THE ELIZABETH SERIES

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

REUNIFICATION

by JoLayne

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS: Methos, Warren, OCs Elizabeth, Claire, May, Thomas (Thanks Erik) and others that won't be around very long so don't worry about them <g>

SUMMARY: As Methos and Elizabeth prepare to move Heaven and Earth to keep Claire, Thomas and Warren go to warn Thomas' student that his name is on the Crusaders list.

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.

~~~~~

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 2013
NEW YORK CITY

Elizabeth shifted in bed with her legs tangled up in the Wedgewood blue 300 count sheets of the St. Regis Hotel. She opened her eyes and felt completely refreshed. Bright sunlight streamed in from the open draperies. Ready to start a new day, she lifted her head, however, she fell back on the bed. Dizziness swept through her as she rubbed her eyes and yawned. Her mouth felt rancid, and there was a small lump pressing into her back. She shifted to reach under herself for it, wooziness rushing up to her brain, and pulled it out. Her soulcatcher. It had been folded under her. Laying back down, she smoothed out the old paint-cracked leather piece and then held it to her nose to trace the still-distinct smell of her teacher who was taken from her so long ago by Logan.

Elizabeth shoved Logan out of her mind and concentrated on Hotohke's deep, slow voice and chants as he himself had held that piece of leather in her presence. Closing her eyes, Elizabeth could imagine herself cross-legged in front of a campfire with him as they breathed together in a trance to call forth the good spirits to wipe away the bad. The nightly ritual had been a major part of her immortal training. Sad that she had so often had periods where she had forgotten the practice, Elizabeth made a pact with herself that she would use it now when she really did need it to cleanse her mind and heal it after everything that had happened lately.

The bedroom door opened and Methos' voice cut through the peaceful silence. "Are you going to sleep all day, or are you going with me to demand that woman butts out of our lives forever?"

"What woman?" Elizabeth drawled, her voice affected by her grogginess.

"May Nash," he said irritably. "What she's thinking? I have no idea. It's almost eight o'clock. We have to get a move on."

She lifted her head to look at him. Methos was dressed in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and dark tie. When she looked down at his feet, she saw shiny black leather shoes on his long feet. "What are you wearing?"

He stretched out his arms and looked at his clothing. "Are you done with the Sleeping Beauty act or should I go alone?"

Elizabeth sat up, remembering the reason Methos seemed worried about how the woman would react to him, and that her daughter was in the guardianship of someone else. All because they had been kidnapped, strapped to chairs, beaten, tortured, almost raped...

She shook her head roughly and tried to stand up to clear her head and shove those bad spirits from her mind, but only accomplished rising a couple of inches and falling back on the bed. She held her hands to her head as Methos said, "Fine. I'll go alone. I waited in case you wanted to go with, but-"

"Shut up, will you?" She moaned, each of his words cutting through the silence and making her head pound. When she realized how rough that sounded, she said, "Please."

Methos sighed and folded his arms together at his chest, leaning against the door frame. "Of course I want to go," she told him. "I have to go. Just give me a minute... please?"

Methos was mercifully quiet as she gathered herself and was able to stand up. She noticed the empty bottle of Sominex sitting on the bedside table. Maybe Methos tossed out the rest of the pills, but why did he leave the bottle on the table where she'd see it? Those pills were a godsend last night. As she made her way to the bathroom, she realized that she hadn't had a nightmare during her sleep. When she turned on the light in the bathroom, it reflected off the mirrors, glass of the shower, and white marble, making it extremely bright in there. She closed her eyes holding onto the doorknob until her eyes would adjust.

When she felt Methos walk behind her, she told him, "Just give me a minute. I'll be ready in a minute," thinking he'd grouse at her again.

Instead, she felt his hand on her shoulder and his voice was low and concerned when he asked, "What do you need?"

"A shower? Brush my teeth. Put some makeup on to cover..." she said as she saw her pale face in the mirror. Everything else in her mind was gone as she saw Methos' reflection looking at her from behind her shoulder. She turned to him and smiled. He did look great all dressed up, and from the twinkle in his eye, he more than likely knew it. "You're going to make a great impression on her. Do you want to take her out to dinner?" she teased. It felt good to tease with him again, and hoped he would know that was what it was.

"If it gets Claire back, I'm game for anything. What restaurant would do the trick? 21? Tavern on the Green?"

"With how you look in that suit, I'd say Burger King would suffice, even making her pay."

She hesitantly reached out to adjust the tie that she now saw was deep blue with a pattern of little tan diamonds on it. Silk. When he didn't move away from her, she positioned the knot perfectly under the collar. Methos checked it in the mirror when she put her hands down and then smiled. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

She didn't know how to take his eyes, focused on her, and the slightly raised right eyebrow that only when up when he was thinking things over. She grabbed her hairbrush and used it on her rat's nest that constituted hair and worked out the snarls.

"How did you sleep?"

She thought it was a crack that she may have taken more of those pills than she should, and still felt the after-effects of as if she had drank a bottle of whiskey about an hour ago. "I slept well," she said protectively and sat down on the toilet to continue brushing out her hair. "I didn't even dream, which was... a pleasant diversion."

Then she got a flash of seeing his face close to hers and could actually feel his arm around her. It was so powerful and felt so real, that she said, "Well, I must have dreamt, but at least it wasn't a nightmare."

"What did you dream?" he asked gently.

There didn't seem to be any confrontation or sarcasm in that question. She smiled and looked away. "That you were holding me." A slight chuckle cut the tension she felt in the silent room that usually echoed with each sound.

To her amazement, Methos got down on his knees in front of her and said, "That wasn't a dream."

"Hm?" Looking into his eyes, and feeling his closeness, she was surprised she was able to utter that. His green eyes looked as if they were looking right into her soul, as if searching for something. She felt a bond between them that she hadn't felt since they were on the ship without a care in the world.

Methos took the brush out of her hand and set it on the counter just above his right shoulder. "That wasn't a dream. What did you do last night, and why did you do it?"

"I got some pills downstairs because I wanted to sleep."

"Yeah. You accomplished that. Why did you take them all?"

"I took them all?"

"Yes. At first I thought your suicide plan was lacking, considering all a sleeping pill overdose would do was give you a headache."

"Suicide plan?" She yelped. "All I wanted was some sleep."

