then did Methos open his eyes just as she raised the sword over his head.

Elizabeth fell on the floor hard. Tears burned her eyes. She went through the motions of throwing her sword away, but she wasn't holding onto it. She wanted to scream for him to wake up, but she couldn't make a sound, and Methos was nowhere to be found. All she could do was sit stunned gasping for breaths. She felt as if she was going to have a heart attack the way her heart was pounding in her chest. Just calm down, she told herself. Just take a deep breath. Almost gagging as she tried to stop her body's heaves, she tried to figure out where she was.

Taking a moment to take stock of the situation, she realized she was on the floor. Was she in Delphi or Kent? There was a leg near her right arm. Someone was sitting on the sofa. She peered up to see Duncan, having fallen asleep sitting up. He was wearing a white terry cloth robe. A hotel! CNN was blaring from the television. Of course, she thought as her breaths evened out. She was in the Omni Hotel. She was wearing a robe as well. They had their massages. They had eaten room service, shrimp scampi in orange sauce, and a half bottle of wine. She reviewed the basics of her life that evening in order to get a grip after the horrible guilt she felt in her dream. She wiped her face and pulled her hair back. The dream had been so vivid, recounting things that happened in two different places at two different times. It was just a dream. Another goddamn dream. It wasn't real. But it was. Elizabeth crashed back into reality. It was all real. Garbled, but real. One of the worst dreams she had since leaving Kent. She thought she was getting better, but now she felt as if she had fallen to pieces again.

Elizabeth cried out with grief as Duncan stirred on the couch. Not wanting him to see her, know what she did, she ran into the nearest of the two bedrooms and shut the door behind her. "Are you all right?" Duncan asked in a groggy voice, having just been woken up. "What happened?"

In the bedroom, she accepted that in order to put the past truly behind her and not dwell on things she couldn't change, or ever hope to change, she had to get her life back on track. Searching for a phone was fruitless, so she got herself together the best she could and walked back out to the living area. Duncan flipped through the channels with the remote. Good, he isn't paying attention to me or what I've done. Elizabeth headed straight for the phone and opened the cabinet it was on. Inside, thankfully, was a phone directory, and she got down on the floor to page through it.

"What time is it?" he asked, yawning.

"I have no idea."

"Which bedroom do you want?" Duncan asked as he stood up to stretch.

"Whichever one you don't want. You paid for them, after all."

"Who are you calling?"

"Hondo."

Duncan looked at his watch. "Well, he seems like the kind of guy who'd still be up, if he's not out partying."

Elizabeth found the Morris' in the phone book and used her finger to read through the line of them. "I hope I remember the name right. John Morris. I'm sure that was his name."

There were three John Morris'. Elizabeth looked at the grandfather clock to see if it was too late to make random phone calls. She couldn't tell by the addresses where in Philly each one lived. Then one caught her eye. There was a Morris, J. listed with no address. "That has to be him."

Elizabeth got on the phone as Duncan sat on the arm of the couch looking at her. "Sorry I woke you," she told him. The impact of her dream forced her need to get her life in order the sooner the better. She thought that only if she was on the track and living a somewhat normal life again would the dreams vanish. On the third ring, an answering machine picked up. "Leave a message," was its entirety.

"I hope I have the right number. My name is Elizabeth, and I hope you're the John Morris who goes by Hondo. I have no idea if you remember me, but you were best man at my wedding."

"Liz?" Hondo said after picking up the receiver.

Elizabeth paused, then blurted out, "Yes, Hondo? It's me, Elizabeth Gordon. Daniel's wife. You remember?"

"Sure. How's the old man?"

His phrasing jarred her for a moment. There wasn't any way Methos had told Hondo of his being immortal and extremely old, literally. Then she remembered that spouses were often referred to as the old lady, old man, the ball and chain. The one who I almost beheaded... she thought wanting to collapse with guilt again.

"He's...," she said as she tried to think of what to say. She didn't actually know how he was. Until a few minutes ago, didn't really care. She felt herself tear up again. The way she had treated Methos in the last three months was horrible. She didn't know if he would or could ever forgive her. Her sole purpose in life was to get Claire back. Maybe the guilt of what she had done under the control of Pyrius was making her forget the dozen years she had loved Methos more than life itself. She noticed Duncan's concern, and she said, "He's fine. I need a favor."

"New ID?"

"Yeah. Maybe more than that if you can swing it."

"Toots, if the ball's within arm's reach, I can hit it out of Veteran's Stadium."

