THE ELIZABETH SERIES

CHAPTER 69

by JoLayne

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS: Methos, Duncan, Amy, Elizabeth, Nick Hartford, Mike Triviati, Dr. Kraus, Hondo, Megan Willis, Joey Barstow, Guy Barstow, Lyle Giavinni, Paul Langton, Tina Fallon

SUMMARY: Things happen while Elizabeth's cell phone charges.

DISCLAIMER: All characters and concepts you recognize from Highlander: The Series are owned by Panzer/Davis, and maybe Greg Widen. Just using them for fun, no profit is expected or pursued.

~~~~~

FEBRUARY 13, 2013
SCOTTSDALE

Nick drove blindly to Cactus Road and the only person Nick could trust in his current situation. His right arm was starting to burn; it was either the heat of the night or the wound that was making sweat pour down his face, neck, and back. His mind raced over the probability of how looking at a classified email could have resulted in a hit squad being sent after him. Good thing the shooter wasn't thorough, or he'd be on a slab in a cold, sterile morgue. It had to have been the email that provoked the Watchers to shoot him; he couldn't think of anything else he had done to warrant an execution.

"Merchandise, James Payson, Barstow, MacLeod," he recited repeatedly in order not to forget the only information he had been able to glean from the encrypted email, and to keep from passing out from the pain and weakness that was overtaking his body as he sped through streets of fortunately, light traffic.

When he got to Mike's house, Nick was glad to see the study's light still on. Nick stopped short at Mike's curb, then wondered if whoever shot him knew his vehicle, which was Watcher property, they would also know his life, friends, habits. He thought immediately of Megan, and hoped she made it to LA okay, and they hadn't pitched her off the plane. His car needed to be hidden as he didn't know how long he'd have to be holed up at Mike's until he thought of his next move. If he survived the gunshot, that is. He could almost feel all his strength slowly seep away.

Nick pulled into Mike's wide driveway; Mike never parked in his garage. His VW van that had seen better days back in the 70's was taking up the right side of the drive, and the garage door was shut. Nick made a left and drove between the garage and house to park the car in the back yard. The wheels crunched on the stone that made up the yard, and Nick had the frightful thought that someone could hear it and would come with guns blazing, perhaps he was even followed from his condo.

The events of the last hour were an out of body experience for Nick. He was never sick, and was never scared of being outside. He usually walked into situations knowing he would be all right, but could get spotted by his assignment; he had gotten close to immortal duels in order to take copious notes of the fight, and lived to be in the sun. Using his wounded arm that he thought would only feel better if he sliced it off and feeling paranoid, Nick shut off the car, and opened the driver's door. He had to get undercover as soon as possible. If there was one guy who could help him it was Mike. Once the door was open, Nick had a hard time moving. He felt stupid acting like a "little girl," and wondered if it was just the shock of the gunshot wound to his system. "It's just in the arm, for Christ's sake! Get a grip! It's not in the chest or anything," he berated himself aloud.

The back porch light turned on, illuminating the area, which added to Nick's fright. When the inside door to Mike's kitchen flew open, the first thing Nick saw was a rifle poking out of the bars on his screen door that hadn't held a screen for two years.

"What the fuck you want?" He heard Mike shout, then heard the rifle cock.

"It's me," Nick said as loud as he could, but it could have just been a whimper. The act of talking had taken a lot out of him, and again, he bawled himself out for being such a Goddamn wimp.

"Nick? What the fuck ya doing? You've ruin my yard. Look at those tire tracks."

"Cover them up, will ya?" Nick asked, panting.

"Jesus, God, Nicky, what the hell happened?" Mike asked as he trudged closer to the car. "You look like shit."

"I've felt better too," Nick said, as he tried to get out of the car, but fell out instead.

Mike lifted him into the house. He left Nick on the fake woodgrain linoleum of the kitchen as he flipped off the outside light and shut and locked the door. Nick rolled over in order to get up, but went to his favored right side, and his arm seized in pain. Now in the light of the kitchen, he could see he had lost a lot of blood. It must be a bit more than just a flesh wound, and the bullet was still in him. That gave him hope; it might provide answers, he'd get it out and would know for certain if it was truly a Watcher that shot him from the kind of bullet used. If the bullet was a 9 mm, Nick would be sure it was fired from a Glock, and it would more than likely be a Watcher since that was what most of them used, himself included.

Nick had rolled to his left and got himself to his knees, and that was the farthest he could go. He looked around for Mike, but he was no where to be found. Nick sat down and leaned up against the cupboards to catch his breath as he was gulping for air. That was when he spotted Mike making sure the bars and windows were locked in the living room. Nick looked at the bars on Mike's windows and for the first time really thought about the kind of neighborhood Mike lived in. Mike had never mentioned shootings, knifings, rapes, meth labs, drug busts, or robberies happening around there, but Nick was now sure they might have.

When Mike came back to gawk at him, Nick asked, "Do you know someone who could get a bullet out?"

"You were shot? Where?"

"In my arm."

"No, outside, here?" Mike seemed horrified, his bloodshot eyes wide.

"No, at my place."

"How come?"

Nick had never mentioned his line of work before and wouldn't start now. Watchers placed a hit on him already, Nick wasn't going to betray his Watcher Oath and really give them a reason to snuff him out. Thinking that the shooting was a terrible mistake and he could talk his way out of whatever caused it eventually, when he was healed. Nick didn't want the Watchers to have any reason to keep his name flagged, meaning they had to keep a close eye on him or kill him to rid themselves of the trouble all together.

"I was mugged," Nick said, trying to take off his tuxedo jacket to look at how much damage was done. His right arm was now completely limp. "As soon as I got out of my car at home. Young pup, didn't know what he was doing. When the gun went off, the kid ran."

"We gotta get you to the hospital, man," Mike said, helping him take the jacket off. "Damn, that was your only good suit, Nicky." Mike took the jacket and put his finger through the bullet hole.

Nick wasn't going to think about how much he had shelled out for that tuxedo and looked at his arm. His starched, white shirt was full of blood from the upper arm down to the cuffs.

"Why didn't you go straight to the hospital instead of coming all the way back up here?"

"I can't go to the hospital."

"Why not?"

"A police report would be filed." Nick unbuttoned the cuff in order to take off the shirt.

"And? You know I don't like the Man either, but that little prick who shot you should go to juvie for the rest of his life, or have him tried as an adult. If you die, lethal injection for sure! Quick, gimme a description of the kid before you pass out and die, in case I'm the only one who can finger him."

"Jesus Christ, Mike. Look on the bright side as you always do," Nick hissed with venomous irony. "I just need the bullet taken out."

Mike helped Nick take his shirt off, and they both gaped at the large entry wound on Nick's upper arm. "Whoa," Mike moaned. "Looks like the kid was packing."

"Can you help me?"

"Yeah, man. I'll call 911."

When Mike got to his feet, Nick tried to grab his leg. "No, you can't do that."

"Why not? Are you lying about this? What happened?"

"It was work related."

"The CIA?" Mike asked wondrously.

Nick only nodded and then closed his eyes, leaning his head against the cupboard. He had told Mike that before when asked what he did for a living with all that travel and a company car. Once, Nick alluded to his working for the government, which Mike took to well. He would try to needle state secrets from him, and Nick would always shrug it off. Now, he knew the questions would soon fly.

It didn't matter if they did, as Nick sank to the floor, consciousness slowly slipping away from him. The last thing he knew, his cheek was plastered to the chilly floor and pain seared through his wounded arm under him.