Methos paused and reached to her temple. She had the thought of moving away from his hand, but thankfully didn't because he gently brushed back her hair and caressed her cheek. "I came to realize that. I never thought I was that thick," he said with somewhat good natured self-deprecation. "But there it is. That's what I thought at first. When it comes to you, I'm in a new world, it seems. I can't take things like what you do and how you feel for granted anymore. I can no longer read you like a book."

Elizabeth placed her hand on his, and leaned her head into his hand, starting to relax at his words that echoed in her head. Methos smiled. "Or, maybe I can. Do you have nightmares often?"

Elizabeth could only nod as her stomach was doing back flips of what she deemed excitement from his touch.

"I'm sorry for that. I came to realize that was what it was, what you did, later." Methos put his other hand gently on her other cheek and kissed her forehead. "When I was holding you."

Elizabeth couldn't help crying and the tears flooded out of her as well as deep gasps that mingled with light laughter. She couldn't wipe the smile off her face. He better not be joking. Taking her for a ride for a laugh. She looked into his eyes and saw that he was either an Oscar caliber actor or he was serious. His thumbs wiped tears from her cheeks as she asked, "Am I still dreaming?"

"I know what sleeping pills can do. I took them when I thought James took your head. I didn't hear the phone ring or the door bell or anything from the outside world. I wanted to close off what I was thinking, because all I thought about was you. I was taking care of Claire, but I didn't care. I needed relief. All I wanted was to sleep, get away from this life without you, dream of you. I did every night you were away from me and in James' hands. I didn't hear Maxwell try to get a hold of me to tell me you were alive. I came to realize what you were going through last night. You didn't want to revisit that place. Either place. The house or the warehouse. Did you?"

Elizabeth had been nodding with each word he said, and feeling overwhelmed that he was still carrying what had happened between them nine years ago so close to the surface. "Or taking your head," she told him as that was the worst part of her nightmares. Hearing Pyrius and reliving the events of that house was nothing to seeing a headless Methos sprawled on their marital bed.

"You didn't take my head."

"Thank God." She collapsed again his shoulder and held him. "Thank God you woke up," she cried out as her body again warmed with the heat of emotion that needed to be released by tears.

"Last night, as I was falling asleep with you in my arms," he smiled as he said, "I think... I think I heard you that morning. I think the bed was jostled and that's what woke me up. Did you kick the bed?"

It would be great if she had managed to do that in her stupor as she had come at him with a raised sword, but confessed, "I have no idea. In that state I was in, I was the one who was going to lop off your head, not save it."

When she tensed up and get out a groan from reliving to him what she had almost done, suddenly Methos' arms were around her. "Don't think about it, then. I was just wondering."

Not being able to stop crying from relief and excitement of being in his arms, she asked again, "Am I dreaming?"

"No." He took hold of her hair and made sure she would look at him, a trick since her eyes were full of tears. "I'm right here, luv."

"I'm so sorry," was all she could blubber.

"I know. What was it Ali McGraw said to Ryan O'Neal?" His grin indicated that he remembered she loved the movie Love Story haven seen it often while they'd been together. "Or maybe this is better. I don't want to hear about guilt or that you're sorry anymore. You're sorry for a lot of things; I'm sorry for a lot of things. It just gets in the way of life and living it. You can't move forward to enjoy the little things that come up if you're constantly stepping back to admit, again, that you did something wrong in the past. We need to focus on the here and now and just live, together. Are you willing to do that?"

"Move on with you?" she asked meekly, her mind reeling from how awesome this morning was turning out.

"You'd better. I'm kneeling on a cold bathroom floor, telling you that I love you."

"You are? You do? You really do?"

"Why would the knees of an Italian suit be on a bathroom floor if I didn't love you?" Methos suddenly laughed. "We've lost our connection, my dear. You used to take for granted that I love you, and I did the same. We need to tell each other that often, and mean it. I need us to get through this together."

"I love you, I always have." She reached out to hold him, and his eyes twinkled. His mouth smoothed into an easy smile. She slipped her arms around him and leaned her head against his shoulder. It was a good fit again. It felt as if there had never been a time when they didn't hold each other with how nicely they meshed together. She then jerked when she opened her eyes. "I got your suit all wet." Brushing off the tear stains on his shoulder, he laughed.

"There are worst things in the world. Promise me something."

"Anything. I don't want this dream to end."

"This is not a dream," he said seriously. "I've done and said things I regret and always will. You did and said things you want to take back."

"Yes."

"They're gone. They're the past. From now on, we start fresh, and we're together on everything."

"Promise," she said eagerly.

"That's not the promise. That's the setup to the promise. You promise me you will have no more secrets. I want to know everything you're feeling and thinking, and I promise to do the same."

"Promise," she repeated as that was her wish as well. She was about busting from excitement and love for that man and had to hold him again for fear he would go away.

"And you call your doctor today and get the right pills and get her mind healed. Okay?"

"I will. But Claire is first. We have to go. I need a shower, and make myself presentable."

When Methos' lips touched hers, it was like a spark of life had opened up her soul that had been crying out for this for so long. This was too good to be true. She melted against him and before she knew it, the kiss was over. "Take that shower. We have to go."

"Want to join me?"

Methos smiled again as he closed his eyes and held her. "If I did, we wouldn't get to the hospital until well after midnight. We gotta get Claire."

Elizabeth straightened his tie again as he slapped her leg to get her moving. "You're an amazing man. To forgive me. You have? Really?"

"I don't see the woman who almost took my head when I look at you anymore, Lizzie. All I see is the determined woman who needed to unlock me from a chair before she died. That strong, courageous woman I love with all my heart." He took a deep breath and Elizabeth could see a tear in his eye. "It feels good to say that. You're my best friend, and I've missed you."

"Oh, my God." Elizabeth moaned as she brought him closer to her and held him for all she was worth as her legs closed around his thighs. "I wish we could have just talked it out and not have to get kidnapped for you to see I never stopped loving you."

Methos nodded and leaned back taking her head in his hands. "Are you okay?"

"I'm wonderful!" She couldn't stop the emergence of joyful laughter that bounded out of her. "How are you?"

"Relieved."

"And overdressed. We're going to the hospital to see our child and bring her home, hopefully. We're not going to a funeral or out to dance the night away."

Methos grimaced and looked at his suit. "Too much?"

"An overstatement if I ever saw one."

"It's been a while since I've felt the need to impress anyone. Guess I overreacted."

"You impress me."

Methos kissed her forehead and said, "That's all that counts." His voice changed from low and slow to a snappy, authoritative tone as he said, "I'll change, you shower, then let's go. A kid awaits us."