Elizabeth smiled. "I was so hoping you'd say that. I need a resume, and facts to back it up."

"I gotcha. Come over tomorrow, and I'll see what we can do."

"Great. What's your address?"

When he told her, she realized that they couldn't be more than three blocks away. "That's great," she said excitedly. "I'll be over bright and early in the morning. Around six?"

"You do that, if you want, but I'll be there around noon."

"Thank you, Hondo. You don't know how much this means to me."

"Ah, no sweat. I'll do anything for Danny. He knows that. Is he there? Put him on the line."

"He's not here right now."

"Tell him to give me a ring. I miss our late night chats."

"You had late night chats?"

"Well, my late night. I have no idea what time it was where he was when he called."

"When did you talk to him last?" Elizabeth asked interested. Hondo probably didn't know about what happened at Thanksgiving, or he wouldn't be so cordial.

"Last summer sometime."

"Ah, well, I'll be sure to tell him to call you."

Elizabeth hung up, starting to feel a little better after having contact with someone outside of her realm of madness. Duncan asked again, "Which bedroom do you want? That massage was more potent than I thought it would be."

Elizabeth looked at him, having seen him so recently dead by her hand while they were in Delphi. If there was one person she could trust right now, one person she could simply say, fully meaning it, that she was sorry to, it was Duncan. "Remember Greece?" she hesitantly asked him.

He smiled. "Land of baklava and Plato?" Then, as soon as he said it, his expression turned darker. "Or do you mean Pyrius?"

"I mean, when I killed you. And when you told me to just stab Pyrius."

"And you didn't."

"I was reacting, not thinking."

"Yeah," he said off the cuff. "What brought this up?"

"I'm sorry, Duncan. I'm sorry for so many things," Elizabeth said softly as she started to cry. "I'm sorry I didn't listen. I'm sorry I killed you later." She took a deep breath and remembered more times she had been less than friendly to the Highlander. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry for shooting you in Chicago."

"I know."

When she looked up at him and saw that he was nodding, thinking it all over, she felt so lucky that he hadn't just shut the door on her when he had so many opportunities to do so. "Walking down memory lane this evening, huh? Dreaming again? Well, I killed you a couple of times too."

"Not because I didn't deserve it," she said, then couldn't help but smile. He had killed her more times than she could count while she was under the initial spell of Pyrius' quickening.

"I don't kill indiscriminately... at least not for a long time."

"Four hundred years...," she mused. "Twelve hundred years. Five thousand years. Shit, I'm only 180 years old and feel too damn old. How do you do it?"

"What? Live?"

"Make mistakes and still live with yourself. Sleep well at night. I don't think I'll sleep well again."

Duncan took a deep breath with a light smile and sat back on the sofa. He patted the empty cushion next to him, and Elizabeth didn't hesitate getting up from the floor to occupy it. He put his arm around her as he told her, "You will. You do it the only way you can. Everyone is different. What works for some won't work for others."

"Duncan?"

"Hm?"

"You sound like Methos."

"How so?"

"You don't answer questions."

"There is no answer, Liz. Except maybe, since it is the past you put it behind you and move on fresh. Tomorrow's another day."

"Scarlet O'MacLeod?"

Duncan chuckled, and said, "Methos once told me, 'Live. Grow stronger. Fight another day.' Good words to live by. Learn from mistakes, don't beat yourself up with them, and don't repeat them."

Elizabeth laid her head on Duncan's shoulder and watched a Nike commercial. "And that doesn't sound callous? Start fresh? Waltz into Methos' apartment, make nice with Methos, tell Claire I love her, and we're one big happy family again? What I did before... make Claire think I didn't want her, almost behead my husband... they don't matter."

"Sure they do. Mistakes matter. Making up for them is what's hard, and what will help you sleep at night."

"How do I do that?"

"They're your husband and child. Only you know."

Elizabeth smiled. "You're so vague with your advice. But it makes me feel better. You think there's a chance for me?"

"There's always a chance."

"I almost beheaded Methos. Would you ever sleep with someone who almost took your head again?"

She felt Duncan tighten, and looked at him. "You want him back?" he asked gently.

Not knowing how honest she could be with him, she didn't answer, and looked back at the television. Duncan moved her chin to make her face him. "Do you want Methos back?"

"I love him. I always have, always will." The feelings almost poured out of her completely, but she silenced them as it felt weird to tell Duncan those words.