~~~~~

PHILADELPHIA

"I ain't got nothing for that," the burly man behind the counter at the cell phone store said as he slid Elizabeth's phone back to her. "Looks foreign."

"I don't know what it is," Elizabeth said, looking sadly at Duncan. This was the fifth place that morning that didn't have a charger for the phone Methos had given her in order for her to talk to Claire. "How I could have misplaced that charger, I'll never know!"

As if knowing that Elizabeth was going to fall apart again, Duncan put a protective hand on her shoulder and asked the clerk, "Is there a battery store around here?"

"There's a Radio Shack over on Chestnut. They might be able to figure it out. We definitely don't carry that brand."

"Thanks," Duncan replied, and smiled encouragingly to Elizabeth.

They had four hours to waste before Hondo would be in his establishment and they had already gone to* five stores over the last hour and a half. Elizabeth hoped Radio Shack would be able to fix the horrible mistake she made by losing the phone's charger in the first place.

Elizabeth didn't walk into Radio Shack with a light step, expecting to hear what six other people had already told her, 'we can't help you with that phone,' which she took to mean, 'it's your problem you're so stupid as to lose the one thing that would make talking to your daughter possible.'

When she handed her phone over to the teenager behind the counter, she wasn't expecting him to look at the charger plug and say, "I'm sure we have a charger that could fit that," but he did. Elizabeth looked to Duncan, then to the kid, who had knelt down behind the counter to pull out a key ring type contraption filled with little rubber plug pieces. He tried to fit many of the little plugs into the charger plug on the phone until he found one that he said fit. Duncan said, "That's a phone that was purchased in France. Does that make any difference?"

"Hm..." The kid frowned as he looked the phone over. "We won't know until we try it," he said with a shrug.

Elizabeth thought, sure. You're a kid. What do you care if you blow that phone out with the only way I know to retrieve my daughter's phone number. She asked aloud, "Why didn't I write the damn number down before the phone went dead?"

"We can always try Daniel again. Don't worry," Duncan said. "Even if we can't get the phone to work, there's still ways."

The kid pulled a red and white box from the shelf and unpacked the charger. He stuck the plug into her phone and was going to plug the other end into the socket behind the counter. He paused. "Oh, do you mind if I try it?"

"Sure, go ahead," Elizabeth told him, hoping it would work so she wouldn't have to go through Methos to talk to Claire and admit she was an idiot to lose the charger.

"Might short out the phone. It's dead now, but... you never know."

"Go ahead. It's my responsibility if it does." Elizabeth felt good to have taken the upper hand in something, taken the responsibility for something, for the first time in a long while. She hadn't like looking back over the past few months and seeing how fast she had collapsed, unable to handle life. Whiskey and a hot bath were the only things that had kept her going, until Duncan appeared in her life. Not once, but four times since her mind had been taken over by Pyrius.

As the kid plugged in the phone and waited, Elizabeth looked to Duncan and moved closer to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder and said, "Thank you for everything you've done for me. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"Ah, don't mention it."

"The light's on," the kid announced. "It's charging."

