THE ELIZABETH SERIES

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

BACK TO LIVING

by JoLayne

RATING: PG-13

CHARACTERS: Everyone

SUMMARY: What the gang is up to after the funeral.

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.

~~~~~

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2013
PHOENIX

Even after more than a dozen years, Methos was still a puzzle to Elizabeth. He had almost devoured her in the car, couldn't keep his hands off her as they walked inside the hotel, and almost ate her alive in the elevator, but now in the privacy of their suite, Methos went to the window and stretched his arms high above his head. Shrugging off her need to understand what he was doing, Elizabeth walked into the bedroom and took off her shoes. She sat on the bed and slipped up her black sheath dress to unhook one of her hose from the garter belt.

"Tut, tut, tut," Methos said at the doorway, then made his way to her and knelt before her. "That's my job."

Elizabeth smiled, seeing the animal in Methos rear its head again, and laid back on her elbows watching him run his hands up her leg and expertly unhook the garter at the back of her leg. His hands were warm as he slid her hose down her leg and pulled it off, letting it ripple to the floor alongside him. He repeated the process with her right leg, working slowly. He was watching her closely as she used the big toe of her left foot to tug at his pants. He started to massage her foot, working his way up her leg until he was at her knee. He laid her leg over his shoulder and climbed onto the bed. She had closed her eyes and laid back but didn't feel his weight on top of her, he was probably unbuckling his belt. She was glad he had taken a short breather from the ferocity he had displayed in the car and on the way to their room. She knew that he was going to satisfy her with slow concentration. Her body quivered with anticipation. By the time he pressed against her, it was her turn to act out of control and grab at him, knead his flesh, and cover him with intense kisses.

True to form, when she got carried away with him, he had to slow her down, tell her to enjoy it and not rush things. How he gained control over his mind and body in the moments of passionate weakness was still beyond her, but it made everything work out better in the end, even though at the time she wanted more, faster, deeper, now.

By the time they were exhausted, satisfied, and laying back on the bed, Elizabeth had the thought to thank him for making it, again, truly the best lay of her life, but she didn't. She didn't want him to be too cocky.

Methos had a wonderful way of making her feel alive, loved, and as of late, calm. Since the funeral, she hadn't felt the least bit nervous. Maybe it was the medication, but she knew that Methos had a lot to do with her recovery. Elizabeth rolled onto Methos, holding him as he kissed her temple, and she imagined never feeling out of control again. Such a happy thought. She wanted to stay just the way she was forever, but in just a few hours, they'd have to get up so they could collect Claire, get some breakfast, pack up, then fly back to New York. She had an appointment with Dr. Bradford the day after tomorrow and was looking forward to it. Talking things over with him allowed her to put the things that have aggravated, scared, and worried her in a different perspective. But for now she just wanted to stay here with her husband. Claire was all right, in fact she was probably having a great time that night with Joey.

Elizabeth remembered Claire's first reaction to Megan earlier that day. Claire had seemed taken with her. It would be nice for Claire to have another person to look up to in her life. She had Amanda, Gina, and Amy, though she didn't see them nearly enough. There were times when Elizabeth didn't feel as capable of being the mother, the image or figure for Claire to aspire to in the midst of Amanda and Gina. As hard as she tried she would never attain their level of sophistication. All Elizabeth could do was be the best loving mother she could be now that she had her back in her life and Claire was healing from her injuries.

Megan might be a great influence on her. The first thing Megan had said was that Claire had grown into a beautiful young lady, which made Claire wonder aloud where Megan had seen her before. Megan had told Claire that she had stayed with her mother when she was a baby, to which Elizabeth explained she was a friend of Megan's mother. Her immediate unease wondering if Claire would ask why, knowing they'd have to skirt around the issue of Elizabeth needing to drop her somewhere so she could get back to James because Methos and everyone had gone to rescue Amanda after they had both been brainwashed and drugged by him as an act of revenge for stealing some Spanish coins, was negated when Claire asked what Megan's favorite food was. Cheeseburgers had to have been a bonding answer because Claire smiled and asked if they could eat some.

Elizabeth hoped that Megan would stay in their lives. After experiencing the loss of mortal death and being so close to real death so many times recently, she wanted to keep the people she loved and admired close to her. She wouldn't let stupid, insignificant things get in the way of closeness again. She'd not let a petty spat with Amy make her disparage her career and take off swearing never to see her again. Amy was her sister and Elizabeth needed to be close to her. She didn't know what would happen next in her life, but hoped that Amy, Megan, Amanda, Duncan, Gina, Robert, and Joe would be a big part of it. Not only did Elizabeth need them because they were magnificent people and cherished friends they'd gone to hell and back with, but Elizabeth knew they'd help in Claire's growth.

What Methos needed was also at the top of her agenda. Having Duncan, Joe, and Amanda close would be important to him as well. She knew he needed Claire to be safe and happy. Acknowledging what he needed more than that, except for an occasional massage and a frequent beer, she would make sure his head was safe, his mind was exercised, and his hopes were fulfilled. Since they'd gotten back together, their relationship seemed to be about her health and happiness. It was time she focused her attention on him. One thing he had mentioned as an aside not long ago was that he knew Paris better than Duncan ever would; it was a city he had loved since its inception. As Elizabeth watched Methos, now sleeping content, she wondered if when he woke up she should suggest they move there. He could be in the city he loved, Claire could lap up art, history, the food, and the language, and Methos could show her all he loved about it. The day and night spent with Duncan there had somewhat changed her mind about the French capital. The only other time she had been in France was during World War II and not one thing about Paris had been a good experience. It had also been a place where she and Methos had fought their worst. It was where she had thrown her wedding ring away in irate bitterness.

As she looked at the simple gold band, knowing that the inscription of ME was still safe inside it, she started to cry from gratitude that Amy had known what she needed more than Elizabeth would have ever dreamed at the time she threw her wedding ring away. Amy loved her enough to set aside the mean things Elizabeth had shouted at her in the heat of the moment and collect the most treasured possession Elizabeth had. She also wept with happiness looking at Methos; because he loved her enough to look past the surface of her sword attack to know that something was very wrong about it, that she would never have done that in her right mind, known that she would only be able to live a sane and happy life if he was with her, and that he needed to see her, to give the ring back to her, and get her explanation of what happened in Bethany Stone Manor in order to live a peaceful life himself.

Elizabeth wasn't sure if she ever did explain exactly what happened in Kent, with Pyrius in her head, when she attacked him. She wondered if he still had questions. Besides making sure her friends were close, she would also make sure that there were never nagging questions simmering just below the surface. What happened in Kent, what happened in Shiloh, and most importantly, what exactly the relationship was between Methos and Amanda for over a thousand years would be topics of conversation she would bring up in the near future. For now, she snuggled closer to Methos and shut her eyes, comforted that, for the moment, she was in Utopia.