~~~~~

BOSTON

Thomas, with Warren at his heels, got out of the rental car and walked up the horseshoe driveway to the front door of a stately mansion that looked to be the family home of extremely old money. "How long has Durrant had this pad?"

"He won it in a poker game three years ago."

"Some game."

"Some patsy, is more like it." Thomas reached the steps and lopped up them two at a time and pressed the doorbell. "Some sap descendant of Carnegie, Rockefeller, Morgan, someone like that shouldn't have entered that poker game against one of the best around. This was their Christmas home, summer home, something like that."

Warren had always been interested in architecture and estates and couldn't understand how Thomas couldn't have gotten any of the information straight. How he could be so flippant about word from his student was also a puzzle. If he still had Andrew, and Andrew hadn't been such an asshole, Warren knew he would have paid more attention to his current movements than Thomas did. If Warren still had Antonio... no he couldn't think about Antonio. Not yet. He couldn't remember how violently, viciously, he had lost Antonio and his mortal wife by the hand of a newly turned immortal maniac.

Still standing on the drive, Warren looked up at the four story brick manse with Georgian white columns that the front and around back was rooted at least hundred year old trees. There was a garage that was a miniature version of the house itself to the left, an area that was more than likely a formal garden under the blanket of snow to the right with an even smaller version of the house next to it. Either a child's playhouse or gardening shed was Warren's guess. There didn't seem to be any activity or lights on inside or around the grounds. Someone did let their rental through the imposing front gate that had NO TRESPASSING notices every few yards on the brick fence, so someone was around. "You think he has staff? Is he home?" Warren asked as he went up the steps.

"I called him while you were filling up the car. He's home." Thomas chuckled. "He probably just wants me to take in the place. Show how affluent he's become. Wouldn't put it past him."

The dark green painted front door opened and a man in a tuxedo stood before them, looking them up and down with pierced lips. "What is your business?" he asked in a slow, dignified London accent.

"Paul's expecting me." Thomas smiled at the old butler, who didn't seem swayed. "Tom Davidson," he added as if to light the fire in the man to let them in.

The man stepped back and held the door open as Thomas made his way inside. Warren followed suit and took in the unlit massive foyer that consisted of an Italian marble floor and heavy teak wood paneling. Except for the old, thick carpeting on the stairway leading up, there wasn't one piece of furnishing or fabric in the room, not even on the windows. It looked as if it was still on the market looking for prospective new owners. The butler lifted his arm and asked, "Wraps, please?"

Warren knew he had left his sword in the car, still wrapped up for plane travel, and since Thomas readily relieved himself of his coat, he must have done the same. They laid their coats on the man's arm as Warren asked, "How long has he been living here?"

"Three years. Doesn't look like he's even moved in yet," Thomas mused as he looked around.

To their left was a closed door and to their right was what looked like what would be called a drawing room back in the day. There was a fireplace with marble mantel and deep blue carpeting, but from where Warren stood, he didn't see any furniture or wall decorations in there either.

"One moment, please," the butler said and then walked very slowly across the foyer to the opened door to the drawing room and disappeared into it. Soon, Warren heard a distant bell ring and looked around.

At Warren's feet was a slight outline of what was probably where one of those big round tables that welcomed guests with a floral bouquet or other nonsense back in the day. On closer inspection of the foyer, Warren could see dust bunnies where the light floor met the dark walls. "Durrant can't afford cleaning staff, or at least a picture to brighten up the place? Reminds me of a funeral home."

Thomas shrugged. "He always did travel light, but this is pretty much ridiculous."

At the top of the landing half way up the length of the room before the stairs continued up to the left and to the right was a large three paneled window, again with no curtains, although there was a window seat that looked to have seen better days. Warren could see that the upholstery on it was frayed on the corners and guessed that it was faded as well. Soon, he felt the approach of an immortal as footsteps were heard on the stairs to the right of the landing and a short, thin man with a shock of wavy black hair appeared. It looked as if he had just stuck his finger in an electrical socket. Warren could only think of a stupid movie he had seen in Australia with Brynn one night they were flipping through the channels. It was called Young Einstein starring an totally unfunny Aussie by the name of Yahoo Serious. Warren wondered if this was him, or a long-lost twin.

Thomas' eyes flashed and a smile over took his face when he looked up at the odd looking fellow standing silently with his arms wide. "Teacher," he finally said as Thomas started up the stairs. Warren held back as Thomas and who had to be Paul Durrant bear hugged each other and started talking about how long it had been and how great it was to see each other. Warren thought of his own student, Andrew. It looked to him that Thomas and Paul had a very different relationship than Warren and Andrew had. Even when they weren't arguing about something, more than likely Prince Charlie, they would never had hugged.

With thinking about Brynn, Andrew, Antonio, and Sofia and having lost each in such violent and shocking ways, Warren felt his stomach turn acrid and renewed bitterness of losing all of them. His head pounded and felt like going back outside. The last thing he needed was to have old home week between a teacher and student. Thomas could tell Paul what was going on; all Warren wanted to do was get outside and smell some fresh air as opposed to the stale, dank air of the mansion.

~~~~~

NEW YORK CITY

During the cab ride, Elizabeth pressed herself as close to Methos as she dared without wanting to rip his clothes off and have her way with him right then and there. It was astounding that was in her mind as just hours ago it seemed like an impossible dream. Their silent look that they exchanged made her know for sure that Methos wasn't thinking too far afield from her, and Elizabeth about burst from happiness. "This has to go our way. It just has to, right?" she asked as the cab neared the front door of the hospital.

"I won't allow anyone to take Claire anywhere. Stick we me, and follow my lead."

"Yes, sir," she answered as he took her hand. Methos paid the fare, and they rushed into the warm and bustling hospital. Looking forward to saying good morning to Claire, together as a family, was enough to make Elizabeth laugh as they bounded out of the elevator on Claire's floor. What wiped the smile from her face was May Nash standing at the end of the hallway near the nurse's station.

Methos held Elizabeth's hand tightly and charged again. He rose his finger at the case worker in warning and said, "We're going to see Claire, and it will take more than an army to stop us."

May only shrugged and rose her hand in the direction of Claire's room. Elizabeth ran to keep up with Methos as he hadn't even paused near May. He pushed open the door to Claire's room and they walked inside. They stood silently as they watched Claire's still form on the bed. Her broken arm was on top of pillows, and three pins with flat heads stuck a quarter inch out of her skin. For the life of Elizabeth, she couldn't understand how that could be better than a cast, but had confidence that Dr. Freelow knew best. Claire was still asleep, and Elizabeth looked to Methos about what they should do.

He dropped her hand to walk to the right side of Claire's bed. Elizabeth drank in Claire's preimmortal hum as Methos leaned over his daughter and kissed her cheek. Claire opened her eyes and looked up at her father and smiled. "Hey, Dad."

"Good morning, Little One. How are you feeling?"

"So-so, like the little person in that movie." She smiled, which was a good sign. No, it was a great sign. Methos remembered them watching the Goldie Hawn movie, Foul Play, where a bible salesman dwarf was unsuspectedly brought up into Goldie's mania and had fell out a window and down a steep San Francisco street. He ended up in the hospital in a full-body cast. When Goldie went to visit him and asked how he felt, the little cast-laden man shrugged, "So-so." Claire had laughed hard at it, and Methos knew now with her light smile that at least her mind was working to have thought of it.

Methos lightly rubbed her forehead and asked, "Headache?"

"A little. Where's Mom?"

Methos stepped back from the bedside to bring Elizabeth in so Claire could see her. "Right here."

Elizabeth kissed Claire and loved that her eyes were wide with welcome. "Hey, Mom. Dr. Freelow said I can go home today."

"That's wonderful. We've come to take you home."

"Can we have pancakes?"

"And bacon and waffles and scrambled eggs, and anything else you want. You name it."

"Well," Claire said and looked away from a moment.

"What?" Elizabeth seemed concerned as she brushed her hand up and down Claire's good arm.

"You know what I really want?"

"An ice cream sundae?" Methos asked with good humor.

"No. I want you to get back together."

Elizabeth smiled and felt Methos' hand on her shoulder. She straightened up and looked at his beaming face as he told Claire, "I think that's already been arranged."

Claire's eyes widened more and her mouth fell open. "Really?" She tried to sit up, but winced in pain. Elizabeth held her other arm, but Claire wasn't put down by the pain. "You're back together? We're a family?"

"We always were a family, Claire," Elizabeth said. "We were just going through things. Your dad and I talked, and..." She looked to Methos for confirmation as it was all so new to her too. He nodded. "We've worked a lot of things out."

"Mom!" Claire cried out. "That's the best news. Dad, I love you guys. Did me being here do it? Made you talk it out? Maybe I should get hurt more often."

"Bite your tongue, young lady," Elizabeth snapped. "We should have done this a long time ago, but... just don't get hurt anymore. Promise?"

"Well, Mom. I'll try. It's not like I wanted to."

"I know. How do you feel today?"

"I'm not tired anymore. I want to go home, or the hotel, or wherever it is we're living."

"I'll see what I can do." Methos squeezed Elizabeth's hand and said, "I'll be right back."