Elizabeth looked eagerly at her phone. He handed it back to her, and she felt like jumping up and down with joy. The charger light was flashing, which she thought was the most exciting thing she had ever seen since she had spent so much energy thinking it was a lost cause.

~~~~~

MESA

Nick slowly felt himself come back to consciousness; light slowly took over the darkness; then the pain started. His arm wasn't feeling as if it was on fire any longer, but there was a dull throb. He turned his head, the process of which made him feel dizzy, to see that he was lying on a couch, it's scratchy fabric prickling his bare back. There was a striped sheet over him, and he could feel that he was sans shirt, but still had his pants on. It took a moment to realize, from the UFO posters and snappies from the Zapruder film that lined the sage green wall, that he was at Mike's. One of the pictures from the JFK assassination was the freeze frame of the killing shot to the president's head. Nick felt sick to his stomach. Just getting shot in the arm felt like hell, he couldn't imagine what a pop to the head and neck did.

He looked to the window of the study at the sun and wondered how hot it would get that day. It made him feel good that he was in some ways planning his day; he was going to live. Nick tried to get up, but groaned and laid back down.

Mike's computer chair swivelled, and he said, "Hey, you're back in the land of consciousness. Cool."

Nick looked up to see Mike turn off his monitor and walk to him. From Nick's vantage point watching Mike made him appear to be walking upside down. He grabbed his head with his left hand and closed his eyes, waiting for the dizziness to cease.

"How ya feeling?" Mike asked, then shouted, "Hey, he's awake!"

Nick's eyes flew open to see a tall, balding man walk into the study and stare at him. He had to be a golfer from his outfit. A checkered shirt and striped pants would only be seen on the greens. He was tanned except for the red skin under the few wisps of hair at the top of his head.

"Looks like you haven't lost your touch, Doc," Mike announced.

The doctor walked to Nick and lifted his left eyelid. "Hey," Nick groused, brushing his hand away.

The man smiled and said, "I'm Dr. Kraus. May I check your wound?"

Nick looked to his bandaged arm. The process of unwrapping would certainly hurt. "I'd rather you didn't..."

"It doesn't look like it seeped too much. Almost no bleeding. I haven't lost my touch."

"Damn, you're good, Dr. Sal," Mike said. He told Nick, "I remembered my first subscriber for my paper. This is Dr. Sal Kraus. He got out of bed to take that bullet out of you."

"I appreciate it, Doc. Very much. Where is it?"

"The bullet?" Kraus asked. "You want a souvenir or something?"

"What caliber?"

".38, didn't do too much damage."

".38? That's not...," Nick was going to say Watcher issued, but thankfully shut up in front of them. Of course Watchers could use any sort of artillery they wanted, but most were outfitted with Glocks. The fact that Nick was still in the land of the living with just an arm wound and not popped in the back of the head, told him he wasn't dealing with a veteran Watcher assassin.

"Until your disorientation goes away, you shouldn't get up," the Doctor said as if Nick was giving that some thought. "You might feel well enough to even run a marathon in a week or so, but take it easy, and don't move that arm too much for a few days. It should heal nicely."

"You did surgery here?" Nick looked around the messy study. Mike's paper trail of research for the latest issue was spread out over every horizontal surface. It looked like the rug hadn't been vacuumed for at least a year.

"No," Mike said. "On the kitchen table."

Nick knew that the condition of Mike's table, as well as his silverware, probably wasn't any better than the study. He wondered about infections as Dr. Kraus said, "I made sure I had a clean environment before extracting the bullet. Don't worry." He knelt down to open his medical bag and pulled out a prescription bottle with no label on it. "Take no more than four of these a day until the pain goes away with milk or food to coat your stomach, and stay away from alcohol."

"Okay, thanks Dr. Kraus. I owe you a big one." Nick laid his head back down and wanted nothing more than sleep.

"Five year free subscription to The Real Deal," Mike said. "We already knocked out the details. And you have to paint his fence as soon as you can hold a paint brush."

Nick chuckled. "You got it." He wondered what kind of Doctor this guy was, but thought painting a fence was little enough compensation for the man saving his life.

"I'm done here," Dr. Kraus announced then looked at his watch. "I can make tee off if I hurry."

"Don't break any speed limits, Doc," Mike said with a playful slap on the Doctor's back.

"Oh, no. I'm in enough trouble with the law as it is. I don't need traffic court too."

Trouble with the law? As the men left, Nick wondered what pills the doctor had left him. He shook the clear tan plastic bottle and wondered if they were Demerol, Codeine, Morphine, or just plain aspirin... Round white pills... Whatever they were, Nick wanted one now.

As if his best friend, Mike, could read his mind, he came back with a glass of milk for Nick after showing the doctor out. Nick popped a pill in his mouth and took the glass, which to his surprise, was cold. "You always took such good care of me. I knew here was the only place I could go," he said as he drank down the glass.

"Sure, I even had to change your grades in college while you were out surfing."

"I appreciate it, Mike. I appreciated everything over the years."

"That's what friends are for, Nicky." Mike took the glass as Nick laid back on the couch. "Are you comfortable there? Now that you can walk, do you want my bed? I can crash here. I have to work round the clock to get all this research into my new issue anyway, so-"

"Nah, this is fine. I have to figure out stuff anyway."

"What happened to you, Nicky?"

Nick changed the subject in case he got too talkative on whatever it was that the doc gave him; he knew he couldn't talk about his occupation, especially with Mike. Mike puts everything into his newspaper; if he got wind of immortals and the secret society that watched them, shit would really hit the fan. "What problems with the law does Doc Kraus have?"

"Kraus had a prestigious practice as a heart surgeon, a nice home in Carefree, a nice family, drove a Porsche. Then he got greedy."

"How so?"

"He got seduced by the dark side."

"Drugs?"

"He was more than just taking them. Doc doesn't like to talk about it, so what I know is what I've dug up. Doc was spending more time 'carrying packages' all over the country than with his patients." Mike hung his head and frowned when he said, "Kraus lost his medical license when he left a clamp inside a patient. Was an old guy, smoked for over sixty years, would probably have died anyway; Kraus wasn't a miracle worker or God, for Christ's sake, but... that clamp was left inside his chest. I'm sure you read about it. It was all over the Arizona Gazette."

"Ah, I think I remember that case. Wife left with the kids..."

"Others started swarming to find out more. His drug use became an issue."

"Well, he shouldn't have been performing surgery while high."

"He didn't do that."

"How do you know?"

"He told me. I can read people. I know he was telling me the truth."

Nick smiled. For a man who spent most of his life searching for the inside secrets and coverups to just take a drug-addled, disgraced doctor at his word... Mike was loyal to his friends and subscribers, that was certain.

"What really happened to you, Nick. You can tell me. Did you find out something classified and got the CIA hit squad after you? Were you running drugs for the government and some Columbians hit you?"

"It was a mugging, Mike. Sorry, it's not more sensational than that."

"You're pissing on me, Nick, and I helped you out. The least you could do is give me the respect to tell me what happened. Is my life in danger now? Are they going to keep coming back at you?"

He had a point. Nick had probably acted strange last night and probably said something while delirious. He had parked his car behind the house so it wouldn't be spotted unless they used a helicopter. Nick felt bad that he couldn't tell Mike what was really going on, what had really happened, but Nick didn't have the whole picture himself. He couldn't give the conspiracy news hawk half-information. But, Mike could be awfully useful... and Nick was so tired. As Nick settled himself on the couch, he said, "You can help me."

"How?" Mike asked eagerly.

"Find Amy Barstow's address."

"Where does she live?"

"I'm not sure."

"Is she at least in the country?"

"I'm not sure."

"Well, you've given me worse to start my mission with. Is that her married name?"

"No idea."

Nick closed his eyes, not able to keep them open anymore. He heard Mike ask, "What did she do? Was she the one who got you shot?" but he couldn't respond.

~~~~~

PHILADELPHIA

Elizabeth and Duncan had taken her cell phone and new charger back to the hotel suite and plugged it in. After going down to the hotel's café to get brunch while it charged, she returned to the phone and opened the phone book on her phone to see that Claire's number was still there. At least she hadn't damaged the phone so she lost the number. Duncan encouraged her to write the number down, and he programmed it into his phone as well. He then suggested, "Why don't you give her a call?" handing his phone to her.

Elizabeth set her phone down, making sure that it was still charging. Since it was dead as a doornail, it might take a long while to charge it completely. She accepted his phone and then leaned forward to kiss him. "Thank you for everything, Duncan."

"Tell Claire hi for me," he replied with a killer smile as he got up from the sofa.

"Where are you going?"

"Down to the antique shop to give you some privacy."

"You don't have to do that."

"Sure I do, I saw a ming vase down there that looked suspiciously like one your husband broke a while back."

After Duncan left, Elizabeth punched the call button and waited nervously for her daughter to answer. It would be the first time she heard her voice since Claire yelled that she hated her. Elizabeth hoped that her letter had at least lessened the chasm that had developed that horrible day between them.

To her massive surprise, Methos answered the phone with a gruff, "Hello?"

A shiver went through her body; she wasn't expecting him and, somehow, the call was cut off. She said, "Hi," but realized that the call had ended. "Damn it!" she yelled, about ready to throw the phone across the room in frustration for hanging up on him, but thankfully didn't.

Methos' voice sounded as if she had woken him up, which was odd because it had to be close to evening in Paris, or it could be because he had just gotten in and made a mad dash for the phone after returning home from someplace. She wondered why Claire didn't answer it, and hoped she was all right. Methos' weird voice could be from worry, something could have happened to Claire and he just got back from the hospital for a little shut eye or something....

God! Elizabeth fretted as she paced the room with all the possibilities flying through her head. Hearing Methos' voice had made her feel warm and scared at the same time. Warm for having heard his voice, true voice, not from a machine, but scared because she wasn't prepared for a conversation with him. He probably wouldn't want one now, as she had hung up on him. He had another reason to hate her. She was scared that something might have happened to Claire as well. She wanted to call back, but stood looking at the phone, scared to death.

She almost dropped it when it rang and she jumped involuntarily. She looked at the readout to see that it was Claire's phone that was calling back. Elizabeth prepped herself. "It's Methos. It's Methos. Don't say anything stupid, please don't say anything stupid."

Elizabeth cleared her throat and tried to sound casual when she pushed the call button to answer and said, "Hello?"

After a short pause, she heard Methos ask, "Liz?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, was expecting Mac. This is his phone, isn't it?"