~~~~~

After the funeral, the Watchers had taken custody of Denise Foley. "We'll handle her," the female head of the Australian Watchers had told Duncan as she took Denise's arm. It wasn't as if Duncan wanted to babysit the rogue Watcher who had decided she would continue to give information and be cooperative, so he had been more than happy to release her. He had given the Watchers all the notes, names, and locations of hideouts Denise had mentioned to Joe earlier.

"Just get back to living, Mac," Joe had said with a light slap on his back.

After leaving the church and having dinner with his friends, Duncan felt as if a weight had been lifted, not only from his shoulders, but his mind as well. He hadn't liked feeling done in and paranoid, knowing there were Crusaders out there forcing he and his friends to look over their shoulders for the rest of their lives. They had to with Immortals, but you knew when they were around. Mortals like James Horton and the Crusaders were much more dangerous because you couldn't feel them coming.

With all that had happened over the past couple of weeks, worrying about Warren and his inability to accept sympathy, wondering if Denise would continue to be helpful, and hoping his friends were all safe and having a relaxing time after the madness, Duncan had a hard time focusing on the here and now. He could tell Amanda was letting him brood. He could also tell that she was more than a bit disappointed that he hadn't taken her up on her offer to join her in the Jacuzzi.

Duncan, staring out over Phoenix from the balcony of the Biltmore, shook his head to clear it and came to the decision that what happened in Shiloh was the past and he had to have confidence that none of them would be affected by Crusaders again. It was time to get back to living, as Joe had sagely suggested. Upon entering their suite, Duncan heard Amanda's soft singing from the bathroom.

Deeming himself an idiot for not being with the one he loved for so long, he smiled as he slowly undressed and crept into the bathroom. Amanda was leaning back in the Jacuzzi, jets of bubbles and foam around her, head back on the rim, headphones on, eyes shut. She hadn't opened her eyes at his appearance so he slipped into the water at the other end. It was only when he caressed her legs that she stopped singing "The Way We Were," and opened her eyes. Duncan's heart was lifted with her smile.

"Get over here, you big lug," she ordered as she jerked her headphones off and wrapped her legs around his waist.

"I was a fool," he admitted as he nibbled her neck.

"Yeah, it was getting lonely in here."

Duncan studied her, pulling her wet hair back from her face, and said, "No. Not just today. I mean... I know this isn't what you want to hear, but..."

"Maybe you can keep it to yourself. You're here. I'm here. That's all that matters. I don't want to talk, or even think, about Denise."

