THE ELIZABETH SERIES

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

AFTER THE FIRE, THE FIRE STILL BURNS

by JoLayne

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS: Methos, Duncan, Amanda, Amy, Joe, Warren, OCs Elizabeth, Guy, George Marlow, Thomas, Nick, Dr. Simon Bradford, Jonathan

SUMMARY: After some Survivors have scattered to the wind, Duncan and Company go after still-living Crusaders as Methos, Elizabeth, and Amy head back to New York and long-held-back feelings, thoughts, and emotions come bubbling out.

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 20, 2013

Because he'd had absolutely no luck in finding Duncan MacLeod in New York City, George Marlow decided to head back to base in case someone else had found him, his mind thinking up all sorts of excuses as to why the Immortal had slipped through his fingers. He knew Dragon Lady was going to be pissed and take it out on his manhood, and he wasn't looking forward to it. So much so, that he never did call in to say he had started back to Shiloh. In fact, he had really appreciated the drive in peace with noone making stupid small talk nor Dragon Lady wailing at him over the phone. He had put in a Springsteen CD and cruised at top speed south from the city, enjoying the change in scenery from the snow-encrusted landscape just outside of New York after the blizzard to almost no snow at all as he had entered New Jersey. Even though it was the middle of the night now, he opened the window to allow fresh air into the van, to keep him awake. He had to be alert when he neared base since he wasn't sure he could find it alone in the dark.

A red light on the dash alerted him to the van's need for gas. He hoped that he had the boss' credit card as filling this monster would take a lot of scratch. Tiko may have it, a thought which made George fester with frustration as he dug into his back pocket for his wallet to see if he did, all the while keeping an eye out for a gas station.

At the next turnpike comfort station, George pulled up to a pump, pleased to have found the gas card in the glove compartment. After swiping the credit card in the pump, he put the spout in the gas tank opening and leaned against the van, then laid his head back to get a few minutes of silence and shut his eyes. He'd have to get some caffeine and quick. He wanted to go inside to get the biggest cup of coffee they sold, maybe two, and something to munch on to keep him awake, otherwise he would succumb to exhaustion. He couldn't remember the last time he had a good night's sleep.

He heard the distant rattle of chatter on the dispatch radio, which had been silent for so long he thought he'd turned it off. It was a radio whose frequency was Watcher owned and encrypted, and only used to transmit emergency information.

He walked back to the driver's door and listened. "Again, clean up operation needed in Shiloh, NJ. All available units are to immediately proceed to secured facility 2819 on Highway 49." That was base!

"It's a messy one, this is code orange," the dispatch announced. "Repeat, code orange!"

They had to have found Duncan MacLeod and taken their heads. He wasn't there! All his months of watching and working, and he wasn't there to see the big show! Damn it! He yanked the gas handle spout out of the van and plunked it onto its cradle and jumped into the van. As he sped off, all need for sleep forgotten, he continued to curse and turned the radio up to hear everything that was going on where he should have been. Whoever had found Duncan MacLeod would be a hero, the hero he should have been. God damn it! He wasn't far away, just twenty or so miles, he could be there before the big guns who'd want explanations.

Killing nineteen people in their makeshift chamber would definitely be waving a red flag at the rules of behavior, so Cartwright and the Dragon Lady must have already set the bodies up in the preplanned execution pit in the middle of a farmer's cornfield that had been covered over by snow and the warehouse may have already been taken apart. If the speed at which Cartwright had been able to put the warehouse together was any indication, it wouldn't take that long to get it dismantled, George surmised. But he couldn't help wondering how long they'd had MacLeod, and why didn't anyone tell him. Because there hadn't been much snow to speak of since leaving New York, George had no idea what the scene would look like. Regardless of what would face him in a few miles, he needed to be there. As he raced from the pump, he barely missed hitting a little silver car, and down the ramp back onto the turnpike.

The silver Mazda Miata had to swerve to miss getting rammed by a black van when it parked at the same gas pump the van had just vacated. Methos thought the van resembled something a Watcher would drive, which triggered another needling prickle of anger in his gut, anger that he had tried to squelch during the drive away from Shiloh. He turned off the car and looked over at Elizabeth next to him. She had leaned her head against the passenger window and seemed to be asleep. Looking in the rear view mirror, he didn't see Amy, which could only mean she was laying down as best she could in the back seat. He stifled a yawn and got out of the car to fill it. Leave it to a Watcher not to leave enough gas in the tank to make it all the way back to New York.

"Where are we?" he heard Amy's voice call out.

"Gas. Just stay put, we're not staying long."

They had to get back to his daughter as soon as possible, and if he knew women, they could spend an eternity in the bathroom, even if they didn't have to go. He opened his wallet and spotted his credit card in its regular slot. It was surprising that the Crusaders hadn't burned all their possessions, but then again, they probably thought they'd have possession of the Immortals longer than they did. After swiping his card and beginning to fill the tank, he leaned against the trunk and thought again of how Elizabeth had taken care of their captures. He smiled when he remembered how handily she had dispensed with so many in such a short amount of time. What she needed to do, she did.

The driver door opened, and Amy squeezed between the seat back and door to get out of the car. "Where are you going?" Methos asked her.

"I'm starving."

At her mention of hunger, Methos' stomach growled, and he realized he hadn't eaten in more than a day either. "They don't have anything substantial in a convenience store." He looked around and spotted a Golden Arches in another building. It was perfect for two reasons, and two reasons only: it was open and they had a drive through. "It's not gourmet by any means, but McDonald's at least serves warm food. We'll stop there after gassing up."

Amy nodded and got back into the car. She was going to lay down again, but it was too cramped and short for her. Her legs felt like lead. She would do well with a walk, but she wanted to get back to her kids as much as Methos and Elizabeth did Claire.

Elizabeth was awfully quiet, but Amy knew she wasn't asleep because she had moved and looked over at her when she started to get out of the car. "How are you doing?"

Elizabeth half-shook her head, then yawned. "I'm peachy. How are you?"

"Tired. I miss my kids."

"Ditto."

Judging by her short response, Elizabeth probably didn't feel like talking. Amy didn't think five words had been said that night since leaving the scene of carnage. All that Elizabeth must have gone through in that other room weighed heavy on Amy's mind, and she wondered if she'd talk about it. Talking was probably the best thing for her. To have it all trapped inside would only make it grow. Amy asked, "Liz? What happened to you?"

"When?" Elizabeth asked groggily.

"Back there. Away from us. In that room."

She tilted a shoulder and breathed, "Oh, this and that."

Elizabeth kept her head trained on the windshield, and still wouldn't reveal anything. Each time that she had been taken, Amy had been both willing and eager to talk about everything with anyone who had asked. But then again, maybe they did more to Elizabeth than had ever been done to her. Remembering the condition of Elizabeth's body and clothes after she was brought back into the circle room, a horrifying thought crept back into Amy's mind again and couldn't be kept quiet. "Did they rape you?" she asked gently, wanting to needle Elizabeth into spilling all.

"No," she said, then lightly laughed. She sighed, and then fell silent again. Amy was going to ask another question about what they did do to her, but Elizabeth said, "You live more than one lifetime and you're female, chances are you will experience rape. I already had my quota for a bunch of lifetimes over the years. One wanted to, but the other said he might get a disease and they didn't have condoms."

Amy reacted to that news with a pain in her gut and put her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "I'm so sorry for what they did."

"I really hate that you're a Watcher," Elizabeth said very matter of fact.

"I didn't have anything to do with that, Liz. I was taken too."

"I know. I still hate it. It's like there's a wall between us, and I don't like it. Never have."