"Yes. I was borrowing it. I hung up on you before. I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to."

"Okay. Why did you call?"

"To talk to Claire. Is she there?"

"She's sleeping."

"Sleeping? It's afternoon there, isn't it?"

"No, actually, it's about eleven am."

Looking at the grandfather clock in her suite, she saw that it was the same time there in Philadelphia. "Where are you?"

"New York. Where are you?"

"Philly."

"What are you doing there? We came to New York to see you."

A shiver ran through her again, only this time it was from excitement. "You came to see me? Why?"

"Claire wanted to come."

Elizabeth had to sit down as a rush of joy took over. She could feel a tear slip down her cheek and she gasped on the brink of crying with happiness. Wait. She wanted to see her for a good reason, didn't she? Claire didn't want to see her face-to-face to tell her to go straight to hell and she didn't want anything to do with her ever again, did she?

"Oh?" was all Elizabeth managed to say, prepping herself for being admonished over the phone.

"Yeah, in case you've forgotten, it's your birthday in a couple of days, and she wanted to give you a present personally."

"She did?" Elizabeth whooped. Claire actually didn't want to tell her to take a flying leap off a high cliff!

"Yeah. What are you doing in Philly?"

"I came to see Hondo."

"Just you? Where's Mac?"

"He's with me. He's downstairs at the antique shop. He said something about buying a ming vase you broke."

"He mentioned that, huh? You been talking a lot about me? You remind him that the vase was a wedding gift; it wasn't his."

"I'll do that," Elizabeth said instinctively as she really wasn't listening. She was still taking in the fact that Methos and Claire had come to see her. She wasn't there! They came to New York and... "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" she asked.

"We tried, but you didn't answer your cell. Why are you using Mac's?"

"I lost the charger," she confessed, and waited for him to berate her stupidity. To make sure he didn't have a chance, she rushed on, "I bought a new one this morning, just now, and it's charging, and I can use it in a couple of hours. Can you tell Claire I'm available again?"

"Why didn't you do that earlier?"

Elizabeth felt anxiety welling up inside her and didn't want to say or do anything wrong. She didn't want to hang up, which was her first instinct. She cleared her throat and decided to just be honest. "Daniel, I wasn't really in any frame of mind to think of such normal things. The way things were left in Paris, I..."

"You were the one who left."

"Oh, don't start. I didn't think Claire would ever want anything to do with me ever again. I had to take time to lick my wounds."

The feelings of pent up guilt, anger, betrayal, and loneliness had almost come to the breaking point, and she decided she would have to hang up for fear of revealing anything else to him. She was shaking so badly, she could hardly hold the phone, until she heard Methos say, "Liz, I'm sorry I said what I did. I read your letter, and I haven't said or done anything to make Claire think anything other than you love her and only want the best for her."

It took both of Elizabeth's hands to hold Duncan's tiny cell phone steady to her ear. She wondered she if she had just dreamt his words, or if he had really said them. "You read the letter?"

"I usually read my mail."

"And Claire read hers?"

"Yeah."

Elizabeth sighed heavily and felt the shakiness leave her. A warmth of safety started to calm her as she said, "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

Duncan walked into the suite and returned Elizabeth's smile. He whispered, "Claire?" to her as he mimicked holding a phone to his ear.

Elizabeth shook her head and couldn't let go of the smile she knew had overtaken her face. "No, Methos."

"No what?" Methos asked.

"No, not you," she told Methos. "I was talking to Duncan. He just came back."

After a pause, Methos said, "When are you coming to New York, or should we make the trek to Philly?"

"I just want to see Hondo, and we can return to New York."

"What do you need to see Hondo for?"

"I need a job. I need papers."

"You don't need to work. I gave you plenty of money to... wait, you didn't go through the dough, did you?"

Elizabeth watched Duncan set down a large, wrapped package as she deciphered what Methos said. "You gave me?"

"Huh?"

"Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but we were married, and still are as a matter of fact, until you get it officially ended. That ball's in your court. That's my money, and in fact, more money is mine. I've never spent your money like water, but any court in the world would say I'm entitled to it. We didn't sign a prenup or anything, and I-."

"Slow down. I didn't mean it like that," Methos interrupted her huffily.

"I know I've done a lot, and have a lot to make up for, but please don't be condescending to me."

"Fine," he snapped.

"Now, don't do that. Eleven million pounds. I'm surprised you saw fit to 'give' me a million pounds for being with James." Elizabeth stopped, knowing she was going too far and was putting too many regrets into a single phone call.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't appreciate it; I shouldn't have..." The anxious feeling started to rise again. She would have to make arrangements to see Claire and end this call before she said anything more to rile Methos.

"Where are you in New York?"

"The St. Regis."

He was at the place that she had always considered 'their hotel.' "Really?"

"That's where the letter stationary was from, right?"

"Yeah."

"I knew it. Jack Webb has nothing on me. Anyway, we're in room 864. You can tell Mac that Amanda's in 852 if he's interested."

"He is. He's too stubborn to admit it, but he is. I'll let him know. Thank you for telling me."

"Mac is thawing with regard to Amanda?"

"Yes. Isn't that great?" Then she wondered if Methos and Amanda were still an item or not. Maybe Methos wasn't as pleased by that news as she was. "Is that great?"

"Sure, it's great," he said.

"You aren't...?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"We're not."

"Yeah, right."

"We're not," Elizabeth repeated with more force. Duncan turned to look at her, confused. She softened her voice and repeated again, "We're not."

"Third time's the charm. I'm convinced," Methos replied.

"We're really not."

"Okay, okay. I'm looking out the window right now," Methos said. "Looks like you should hold off coming back here for the time being?"

"Why? I was thinking we could leave this afternoon."

"Looks to be about eight inches out there and the wind's pretty strong. I haven't had the telly or radio on, but I would classify this as a blizzard."

"In February? In New York? You have to be shitting me."

"Yes, Elizabeth. I lie about the weather all the time. It's as bad as it was at the cabin when we got you from..."

"James? It's that bad?" She had died in that blizzard many times trying to escape after Jason had taken her from safety where Methos and Duncan had taken her after removing her from James' clutches. God, that seemed like a hundred years ago.

"It's that bad. I'm going to grab a couple more hours' sleep. Jet lag really is a malady. I'll give you or Mac a call after I wake up and relate the weather report. Why don't you tell me your hotel and your and Mac's room numbers so we can keep in touch?"

Not wanting to tell him that she and Duncan were staying in one room as Methos and Amanda were supposedly in two, she told him, "That's a good idea. We're going to be out and about, talking to Hondo, and so on. Why don't you just call the cells? We'll have them both. Well, I guess I won't have mine until it's charged, but you can call on Duncan's. Will that be all right?" She walked to the window and looked out at the hazy but precipitation free day. "The weather's fine here, so it might get better there soon. We could start out after seeing Hondo and-"

She stopped when she felt hands on her shoulders. She turned around to see Duncan behind her. He whispered, "You don't have to talk a marathon. Slow down, and tell him to call my phone later."