"Then you'll figure out a way, if it's meant to be."

"You don't mind?"

"I've known from the beginning that you love him, that there was a connection there that no mere man could break. I know that Methos loved you, very much. So, why should I mind?"

"Paris."

Duncan smiled. "That was a beautiful day and night. No one can take that away from me. But, I knew when you left for Methos' apartment with the pretext of seeing Claire that you were going over to see him as well."

"I do love you, Duncan. You mean a great deal to me."

"But you'll always love him more."

"Just as you love Amanda."

He closed his eyes and turned away, then nodded with a world weary sigh. Elizabeth cupped his cheek and kissed his other. "We're quite a pair, aren't we? Although I know Amanda will take you back in a heartbeat, I don't think there's a chance for me and Methos ever again."

"She might, if she's not too angry with me, but I need some assurances from her."

"Sounds to me like Amanda's assurances are a bit more easily gotten than what Methos requires of me. That is, if he even wants me back at all."

"Sorry to be blunt, but that's the question."

Elizabeth remembered how she felt when loving the only other immortal besides Methos in her life. After the years of torment and Logan's stalking, she had finally let down her guard with another immortal, John Dieterle. When she had thought, hoped, that John would propose to her, he had turned her over to Logan instead. It was almost eighty years before she trusted another immortal, and that immortal was Methos. Putting herself in Methos' shoes, finally loving and marrying an immortal, and she almost taking his head while he slept, Elizabeth was sure Methos would never forgive her or want to recapture the love she knew he once held for her. All she could think about was planning her future, which had to include Claire. If she couldn't get Methos to love or trust her again, Elizabeth would make sure he would at least feel at ease with letting her have Claire some of the time.

~~~~~

Nick decided to make a final report for the night on Lorena Caldwell instead of in the morning, since his date hadn't panned out. He was clumsily loading the information on his PDA and would download it to his computer in the morning. He couldn't use his computer, Megan had commandeered it. Women, he mused. They know nothing about treating a computer like an egg, letting everything load before clicking every link repeatedly because it wasn't working. Her computer had frozen up, and she was worried she wouldn't be able to gather all her information and make her plane for the all important meeting if she went through the process of rebooting her computer, complete with scan disk because Nick would insist on it. Nick had cavalierly offered his computer, as it was up and running because he had started it properly. Megan was thankful at least, so he couldn't be mad at her, and she had promised to make it up to him when she got back. He would make a point to remind her of it when he picked her up from the airport on Saturday. She was so sure she would be able to stay in the Phoenix area after her meeting that her optimism started to rub off on him.

Megan Willis was that loaded, huh? Well, she didn't wear her dough on her sleeves. The leather jacket was pricey, he could tell, but the jeans were pure Walmart, the t-shirt came from Old Navy, and her boots had clearly seen better days. She couldn't just be pulling his chain, could she? Would she? After all, he really didn't know her well, just knew what she had showed him. Dissecting a person's many facets was something he was used to after working as a Field Watcher for over ten years.

A fellow watcher, assigned to "Dandy Don," the number one car seller in the Valley of the Sun, walked in. "Hey, goldilocks," he called to Nick.

"Jealous?"

Leon brushed his hand against his bald head and Nick could of swore he heard him whisper, "Probably," as he went to another computer bank, making Nick chuckle.

"What are the duds for?" Leon asked Nick, as he looked him over from head to toe.

Nick hoped it was because of the tuxedo. Nick shrugged and replied, "Gotta wear something."

Megan called out, "Is there a virus in here again?"

For someone who used to make his living programming computers before witnessing an immortal challenge and being sucked into the Watcher system, those words were like death, especially on his computer. He was always nervous that all the computers' files were on a network, each computer needing the Watchers' password. Anyone could do anything, and it would screw up the entire system as it had three years before.

"Why?" Nick swivelled his chair over to her to look at what she had come up with.

"To be thorough, to make sure I didn't forget any of my notes or correspondence, and Terry's stuff for verification, I decided to do a search through the database for "James Payson"," she explained, showing him the screen.

The monitor showed the usual Watcher email screen, but everything was gibberish. He knew it was an encrypted email, and told Megan as much. She said, "Well, I've never encrypted anything. Must be a glitch. I'm pretty sure I have everything Terry and I chronicled. I'm going to print it out, then we have to get a move on so I don't miss that flight."

Encrypted email were always classified stuff. Never hurt to find out what all the powers that be in the system were up to. Nick was smitten. The code was unfamiliar, and a regular watcher would have probably deleted it just as Megan had dismissed it. Nick had never met a code he couldn't crack, and he wanted to give it a whirl. He made sure she didn't close the email as she printed the gathered files, and went through his drawer for his CD of computer codes. After Megan was through printing, he put the CD in the drive and restored the email. Almost immediately after clicking the 'go' button on screen that he had programmed, it started cranking through all the inputted codes that Nick had collected over his years of hacking since the age of ten.

Megan said, "Time to go. I have two hours before the plane takes off and with security nowadays, I'll just make it if you break every speed limit in the city."

"Yeah," Nick said disappointed as program was going through everything it had to break the code. "Okay." He shut his monitor off and told Leon, "Keep my computer on. I'm working on something. I'll be back later."