~~~~~

BOSTON

Warren had tried to find where the old man had taken his coat before going outside, but a long investigation hadn't been in his plans and had just walked out to the porch. Now with the chilly wind, he could really use it, and could hear Brynn telling him, "Even though you're immortal, you'll enjoy a sneezing fit this afternoon if you stay out here much longer. Get inside, you twit."

With a pleasant smile of remembering his fair haired, beautiful wife, Warren did as he was told. He tried the front door, which wasn't locked, and got himself out of the cold. The foyer was empty, and he didn't feel the immortals inside. They must be on the very top floor of the house, maybe even in one of the wings. Warren decided to leave them be to catch up, and maybe Thomas was telling Durrant about the Crusaders already so Warren wouldn't have to relive it so fast after thinking about Brynn. He didn't want to be flippant about it in front of Durrant, but also felt the crunch in his stomach with just thinking that he'd never again talk to, hold, or kiss his wife. All because of them.

Deciding to kill time instead of finding them, he walked to the door of the drawing room and looked inside. No furniture, but there was a high-traffic trail on the carpet leading from the door he was at to another one to his left inside the room. When he tried that door, it was locked. He looked out the windows at the grey morning and walked back to the foyer. He tried the door to the left, and it opened.

The room must have one time been an extremely well-stocked library with more dark paneling, floor to ceiling bookcases, and deep red carpeting. There was a massive teak desk with a brass lamp and nothing else on it, save about two inches of dust. There was another door to the right in that room. He tried it. Locked.

Walking back out to the foyer, Warren wondered why there would be two locked doors in this unfurnished mansion. The guy had been living there for three years? The doors must lead to his private rooms he didn't want visitors to see, but he had brought Thomas upstairs, not to either wing of the ground floor. He trotted up the stairs to the landing and looked out the windows. He has been right about the window seat being faded. From what Thomas said when they arrived, if Durrant really wanted visitors to take in the wealth, why not jazz the place up? Why have a butler if you're not going to go all out?

From what he'd seen so far, all Warren could think was that Durrant was having problems just paying the taxes on the place and couldn't afford to spruce it up. That was the way with so many immortals he'd come across. There were those like Duncan, who didn't show off their wealth but still wore nice clothes and lived in comfortable surroundings, not living up to their means. And there were those like he supposed Durrant was. A young pup who flashed wealth they couldn't really afford when you peeked just under the surface.

Through the windows of the landing, Warren saw a courtyard that the house surrounded that was under a thin blanket of snow. Even in the summer, Warren assumed the grass, trees, and shrubs hadn't been taken care of as what he could see of them looked craggy and unmanicured. He looked up each of the stairs leading to the left and the right. At the top of each side were doors. They didn't look to be a part of the original home. The workmanship of the wall of doors on the top of the stairs looked to be cheaper wood than the rich teak of the stair walls. No architect in their right minds would have designed those walls anyway. He couldn't remember which way Durrant had led Thomas before he split, so tried the right stairway. That door at the top of the stairs was also locked.

Even though the wall and door looked to be newer construction, Warren couldn't bust the door open with a well-placed kick at the knob and didn't have enough room to make a running shove at it. The annoyance and puzzlement of the doors was starting to get to him, though he didn't know why. He went to the left side stairs and that door was unlocked. Thomas and Durrant must be on that side of the house. As soon as he walked through the doors and a bit down the hall, he felt their immortal buzzes. He stopped in the wide hall and looked back at the wall and door. It was badly constructed and obviously not a part of the original house as the decorative line of the paneling stopped abruptly, in the middle of a pattern that formed a star every yard or so along the wall. Now he saw pictures on the wall. Each and every one of the framed black and white photographers were of World War II era planes. Well, Warren now knew what hobby Thomas and Durrant had in common as Thomas hadn't ceased to tell him on the plane ride to Boston that he had a fleet of WWII aircraft.

Warren kept going down the hall looking at each photograph and rubbed his finger on a table that held a couple of modern statutes he couldn't make head or tail of that was situated under a picture of a Spitfire. There was no dust. At least Durrant had one area of the mansion cleaned regularly. As he kept moving, he started to hear Thomas and Durrant talking. He moved closer to the end door to the left, which was open.

"Nah, I left it in the car. It's still wrapped from the flight," he heard Thomas say easily. "I don't have anything to worry about with you, right?"

Warren leaned against the wall by the door, having a feeling he didn't want Durrant to know he was so close. Of course he knew he was in the hall, but maybe he couldn't tell from his own buzz how far away he was. Warren just wanted to listen to them for a bit before joining the conversation, hoping Thomas had gotten the reason for their visit out of the way and they were just making small talk. But small talk about swords? To each immortal their own, Warren thought as he shrugged. He hadn't been in the practice of talking about the Game or Gathering or swords with other immortals, but then again, Thomas was Durrant's teacher.