"Well," Amy said then took a deep breath as if she had just made up her mind. "I won't be any longer. Unless Guy and Dad need me to clear out all the Crusaders, I'm no longer a Watcher. I'm a wife, mother, daughter, and your friend first. That's what's important to me."

Elizabeth turned around in a flash and Amy saw for the first time that Elizabeth had been crying. "You won't? Really?"

"Yeah."

"I don't have to fight with you over it? We can really be friends again?"

"We've always been friends, Liz. I'm surprised you keep thinking we aren't. With how close we were before I found out you were Immortal-"

"And you were a Watcher."

"I wasn't then."

"Then you returned to them."

"To help you, you idiot, to chronicle Methos so no one else would do it. Most of my career plans have been to help you, just as you did for me after Greg left me a blubbering mass and after Kevin died. I never once thought of you as anything but my friend."

"I've just been... embarrassed most of the time. I haven't handled myself well in some situations, and thought you were mad at me."

"Oh, I've been mad at you all right. That doesn't make me hate you."

Considering how old she was, and so seemingly worldly, it surprised Amy that Elizabeth didn't know about friendship. Maybe it was because she was so old and had lived so many lives; perhaps once an Immortal moves on, they truly did move on and cut off all ties with those from one life to another. Amy told her, "As long as I live, you're like my sister. I may have been angry, disappointed, or frustrated with you, but I've never stop thinking of you as anything else but my sister."

Elizabeth opened her arms and Amy drew herself forward to hold her. Elizabeth sniffed and said in a tear-filled voice, "I don't know what I did to deserve you, Mrs. Barstow. You're the best."

~~~~~

Methos checked his watch and figured they'd be back in New York in another three to four hours, depending on the traffic situation. He couldn't wait to see Claire again, and didn't know how he could possibly explain why he had left her alone, with no communication from him, for an entire day. She must have been so frightened and must still be. All alone in a hospital, in the ICU yet of all places. He spotted a pay phone by the convenience store entrance and wanted to call the hospital to tell them to tell Claire that he was on his way, but that would take time. A call such as that could take up to a half hour, and if he got that same Nazi nurse that wanted to kick them out of there before, it could take even longer than that, if she agreed to tell Claire anything. Nope. This would be best handled face to face with Claire, alone, so he could explain why neither he or her mother were there for her when she needed them the most.

As Methos got back into the car, he noticed movement between Elizabeth and Amy. By the time he had settled his long legs under the dash, they had regained the places they had been in when they arrived there. Elizabeth was turned away from him, so he asked her, "Are you okay?"

She nodded and smiled to the back seat, "Yeah. I have a great friend."

"The more the merrier," he grumbled as he started the car. Thinking that if not for the fact that he was friends with Duncan MacLeod, he would never have been in that warehouse in Shiloh. If not for being friends with Joe, he wouldn't have met Elizabeth Bennett in the first place and wouldn't have almost lost his head a few months back while doing something as callous as sleeping.

As he pulled in behind a dark green pickup at the intercom/menu, he looked over at Elizabeth. He wondered why he was always so quick to dismiss her and make the one act she had taken against him, those fifteen seconds, more important than the thirteen years he had loved, fought, laughed, and cried with her. As his mind tried to make head or tails of his whirling thoughts, Amy called from the back, "Number 3 with Coke."

"You know their menu by heart?" Methos asked.

"I have kids who think Happy Meals are manna from heaven," was her tired retort.

Methos looked to Elizabeth and asked, "What'll you have?" before really seeing how she looked in the spotlights of the parking lot and drive through area. She still had dried blood on her face and hands, her clothes were stained and torn, her jean leg was slit and he spotted dried blood on her skin as well. Before she could answer him as she craned her neck to look at all McDonald's had to offer, he said, "We have to get you cleaned up." He looked back at Amy. "What condition are you in?"

Amy gave herself a once over as Elizabeth settled back in her seat and closed her trench coat wrapping it around herself. "I'm fine. All I did was sit in a chair."

Methos realized that with his jacket open, the red splotch from having been shot in the chest was clearly visible. He adjusted his coat and buttoned it so the drive through person wouldn't notice, and then looked behind at the gas pumps not remembering if anyone had seen his shirt. Well, if someone had, Methos would have known about it.

Elizabeth said, "I'll have what she's having," but Methos didn't hear her. He was thinking about how stupid it was to allow an old wound to be visible to prying eyes. He usually was on top of his game, looking out for everything, never missed a trick... well, he missed a few, but nothing so obvious. He had to get away. He had to get his head together while he still had it.

He hadn't noticed that the pickup had pulled forward until Amy verbally nudged him with "any day, there sport."

Methos asked Elizabeth, "What do you want?"

"What she's having."

"What was that again?" He looked at Amy through the rear view mirror.

Amy leaned forward with a serious look on her face. "Are you okay? Should I drive?"

"I'm fine, I'd just.... make a bad waiter. Oh yeah, number 3, coke, you too?" He asked Elizabeth.

She replied, "Yes. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Fine time to ask me now," he muttered as he drove forward. No, he wasn't all right. When some teenager said they could order when ready, he said, "Three number 3's and three cokes."

"One diet," Elizabeth said.

"One diet," Methos announced to the intercom, then told her, "You're having nothing but fat and carbs and you're worried about sugar in Coke?"

"I don't like the taste of regular Coke, okay?" She then added as an afterthought, "Unless there's whiskey in it." She muttered, "I could use some whiskey right about now."

The kid's voice came over the intercom, "11.95 at the second window."

Methos edged forward behind the pickup and looked at Elizabeth holding her coat together. He took his wallet out of his back pocket again and opened the compartment that held his cash. It was empty. "I had almost three hundred dollars in here!"

Elizabeth looked at his wallet's empty cash slot and reached down for her purse. She got her billfold out, and she too was without any cash, not even coin. Methos looked back to Amy, who had done the same thing, and she was without bills either. "We've been robbed on top of everything else?"

"I have a credit card," Amy offered.

"I do too, that's not the point."

"Why didn't they take the credit cards, or checkbooks?" Elizabeth asked, pulling hers from her purse.

Methos took his checkbook out of his back pocket and wrote out the check for $11.95, then the pickup vacated the space in front of window number two. Methos drove up and handed the check to the teenager. The teenager frowned when he looked at it. "What's this?"

"A cheque."

"From England? I can't accept this."

Amy and Elizabeth hurriedly made out checks from their checkbooks at the same time. Elizabeth was done first and handed it to Methos, who handed it to the boy. He again frowned. "This is a starter check," and handed it back.

Elizabeth leaned toward Methos to tell the lad, "There's like ten million-"

Methos cut her off by moving her back to her seat with a grimace. You don't go around telling anyone how much money you have. He took Amy's check and handed it to the kid. Once again, he shook his head and said, "I'm sorry. This is an out of state check."

Methos rapped the steering wheel with his fists. "Well then, I guess you made food for nothing, didn't you? That's all we have. Or a credit card. Do you take credit cards?"

"No."

Methos was going to zip away, and had put the car in drive, before the kid said, "There's an ATM inside."

"Fine!" Methos roared and drove forward. He parked by the door and said, "I'll be right back."

Elizabeth said, "I could use a bathroom."

"Stay in the car!" Methos yelled out of frustration with his thoughts and how McDonald's made life difficult.

"I have to go!"

"We have to stop somewhere to get you cleaned up anyway, just not here. I'm hungry and want to get on the road," Methos grunted, then had trouble unfolding himself from the seat. He finally got out of the car and slammed the door behind him.

After Methos left, Elizabeth asked Amy, "They took our freedom, our dignity, our hope, our money, why did they leave the credit cards, checkbooks, pictures, purses, coats, swords..."

"No idea," Amy said sleepily and then yawned. "I wish I had my cell phone so I could call the kids and tell them I'm coming home. Or Guy or Dad to find out what's going on back there."

"I would love to call Claire. She has to be so scared."

"Yeah," Amy agreed. "Dad said Benji's with Joe and Katie Rose, but Claire, being sick and in the hospital too. She has to be scared, but she's in good hands. She's in the best place she can be. Don't worry, it will be fine."

Methos came back to the car and distributed the food and drink. He opened his quarter pounder with cheese and drove in silence. They all devoured the food as it was the first they'd seen for a long while.