~~~~~

Methos turned around after depositing their bags on the bed in one of the bedrooms to see Claire looking out at the city. If she were a foot taller, he could have sworn she was Elizabeth standing there with long, wavy hair. He knew it was impossible that mother and daughter looked alike, had the same hair, only different shades of brown, since Claire was adopted. But, Methos had always wondered if it was fated that he and Elizabeth would raise Claire. It all just seemed... so right. He had gotten into parenthood so easily after he had to take over the reins full time when Elizabeth was thought dead by Cameron James' sword. He was a damn good father. Look where he was, and why? That didn't make him a pushover, did it? Methos ignored the thought when he sensed the telltale signal of an approaching immortal.

He went to the peephole to see Amanda. He opened the door, and noticed that she had a cosmetics bag and a pearl handled back scrubber in her hand. She swept in and said, "Thanks for sticking me with the crappy room. The bathroom is too small. Can I take a bath here?"

"I'm only one man. I can't stop a woman on a mission," he joked.

"Never let it be said you weren't wise," Amanda replied with a winning smile. "Thanks, luv."

"You hungry? I was going to call down for something to eat."

"Pizza," Claire said. "You can't get good pizza in France."

"No, something light, then you're off to bed."

"I'm not tired."

"Your internal clock is telling you it's three am. You're tired, believe me." Methos went to the menu and looked for something without a lot of sugar. Carbs. That's what she needed. With some bread, Claire would fall right to sleep. He wanted nothing more than a soft pillow and sturdy bed himself.

"I'll have a Cobb salad, please," Amanda said before disappearing into the bathroom.

~~~~~

After dropping Megan off at Terminal 3 of Sky Harbor Airport, unfortunately unable to even take the time to properly say goodbye to her as she didn't want to miss the plane, Nick returned to Watcher Headquarters to see how the decoding process was going. He was thinking about the email most of the time he was driving back, missing the turnoff on the 202 to 32nd Street. Having to take the 10 up to Indian School Road gave him time to think about the concept of a classified email about James Payson. It was so bizarre that anything to do with James Payson needed to be encrypted.

"What the hell could be classified about him?" Nick muttered to himself as he sat in his car in the parking lot of the office building that was named "Cygnet Corp," but was really Watcher Headquarters for the Four Corner States, Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, and Colorado, with a bustling wing that constituted the Phoenix metro area. It seemed that in the winter, the immortal population grew in the Valley of the Sun. Well, immortals were old people, just like the snowbirds.

Back in the computer lab, Leon had left, and thankfully had left Nick's computer running. Leon was such a neat freak, a vigorous recycler, and energy saver. Nick was surprised he was able to help himself and not turn off all the equipment before locking the door for the night. The Sports Illustrated Swimsuits Edition Cover Girls of the 90's screen saver was running, indicating that his CD was still at work trying to break the code of the email. Nick moved the mouse to see what his decoding program had been able to accomplish.

All he could see was a bunch of gibberish still, but he did scroll down. He saw, in bold no less, two words of the email: "James wos slkju Payson +;soow b9ww /sp mep slenyt e ,e[ytunmd_ .e l0v_ o l.wn me8 yxx+".

"I'll be damned...," Nick mused. "There's actually something classified about the sculpturer."

He took off his tuxedo jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. He loosened his tie as he walked into the lunch room next door. He came back almost immediately with a can of Coke and just about spit; his computer had made another word clear. "Merchandise."

"Come on, baby," he encouraged the machine. "I got all night, but work on this quick. Is Payson a smuggler of some sort?" Nick chuckled as all sorts of thoughts came to mind. A sculpturer could hide a lot of illegal crap inside his 'works of art.' "Is he working for the Watchers? Or do the Watchers want a piece of his action?"

Nick settled himself into his chair and tilted it back to relax as it might take a while. Soon, the words, "Barstow" and then "MacLeod," popped up in the email. Excited, Nick went forward to make the chair straight and just watched the gibberish slowly turn to words. Just then, the monitor went black. He waited a second, then another, his heart pounding, wondering what happened. The monitor was almost brand new.

"They didn't sell me a lemon..." Nick banged on the top of the monitor, then turned it off and on. After trying everything he could to make his screen come back, he noticed that his computer had stopped running. Probably something Megan had done... As a last resort, and it killed him each and every time he had to do it, Nick pushed the restart button on his computer. While his computer came back to life, and the screen came back on as it normally would, Nick wrote on a notepad on his desk, "Payson, Merchandise, Barstow, MacLeod."

"God knows what that means, but I'll soon find out," he said as he rubbed his hands together excitedly at the thought of figuring out this jigsaw puzzle.