"I would have assumed you had a new sword after that fight with Devon." Warren heard a high chuckle that must have come from Durrant. "It's amazing that a katana like that one would break during that battle, but there you go."

~~~~~

NEW YORK CITY

Methos walked out to the hallway and saw May Nash standing there like she owned the place. At least she didn't stop him from seeing Claire like she did yesterday. He felt even more strong in his conviction that no one stand in the way of his family now that he knew Elizabeth was on the same wavelength as him and he could trust her to back him up if this upcoming conversation came to blows. "Ms. Nash," he said in greeting.

"Claire looks a lot better today."

"She looks even better now that Liz and I told her that we're back together."

"You are?"

Methos waited for her to say or write something snide on that clipboard that seemed like an extension of her left arm yesterday. Instead, she said, "That's wonderful. I had a long talk with her therapist yesterday."

"Oh? What little tidbits did you collect there for your report?"

"Maybe I should show you what report I filed at work before I came here."

She turned the clipboard to him and he took it. So that he didn't have to read the official form filled out with pen, May told him, "Mr. Gordon, Claire has been reunified with her parents. Since Dr. Stone clarified information about Elizabeth's mental health and was a strong supporter for her, and the mitigating circumstance of your kidnaping, I had no choice but to keep Claire where she belongs. Anyone with eyes can see she belongs with her parents. If you and Ms. Gordon are back together, that makes it even better."

Methos scanned the document that confirmed what she was saying. He shook his head as he always looked at things in at least two different ways. "Why is this hard to believe?"

"I came in quickly because it was imperative for Claire's health. I am leaving just as quickly because I see that I'm not needed here. If you and your wife were together or not, Claire is loved and well taken care of. That's all I need to know. Tell Ms. Gordon that I wish her the best success with her therapy."

"She's just inside, tell her yourself."

"No, I was just going to leave this form with the nurse. I have to leave. After all the hours this week, this month, actually, I'm going to Florida for a long weekend to get away from this weather. My plane leaves in two hours, so with security and traffic, I'd better get going."

Methos took her hand and shook it with deep respect. "Thank you, Ms. Nash. I wasn't very cordial yesterday, but I really appreciate that you were here to see after Claire when I couldn't. Thank you for everything."

"That's my job, and it was my pleasure, Mr. Gordon. I'll be doing followup next week after I get back."

"What will that entail?"

"I'll call you at the St. Regis and stop in for a visit to see how Claire is."

"And we can impress you with what a happy kid Claire is and how great her life is?"

May smiled and laughed lightly. "Exactly. Normal followup." She reached into her pocket and gave him her card. "There's my phone number. I'm sure you're not going to do any traveling or moving while Claire's recuperating, but if you do, will you give me a call?"

Methos thought he could just take off with Claire and Elizabeth, and they could change their names, and May would be none the wiser. He ignored that impulse since Claire wasn't portable at the moment. "Will do. Have fun in Florida. Say, where in Florida are you going?"

"Miami."

"Oh, staying with friends or family?"

"No. I just love it. I'm going to meet my sister, who lives in Atlanta. I need some time off and respite from this winter."

"Stay at the Dolphin Bay Resort. Have a nice dinner. There's a dance club. Spa. Anything you want, my treat. I know the proprietor."

"Oh, don't be silly. I can't... You don't have to do that."

"I know. It's my pleasure."

May paused and Methos could tell she was knocking that around in her head, if it would be kosher for her to accept such a gift. From what Methos knew of the Dolphin Bay last time he was there, May would enjoy a weekend with more luxury that she probably ever experienced. "What is the proprietor's name?" May asked after she thought that over and smiled. She seemed to like that idea.

Methos was the major financial backer of the windfall establishment. The Dolphin Bay Resort was one of the very few possessions he hadn't sold all those years ago when he lost his Ivanhoe. He'd have to give Margie, the manager, a call and tell her to watch for May Nash and show her the best time she'd ever had. "Just ask for Margie. Tell her Daniel sent you and wear a pink carnation. She'll take good care of you and your sister. I promise."

"A pink carnation..."

"So she'll know the code that you're a special guest."

May nodded and seemed to think it over again. She chuckled and said, "I can't accept that."

"Why not? You've already reunified my child with me and my wife. It's not like I can bribe you to do that. It's already done."

"Thank you, but no thank you, Mr. Gordon. Good luck, and I do hope Claire gets well soon. She's a lucky girl. I wish other parents I come across were as well-suited to be parents as you and your wife."

As she walked down the hall, Methos called to her. "Don't forget the pink carnation. Offer's always open."

May turned and smiled. She turned to walk down the hall as she shook her head. Then she stopped and turned around. "Don't be surprised if we take you up on that."

Methos bowed to her and then she laughed as she walked to the elevator. He couldn't believe it was all over. He walked back to Claire's room without a cloud in the sky of his world. He made a mental note to make sure to call Margie and let her know that his new alias was Daniel Gordon. In fact, he wondered if Margie was still the manager. Things might have changed there in the last eight years since he took on his Daniel Gordon alias.

~~~~~

BOSTON

"Are you going to invite your friend in, Thomas, or is he going to just loiter in the hall?" Warren heard Durrant ask.

Warren walked into the room and was again surprised by Durrant's appearance and youthful face. Thomas looked like a newborn, and Durrant didn't look that much older. How old he actually was, Warren didn't know as that must have been the only information about his student that Thomas hadn't filled him in on during the plane ride and drive to the mansion.

From Warren's perspective, Thomas was protective of Durrant, yet had a proud, brotherly feeling for him. Thomas was sitting comfortably on a leather couch with a half empty bottle of a foreign beer in his hand as Durrant was doing the same in a leather chair. "Hey," Warren said with a smile. "Just wanted to leave you two alone to catch up."

"We talk all the time," Durrant said. "I'm interested in who my teacher is hanging around with. Have you known each other long?"

Warren looked to Thomas, who chuckled. Thomas said, "No. Actually we just met a few days ago."

"You always did make friends fast, Tom." Durrant smiled and took a swig of his beer. Then his eyes widened and sat straight. "Oh, Warren, is it? Would you like a refreshment?"

"I'm fine." Warren sat down on the other side of the couch and saw that this room, what appeared to be Durrant's study was well furnished, clean, and was expensively decorated. There were trinkets, mostly statues of people, on his desk, the coffee table, and side tables around the room. There was what Warren thought was an original Matisse framed above the couch. On the wall to the right of the desk was a display of all types of swords positioned to look like a large fan on the wall.

"I could get Charles to make some coffee if it's too early for this," Durrant said, indicating his lifted bottle.

"No, we just had a bite to eat before coming here. I'm fine." Warren paused. When the conversation didn't start up again, Warren asked, "Why did you make some changes to the house after moving in?"

"Hm?"

Durrant and Thomas both looked at Warren. "Yeah. The doors at the end of the hall. In fact, all the locked doors." Warren chuckled. From Durrant's glaring eyes, he chuckled again uncomfortably.

"Just trying to make the place his own, right Paul?" Thomas said, right before kicking back the rest of his beer.

"Yes. Slowly but surely." Durrant said, sitting back in his overstuffed leather chair. He crossed his leg over the other, resting his foot on his knee. "I take it you don't approve or something? It is my place."