~~~~~

Duncan stole himself a yawn; he still couldn't believe that all the anxious and angry moments of the previous 24 hours had passed so quickly and that the Crusaders' plan had come unraveled as a result of one woman's determination to survive. Duncan didn't know if it was her own survival, or Methos', that had been at sake, but he was more than pleased that Elizabeth had done the work on the inside that he, Nick, and Megan had accomplished from the outside. Best of all, there weren't any more casualties on their side of the fight. He was saddened to hear about Brynn's senseless death, and just watching Warren skulk around made him wonder how he himself would feel if Amanda had been taken from him before they had been able to clear the air between them. It would have been another situation where he would have lost a loved one without being able to tell her how much he loved her.

He thought back to Tessa, his great love just before Amanda, and how she had been so ruthlessly, senselessly, taken from him. At least he and Tessa knew how the other felt; there were no secrets or unresolved issues between them. Duncan still wished he'd had more time with her, but after a time, he had come to accept Tessa's passing. If he had lost Amanda when the last time they saw each other they argued, he didn't know if he could have taken it. She had to know how much he loved her.

Duncan watched Amanda and Thomas reminisce, but it didn't bother him too much. It seemed they knew each other quite well, and the way Amanda was laughing at his jokes so soon after she had been strapped to a bladed chair made him think there was a purpose behind her giggles. Maybe she was trying to prove to him that she was popular with men and he should consider himself lucky she had chosen him. Duncan had to agree that he did need a little Amanda in his life, but there were also times when she tried too hard. He'd have to have a talk with her once this was all over. A good long talk.

Warren's relationship with his wife was a much different situation. Warren had spent a long time outside after being freed, which Duncan knew had to mean looking for Brynn's body. From what Warren had said, they'd never had an argument and their marriage had never been stronger then just before they were kidnaped . As Duncan watched Warren dart around, seemingly looking for something to do, he wondered if that made the loss any easier. Then he remembered Warren was a highlander, thoughts of revenge were what made it easier for him to bear.

Joe walked into the shot-up entry room with his cane and told Duncan, "I don't know why I can't come with you."

"You're not invited, Joe."

"Don't pull this holier than thou attitude with me again, MacLeod. I was strapped to a chair, too!"

"I need another hired gun," Duncan said, looking at Liam, the blond Irishman who was married to Cassandra, kept walking a few paces behind Joe. From the way he was acting, Liam probably wasn't all that sure if Joe was steady on his feet.

"I can shoot, probably better than you."

"You can't very well run in and out quick, now can you?" Duncan said point blank. When it looked like Joe would explode with anger, Duncan added, "I don't want to have to worry about you."

"Don't give me that handicapped crap, either! I had as much to lose here as you did. Me, my daughter, and my son-in-law were all here. Where were you?"

Liam interjected, holding Joe back, "I really don't think this will get us anywhere."

"Go to hell," Joe exclaimed as he brushed Liam's hand off his arm. Duncan had seen Joe riled many a time, and this was certainly the worst he ever saw. The shock of what they had all been through, which Duncan could only guess at, had to have been pretty bad.

"You can't come with us, Joe," Duncan explained. "Because you have to get Watchers here to clean this up, find out where Brynn Cochrane and Terry Payson's bodies are, and find some honor in the Watcher system, which you assure us is still there! You have to clean this up, Joe, from the inside, which none of us can do. We'll do what we can do, and that's find and kill all the conspirators."

Joe softened a bit, and Duncan could tell that the Galati mess was in Joe's mind as well as his. In the end, they'd have to be pretty convincing when they claimed that the Watchers had taken care of this mess, and built safeguards to prevent it ever happening again or Duncan would never again have anything to do with any man, woman, or child who wore that blue tattoo. Three strikes your out... the Watchers were on probation this time as far as he was concerned . Instead of continuing a conversation that would only make things worse, Duncan went in search of Nick, who seemed to be the only one left that wasn't accounted for. Yes, Nick was a Watcher, but they needed someone who had access to the inside who could find out who was involved in this nefarious scheme, those who were still alive after the slaughter here, and where there were now.

Upstairs seemed to be the only place left the blond Watcher could be, so Duncan went up the steps two at a time. He found Nick tapping away on a laptop, the only computer equipment left in the room after the rest had been taken down to one of the black vans they were taking to the St. Regis, which was going to be their headquarters while they figured out their best course of action. New York City had ready access to an international airport in case the insects had scattered far and wide after their plan had imploded.

"Come on, we're taking off." Duncan smirked. "Good luck finding the honor in the Watchers, but that's what Dawson's going to try to do. Joe's probably already called for clean up, so it's best we're not here when the white coats arrive."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Nick said as he clicked Control P to print a word file. "Where's the damn printer?"

"It's in the van, pinhead," Thomas said as he walked up the top step. "Let's go!"

"What did you call me?" Both blonds were suddenly toe to toe. "I saved your ass," Nick declared. "Remember that! I'm sick and tired of you people looking down your noses at us."

Duncan pushed the men away from each other, and glared at Nick. "'You people?'"

Nick grunted with frustration, "You know what I mean!"

"Maybe I don't," Thomas alleged, looking at Nick as if he might attack him.

"If you think I'm one of them," Nick yelled as he charged to Thomas again, being held back by Duncan. "You're sadly mistaken. I wouldn't be here if I was!"

"Enough!" Duncan hollered to stop Nick and Thomas from fighting physically. "We have to be a team if we're going to accomplish anything here."

"Tell him that," Thomas said. "I'm not going to take this 'you people' bit anymore than you are."

"It was a bad slip of the tongue, get over it," Nick shot back.

"A really bad one at that," Thomas argued as if he couldn't let go of his pent-up anger and would take it out on whoever was convenient. "Maybe you should think about another line of work. Why don't you live your own life instead of watching others live theirs?"

"I'm living, buddy," Nick got past Duncan to grab hold of Thomas' collar.

"I'm not your buddy!"

Duncan had about enough with the both of them, but he needed them. "I don't know either of you from a hole in the ground, but right now, you're my best friends, until we do what we swore we'd do. If you can't work together, one or both of you are out."

"Who died and made you boss?" Nick asked sharply.

"Brynn Cochrane and Terry Payson" Because of me! Simply because I exist! I have to live with that, you do too, Watcher." When the men had settled down, Duncan asked calmly, "Is fighting each other going to help us get the ones who did this? Hm?"