~~~~~

Tina Fallon sat expectantly on the leather sofa of Al Cartwright's office. Her boss could always count on her; he had made promises to her, and now she would defend him with her dying breath while she figured out how to get his fortune diverted to her since he was recently divorced. What she hadn't expected was for this hastily called meeting to be the setting he choose to announce his illness to her. Tina didn't know what to do as Al sucked on oxygen as he sat behind his imposingly huge desk. Her mind was in a whirl; it had all happened so fast. The last time she had seen Cartwright, he was... virile. She now realized the change his body had undergone since the last time she had seen him. So pale. The sight of an oxygen tank in the strong man's vicinity had jarred her, and it was even worse when he started coughing. He had gone down hill so fast. She wondered if this crusade could be brought to fruition while he was alive. She would make sure they succeeded, even if Al was six feet under.

The loud coughing fit, brought his maid to his assistance. Wynonna said grouchily upon entering, "The doctors all said you should have that oxygen in your nose 24 hours a day."

Al just grimaced at her and waved her away, as it was his habit not to complain or explain. After Wynonna left in her usual huffy manner, Tina caught Al's eyes as he peered at her while his coughing fit ebbed. He looked uncomfortable with her knowing the news. How could he? Tina went to stand on the other side of the desk from him, wanting to tell him how much she appreciated his trust in her, feeling sorry for him, but not knowing what to say.

She didn't have long to ponder before there was a knock at the door. Al barked, "What now?" probably thinking it was Wynonna again.

"Sir?" they heard a male voice call from the other side of the door.

Of course it wasn't Wynonna, Tina thought. That woman probably never bothered to knock on a closed door before entering in her life. Tina recognized the voice as one of the crusaders, Lyle Giavini. This couldn't be good news. It was his job to keep an eye on the whereabouts of the immortals they were going to collect, not have personal meetings with the boss. That was her job. There were channels, even in their covert operation.

Al took the oxygen tube from his nose, and Tina rolled the tank under his desk. Al took her hand and smiled gratefully before saying, "Come in."

Giavini entered, keeping his eyes on the floor, probably knowing that it was a privilege to enter Cartwright's home office, with a portfolio of notes in his hands. "Sir, bad news."

"Not what I want to hear," Al said gruffly. "Was MacLeod taken?"

"No, sir. Nothing that fortunate."

"Fortunate? His head is mine, as well as the other immortals'."

"Yes, sir," Giavini corrected himself. Not accustomed to being in the inner sanctum, as it were, Tina was pleased the tall, uncomfortable in his own skin, minion come to the point of his intrusion. "We've been hacked."

"Excuse me?"

"Every document that is created by a Watcher has a serial number. All of your documents have them as well."

Tina thought Al would start coughing again as he was visibly upset by that news.

Lyle said, "I tried to get around that, but I couldn't. An encrypted email you sent has such an identification, and as I was doing a cleansing this evening, I saw that someone you didn't send the email to was privy to it."

Tina was at least reassured that Giavini had done his job. She knew that it was a given that any of the crusaders' documents were 36 hours old in order to give the members of the exclusive club time to see it before they were wiped from the system with a 'hard delete,' meaning there was no trace that the document even existed.

Al asked gravely, "When did this happen?"

"Just now." Giavini explained quickly, "As soon as I saw the breach, I cleansed it, and all the other documents I had earmarked during the search process. It's gone now, but someone had access to it."

"Uncoded?"