"Okay." She took a deep breath and asked Methos over the phone, "Okay?"

"Sounds like a plan. Call you later. Claire should be up then, too."

"Wonderful. I can't wait to talk to her. There isn't a chance that she's up now... wait. I don't want to rush her." Elizabeth also wanted to prepare herself for a talk with Claire so she wouldn't make the mistakes she had during this phone call, though she realized that even though things got touchy in the conversation, Methos was still on the line.

"I want her to rest completely because of that jet lag."

Methos chuckled. "She said she wasn't at all tired last night when I called down for room service, even though on her internal clock it had to be four in the morning. Of course, she was asleep by the time dinner was brought up."

Missing the inside scoop on her child and what they had been doing, Elizabeth zeroed in, "So, she hasn't eaten at all?"

"She ate on the plane. She's not starving. She's still sleeping. She'll wake up when she's hungry enough. Why? Don't you think I'm taking good care of her?"

"No, of course not. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry," Elizabeth covered. That was exactly what she meant, or hoped. If she could ID one area where Methos was lax, she might have a fighting chance of getting Claire for herself. Then she realized how petty her first impression had been. She said truthfully, "No. I didn't mean that at all. I'm sorry, Daniel." She made sure to call him by his alias as they always had when technical mechanics were involved. One never knew who was listening. "I'm just worried about her. I miss her like crazy. So much, it makes me crazy. I'm sorry," she said softly.

"It's all right," he finally said. "I'll call Mac's phone in the couple of hours."

"Sleep well. We'll talk later. Thanks for talking to me, Daniel."

"Yeah, no problem. We're going to have to talk as long as we have Claire."

Is that the only reason? she thought wistfully. After all they'd been through, after all the love they shared, was Claire the only reason they had left to keep in contact? Well, she put a kibosh on everything they had when she raised that Goddamn sword. Overpowering feelings of guilt crashed upon her when she said, "Good bye," and hung up.

She turned to Duncan and gave him back his phone. "Methos will call when he wakes up again. He's going to take a nap."

"They're in New York?"

"Yes, at the St. Regis. Isn't that funny?"

"In a strange way, yes," he said with a smile. "Your husband does know your habits."

"He has your wife with him. Not with him, but in the same hotel. You know Amanda came to see you."

"I assume so."

"You don't sound too... Duncan, you..." Instead of talking to him about Amanda again and having him shut down in front of her again, she asked, "Everyone calls you Mac or MacLeod."

"That's my name."

"Even Claire. She calls you Maconi."

Duncan chuckled. "It was cute, when she was three."

"Real names are important. Except for Methos. I learned to not call him by his real name in public, then had to remember not to call him Adam or David after he changed his name again. It took Amanda and five months for Methos to tell me his name wasn't Adam Pierson. Names are so important. What should I call you?"

"Good friends call me Mac."

"I have this habit, however a person is introduced to me, that's what I call them. I call you Duncan because that's how you were introduced to me. Should I call you Mac?"

"You know what? I like it when you say my name."

"Okay, Duncan it is, Duncan."

~~~~~

Elizabeth felt like an idiot; they had to have driven past Hondo's establishment three times the day before. The phrase 'Well hidden in plain sight' wasn't just a cliche. It had been eight years since Elizabeth had seen Hondo, and it looked as if those years hadn't been good to the mortal. She never knew how old the motorcycle enthusiast was, but he was certainly carrying all his years on his face thought Elizabeth as she looked through the dirty glass doors of his store to see him walk down a flight of stairs in the back. He was compensating for his right leg, and she wondered if he was wounded or it was the ravages of arthritis. When Hondo had served as Methos' best man at their wedding in Las Vegas, he was rough, ready for a fight, and was bursting with energy. He appeared to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and his face grimaced at the sunbeam that caught his eyes as he made it to the end of the steps. His salt and pepper hair was now silver. It's long, frizzy length looked as if it was just released from a helmet. His beard was gray and full, his beer gut was a little larger under the leather vest he wore over a faded Nickleback t-shirt.

Hondo smiled as he saw her, then unlocked and opened the door. As soon as Elizabeth walked in, he swept her into a tight bear hug and shook Duncan's hand, behaving as if he was genuinely happy to see them. That was somewhat odd for Elizabeth as he had always been quite gruff until you got to know him. "You're looking young as ever, Gorgeous," Hondo said as he bussed her cheek. His greeting did everything to improve Elizabeth's mood even more. "You and Dan have to give me the secret to your youth."

"Drink lots of water and get plenty of rest," Elizabeth said.

Hondo winked and walked to his computer terminal to turn on all the equipment. She recalled Methos telling her after she had gone to Hondo the first time that he would like to have some of the equipment Hondo possessed. She remembered the ID card making machine, the check writer, and there was even a small printing press. She wondered if Hondo made his own currency, but knew he was touchy if you asked too many questions, so she dropped it, not wanting to spoil his jovial mood so he would help her out. She needed him so badly and was a bit disappointed at herself that she had lost track of him over the years. He limped around his office area turning on equipment, track lighting focused on NASCAR posters, and then settled roughly into his computer chair.

"How have you been?" she asked him as she swivelled a stool over to him.

"Seen better days, that's for sure." He opened some programs, and then looked over at Duncan, who was scanning the tattoo options on a far wall. "Rodney comes in at 2 if you'd like to decorate yourself, Mac."

Duncan's gaze lingered on one stencil, which was of a katana. "Nah," he said. "There's no dragon head hilt."

Hondo's eyes flashed with delight. "Rodney's gifted. You tell him what you want and he can do it."

"What if it doesn't turn out as I want?"

"He'll make you like it."

Duncan nodded, ah, and then said, "Maybe some other time."

"You guys really like the swords," Hondo mused. "One day before this body betrays me fully, I'll get the scoop, right?"

Elizabeth stared back at him not knowing what to say. He winked at her and smiled. "None of you guys age. It's more than water and rest. But that's okay. I have my secrets, you can have yours. Free world, right?"

Elizabeth put her hand over his and smiled. She gave his hand a squeeze. "Thanks, Hondo. You're the best."

He rubbed his hands together as if ready to roll. "What will it be?"

She gave him a laundry list of things she would need including a New York State driver's license, a Social Security number, a date of graduation and school transcripts for having earned a major in History from the University of Pennsylvania for the year of 2003, and credentials from schools and colleges stating she had been a professor in their systems for the past ten years. Hondo nodded to it all, taking notes, and then asked which last name she was going to use.

"Elizabeth Bennett."

Hondo frowned and looked at Duncan on the other side of the large store as if for the first time. "You and Dan broke up?"

Elizabeth acknowledged that fact, adding that it was her fault and hopefully they'd be able to work things out, or at least for Claire's sake be friends again. He only chewed one side of his lip and went back to work on the Internet, hacking into various universities and private schools around the country to deposit a history of Elizabeth Bennett having been a student aide, assistant teacher, or professor. Then he said, "Is NYU one of the places you wanna work again?"

"It's been over a decade since I was there before, and there was always turnover in the office... I'd like to, if there aren't any professors there that would still know me."

"What name did you use then?"

"Bennett."

"It's not a good idea to use it now then. Too hard to cover if someone does figure you were there before and you don't look ten years older."

"Good thinking," she told him, to which he shrugged as if this was old hat. She had never had anyone as thorough and friendly to get her the required papers from to start a new life. With this new one, she wondered which name to use.

Duncan, obviously hearing the conversation, paced closer to the desk and suggested, "How about you use your real name? You just told me how real names are important to you."

"But I've been that for too long." Elizabeth explained, "If I use Gordon, our marriage was registered in Vegas eight years ago, that would make me older than 32, which I was going to go with."

"Use Gordon," Hondo said, and started typing as if the subject was closed. "The way I saw Dan look at you that day, and when he was David, and when he was Adam, you kids belong to each other. Whatever hiccup you're going through, it will work out."

"You don't know what we're going through," Elizabeth said, even though she was more that ecstatic at hearing it.

"Hey, you can always come back and change your name again. You know where I am."

"It's really that simple, huh?" Elizabeth asked with a chuckle.

"It's really that simple," Hondo replied as he pushed enter and clicked enter on his keyboard. Within seconds, a brand new, authentic looking New York State driver's license slipped out of one of the machines, complete with her signature.

He had made her seven pounds lighter than she actually was. Laughing, she said, "Good guess, Hondo."