When they didn't say anything, Duncan took the opportunity to say, "Let's go. Now."

~~~~~

"The wonders of modern life," Methos mused as he parked in front of a Walmart store, open 24 hours. They had to get off the turnpike to visit the discount store, but he now had a load of cash to take care of the tickets again when they exited the turnpike in New York. "I'd always wondered why these stores were open 24 hours. I mean who needs something at midnight, or 4 am?"

"I do," Elizabeth said. "I need a lot of things."

"Shampoo, comb, clothes. Got it," Methos said as he opened the door to go inside. "I'll be quick."

Elizabeth asked, "Conditioner? Or I'll never get a comb through my hair."

Methos bent down to look at her. "Sure." He remembered how she would get mad at him when he'd go to the store and not get conditioner to go with the shampoo. He hesitated to ask if she had a particular brand in mind, she might have plenty of ideas, and never having to use conditioner himself, it would take time to find it. He asked Amy instead, "You need anything?"

"To get back to my kids. Hurry."

"Will do."

He saw pay phones in three different places in the store and each time got the urge to call the hospital. Each time, he walked by them determined to get in and out of the store quickly. They'd have to find a truck stop, one with showers preferably, for Elizabeth to clean up in; she was in sorry shape. How she was doing emotionally was anyone's guess as she hadn't said more than two words when asked anything. In the clothing department, he had no idea what to buy her to wear. He had always liked to see her in skirts, but she shouldn't be wearing anything too dressy at the hospital. Methos knew that they'd probably have to explain to someone, the doctor or Nazi nurse, where they had been. A comfortable sweater and another pair of jeans was what he finally picked out, but didn't know her size. He held articles up and just guessed. He went through the hair products aisle and paused long enough to find a shampoo and conditioner that were for moisturizing hair, as he did remember Elizabeth liked that. When he passed the blow dryers, he thought she had such long hair that it wouldn't dry fast on its own. He mused that there was a time, in the not so distant past, that one of the most beautiful sights he had beheld was Elizabeth wet. He snapped out of his reverie and tossed the cheapest blow dryer into the cart. He knew that she liked hand lotion, and pulled a bottle of Jergen's from the shelf and put it in the cart. Going past face creams, he took one. Elizabeth always slathered herself with stuff before going to bed each night. She might want something like face cream too. He wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible so she wouldn't mess up when they got back to Claire. She didn't know it yet, but he needed her not only to treat Claire well when they returned, but he had to rely on her to take care of Claire while he took off and cleared his head and got back into the father protector mode once again.

In a glass enclosed shelving unit not far from where he stood, he spotted perfume. One bottle caught his eye. It didn't have any writing on it, but it was brown liquid with a bronze cap in the shape of a ginger jar. Methos knew one such bottle had sat on the bathroom counter for a while when they lived in California. Even though there was a glass door covering the Giorgio, CK1, Chanel No. 5 perfumes, Methos wondered if they were actually real or knock-offs but he didn't care, the glass slid open, and he snatched the perfume and put it in the cart.

He almost forgot a coat for her, and went back to the clothing area. Then he remembered she didn't have a bra, and probably needed panties and socks. After picking up what he could find and guessing the best he could at her size, he went to the checkout and paid for it all with his credit card. He was pleased with his purchases and thought Elizabeth would be surprised to see all the things he bought her as well. There was a display of bonbon chocolates by the checkout, and although they probably weren't up to par with Swiss Chocolate, he knew Elizabeth, and probably Amy, would like a treat. He also picked up three bottles of soda, two cokes and one diet, that were scanned as soon as he put them on the counter. The no-nonsense clerk bagged everything up and announced the total, "$310.49."

He paid it and left the store with only three bags. How could one spend over $200 in a store and be able to carry it out in one hand? He remembered the days when a chicken and a kind word could get you a wagon. Sure, the wheel would need repair, but that was all in a day's work.

When he got back in the car, he set the bags in Elizabeth's lap, then noticed that she had something in her hand. "For something to do, I looked in the cubby hole. The owner of this car is, or was, named Anthony Pantagllio from Miami."

"Well, he's dead as a Caesar now," Methos said, starting the car.

"I probably killed him," Elizabeth moaned.

"Or Mac. Or Megan, or that other guy that came with them," Amy offered. "What was his name?"

"They're dead. Doesn't matter who did it," Methos said.

"Yes, it does," Elizabeth replied.

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to kill them all over again for what they did."

There were many times during his lifetime when he had experienced that sentiment, but no words came to him to comfort her or talk her through it. He decided his hesitance was because being so close to her-being so indebted to her-was too much for him and he couldn't think clearly.

In silence, he pulled back onto the turnpike and drove in peace for a while. Elizabeth had obviously turned the radio off while he was in Walmart and had kept the car running to keep it warm for them. As he drove, Methos planned what he wanted to do: get back to Claire, make sure she was all right, make sure Elizabeth could take care of her, and then leave to indulge in a taste of pure freedom while he straightened out how he felt about everything that happened and what he wanted for the future.

"We have to talk," he told Elizabeth, who was sitting still enough with her head back on the seat rest to make you think she was sleeping.

"I only get your attention after I kill seven people?" she asked softly.

He groaned because her comment brought his convictions, his basic instinct about her and her actions in Kent to the fore once again. Methos had always known that she really thought of him as a serial killer, and she would never change. "I'll ignore that since I know what you just went through."

Methos simmered. Talking with her was what he had wanted to do since she had first set foot in his Paris apartment, but whenever they started, things usually got too heated too quickly. "Maybe it can wait."

"No, please. Enlighten me with what you want to talk about."

Methos didn't like her snarky tone, but checked to make sure Amy was sleeping and wouldn't eavesdrop anyway. Her head wasn't in the rear view mirror, so he turned his head quickly to see her eyes were closed. "I have to ask you a favor. A huge favor, and because I'm asking it, you have to know that it takes a lot of blind faith on my part, something I usually don't have in abundance, and the events of the past few months haven't exactly made blind faith an easy phenomenon for me."

"Thanks for that disclaimer. What is it?"

"I need time alone."

"First you almost took my head, then I was strapped to a machine where even the slightest mechanical error or someone inadvertently flipping the wrong switch could have taken my head. I've protected this head for 5,000 years; I've almost lost it twice now in the last four months. I have to get away from all this. I need respite. From you, from the game, from taking care of the one person who depends on me, who needs care now more than ever before."

She seemed to have taken the news of his leaving in stride, but asked, "You'll ask Duncan to look after Claire while you're gone? I think he's a bit busy right now."

"No. Not Duncan. You."

"Me?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.

"You're her mother, aren't you? You haven't hesitated to remind me of that all along."

"I... I...," Elizabeth searched for words with her mouth open, shaking her head. "I can't take care of her alone right now."

"After what you just did for us all, and because Claire is more vulnerable right now than she's ever been in her life... I don't want to go, but I need to. If I could take her with me because you totally refuse to take her, I would. But I can't. Her arm was broken and probably can't be moved, certainly she can't travel. I may have to travel fast. She can't do it. To save my mind, I have to get away from everything, take stock of my life, and to do that I need to know Claire is safe."

Elizabeth was silent and starting to breathe a bit heavier. He didn't know what mental state she was in, and hoped that the little bit of therapy and drugs she'd been given had helped ... she hadn't taken more than a bit of that prescription medication.... yet she had been fine. Great in fact, she had taken out seven plus people and saved all their heads, not once shivering, or cowering away, as was her normal behavior lately. The only time she had folded up had been when she had just revived for the last time, and he could certainly see why she would have. They had all been badly shaken after what they had all endured.

Elizabeth finally spoke, "Claire's arm is compromised. She may not be able to lift a sword, ever."

"It was her left arm; she's right handed."

"Then you have to stay. She needs you."

"I can't. I'm going to do this one selfish thing. I need to get away."

"Why didn't you ask me last week, a couple of days ago?"

Loudly he began,"Because being drugged, kidnapped, shot at, unwillingly taking a quickening, and almost losing my headagain, was the last straw."

"Methos. Please don't ask me to take care of Claire on my own." Elizabeth's voice was full of dread and fear. "I can't do that. Not now. You know she's the most important person in my life , and keeping her safe is vital to me, but I haven't had a good night's sleep in months, I've been as confused by what I did in the manor as you are, and I'm seeing two different doctors because I need to straighten myself out for her benefit. Please, don't ask me, Methos. After we've seen how vulnerable she is to an attack, I can't..." Her voice rose when she asked, "Don't you love her?"

"Yes, which is why I need to do this. Can't you see that? I'm 5,000 years old, and I've come closer to losing my head, through no fault of my own, twice in mere months! I can't lose my head! I have to clear it. I have to get it back focused on raising Claire." After gulping in air and seeing that Amy was awake, he quietly said, "And you."

"What about me?"

"You love a compliment," he seethed at letting that nugget of information out.

"You're going to give me a compliment?"

"Not if you act like that."

"Like what?"

"That. Guarded."

"What do you expect?"

"I expect a lot." Because what had started as a simple conversation and asking a favor had resulted in them yelling at each other, making his heart race, he said, "I'm not talking to you anymore."

"Why?"

"I don't want to, okay? I'm not ready for you."

"What?"

"Nothing." He had come too close to admitting that seeing her actions in the warehouse and shopping for her had given him the idea that it might be possible for them to get back together. In a room full of people, most friends, close friends of hers, the one person she had searched for with the keycard in her hand was him. For the life of him, he would never forget that image, and the emotions behind her actions when she was so close to death. Methos truly believed that when someone is that close to death, they clear their conscience but also do what they wish the most. She needed to save him. He loved her for it. It was such a new emotion, one that he had covered up so hard the last few months, that it was now another thing he had to sort out on his own, with his head clear. He couldn't just take Elizabeth in his arms, hold her, kiss her, and comfort her, which had been his heart's desire since she had freed him with that keycard. It was too dangerous!

"No, you started this." She situated herself in her seat to be facing him.

"I'm not ready for you!" he yelled, then clamped up. He didn't want to tell her his inner most feelings, that he wanted his life back the way it was on the ship. A healthy daughter, a loving wife, a cold beer, and all was right with his world. He didn't know if he could trust those feelings with her, or what she might do with them.