"That would be 'decoded,' sir. No, sir. I don't think so," Giavini said with pride. "The code we're using with this crusade is one that I came up with myself."

"Who saw it, even if it was encrypted?"

"I did a quick check on the serial number, and it was a...," Giavini scanned his notes he had with him. "Nick Hartford."

"Who?"

"A Field Watcher in Phoenix."

"Phoenix? How did he get a hold of it? Why would he be hacking into my files?"

"I'm not sure, sir. I am confident that he only had the encryption. As soon as I saw the breach, I wiped the email."

"Get everything you have on him, and kill him. Now."

"But, sir," Giavini looked as if all life had drained from his body. "I'm sure he saw nothing."

"I gave you an order. Have our agent in Phoenix hunt him down and kill him before he can do anything to damage all the work I've done!"

Tina could see that her boss once again needed his oxygen and was fighting off the rising need to cough. He was so strong. She could tell he was using all the strength he had left to control himself and wave Giavini out. Tina, knowing Al was in a decline and that she would accept the new, and even more powerful role that was assigned to her this evening, ordered Giavini to do exactly what he was ordered to do. "We want word that this matter was taken care of by midnight. Go!"

Tina shooed Giavini out of the office as he said, "Yes, sir. Right away, sir," and then she immediately went to Al's aid by retrieving his oxygen tube nose piece that had fallen to the floor.

"It's all right," she said soothingly to him as he gasped at the pure air. "I'll make sure Giavini's gotten the ball rolling."

Al only had to lift his eyebrow to her for her to say, "And if he hasn't gotten on the phone to our agent in Arizona by the time I get to his office, I'll shoot him myself."

Tina brushed back Al's graying hair lovingly and kissed him on the cheek. "You can count on me. You've worked so hard, and the crusade is so important. I won't let anyone disappoint you."

~~~~~

Duncan stood up and stretched once again as he said he was ready to call it a night. "I must be getting old. I'm too tired."

"Or too relaxed. That massage was just the ticket," Elizabeth said.

"Which room did you want?"

"I'll take whichever you don't take. After all, you paid for the suite, and I will make it up to you."

"I have no fear of that."

As Duncan disappeared into his room, Elizabeth was glad that things were settled between them. After he had appeared in New York when she really needed someone to bring her back to reality as she hadn't been able to do it herself, and during the drive to Philly where Elizabeth had assumed they'd be spending at least one night in a hotel, she wondered about how their relationship would go. Would they fall into what was simple, giving into their temptations? Duncan was one of the most physically beautiful men she had ever met, and Elizabeth did feel a bond with him. She was so happy he had semi-acknowledged his feelings for Amanda, and was equally happy about how their talk had gone. The love one would have for a friend, best friend, yes. Elizabeth had that for Duncan and would be loyal to him until her dying breath. The love one had for a lover, soul mate, spouse? No. Her feelings in that regard were now and always Methos' domain. It hurt her to think that Methos would never forgive her, and why should he? She had almost beheaded a 5,000 year old man. Her husband. The father of her child. The one person he believed he could truly trust. It was all gone because she had let Pyrius back into her head.

The 'if only's' could kill a person, and Elizabeth stayed on the couch pondering all that she had done and became overwhelmed by the hopelessness of her situation. There wasn't any way she could convince Methos the near beheading was in the past. She hadn't cared for how he had treated her since then, but as she went over it all again, she realized he had acted in the only way he could. She was just happy he had never picked up his Ivanhoe and come after her. All the hate filled words  that he had spewed at her reverberated in her head, and she wanted more than life itself to hear Methos' voice as it normally was. The thought of calling him was strong, and at that moment, all she wanted was to hear his voice. She had no idea what his phone number was in Paris; it was on her cell phone.

Duncan's cell phone was on the table. She peered at Duncan's bedroom door, and wondered if it would be all right to use it. Then she thought herself silly. It was just a phone call. A short one if Methos didn't answer and she heard the machine message. She tuned on Duncan's cell and waited until she got a tower signal, then went through his numbers until she found Daniel-Paris. She turned off the TV so she could hear it. After she pushed the button to dial, she hoped Methos wasn't home. If he actually picked up the phone, she wouldn't know what to say to him. For her first conversation with him after their last, she would have to prepare. She would have to think of the exact words to say, and remember to listen. Saying less was best in most situations. "This is Daniel Gordon. Leave a message," was what Elizabeth heard followed by a beep. It was over before she had even comprehended it.

There was a pause, and she wavered about leaving a message. She was going to say she had been thinking about Claire, and him, and hoped all was well, hope to see you soon, I'll call as soon as I get a charger for my cell and you're home, but the call cut off as she had waited so long. It was enough for her though. She shut off Duncan's phone with Methos' voice stating his name and an abrupt order to anyone who called ringing in her head.