~~~~

Megan walked down the ramp to the gate at Sky Harbor Airport, looking around for the tall framed blond Watcher who she had looked forward to seeing. Disappointed that Nick wasn't at the gate, but understanding why he wouldn't be because of all the rigamarole of going through security, she headed down to arrival baggage claim, assuming he'd be waiting down there. While waiting for her bag, she reset her watch to the right time zone and then walked outside to the curb and took a moment to enjoy the somewhat less smoggy air and bright sunshine before digging out her cell phone to call Nick to pick her up. Maybe he just had the wrong time her flight would come in, had waited at another gate, had forgotten, or Lorena was on the move again.

To her surprise, Nick's friend, Mike, answered the call. "This is Megan. Mike?"

"Yeah."

"Are you at Sky Harbor?" she thought maybe Mike had come with to pick her up.

"No, actually. I'm in my kitchen. Nick's kind of out of commission right now."

"He's what? Why? He said he'd pick me up today."

"He probably did, but he couldn't help it. I don't know if he's awake yet, but I'll check. Hold on."

"Awake?" She looked at her watch to see it was four in the afternoon. "Did he go on a bender last night because I couldn't go to the gala with him?"

"Ah, no," Mike said with heavier breaths. She had only seen Mike once, and assumed the act of walking to wherever Nick was had made him lose his breath. He wasn't in the best of shape spending most of his time at his computer.

When Mike revealed, "Nick was shot last night," Megan about dropped her phone, not expecting that explanation for Nick's absence at all.

"What?!"

"He was mugged, or at least that was what he claimed. I don't believe a word of it. Hey," he said brightly. "You work with him, right? What sort of work do you do? I'm certain it was work related."

"Work related?"

"He's still asleep," Mike whispered. "I hate to wake him, he didn't have a very good night."

"Oh, my God. Is he at home?"

"My place."

"Where is it you live again?" She asked as she flagged down a cab.

After he told her, she leapt into the back of the cab and repeated the address to the driver. "And step on it," she said, cringing, thinking she'd never use those words in her life.

She hadn't known Nick long, and truth be told, she didn't know him well, but she felt like she had been shot herself from the shock of the news. Megan had ended the call to Mike so that his talking didn't disturb Nick's rest as Mike had a pretty loud voice, even though, according to Nick, he had spent his entire life dealing with getting the secrets behind everything.

Could Mike have just been reaching for the moon again, thinking it was more than just a mere mugging, or had the Watchers actually had a reason to send the execution squad after him. She couldn't imagine what Nick might have done to warrant such a thing as he was always strictly by the book with her while he had been showing her the ropes.

Megan wasn't used to north Phoenix, and had never driven along Cactus where Mike's address was, but she was sure that the driver wasn't taking a creative route in order to inflate the fare. The drive was taking way too long, making her even more agitated. She pulled her long, red hair into a bun for something to do since she couldn't do anything but wait for the cab to get to Mike's house. Nick was shot... what the hell?... She remembered the encrypted email she had stumbled across while collecting her information for the Watcher committee she met with that afternoon and wondered if it had anything to do with Nick's condition. She hadn't mentioned it during the interview, and they never asked about it. Were they testing her to see if she would say anything? It had to be that email. Nick never stepped out of line, always followed company rules. That had to be it. She shivered in the heat of the cab thinking that if Nick was in trouble over stumbling onto it, she could be as well. After all, it came up under her search string.