"If what you're not ready for is what I hope you're not ready for. I'm not either! I'm a mess! Worse than I was in the final days at that damn house! I don't want to think about getting back together with you. Are you crazy?"

"I have to be," he said.

"I can't take care of Claire alone, and I can't even start to think about trying to get you back. Not now. Not yet."

Methos didn't know what hurt the most, his revealing his innermost thoughts to her or her rejecting them so quickly with so much passion. "Let's be quiet."

"Fine. Don't talk. Just drive faster."

Methos saw Amy sit up in the back seat and stifle a yawn. "Don't stop talking on my account. In fact, let's stop so I can get out and you two can talk this out."

Methos turned the radio on and drove faster, passing three cars in a row. He saw Elizabeth wipe her face, and then a cry escaped her lips. She said in a soft voice, "I love you, Methos. I never stopped."

"You have an inconsistent way of showing it."

She sighed heavily and looked at him. He could feel her eyes boring a hole in him. When he finally looked at her, she said, "You think I flipped a switch and suddenly no longer loved you? Do you really think that was possible? I loved you in Seacouver, and I did awful things to you because I was possessed by a new, overwhelming quickening. I loved you on the ship, and then I almost took your head. I have to live with that, more than you, believe me." When he shot her a look, she said, "It was only because of outside forces. I was possessed. I know you don't want to hear that or accept that, but that's what happened."

He couldn't control himself any longer. He burst out with, "It's been years? Why did you want my head in Kent?"

"I didn't."

Methos spat out, "You know what I mean. You would have taken it if I'd not woken up!"

"It wasn't me."

"That was your hands holding the sword above my head."

"There were a lot of people holding that sword!"

He cut to the heart of the matter by telling her, "I believed you!"

"What?"

"When you told me my past made no difference to you. When you held me and told me you'd always protect me." He hastened to look at her, and saw a blank expression on her face. "In Sintra. Does that ring a bell?"

"You mean when you finally came back to me after... after I took Pyrius' head?"

"Of course that's what I mean. You were so convincing. Admit you went after my head in Kent, and if Pyrius was 'possessing' you, it was because you allowed it, just as you wrote out that insipid journal!"

"Everything you don't want to accept is stupid to you. From the journal to what happened in Kent. Nothing is your fault!"

"How...? What...?" Methos lost all train of thought with that response. Of course it wasn't his fault! How dare she! He changed track and snipped, "I'll grant you it was Pyrius and he controlled you, is that better?" She seemed to soften when he said that, so he gathered force and let her have it once and for all. The thing he'd needed her to confess to became more than he could handle and she'd better admit it, damn it! "You let Pyrius in because you wanted to have that reinforcement again. You always let him back in whenever you get a glimpse of what happened in my past, not yours!"

"I do not! He lived in that house! He built the damn furniture in that bedroom! He killed himself there! Did you know that? Did you see that? Or were you too enthralled by the goddamn stables?"

To one up her, he asked forcefully, "Do you remember what you said at the hospital?"

"What hospital?"

"Where is your head?" The anger was enveloping him so completely, he almost drove into the back of a semi that was slower than he thought. After swerving into the passing lane and going around it, he said, "The one that our daughter is still in. Remember? You said, 'Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.' That's what you said."

"Damn, I wish you had such graphic recall for details of conversations and things you did when it's a promise you've reneged on!"

"That's what you said! Do you deny it?"

"No!"

"Why did you say it?"

"It was... I don't know! It's not like you've never rode a horse. It's not like you've never burned, raped, and pillaged, so what if I bring it up?"

"You pillage before you burn!" At that, he saw Elizabeth peer at him with a startled look. He was on too good a roll to stop now. "In the hospital, it was back to that again. It was another time you could needle me about what I did before any of your ancestors were born! You always go back to my being a horseman! You know why you did, and always do, deep down. Try to figure it out. Until you do, we haven't anything more to say to each other."

Methos took in gulps of air and no longer cared that Amy was wide eyed in the back seat, having heard everything that was said. Elizabeth's cry didn't faze him either. He was so mad, he could have taken a sword after Elizabeth at that moment. Instead, he continued, "It's been simmering under the surface ever since you took Pyrius' head and supposedly integrated him. I know you loved me, that's why you tried to let my past go, but then you couldn't. I knew it would come back to biteme in the ass! Kronos is still fucking with me!"

"I don't really know what the hell you're talking about," Elizabeth yelled in response, shaking her head, then sitting straight in the seat and sighing heavily many times in a row as if to collect her thoughts or calm down. He half expected a panic attack from her, but she fell silent. Then she did the last thing he expected. She bust out laughing. When he looked at her, he could see from the dashboard lights that there were tears flowing down her cheeks, and he didn't know if they were left over from their argument or from laughing so hard.

"You pillage before you burn," she said between gulps of laughter. "That's a good one. I'll have to remember that."

Because she hadn't taken the reminder of his horsemen days in that retort, the anger Methos felt and held in for so long had finally been released, and soon, he joined her. If not for the reason behind the laughter, it might have seemed like old times. He hadn't realized that he longed for the days when he could kick up his feet, have a beer, know that Claire was safe and happy, and enjoy time with his wife, the woman that he loved more than any other.

He basked in that glow for a while, wondering if it would ever be possible again, until Elizabeth spoke and broke the silence, "That's the farthest thing from the truth, Methos. Kronos is in your head, he's not in mine. Pyrius was in mine, but he's not anymore. I'm not living where he did."

The laughter faded, as well as his reverie of the past. All he allowed himself to think about was the song on the radio and getting back to Claire. He couldn't wait to see her face again. He hoped she was doing well and wasn't too scared or in too much pain while they were gone.

Elizabeth sniffed back some fresh tears then told him, "I took Pyrius' head because I didn't want you to die. That was all. That was my only motive."

Because he could hardly hear her, he turned off the radio and listened to her, she had finally gotten his attention.

"In Delphi, after he took you from me, I couldn't have cared less about Pyrius or why he hated you or why he took you or about taking a head or getting more powerful with an older immortal in me or anything. All I knew was that I loved you, you were in pain, and I had the power to stop it. So I took Pyrius' head... And then you left me."

Her final five words reverberated through his soul. He had left her. He thought back to those awful days just after being freed from the chains Pyrius had shackled him with to the newly angry Elizabeth, possessed with the essence of his enemy inside her, controlling her every movement. She had wanted to kill him so badly, and he had been scared. He remembered Duncan lying dead between him and Elizabeth after the scuffle in the bedroom over a piece of broken mirror, his trying to calm her down and talk to her, telling her he loved her, vowing to be there for her and see her through it, knowing the sacrifice to her sanity that she had made by saving his head, but then not being able to keep that vow. She told him point blank that she wanted him dead, and even though he had known it was the fresh quickening talking, his own need for survival had made him take off. He had left her in the hands of Duncan and Warren, and hoped she would be all right, that she would one day find her center and be able to love and live on her own, without being dictated to by Pyrius. He had hoped. He had left.

"I swear to God, I don't go through my day thinking about what you did to him or anyone else. Methos, I couldn't be more serious when I tell you I did put your past with them away, behind us. I wanted you back and you came back to me. I couldn't have been happier in Sintra. I can't believe you thought there was any kind of motive. My only motive has been to be happy and make you happy because I was completely in love with you." Almost like a whisper, she breathed, "I still am. I always will be."

Her words did much to soften him, but he couldn't get the motive, he had determined for her actions out of his head; yet wanted desperately to know if she was telling him the truth. "Then why do you keep bringing it up? Why does it always come between us?"

"It doesn't."

"It does!" Methos had waited so long for her to admit that it did and then, only then, he could try to forgive her for almost taking his head. When she had started talking, he was sure she was going to finally admit it.

"I have my own disappointment, as you put it, with you that I do live with," Elizabeth said in a now strong voice. It was as if she too, had wanted to tell him something for a long time, and now she was going to come out with it. He tensed as he waited for it.

"Pyrius and the horsemen... they mean nothing to me. What does matter is that after I saved your head from Pyrius and took his quickening, you left me. You didn't stay to guide me through it. You left me in the position I was in, to save yourself, because you were scared; because what you did to that man was inside me. We could have had so much more time together instead of apart and miserable with hatred. You could have seen me through it. I was overwhelmed. It was your responsibility, and if you had truly loved me, you would have taken that task on. It took Duncan, Amanda, Joe, and most of all Amy, to see me through that, and none of them wanted to be around me, either. That's what I live with. Not what you did or didn't do before Christ. That doesn't matter to me. That you left me does. And now, after just saving your head, you're planning to leave me again. Just when I could use you to help me figure out what the hell happened to make me do something I regret each and every hour since it happened... you're leaving... again."

As he tried to digest it all, and begin looking at things from her angle, he fell silent. He felt numb. What he had assumed was her hatred for his past had actually been her disappointment over his hitting the road after she took Pyrius' head. For her to wonder if he had loved her then... of course he had or he would never have entered the dojo after she was shot. He didn't know how to form words to talk to her about his new, unfamiliar emotions, but then there was no need to, she pointed to a sign that informed the drivers on the turnpike that there was gas, food, and showers at the next comfort station.

It would do them good to get a break from each other so they wouldn't have to talk more. He feared that she had other valid reasons for carrying unresolved disappointment with him, and mentally admitted that he didn't want to hear them. It had been a revelation he hadn't expected when he started that talk. He had expected her to explain why she lied about not accepting his past, therefore went after his head. In fact, it seemed like she had accepted it, and it was he that had wronged her. As Elizabeth got out of the car with the Walmart bags, and a stunned Amy followed her, Methos saw Elizabeth in a totally new light. The experience in Delphi hadn't been on his mind at all since he left it behind. Now it returned, the pain and despair of being under Pyrius' thumb, his happiness and love for Elizabeth for having saved his head, the sheer terror of how she reacted to him, and most of all, he had forgotten that he had just left her and all the troubles that came with Pyrius' quickening behind.

Disappointed with himself and finally aware of what had really troubled his wife for so long, something he had done but which he had no idea about, Methos wept.