~~~~~

Methos took the last bite of his medium rare porterhouse steak as Amanda came out of the bathroom. He cleaned his plate with the last fork full of hash browned potatoes, and finished that off with the crust of what remained of his bread. Amanda walked to the table to see her Cobb salad, a little on the soggy side as it had been sitting there for so long. "You should have come out when I knocked and it would still be fresh. My steak, was delicious."

Methos took a look at Amanda. She was wearing the complimentary terry robe and her hair was slick back wet. She looked fresh, clean, and sweet. If Methos didn't know better, he would think she would make the perfect dessert. She sat at the table and looked over at Claire sleeping on the sofa, her cheeseburger and garlic mashed potatoes untouched. "Poor kid. You didn't wake her so she could eat?"

"I thought it best she slept. It's late for her."

Methos lifted Claire into his arms and groaned. "Gods, you're heavy!" and he dropped her back on the couch. Claire's eyes opened, squinted, wondering where she was. Methos placed one arm under her back and the other under her legs and lifted her again. "Just go back to sleep. I'll put you to bed."

"We could have just put a blanket on her and she could sleep on the couch," Amanda suggested, pushing her plate back after taking a bite, probably because it had sat for so long and was soggy. She buttered a piece of bread, not at all embarrassed for having given Methos parental advice.

He wasn't a novice by any means, and he knew more about what Claire needed than anybody. He went into one of the two bedrooms and placed Claire on the bed. She rolled over after he pulled the bedding down under her then covered her. Methos kissed her cheek and said, "Sleep well, Little One," then stood up straight and stretched out his back. He didn't know when it was exactly that she got too heavy to lift, but it had happened. Soon she wouldn't want to be lifted by him at all, or sit in his lap... come to think of it, she hadn't wanted to sit in his lap for a long time. She was growing too fast. Soon she would be a teenager. Then an adult. Then an immortal. Gods, he didn't need to think about it now. That was too heavy a topic to mull over this late.

He returned to the living room to see Amanda pop the rest of her bread in her mouth and make like she was going to leave. "You don't have to, you know."

"Don't have to do what?" she asked with a confused squint to her eyes.

"Leave."

"Oh," she said surprised. "You want me to leave? I was just going to get more wine."

"No, I just said you didn't have to. In fact, I'd like it if you didn't." Methos walked to her and brushed a part of her hair that had fallen from her slick back combing.

She moved her head away from his hand slowly. "Uh, Methos..."

"Want to stay the night?"

Amanda smiled sweetly, and said, "No, I don't think so. Thanks for the offer, but... no."

"You're not going to make Mac less angry by embracing celibacy."

"It won't hurt."

Methos playfully put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. "Come on."

"No. I'm not in the mood." Amanda wiggled herself out of his grasp. "I'm tired. Is that all right with you?"

"You've never turned me down before."

"Sure I have."

"When?"

"Well, I'm sure I have."

"No, you haven't."

"Just for that, never again."

Methos chuckled, even though she now went for the door. "You'll never turn me down again?"

"Your arrogance astounds me sometimes."

"My arrogance is what got you into my bedchamber the first time. They're probably doing it right now as you turn me down."

Her face lost all traces of fun from their verbal sparing, making Methos feel even worse. He didn't mean to bring 'them' up with her, but he found he couldn't help it.

"Is that the only reason you want me?" she asked a bit hurt.

"Well, no."

"Oh, yeah. That was convincing."

"I need a little company. I little warmth. Comfort. Isn't that what you told me in Paris?"

"And you're so charming. Thanks for reminding me how low I felt. Good night, Methos."

"Amanda, it's early."

"For some. It's late for those just here from Paris who aren't horny."

Methos held her, and he could feel Amanda holding him back. She was bending. He wasn't at all tired, and thought a little Amanda would make him soft and comfortable enough to allow him to get some shut eye.

She pulled away. "Please, Methos. Whatever the state of your marriage or prospects, please don't make me lose Mac. He's the best thing that ever happened to me, and you know it."

With one last push to make her stay, he said playfully, "I won't tell if you don't."

"I don't want to, because I'll know. I need him, Methos."