"To each his own." Warren asked Thomas, "Tell him why you're here yet?"

"Was just getting to that when you were felt."

"You didn't come just because I kept inviting you?" Durrant asked. If Warren didn't know better, he would think that Durrant was suddenly nervous about something. "As I said before, I have no rooms made up for guests, but I'll spring for the three of us to get suites in the city. I'd love to show you Boston."

"We can't stay." Warren looked to Thomas for confirmation. He didn't want to hang around while teacher and student wanted to party and sightsee.

Warren thought he saw a glimmer of relief from that statement, and looked at Durrant closely. He walked to the wall of shelves and cabinets behind his desk and pulled a door. It was a fridge. Warren thought that was pretty cool as Durrant pulled out two more bottles of beer. "Are you sure you wouldn't care for one, Warren?"

"No thanks." Warren turned to Thomas and said, "Tell him why we're here and then we can get back to New York and check in with Mac."

"Yeah, Paul," Thomas said sitting up on the couch. "I came to tell you some news and that you have to watch your back. You never know who to trust, now more than ever."

Durrant laughed. Really laughed. "You always were a bit paranoid, Tom."

"Warren and I met a few days ago," Thomas said sharply, cutting off Durrant's folly. "Because we were locked to chairs with blades at our necks by some rogue Watchers."

Durrant's eyes grew wide and he stopped making a sound. Warren watched as that news settled with Durrant as Thomas was silent. "But," Durrant stammered. "Wa... Watchers are just watching. Recording, yes, but they... they don't interfere."

"These do. You have to watch your back until we take care of them. All of us who got away, well not all, but most of us are going to take them down."

"The Watchers?" Durrant croaked.

"No, the Crusaders."

Durrant coughed as he caught his breath from that information. He continued coughing so much that Thomas leaned forward to pound him on the back. "You okay?"

"You're going to do what?" Durrant snapped. "You don't have a hope in hell."

Thomas grabbed his arm and said with authority. "You aren't listening to me. Again. Paul, get what I'm saying. Warren and I, and many others, immortal and watcher, were kidnapped, strapped to chairs, and they were going to execute us. If Liz hadn't gone Rambo, we'd all be dead. Beheaded. Finis."

"They're going to pay," Warren added. "They killed my wife for no reason."

"I didn't know..." Durrant murmured as he looked to the floor. He was still for a moment, then he shook his head slowly.

"Now you do," Thomas said strongly. "You be careful wherever you go and with whoever you talk to. Warren and I-"

"They said," Durrant moaned as he still shook his head and stared at the floor.

"Who said what?" Thomas asked, prodding him. He jerked his arm to get him to look at him. Durrant's face was beet red. "Who said what?"

"I should have known this little impromptu visit wouldn't turn out well," Warren heard an English accented voice at the door. The butler, Charles, stood tall in the doorway. "Warren... Cochrane, I presume?"

Charles rose his hand, and he was holding a gun. Warren grabbed another little ceramic marble statue from the coffee table and flung it in Charles' direction as he hit the floor, not having any other way to protect himself from a bullet.

"What the fuck?" Thomas roared as he landed on top of Warren. The gun went off as Thomas lifted the side of the coffee table and shoved it on it's side. The statues atop it crashed on the other side of it and the gun rang out again. A splintering appeared on the bottom of the table not far from Warren's head.

"Charles!" he heard Durrant's voice ring out. "Stop!"

A bullet thumped into the back of the couch above them. Thomas crawled behind Paul's chair as Warren lifted up to follow him. The gun rang out and Warren felt the bullet go across his back. He hunched down again. He didn't know if the bullet went into his back or just grazed it, but he knew it had made contact with him. He heard a roar again and peered around the side of the upturned table to see Thomas rise from behind the chair and tackle Charles from the side. They landed on the floor as Warren got to his knees, seeing Durrant make for the door. Warren fell back and reached out to grab his ankle before he got away. Durrant fell and Warren crawled to him to get a better angle on keeping him down as his back was rippling with pain.

There was a shot on the other side of the room and Warren looked over to see Thomas get to his feet. Charles laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, his mouth agape. Blood started to flow down his right cheek.

~~~~~

NEW YORK CITY

Elizabeth sat quietly in the waiting room as Methos related the short conversation with May Nash. Even though she knew he wouldn't lie to her about such a matter and she read and reread the form, she had trouble accepting it. "After everything that's happened in the last day, two days, three days... it's over? She's out of our lives, you're back with me, no one's kidnaping us, Claire going to be perfect... it's all... too good."

"There is one thing you have to do." Methos reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Call the doctor. You need new prescriptions. We need to take care of Claire, but you need to take care of yourself, too. You're not taking a bottle of sleeping pills again. You'll take what he prescribes you."

"I could call when we get back to the hotel after Claire is settled."

"Do it now." He wouldn't take his cell phone back, so she opened it. Then remembered you couldn't use one in the hospital. "We just have to wait for them to take Claire's blood pressure and Freelow to sign the release papers. Go now. The sooner the better. I'll either be here or in Claire's room."

"Okay. Want some coffee or something from downstairs?"

"Yeah. A beer. Think they have something on tap?" He laughed when she rolled her eyes. "Okay, tall, black, no sugar."

"If the doctor comes while I'm gone, please tell him to wait. Or... suppose he's pretty busy. Remember every word he says and take notes for what we have to do to make sure Claire heals."

"Of course I will."

"I know, it's just that... I want to know too."

Methos kissed her and nudged her to the hall. "Go."

Elizabeth had a new lease on life as she walked down the hall, caught an elevator, and to the front door on the ground floor. From how she was feeling, and knowing that Methos was with her and Claire was on her way home, she didn't think she'd need those pills. But, Methos wanted her to, so she would call and ask if she could get more. She seemed to smile at everyone, and even in the strangers of New York City, people smiled back at her.

She pushed open the doors leading to outside and saw the place where Methos had parked the Mazda the day before. There had been no mention of the police case to find their kidnappers. That was still over their heads. Maybe they'd want to take her in and question her because they couldn't find Anthony whatshisname. She freaked when she couldn't remember the name of the owner of the Mazda, and also couldn't remember the cover story Methos had given the police. She had been sitting right along side of him when he related the alternate version of their kidnaping, and now she couldn't remember one single thing. Maybe she did need those pills, she thought as she felt an unwanted uncontrolled feeling sweep over her. She opened Methos' cell phone and dialed the Uptown Clinic's number. As she held the phone to her ear, she realized she was probably standing in the very spot she had when she was kidnapped. Her eyes darted to each and every person walking past her, and there were a lot that morning, either on their way to work or brunch or shopping or into the hospital. She heard a female voice on the line, but she couldn't form words as she looked from one direction to the next wondering which asshole was going to cover her mouth and throw her into a black van.

She couldn't breathe as she lowered the phone and it fell to the sidewalk. "Think!" she yelled at herself, not wanting to be taken over by a panic attack here, now. She had felt so great just a minute ago. "Don't do this!"

All she could do was gulp for air. She had the presence of mind to reach down to snatch Methos' cell phone from the sidewalk before a teenager almost kicked it into the snowbank that separated the sidewalk from the street. She had to hold onto the brick building to steady herself as she thought she was going to pass out. She had to get inside. She had to get to Methos. He'd know what to do. She followed a tall man who was just entering the double doors and almost fell over his legs as she was walking too fast. He stumbled and looked back at her as she fell down and crawled to the wall wanting to get out of the way of everything and everyone. If she could crawl away from life, she would have. She didn't think she'd have long to live as she was gasping for air. As she tucked her head on her knees in a fetal position, she felt a hand on her arm. She jerked up and gasped for air.

"Are you all right, ma'am?"

It was the man she had fallen over. All she did was nod yes as she wanted him and everyone to get away from her. Her stomach was churning and felt sweat bead at her coat collar. In her hand was Methos' phone, and she clutched it as it was the only part of him that she had at the moment. Her head pounded as she felt a small intake of air float to her lungs. She had to calm down. Her breathes were choppy, but she was breathing. Always a good sign, she told herself, steeling herself for taking more. As she rubbed her face, and ignored the looks of passersby, her hand was shaking. She didn't care what she looked like. She needed to calm down. Looking to see if any of the men who had taken her would come charging through the door at any moment made calming down more difficult. Elizabeth pulled herself into a fetal position as she cried out, letting the emotions overtake her. She felt people around her, but she didn't care in the least. She couldn't have stopped crying if she tried anyway. Putting her head down and holding herself tightly, all she could do was shake and cry.