~~~~~

FEBRUARY 20, 2013

Simon Bradford was sitting in his office after his first patient of the day left the appointment in a huff, she had obviously not appreciated being told to lay off the sauce if she's on Wellbutrin. To each his own. He was typing out the progress note for the session on the laptop on his back desk when there was a knock on the door.

"Dr. Bradford?" Jonathan, psychologist intern for the Uptown Mental Health Clinic, knocked lightly and walked into the office. Bradford had taken the young man under his wing while Jonathan was in his last semester of graduate classes, he was basically the all around gopher for the clinic, taking on any odd job to get more experience with patients and hobnob with those in the profession he desired more than anything in life.

As Bradford turned to him, he wondered if he even had a life. Jonathan was always ready, willing, and more than able to tackle any job he was given. Jonathan was someone who could be called on for any project, big or small. He would read testing materials to subjects, for Parental Capacity Evaluations, whose mental capacity was inadequate to understand and respond to the questions that were written at a fifth grade level. Since he had so capably provided the testing and questioning for a Social Security Disability Evaluation for Dr. Stone when she had broken her leg that morning and had to be rushed to the hospital, all others would go his way with Dr. Stone overseeing and signing off on them. Since the work didn't pay well, it was a dream situation for the clinic and Jonathan. He could also be called on in a pinch to tag team with a respite worker on a crisis call, since Jonathan was almost six feet tall and tipped the scales around 200 pounds he was a natural. He also transcribed dictation for assessments, evaluations, and progress notes if the clerical staff was overwhelmed. That must be the case today, as Jonathan entered Bradford's office with a short stack of papers that he laid on the desk.

"Here's a batch of transcription for you," Jonathan said in his usually welcoming tone. Bradford thought that his voice and manner would be a definite asset for the young man when he started his psychology practice. Everything seemed just fine when the words were spoken by him.

"Jon," Bradford said as he turned his chair around to face him before Jonathan could vacate the room quickly, as was his custom, probably because he doesn't want to be a bother. "What did you do last night?"

"I...," Jonathan began, but then turned red as if caught in a lie. "I didn't go to the Knicks game, if that's what you're asking. I'm sorry. I know the tickets must have cost a fortune."

"That's not a problem. Why didn't you go?"

"I couldn't find anyone to go with me. You know after Sarah left, I've... not gotten out like I should. I know you and Dr. Stone, and Steve, and Christine, all tell me I should, but... The tickets didn't go to waste, I gave the tickets to Christine and Melanie."

"What did you do last night?"

"I... took some tapes home to transcribe." Jonathan laid the printouts in Bradford's in-box with pride for a job well done.

"Isn't transcription Melanie's job? She went to the game, while you did her work for her."

"It's all of our work. Right? That what we hear in staff meetings. No one works alone here, we're all in the same boat, and it's all our responsibility."

"Jon," Bradford said as he opened his desk drawer. "I'm going to give you tickets to..."

"Don't. Please. I don't want to go anywhere," Jonathan said. "Really. I'd rather work."

Bradford sighed. "Good God, what are you? 22? 23?"

"22, Doctor."