Why wasn't I hit? was all she could think of as the cab lumbered its way through traffic up Tatum.

~~~~~

Elizabeth walked out of Hondo's after giving him a good hug in farewell, promising to keep in touch. An envelop full of copies of her new resume on professional linen heavyweight paper with matching envelops, along with a listing of all the contacts at businesses, colleges, and universities that were her dream jobs clutched in her hands. In her purse was a new driver's license, Social Security card, and even a New York Public Library card with her new (albeit old) identity complete with new birth year. She had to remember that she was now born in 1981. 1981 seemed like yesterday to her, and it came as quite a surprise that babies she had seen in 1981 were now her same age. There were times she wished she had turned when she was 19 or even 25. She might still have smooth skin that didn't need a nightly rub down of moisturizer. But then again, she would look younger, and might be too young looking to get the kinds of jobs she wanted.

Elizabeth didn't want to start in any mail rooms and work her way up. She needed a great job and had hopes of a great life with comfort and security in which to raise her daughter. She wanted to go into a company and claim she had been around a few blocks. Looks helped a lot. She wondered for a brief moment how immortals like Thomas did it. He was a teenager when he turned, and at times still looked it. She found it amusing that anyone would think the worldly Thomas Davidson was anything other than a seasoned veteran of many wars who certainly knew how to handle himself and others around him.

Duncan was waiting on the sidewalk for her having just shut off his cell phone. He had said he was going to get some air about a half hour before, and hadn't said goodbye to Hondo. Not that Hondo was offended by it, as he had closed up the glass door when Elizabeth had left. "Who were you talking to?"

"Methos. The storm let up, but there's a lot of snow to move. Roads are still closed." They started down the street to the parked rental car. "If we start out in the morning, it should be all right. I told him we'd call him when we get back to the hotel."

"How did he sound?"

After a beat, Duncan opened his door of the car and smiled. "Like Methos."

They got into the car, and she said, "No, was he mad?"

"Sounds like he's suffering from cabin fever. He couldn't take his morning run."

"How's Claire?"

Duncan turned on the car. "I was wondering when you were going to ask that."

"Why? She's my daughter. I love her. Of course I want to know how she is. I didn't ask you to repeat the conversation with him first, did I?"

"I know. I'm half-way kidding. You did ask about Methos first."

"Because that's who you were talking to."

"You don't get what I mean."

"No, I guess not."

"We used to be on the same wavelength," he mused as he pulled out. "It was a joke. A half-hearted joke, and a bad one I see now."

"That I'd ask about Methos first?"

"You want him back."

"I wanted to know what the plan was, Duncan."

"Forget it, okay? The plan is we're going back to New York tomorrow. What's the plan for today? Liberty Bell? Seen it. Independence Hall? Done that."

"What are you feeling so pissy about? Did you talk to Amanda?"

He was silent as he drove back to the Omni. Elizabeth let it rest, not knowing at all what he had been going for. She just rubbed the mother lode inside that manilla envelop on her lap, it made her feel better to be taking the first steps to recovering her life.

Out of the blue, after Duncan had parked the car in the lot of the Omni, he said, "She answered the phone."

"Amanda? How was it? Did you talk to her more than just ask for him?"

"I just asked if Methos was around. Or rather, Daniel."

"Why did you do that?"

"You know how he gets when you use his name on phones."

"Duncan."

"She sounded good. I asked for Methos out of reflex, but when she said just a minute and put the phone down, I wanted to keep talking to her."

"Well, there's your phone. Call her."

He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I heard the shower running."

"So?"

"They were... he was in the shower."

"He's not a pig."

"They just!..."

"They didn't. Not with Claire there."

"Didn't stop them before."

Elizabeth's face flushed, thinking now as Duncan was that the two of them had just made love again. She reached for something to make it not have happened. "It's the afternoon."

"I don't have any idea about him, but Amanda enjoys the afternoon."

"Too much information, and I'm not sharing. It could have been Claire in the shower. They wouldn't, not with Claire there in the middle of the day, in a hotel suite, and knowing that she wants you back."

"She didn't the first..." Duncan laughed and shook his head, most likely out of frustration. "The last..." He laughed again. "That's not even right. God knows how often they've..." He fell silent and then looked at Elizabeth. "She didn't want me back when she fucked him that one time we both know about? Just the other day? Or was it last week? I'm losing track of time here."

"Okay. That's enough," Elizabeth said softly. "We're going inside, I'm going to drop this stuff off, and then we're going down to the spa and getting a massage."

"Why?"

"I don't know about you, but it will make me feel better. After that, I'm going to call my daughter on my cell phone, while you call Amanda."

"Why are you so interested in pushing me back to her?"

"You love her."

"It's wouldn't be so that she would not be with Methos anymore, would it?"

"That wouldn't hurt."

"You've got to be as jealous about this as I am."

"I have no right to be jealous, you do."

"You do too."

"You didn't put a sword to Amanda's neck."

Duncan raised his finger and traced the scar on her neck that was the result of Methos laying his sword too hard against her throat while he was unsettled by her reaction to Pyrius' quickening. "Tit for tat."

"His cutting me was nothing compared to my almost taking his head. You know that. Do you want a rubdown, or what?"

"I want..." Duncan looked at her, letting her know that if she were to give into her own hormones, they'd be undressed in bed upstairs within five minutes, or in the back seat in about thirty seconds. Before she could react, his eyes drifted out the windshield. "I don't know what I want."

"We could go look up Rodney and get a tattoo on our asses."

That got the proper reaction from Duncan, a chuckle along with, "My ass is pretty enough."

Elizabeth knew that. "Come on, let's go get rubbed down. Then I have an idea of how to pay back some of the kindness you've shown me."

"I didn't do anything that I expect repayment for. I did what I did for you because I protect my friends."

She kissed his cheek and her hand lingered on his other one. "That doesn't make what you've done for me any less sensational."

~~~~~

The smell of Tuscany brought Nick back to consciousness. Knowing that Mike didn't usually use that perfume, only one woman he knew did, Nick opened his eyes to gaze at her. Megan was kneeling by his bed, obviously having just arrived in a panic. She touched his wounded arm, which made him moan with pain.

"Sorry," she reacted mournfully. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got shot." Nick tried to lift himself up into a sitting position, but only got half way up before quitting. Needle pricks flickered through his arm and he waited until they subsided.

"You look like shit, Hartford," Megan commented.

"You sweet talker, you. Did you learn that in Watcher U?"

"I learned many things in WU. One of them was that if someone takes a pop at you, you should get as far away as fast as possible."

Nick looked around for signs of Mike, and even called his name in a regular speaking voice to see if he'd answer.

Megan asked, "Do you want him? What do you need?" ready to help in any way she could. God love her.

"I just wanted to make sure we were alone."

"We are. Mike went to the store."

"I wasn't shot by an immortal."

"That wasn't one of the possibilities I had thought of. But it could have been. Which one? Do you think one did?"

"We're only supposed to flee if an immortal catches wind of us."

"Not another Watcher, right?" Megan helped Nick sit up and plumped a pillow and put it under his neck. She put another one under his wounded arm.

"You missed your calling as a nurse."

"A Watcher shot you, right?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Don't play games with me, Nick. This is serious."

"Hey, I was the one who got shot. I know, and can feel, how serious this is." He winced when she sat more comfortably on the couch the process of which moved his arm a fraction of an inch, making it flame up again.

He berated himself once again for being a wimp. Jeez, how would I be if I got it in the chest or something... well, I guess I'd be dead...

"It's the email, right?"

"You figured it out."

"That's it? That's what made this happen?"

"That's my guess, though of course, I didn't interrogate the shooter after he shot and drove away in a split second."

"Huh?"

"I didn't have time to-"

"No, you didn't see who did it?"

"They drove off just after the bullet embedded in my body."

"They were going to execute you, and they didn't pop you in the back of the head? If there's one thing I've heard about Watcher executions, they make sure you know what you did when they take you out. Sort of like James Bond's villains, though there's no opportunity to finagle your way out of it. You sure it was a Watcher?"

"Oh yeah. Why else but that email would anyone hit and run? Nondescript black sedan. Who else would it be?"

"You tell me."

"You think I have enemies crawling around? I'm clean."

Megan looked to the door. "How about him? They got the wrong guy."

"Mike? No one takes Mike seriously."

"Maybe someone does."

"Don't fog my brain more than it already is. I have the feeling, a very strong feeling, that it was because of that email, and I need help."

"I'm sorry. It's just weird, that's all. It doesn't ring true with all I've heard about 'the Oath' and what will happen if you betray it."

"I didn't betray my Oath. I tried to decode an encrypted email, which any Watcher worth his salt should be able to do."

"I couldn't decode one, and I'm a damn good Watcher."

"That's why I need your help."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Go to HQ and-."

"No fucking way," she rang out. "I'm not getting my head shot at."

"They won't..."

"Sure they will. If they'd shoot you, they'd shoot me. I was the one who ran the search string."

"But they knew about me, so it must have been after you left and I ran it through my own computer to decode it."

"What do you want me to go back to HQ for?"

"See if there's any trace of the email on my computer. You could also ask around if anything's happened while you were gone. Read people, especially Leon. A kindergartner could read him like a book."