Methos stepped back and nodded. "Okay."

"Thank you. I'll see you in the morning."

"Amanda."

She turned around, most certainly wondering what jibe he was going to give her next. True, he could be snarky when things didn't go his way, but he had something to tell her. Just so she'd know the truth.

"I didn't want to make love to you because of Mac or Liz or anything other than the fact that you're quite lovely tonight."

Amanda blushed. "Thank you, Methos. That was a sweet thing to say."

Methos smiled and hiked a shoulder as he stuck his hands in his pants pockets. "I can do sweet."

"Yes, you can," she said smiling. "And don't think I don't appreciate it. But, I'd better get out of here before I don't leave at all."

Methos smiled as he went to turn the deadbolt after she left. He could still smell her perfume. He hoped he would fall asleep thinking of her and all the nights they had spent together over her 1200 years on the planet. The last thing he wanted was to relive that confusing dream with Joe. Methos never liked feeling powerless, and he was superstitious enough to know that if he dreamt that dream two more consecutive nights, it would happen.

~~~~~

It was almost midnight when Nick parked his car in the basement parking garage of his condo. He had gotten his computer rebooted and ran it through scan disk, and worked for a couple hours to get that email back to no avail. He had stopped at the house of his friend, Mike, to think about something else, catch the end of the Suns game, and have a few beers now that all his plans, first his date then the adventure of decoding the email, were shot to hell. Mike had been Nick's buddy since they met in college. They hadn't really bonded until they devised a plan to hack into their college's computer system to give themselves passing grades in Physics, which would enable them both to get into Cal Tech. Nick had used his computer skills as a hobby, mostly interested in catching a wave or being able to drink his roommates under the table while in college. It was while he lived in a shanty on a beach during summer break that Nick witnessed an immortal challenge and was sucked into the Watcher system. Mike was still using his computer skills full time. They were much more impressive than Nick's could ever be, and he was making a pretty good living.

Mike Triviati had always been a bit on the 'weird' side, looking for a conspiracy in everything from the moon landings, JFK's assassination, the Columbia tragedy, both wars in the Gulf, Roswell, and most recently the "true" fat content in Slim Fast diet drinks. Mike had been 'hefty' when Nick met him but had, over the years, steadily put on more weight as he spent most of his day sitting at his computer. His means of employment being publishing an underground conspiracy newspaper called, "The Real Deal." During commercial breaks in the game, Mike had waxed poetic about how Slim Fast wasn't working for him. Nick had chuckled and indicated the bag of Cool Ranch Doritoes that was half gone. Mike huffed, "You get one meal a day; that's my meal."

After the Suns lost to the Timberwolves, Nick had decided to call it a night. Maybe when he got home, there'd be a message from Megan saying that she had gotten to California safely and missed him. It would be the least she could do.

"Merchandise. James Payson. Barstow. MacLeod," he mumbled to himself as he got out of his car and clicked the LOCK button on his car remote. Nick then remembered what Megan had said off the cuff earlier. The watcher who had brought her into the organization was Amy Barstow. He didn't know who that was, but he could certainly find out fast. The Watchers were one, big, happy family, right? It shouldn't be too difficult to find and watch this Barstow woman who was involved in something that needed encryption.

Feeling better about having lost the actual email and the adventure decoding it would have been, Nick put his hand on the door handle to enter his building. A shot rang out, and the glass door he was holding onto shattered. He hit the concrete floor fast and looked around, then rolled under a nearby parked pickup. Eyes wide, breaths heaving, heart pounding, Nick heard a slamming car door, the squealing of tires, and caught a glimpse of the bottom half of the exact same car he himself drove screech and race out of the garage. Company car, Nick thought as he tried to catch his breath after the horrifying minute. They must have thought he was dead when he fell as they had left in a rush. Either that, or whomever it was who took a potshot at him was an amateur.

He waited a long time before even moving, thinking they would have to come back, and only when he was sure they weren't he slid out from under the pickup. Still shaking from the close call, he looked down at his tuxedo. "Damn it!" he moaned as he saw grease and dirt all over the front of it. He tried to brush the dirt off, to no avail, then noticed that his right sleeve was wet. Thinking it was grease, he moved his arm to take a better look. Pain ripped through his arm and he realized that the wetness was blood. He had been shot. Well, at least it wasn't the back of his head, he thought as he made his way back to his car. "Payson, merchandise, Barstow, MacLeod... they shot at me! That email's more important than I thought!"

Continued