"One chick moves out, and you forget about having a life?"

"Work is my life. I want to be the best therapist I can be."

"Good thought. But being a good psychologist means that you should have some life experience." Bradford got up and walked around his desk with two tickets to a Broadway show. "I'm going to give you these tickets, and you're going to go. You're going to call up a friend, any friend will do. I know you have at least one."

Jonathan chuckled and asked, "To a Broadway show? You think I'm gay?"

"I don't know what to think. I can't use these either, so someone should, they cost a fortune. They're not going to go to waste. They're not going to go to anyone else at this clinic, or a bum on the street. You're going to call a friend and go. If you don't," Bradford warned with a raised finger. "I'm going to call up an escort service and add a $1,000 tip to make sure you have a good time."

"Hey, I'm not that hard up... but the thought does bring pleasant possibilities..." Jonathan said as he looked dreamily off in the distance.

Bradford slapped his back and thrust the tickets into Jonathan's big hand. "Go, have fun."

"A 1,000 bucks?"

"Yeah. You need to get laid."

"Can I have the $1,000 and get laid on my own?"

Bradford's buzzer went off, which meant his next appointment had arrived, early, and was waiting for him. Bradford shook his head and told Jonathan, "Get outta here."

After Jonathan left, quietly shutting the office door behind him, Bradford grabbed the stack of transcription and sat at his desk. At the top was the Intake he had dictated for his first visit with Elizabeth Gordon. Because she was immortal, the evaluation had to be sketchy, but he remembered her and her problems very well. He scanned the document for any changes that might need to be made.

PSYCHIATRIC EVALUATION

NAME: Elizabeth Gordon
DOB: 2-17-81
DATE: 2-18-13

IDENTIFYING INFORMATION
Ms. Gordon has been seen by Dr. Julia Stone from this agency for a Diagnostic Assessment and was referred for psychiatric services to coincide with her therapeutic treatment.

PRESENTING PROBLEM
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Due to a stressful situation, Ms. Gordon admits to attacking her husband in November, 2012. For the period of three months, she has been separated from her husband and ten year old child. She has experienced frequent outbursts of anger and feelings of unfairness; insomnia and nightmares; and feelings of intense, almost overwhelming guilt, about the situation with her husband, as well the loss of her child. She has also been experiencing periods of shakiness and racing heartbeat during times of stress from facing what she had done and the ramifications of her action of this past November.

Depression. Ms. Gordon has experienced low mood, sadness, fatigue, feelings of guilt and hopelessness, and an uneven sleep pattern.

Anxiety. Anxiety is a normal symptom of PTSD, but that seems to be her major diagnosis as she has experienced shakiness, a racing heartbeat, and sweating frequently since the traumatic event of November, 2012. While in this office for this initial intake of the patient, the mundane task of bringing me up to date with her case caused her to experience a panic attack, which she admits has been a frequent occurrence since moving back to the United States after her husband left her, taking their child with him. She admits that feelings of hopelessness and guilt over her current situation will trigger the attacks, but also admits that taking deep breaths and thinking about something else, along with the support of a "very good" friend, will allow her to break through the overwhelming onset of them.

Insomnia. Also a normal symptom of PTSD. She endorses having vivid nightmares and flashbacks to the events leading up to, and during, the attack on her husband.

FAMILY/SOCIAL HISTORY
For complete background of Ms. Gordon, see Diagnostic Assessment in chart, which was completed by Dr. Julia Stone of this agency.

MEDICATIONS
Ms. Gordon reports that she has never taken psychotropic medications, and also is rarely medically sick.

MENTAL STATUS EXAM
This 32 year old, slender, Caucasian female presents neatly and appropriately dressed and groomed. She is alert and fully oriented. Thought is a bit fragmented. She experienced a panic attack during this interview. Even so, she is cooperative, eager to talk, and seems to heed advise for dealing with her symptoms. She maintains good eye contact. Even though she was visibly shaky and had the above mentioned panic attack, patient did exhibit a sense of humor, though it was a bit self-deprecating. Speech is clear. Mood is dysphoric with a tearful affect. There is no evidence of a formal thought disorder nor psychotic symptoms. She does admit to having heard voices, but they seem to have ebbed since moving from the scene of trauma in England. Memory and concentration are normal, aside from the period she was experiencing her panic. Intelligence and knowledge appear within the normal to high range. Insight is good, while judgement is low. Current use of alcohol is endorsed, but she wishes to obtain psychotropic medications to calm her and stop using alcohol "as a crutch. I don't want to be an alcoholic. I don't need any more problems." Use of other chemicals, including tobacco, is denied. Sleep is poor, while appetite is fair "depending on the situation." Client endorses recent weight loss, probably as much as fifteen pounds, since the traumatic event of November, 2012. Suicidal ideation is denied.

DIAGNOSTIC IMPRESSION
AXIS I

300.00 Anxiety Disorder, NOS
309.81 Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, acute
307.42 Insomnia
Rule out Major Depressive Disorder, single episode
Rule out Adjustment Disorder with Depressed mood
Rule out Alcohol Dependence

AXIS II

Rule out Personality Disorder

AXIS III

No diagnosis

AXIS IV

Traumatic experience, separation from husband, loss of parental custody of daughter, recent relocation, unemployment

AXIS V Current GAF: 58 GAF during the past year: 70-75

This client meets criteria for SMI.

SUMMARY
This 32 year old separated mother is dealing with stressors that have been brought on by an action of her own. Since her intense symptoms (Depression, Anxiety, Insomnia, Adjustment) have lasted longer than one month, she has been given a diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Since her anxiety seems to be her primary concern, which leads to eruption of symptoms of her other diagnoses, the primary diagnosis has been listed as Anxiety Disorder, Not Otherwise Specified, as it is not clear which specific type would best describe her current situation.

It would be in Ms. Gordon's best interest to obtain pharmacological treatment to help her sleep as well as face each day. She seems eager for help and willing to comply with recommendations of myself and her therapist, Dr. Stone of this agency. Given the symptoms she has endorsed to Dr. Stone and myself, as well as the intense panic attack experienced while in office, she will be monitored to see if psychiatric hospitalization is needed.

PSYCHOTROPIC MEDICATIONS
For her symptoms of panic, depression, and insomnia, Ms. Gordon has been prescribed Librium, 25 mg, TID; Paxil, 45 mg qAM; and Ambien, 5 mg, qHS prn.

PLAN

• Prescriptions have been written out for Ms. Gordon for the above medications for one month with no refill. The risks, side effects, and benefits have been discussed.
• Continue working with Dr. Julia Stone for individual CBT. Since Ms. Gordon now seems to have access to her husband and child, family therapy may be in order down the line, per patient's approval.
• Reschedule to see me next week to monitor pharmacological treatment. She was encouraged to call if she has any concerns or problems