"Denise?" Duncan chuckled. "You couldn't possibly have been jealous of Denise."

"Not jealous in the... envy sense... that you'd, you know, fall for her or anything. But you spent all your time with her. That makes me jealous. I want you all to myself and to make you enormously happy, my love," she said as she caressed his chest and wrapped her legs tighter around him.

"It's Liz."

With the mention of their friend, Amanda grimaced for a moment. "What about her? She's happy with Methos. She's with him right now."

"I know. That's where I want her."

"Good." She pulled him against her and rubbed her cheek against his. "Let's not talk."

"I want to clear the air." As Duncan placed his hands on her cheeks, he told her, "I felt so betrayed and abandoned by you at Christmas, and then finding out you took Michael... I didn't know which end was up. After what happened in Bethany Stone Manor and discovering how much Liz had dealt with in there, I forgot about you and focused totally on her. I even... after finding out you and Methos slept together, many times, as it turns out," he said, but she tried to stop him because he was getting the wrong impression of their night. Duncan stopped her. He knew. He needed her to understand where he was coming from; to explain his actions during the past months. They had to get past this they just couldn't have it lingering any longer. "I slept with Liz-"

"I know. Look, Duncan. We've skirted around this issue many times since getting back together. Don't spoil it. Look, there's wine on ice in the other room. Let's just have fun and not think about anything."

Not being swayed to once again stop his train of thought, he charged on, "Because I truly felt for her. I've always loved her as a friend, you know that." She slightly nodded, not at all liking this conversation and made a face to indicate she would rather it stopped. "I told her I love her in Paris. I even think I meant it."

Amanda finally leaned back, releasing him, not able to meet his eyes.

"But, Amanda, I don't. How could I? After all we've been through, all we've done together, how much I've loved you for so long, I can't love anyone but you."

Amanda suddenly was able to look back at him, and a slight smile started at the corner of her mouth. Duncan continued, "I need you. You're the air I breathe. You make me happy. I could have lost you forever... I don't know how I could live without you in my world."

Amanda whooped and threw her arms around Duncan's neck and kissed him repeatedly on the lips, cheek, and neck. They giggled together as they sunk deeper into the racing water of the jacuzzi. There was one more thing he needed to tell her, and to hear, "Just tell me why you took Michael."

That made Amanda sober up again. He told her, "I'll believe you and forgive whatever happened, just be honest with me."

When she didn't offer an explanation, he asked, "You didn't just for spite or convenience for some pretty rock, did you?"

"No. If you know me at all, you'd know I wouldn't put a piece of jewelry over a person, any person, even ones I don't like."

"I know. Just tell me what happened."

They held each other as Amanda went through the events of Christmas Day at the museum. By the time she was done, Duncan had a different angle on Michael's death. He and Amanda had been at the wrong place at the wrong time and it happened. Sure, she might have just walked away, but knowing Michael, Duncan knew that he would have made that difficult, if not impossible, for her. He had more questions, but he decided he could live without all the gory details of Amanda taking his head. If he had to choose between them, Amanda would always come up the victor in his mind against anyone. He was satisfied that she hadn't done Michael in for any reason other than she was challenged and there was no other option for her.

Duncan kissed Amanda with love, relief, and gratitude. "Now we'll not talk or think about it again. Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome, darling. Now, make me happy."