~~~~~

BOSTON

The friendly tone that Thomas had before Charles entered the room went right out the window as he raged at Durrant, pulled him off the floor, and slammed him against the wall. "What the fuck was that?!"

Durrant looked every bit his boyish face as he stammered incoherent words. As Thomas continued slamming him against the wall, he yelled, "How did he know Warren's name? What did he try to shoot us for? Huh? Were you going to take our heads when we were dead? HUH?"

"NO!" Durrant squealed. "Of course not! What do you think I am?"

"I'm suddenly at a loss!" Thomas pulled and slammed him against the wall again. Warren tried to pull Thomas off Durrant, but had little success. Warren paced back and felt his back, which was already healed. He saw that there were two bullet entries in the couch and assumed that the bullet had just nicked him. He did, however, feel a hole in his shirt. The last thing he thought he'd have that morning. He thought he was through with danger and this was going to be a friendly chat to warn Thomas' student of what happened in Shiloh.

"You were on a list we found, and I came here to tell you to skip town!" Thomas roared again as he continued slamming Durrant against the wall. "Out of the goodness of my heart, to save your Godforsaken head! What's going on?"

"I didn't know... I swear. I didn't know...." Durrant squealed again when he could breathe. He tried to stop Thomas, but had no more success than Warren had.

"Didn't know what?"

Durrant simpered as Thomas let him go and he fell to the floor. Warren stepped over Charles' body and opened the desk drawers. All of them were empty save a crossword puzzle magazine and a collection of expansive pens. Warren walked to the door Charles had appeared from, stepping over his corpse again with the thought of giving it a good, swift kick.

Inside that room Charles had appeared from was a desk with a load of technological machinery, much like what they had seen upstairs of the warehouse. The laptop was open and had the Watcher symbol drifting across the screen as a screensaver. Warren stopped as he was dizzy from the events that suddenly were thrown at them and then walked to the laptop and moved the mouse. From what he could tell, he was connected to Watcher database. He heard a crash in the other room, but no words spoken. He ignored it and sat at the desk and read his own data page that was on screen. The picture could have been better, he thought, as he scanned the information. It was pretty much spot on correct, except that it had his last known position as Paris. At the bottom, however, he saw words that cut through his heart. "WIFE: Brynn Cochrane, Immortal. BEHEADED: February 19, 2013, Paris, France, by unknown immortal."

Seeing Brynn's name and information so coldly written out stunned Warren, but then it dawned on him that the information was wrong. Paris, France? Her execution was listed on database fast, but they got it very, very wrong. He clicked the link of her name to what he assumed would be her file, but a box asking for password popped up. He closed it and tried the search box at the top of the screen. The password box popped up again. He wondered the reason for the password, but then assumed that Charles hadn't wanted Durrant to get online with it. He tried all sorts of words as a password, looking at the things on the desk and watcher related terms as those were what people usually chose for passwords, but none of them worked. He rushed to the other room again with anger filling his soul. Durrant was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands as Thomas was pacing, looking as if he could tear the place apart bit by bit.

"What's the password?"

"What password?" Durrant asked without interest.

"The password to Watcher database, you traitor!" Warren roared as he grabbed Durrant's shirt and pulled him to his feet.

"Nah, don't you start, too! You guys don't know the concept of good cop-bad cop? I don't know what's going on!"

"Bullshit!" Thomas responded hotly to his student, but then inquired of Warren in a surprised tone, "What password?"

"There a Watcher database in there," Warren indicated the open door to the other office. "My bio was pulled up. They've chronicled Brynn's death already!" His voice may have broke when he said that, but Warren's body had no indication of being overwhelmed when he tossed Durrant across the room. He slammed into the desk and howled with pain.

"What are you doing being so cushy with Watchers?" Thomas screamed as he charged at him. He tripped over Charles' corpse and asked, "Is he one of them?"

"What the hell do you think?" Warren spouted. "You let them into your house and what else? How deep with them are you?"

"That's his office; I don't know what he did in there," Durrant said meekly looking at his dead 'butler'.

"Bullshit!" Thomas kicked his student.

Warren pulled back from that action as they were hot enough to have something bad happen. Something as bad as what he did to Andrew could happen if they didn't collect themselves.

"You never let anyone do anything around you unless you get a cut! What deal did you have?"

"They said they'd never choose a friend of mine, let alone my teacher." Durrant sat up and plead with Thomas with his wide eyes and soft voice. "I swear."

"I thought you were on that list because you were next to be taken, not in on it! I was minutes from jamming with John Lennon, you son of a bitch!" Thomas tried to pull him up and more than likely pound on him again as he yelled, "You traitor! I didn't teach you to be like-" Warren pulled Thomas back, the process of which made Durrant fall back on his desk and then to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know! You have to know that! I wouldn't put you in harm's way! They wanted a headquarters. Charles was my Watcher; he came to me with a deal," Durrant quickly rattled off. "I'd never be taken, or anyone I know!" he squealed when Thomas' boot swiped past his chin.

Warren shoved Thomas away. "Stop it!

"It was going to happen with me or without me!" Durrant said, starting to find some backbone and match Thomas' fury.