"No shit, which makes you wonder how he's able to stay in the system."

"He's only research. Then you need to tell me everything you know about Amy Barstow."

"Amy? Why?"

"I think she's the one who put the hit on me."

~~~~~

"Can't we just go?" Joey whined in a way he hadn't for years. Since turning into a teenager, he usually controlled his voice for fear it would crack.

"I told you, Joe. Katie's not feeling well, and I don't feel so great myself."

"I'm bored."

"You're in New York City. There's plenty to do."

"You'll let me go over to see Claire alone?"

"No."

"Where's Dad? Why do we have to move all the time?"

"It's our job," Amy said putting Katie down on her bed. She felt her forehead again, but she didn't feel hot.

"What do you do?"

"Research."

"Mom, I don't believe that. You said Claire is here; let's go see her."

"We can't."

"Why not?"

"They're busy, okay?" Amy knew there would come a time when Joey would ask more questions than she was ready, willing, or able to answer, and she didn't want now to be the time. "Just let me get things straightened out tonight, maybe tomorrow, after I bring Katie to a doctor, then we'll see about your level of boredom. All right?"

"There's nothing to do." He punched his foot against the teddy bear in the middle of the suite floor and it went flying.

"Stop it!" Amy screamed without wanting to do so. She really needed a vacation. Having to watch an immortal with wanderlust, packing up two kids, one of which was sick, and bringing them to a new country with no idea of how long, alone, was enough to make her call into HQ and tell them to take a flying leap. She collected herself as Joey picked up the teddy bear and put it in Katie's crib with her.

"I'm sorry, Joe," Amy said, rubbing her hand through his thick blond hair. "I just need a little time. You have your X Box, your computer, we have cable. There's plenty to do tonight. Just give me tonight. Okay?"

The phone rang, which Amy considered manna from heaven for the interruption. Joey sulked to his room as Amy answered it. Guy asked, "How's it with the snow?"

"It's terrible. Joey's got cabin fever, the long plane ride over here, I forgot my moisturizer and I don't think Katie's well yet. She's so tired all the time."

To her relief, Guy said, "I overheard Liz and Mac, and it sounds like they're going back to New York when the roads clear, and I'll be right behind them."

"How did you manage overhearing a conversation?"

"I have my ways." She could tell he was giving her a shit-eating grin, and usually she thought it cute. Right now she could reach through the phone line and smack that smile off his face. "They were eating at the restaurant in the hotel here. High booths are a wonderful thing. I got one next to them and heard most of their conversation."

Just hearing his voice made her start to feel better. She sat down on the couch, kicked off her shoes, and put her feet up on the coffee table, feeling bad about having such a quick adverse reaction to things he had no control over. He had said 'Liz and Mac.' For the life of her, she still couldn't get used to them being together. She had to ask, just for her own sake of mind, the one person who might know for sure. "They aren't really... you know..."

"Nah. Just friends by the sound of it. Just hang tight until I get there. I love you."

"I love you too. I miss you so much. This is really shitty that they've broken up."

"The way it sounded at dinner, Liz is going to try to make it work with him again."

"That would be heaven. At least we'll be able to live together again. In the same country. Wouldn't that be a blast?"

"I hope she does shape up soon. I know how you've missed your friendship with her."

"We've been through ups and downs, and I really would like to talk to her about all that's gone on."

"To put in the chronicle?" He asked.

"You'd better be joking," she warned. "Of course not. As a friend. It's been so long."

"I know. From the sound of it, it won't be too long. That is, if Daniel's willing. How's it from your end?"

"He checked into the St. Regis with Amanda and Claire. That's all I know. I can't very well traipse over there with two kids in toe, and the storm. I'm sure I'm not missing much. Jet lag and the storm will make them sit tight for a while longer. At least until morning. I'll leave Katie with Joe in the morning and go over there."

"Nah, just take care of yourself, babe. Tell Joe to take care of Kate and take a long, hot bath, call up for a bottle of champagne, light candles, chocolate..."

"Sounds like heaven."

"Hey, I know what revs your motor."

"If you're not here, chocolate will have to do," Amy said wistfully as she laid her head back on the couch and shut her eyes.

~~~~~

Lyle Giavinni's hand shook as he held his cell phone to his ear while in the office of the bitch from hell. Ever since the boss had given Fallon more power in this crusade, she'd been a living nightmare in her quest for even more control. He asked his contact while in her presence, "Did you do it?"

"Yeah."

The short reply was expected, but not appreciated. Some information on how this was all going to turn out would be nice. His neck was on the line for this betrayal, after all. He looked at Tina out the corner of his eye as he asked, "He's dead?"

"No. At least, I-I-I don't think so," Paul Langton stuttered. "I didn't stick around long enough to find out. I-I-I've never done this before you know. When I joined, I didn't think I'd be-"

"Good. All right then," Lyle said and hung up. He mustered a level of pride to lie, "Nick Hartford was taken care of."

"By whom?" she inquired, by the book. "I mean, can we be sure it was taken care of?"

"Of course. "

"Who did you get to do it?"

"Malcolm Dunlop," he quickly said, making up a name. God, there are so many lies so far, which one is going to bite me in the ass? He couldn't very well tell Tina the whole truth, that he was going to try to stop this act of mass murder that he had gotten sucked into. When he first heard that there was a Crusade underway, Lyle thought it sounded noble. When he was asked to do some computer work on the side, with extra pay, really good extra pay, it sweetened the deal. He should have known that with thousands passed under the table would come at a terrible price.

"Who's that?" Tina asked, staring him down with her beady eyes.

"A Watcher friend of mine in Arizona." He neglected to say researcher not assassin. "I don't need to tell you more than that. He works out of Flagstaff." Shut up or you'll give up the ghost!

"Very good." She seemed satisfied, and shuffled some papers on her desk. "I'll report it to Mr. Cartwright. Go back to work."

"Yes, ma'am." An obedient watcher was an alive watcher. He headed for the door without a backward glance, and was grateful to get the hell out of there.

When Lyle was safe in his own office on the other side of HQ in Boston, he called Paul's phone again. "Why did you hang up on me?" Paul spouted. "Why I let you talk me into-"

"You have to put a report of Hartford's death in the paper."

"What's going on?"

"We're up to our necks in shit."

"Our necks? What's my neck to do with anything? What did you get me into? I knew I shouldn't have done this!"

"You owed me, and Hartford will too, if you didn't really kill him. Just hold on and put a ruse in the paper like you do. Get an obit for him in tomorrow's paper."

"Why? I don't think I killed him. I know I hit him, but I don't think-"

"Just do it, all right?!"

"What the hell's going on. Faking a hit was one thing, but-"

"Hartford has to stay away from HQ. You're making sure of that, right?"

"He's still at a house in Paradise Valley."

"Good. Make sure he doesn't go back to HQ, and it would be excellent if he didn't read the paper tomorrow. Make sure you get the obit in. I'll take care of the rest."

"Goddamnit, Vini, you owe me big time!"

CONTINUED