Simon Bradford, MD
Licensed Psychiatrist

Bradford signed the evaluation and put it in his out box, then walked out to greet his next waiting patient.

~~~~~

"Talk about top-notch equipment!" Nick trumpeted from the third seat of the black van that Duncan was driving with Amanda riding shotgun. Warren and Thomas were in the middle seat, since Nick had as much equipment as he could possibly have operating . On his lap was a laptop connected to a battery operated printer that he had on top of boxes in the back of the van so if he found something he could print it out.

Warren and Thomas spun their head around to look at him. It had been harder and harder to see the laptop screen because of the sun having come up, but he clicked a key on the keypad that he'd never seen on a keyboard before, and all of a sudden, the screen had adjusted becoming more clear and bright.

Warren spun around and asked, "What did you find?"

"The screen can adjust to glare from the sun."

"Is that all? I thought you'd found something we could use," Thomas said, his knee shaking up and down.

"Have you ever come across something so interesting as a laptop screen you can actually see in the daylight?"

Thomas turned around and put his arms on the back of his seat. "I spend more time living as opposed to sitting in front of a computer."

"If you start up with that crap, I'm going make sure you wish you'd never been born, pipsqueak."

"Pipsqueak?!" Thomas rose from his seat in anger, and hit his head on the roof of the van.

"Sit down!" Duncan ordered from the driver's seat.

"If it wasn't for the fact that we need a geek to decipher that shit you'd have been laying back there with a bullet in your head. Courtesy of me."

"Tom!" Amanda squealed from the front seat. Nick could see that she had swatted him on the back.

The blond Immortal was ready to walk around the seat to the back, and Nick would have been ready for him, last week. Right now, all he wanted to do was get that Immortal out of his hair and continuing his fishing expedition to find the roots of the Crusaders organization. "If it wasn't for the fact that I was shot a couple of days ago, and since I'm not Immortal, it takes me a while to heal, I'd have kicked your sorry ass-"

"Stop it!" Duncan's voice boomed through the van as the van slowed. "Now!"

Thomas sat back in his seat as he and Nick continued to glare at each other. Duncan stopped the van on the side of the road and turned to the others. "If there's one more uncalled for word from one more person, you're out. I don't care who you are."

"Yeah. I'm tired of this bickering," Amanda groused. "My God, you should have dryers on your heads in a salon the way you two carry on. You can't be jealous of each other, can you?"

"I've known you to be quite silly, Amanda," Thomas said, and got a shooting look from Duncan. "But that really takes the cake. I just want to... DO something! All we've done is drive. Isn't there someplace we can go, or something we can do to make... a difference?!"

Nick accepted that nerves had been getting strained, and Thomas' comment pulled the cork from the bottle. Complaining and questioning came from the four of them. Nick just hunkered down and kept clicking through pages to find anything that they needed. He knew he would be the one to start Thomas Davidson and Duncan MacLeod in particular, and more than likely the wounded widower Immortal retaliating against the watchers he targeted . Nick wasn't all too sure what the woman was doing there, but more than likely she wanted to keep Duncan MacLeod in her sights. Maybe she would be good in a fight, he didn't know. He didn't even know how old she was. He could, after all, look it up. He had Watcher database on his lap.

He was going to do just that, but he glanced more closely at the screen so he would know where he was in his search trace before losing the page. It was a word processing page that looked blank, but then when he moved the curser to close the screen, he saw something. Letters. Lines and lines of letters. He knew of sites that would, for instance, give spoilers to movies and TV shows, but make them overt so anyone who didn't want to know what would happen in a season ending cliffhanger or new movie at the Cineplex would avoid them. Instead of using the thumb pad that came with the laptop, he used the mouse he had attached to the back of the laptop and moved the curser over the page again. A few letters appeared here and there.

It wasn't until he clicked the curser on the top left corner of the screen and held down the mouse button as he slid the curser to the lower right corner that it hit him what he had just found. Not that he knew what it was in content, but he was amazed to see that the page consisted of a list of names. With his other hand, keeping the mouse button down, he hit Cont P to get a copy of it.

When the printer whirred to life, he dropped the laptop and mouse to the floor and turned around to get the fresh page from the computer. The names printed. Warren asked him, "What's that?"

"How many people were held in that room?" he asked them as one by one, they all had turned to look at Nick with the paper in his hands.

He could tell Thomas, Amanda, and Warren were mentally tallying who was there, and soon Amanda said, "17."

"No, 18," Thomas corrected her.

"19, if you count MacLeod," Warren said.

"I did count MacLeod," Thomas said. "There were 18 of us. One extra chair. I was there longer than anyone, you think I had something better to do than count the chairs until you all came in?"

"Must have been horrible, Tom," Amanda said with sadness.

Thomas shrugged, then looked back at Nick. "There were 19. So what?"

"It's a coincidence. Here's a list of 19 names, none of which were in that room." Nick grabbed the rippled pages of Watcher bios for the people who were killed back there to see if any of the names match.

"What?" Duncan sighed.

Amanda asked with wonder and a bit of anger, "Why do they have another list of names?"

"Only one thing I can think of," Warren said calmly. "The death of us wasn't enough for them. They already made plans for the next batch of Immortals to behead."

Nick nodded to him. "I think you're right. None of these people were killed in Shiloh. They're all new names to me."

"Those sons of bitches," Thomas muttered as he walked around the seat and sat next to Nick, taking the list from him. He scanned it, then his brows furrowed. "Paul..."

"Who?" Warren asked, his arms over the back of the seat.

"Paul Durrant is on this list. He's my student, or was, couple hundred years ago."

"What sort of guy is he?" Duncan asked.

"What do you mean, 'what sort of guy'? You think I'd teach an asshole?"

"I did," Warren commented with a raised eyebrow. "Ended up killing him. By accident. But he's dead all the same."

Thomas ignored that and said, "Paul emails me all the time. I can't believe he... he's a target!" He asked Nick, "Is there internet on that thing?"

"Of course. Satellite."

"Give it to me. I gotta warn him."

"They're all dead, or most of them, Tom," Amanda said. "The Crusaders are dead, or will be."

"This might be bigger than we ever dreamed," Duncan said. Everyone could hear the bitterness in his voice. "You have to warn him, and everyone else on that list."

"I don't recognize anyone else," Thomas said as he handed the list to Warren, who scanned it, while Nick handed the laptop and mouse to Thomas, who started the internet and clicked onto his mail home page.

Warren shook his head and handed the sheet to Duncan, who looked at it with Amanda. Warren said, "I don't know any of them."

"I don't recall any of those names either," Amanda said.

Duncan just shook his head as he kept looking at the paper. Nick watched Thomas after he had been made to turn away when he entered his password. "Spitfireace@euro.com?" Nick muttered. "That's your email address?"

"Love those planes, own a couple of them." Thomas' mouth opened in surprise when he saw the list of emails he had. Nick could see it was filled, almost 400 emails. Nick bet most of them were spam.

"Paul emailed me three days ago," Thomas announced as he sat straight and opened the email. Then, his shoulders slumped as he said, "Ah, he just forwarded a joke."

Amanda brightened. "Oh, what is it?"

"Is that important?" Duncan asked as he turned in his seat and check traffic before pulling onto the interstate again.

"Why not? It's better than listening to the Bickersons back there."

"Just what is the plan here?" Warren finally asked, out of patience.

"I've been thinking that we should separate," Duncan said. "The ones that are still alive and are Crusaders... they have to go home sometime." Nick saw his eyes when he looked back at them from the rear view mirror, and he got chills. They were so filled with determination and hatred. Nick was glad he was on Duncan's side or he might have lost all nerve to even be in the same van with him.

"Where are the pages?" Amanda asked, as Nick started to collect them.

"I'm going to see Paul. I can't rightly explain this in an email, can I?" Thomas said as he sat the laptop down on the seat between him and Nick and then took the seat next to Warren instead. "Where's the nearest airport?"

"The Philadelphia exit is coming up soon. We could make that faster than New York," Amanda told him.

"Bring me there. I'm going to fly to Boston to warn Paul. Hell, he may even join us, but then again, he probably knows others on that list with him, so I might be going with him to warn his friends."

Duncan told him, "I'll give you my cell phone number so we can keep in touch."

"One of them lives in Philly, Mac," Warren said, looking at one of the pages of Watcher bios. "Harry Mankowitz. Definitely sounds like our first stop."

"Sounds good to me, just after dropping Mr. Sunshine off at the airport."

Continued