A phone rang in the next room, which caught Warren's attention. "Don't do anything rash," he told Thomas and glared at Durrant as he left for the other office. He grabbed the receiver just after the third ring and held it to his ear.

"Marquart, it's Foley," a female voice said.

Warren sat in the chair behind the desk and thought he'd better reply. He took on Charles' accent and slow delivery, "Yes?"

"Do you have a cold?" the woman asked sharply.

Warren coughed for effect and listened. There was a fog horn in the background and a car went by. "I got word that Davidson and Cochrane are on their way to see Durrant for some reason. Have you told him more than he should know? I know you like him."

"Oh?" Warren delivered in what he guessed might be Charles' voice. He must be the Marquart this bitch wanted to talk to. It pleased him to think she was too late.

"Stall them. There's a squad on the way over."

Warren felt a tightness and ripple of adrenaline rip through him and all thoughts of trying to needle information from her was the past. He had to get himself and Thomas out of there, or they could be strapped to a steel chair again by that afternoon. Warren slammed the phone down and called out, "We have to go!" He made mental notes to himself to find something to knock out Durrant or tie him up with quickly to get him into the car and get the hell out of there. To his dismay, warren got to Durrant's office door just as Thomas, with one of the swords from the wall in his hands, standing above Durrant, who was crouched on the floor.

"NO!" Warren yelled out, but to no avail.

Thomas had already taken the killing swing and sneered, "There can be only one, asshole!"

~~~~~

NEW YORK CITY

When Elizabeth thought she'd be able to without falling down again, she got up and used the wall as a crutch to make her way back to the elevators to her husband and child. In the elevator, she started to feel she had been a stupid, scared idiot and started to come up with an excuse for not having made the call. Methos couldn't know that the simple process of making a phone call had overwhelmed her. When the doors opened and she saw Methos walking the hallway, she remembered that there wouldn't be any secrets from each other anymore. There she had been just seconds before pondering what lie she could manufacture that he'd accept for her not calling Dr. Bradford's office.

She must have looked a fright because as soon as Methos saw her, he rushed to her, took her hand, and led her silently to the waiting room and sat her down. "What's the matter? He wouldn't give them to you?"

"No."

"That bastard." Methos put his arm around her. "What kind of quack is he?"

"No," Elizabeth said shaking her head. It was hard to talk as her throat was dry. She looked at Methos' concerned face and squeezed his hand. "No. It was me."

"What's the matter?"

She bucked herself up to tell him straight. What he would do with the information, she didn't know, but she had to tell him. "I couldn't call. I got scared." She chuckled, as if to agree that she was an idiot, but there it was. "I was standing where they took me when I called Duncan that morning and..."

Suddenly, Methos pulled her against him. She could feel him shaking his head and waited for his flippant remark at her stupidity. Instead, he said, "I should have realized. I'm sorry. Of course. Are you okay?"

She looked up at him with relief and he kissed her. His kiss calmed her down more than any pill could. "It wasn't stupid? That I got scared?"

"No. I should have remembered you telling me that you were calling Mac that morning. No. It's not stupid at all. Freelow's supposed to be here in a few minutes. You take those copious notes. I'm going to call the clinic for you. You stay here with Claire. They should be done in there soon."

Elizabeth threw her arms around Methos and cried. "Thank you. I love you."

He laughed and embraced her. "Do you want tall, black, and no sugar as well?"

"I'd love it. Thank you."

"I'll be right back." He got up and looked at his cell phone, which was still on. "Did you at least place the call?"

"Yeah."

"Then I've got it on my call list. I also have to call another woman. I'll be right back."

Before she could ask what other woman he was going to call, Methos was gone. If she had strength enough to stand up, she'd have followed him as she realized she was choking by the green eyed monster. Hell with being weak, she had to know who that other woman was. Amanda? Elizabeth ran to the hall and saw Methos just as he got onto the elevator with a huge smile on his face. It looked as if she just made his day and he more than likely saw the jealousy etched on her face. She giggled and leaned against the wall as it really felt good to be able to show how jealous she had been with any and everything that Methos had in his life without her.

~~~~~

BOSTON

"You stupid, impetuous, little son of a bitch!" Warren wailed at Thomas after he took Durrant's quickening.

"Well," Thomas said panting as he straightened up from the quickening. "It's usually pointless to speak such ill of the dead." He tossed the excalibur sword to the carpet beside his student's headless corpse.

"Not him, you idiot, you!" Warren cuffed Thomas' shoulder.

"Me? I did what had to be done."

"We need information. Doesn't look like Durrant's going to be squealing anymore!" Warren saw Thomas stare at Durrant's head in the corner in much the same why Warren himself might have looked after taking Andrew's head. Maybe it was dawning on the youthful immortal, even though it was too late. "This is a hell of a lot bigger than one guy and whoever he hired to off us, who offed Brynn and that female watcher. One of their own kind! Now we may never know just how big it is because you had to one-up your student!"

"It wasn't that," Thomas shook his head violently.

"Oh yeah? You didn't want to prove how much better you are to him? Just what kind of teacher were you, anyway, to make him go into business with Watchers?"

"I didn't make him do that! He was a big boy and made his bed. Now he's sleeping in it."

"You should have taught him so he knew better! You should have taught him to come to you when things like this crop up! You said you talked to him quite a bit. Why did he keep you in the dark?!"

"I can't help it if he's worse than Benedict Arnold!"

"Oh, yeah?" Warren challenged.

"YEAH! I did what had to be done."

"Bully for you. Now we have nothing to work with."

As soon as Warren started to simmer down and his body relax from after having taken a few strands of Durrant's quickening just by being in close proximity, he remembered that they were going to have company. He shot to the window and seemed that the coast was clear for the time being. He'd have loved to pack up the laptop, but knew he wouldn't be able to get into it.

He looked to Thomas, who was fuming at Durrant's body and knew that he might be on his way to crashing for what he had done soon. Warren had to get him to the car and the hell away from there before that happened, as Warren didn't really know Thomas and didn't have any idea how affected me might be.

"We gotta hit the road. Come on, mate."

When Warren took his arm, Thomas shoved him away. "I'm not your mate! You apologize."

"For what?"

When Thomas didn't answer, Warren guessed, "For calling you an idiot? Well, you are. Come on, we have to go. That call was that Crusaders were on their way over here. I don't feel like getting up close and personal with a steel chair again any time soon. Come on!"

To his surprise, and relief, Thomas took off down the hall after him. Warren felt the tightness in his throat the entire time it took him to run out of the house, to the car, and drove it fast to the gate and onto the street. It wasn't until they were on in the middle of the Boston, nearing the airport, that he started to feel he could take a full and easy breath. Thomas, he realized, hadn't sat a word or even moved in the passenger seat since they got in the car.

"You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Thomas replied, but didn't at all sound confident.

Continued