Duncan didn't need to be told twice. He wrapped his arms around her and spent the rest of the evening making sure Amanda was not only happy but that each and every need she had was tended.

~~~~~

Although Denise was quiet in the back of a black panel van, her mind was on three men. The first was her big brother, Darrell. If anyone was ever mean to his little sister, if she was unhappy, or if she was scared, Darrell had always been there to take care of it. That was until he had a job which took him away from the family for long periods of time; when he did come home for a short visit, he had always been mum about where he was, what he did, and where he was off to next. It was only after he died that she found out about his profession: a Watcher. She found his journal. In it, she read about how he had witnessed an Immortal challenge and then was approached by an older man who provided an explanation why two men were going at each other with swords and why he shouldn't call the police when one of them was beheaded. The journal helped her envision his entry into the Watcher system, Immortals, and the woman he had been assigned to watch and record: Elizabeth Bennett. When Darrell was murdered, it was her that Denise blamed. From the way he had written of Elizabeth in his journal, Denise wondered if Darrell was secretly in love with her. He was certainly smitten. Bennett should have been protective of her brother. He shouldn't have been murdered. After reading passages about how Immortals had killed other Watchers and how secretive they had to be, unable to let their assignment know they existed, Denise had imagined that Elizabeth had found him out and killed him in cold blood. For years, all she wanted was to make Elizabeth pay. Denise had no idea how to go about it, but used all Darrell's friends and acquaintances as a way to enter the Watcher system. After a couple of years, she had made it, only to find out that she had to go through Watcher University, do menial jobs for a couple of years, and hope she would get an assignment or placement where she could find Elizabeth Bennett and kill her. It was nine years before she was in the position to have enough clearance to get into Watcher Database to find out if Elizabeth Bennett was still alive and where she was. A small part of Denise had wanted her to already be dead, then Denise wouldn't have to do it. Murder wasn't something that Denise looked forward to, yet it would have to be done. It would just be so much easier if someone else did the nasty deed.

Another man she thought of while traveling in the back of the black van was her lover, George. He was a field Watcher Denise had met when on a special assignment covering an unstable Immortal who had a crew of Watchers with him waiting for him to take heads. George was handsome, cocky, and instantly taken with Denise. Because he was so entrenched in the Watchers, she knew he would be valuable in her quest to find Elizabeth. He may even kill her for her. George's attitude about Immortals was very different than Darrell's journal indicated his was, along with most of the Watchers she had worked beside and learned from. They had a kind of reverence for immortals and their personal histories. Not long after they got together, George told her that he was part of a secret sect of the Watchers, the Crusaders. They were going to take out Immortals before "they could get us." Hearing that sparked a need inside of Denise. One Immortal had killed her brother. Revenge was all Denise could envision as she joined the Crusaders. Because of where she was assigned, she didn't have the freedom to do all of Mr. Cartwright's bidding. Her access to the Watcher database had made her a valuable member of the Crusaders though, and Cartwright and George had confirmed that. While George, Tiko, and Helen were major henchmen doing hands on work for the cause, she was able to track down whoever they wanted to capture for them. Not that she was alone in that job. It really surprised her how many Crusaders there were, and all the jobs they fulfilled to carry out the plan.

Denise thought back with regret at how clouded her thinking had been. Duncan MacLeod, the third man that drifted through her thoughts, had shown her how corrupt her thinking was. She had seen how Immortals interact and what was important to them. She had met Elizabeth Bennett, now a wife and mother, sad for the loss of an Immortal and a Watcher. Even though she hadn't known Terry, the only one of the group who really did was her husband, Denise supposed, they were all as affected by her death at the hands of the Crusaders as they were about their friend, Brynn. That had taken Denise totally off guard. How they grieved for both equally made Denise aware that they were just like her. They had feelings and didn't relish death and grief. She found out that it was an Immortal named Logan who had killed Darrell long ago, but Denise still blamed Elizabeth, thinking she had been in on it, until she really looked at her. Seeing her, even briefly, with her friends, husband, and most of all her daughter, Denise realized Elizabeth had been as appalled by Darrell's death as anyone could be outside of his family.

After finding out what Denise was and what her goal had been, none of them, Duncan MacLeod especially, had wanted retribution. They didn't want her death, although Denise saw that they could easily have blamed her as much as Denise had blamed Elizabeth for Darrell's death. In truth Denise was even more guilty in Brynn Cochrane's and Terry Payson's deaths than Elizabeth had been in Darrell's, yet they didn't kill her. They wanted information to help cleanse the Watchers of the poisonous Crusaders making her pay with restitution, not blood.

Denise wished she was still in the hands of Duncan MacLeod and his friends. She had started to relax a bit in their hands, and it felt good to give information, as if it was cleansing her in a way. She started to feel terrible for her actions and the revenge that had poisoned her soul for so long. Darrell wouldn't be proud of her at all for joining the Crusaders and wanting vengeance against Elizabeth. She had come to the painful realization that her big brother would have been mighty disappointed in her.

Tears flooded her eyes as she looked up the to black ceiling of the van and whispered, "I'm sorry, Darrell. Forgive me. Please?"

She didn't know where the van was going. She had expected the airport to fly her back to New York or a headquarters for her to be debriefed by Watchers. The van had traveled a long way and didn't seem as if it was going to stop anytime soon. Maybe they were going to drive her back to New York. Judging by the constant speed of the van and no stops or turns for a while, she guessed she was on an interstate.

~~~~~

"That is so awesome, Claire!" Joey announced as Claire twisted a pin in her arm as far as it allowed for his amusement.

"It's gross," she replied.

"Can I do that?"

His fingers were just about to grip the pin when she slapped his hand. "No! Only I can. It's not ready to come out yet."

"Oh, all right," Joey grumbled and watched Claire finish one of the most complex puzzles of the X Box game they were taking turns playing. "Hey, you're better at this game than Leon. He was hopeless."

"He just never played before."

"You haven't."

"All computer games are the same, really, Joey," Claire said. "Just different worlds, names, and programming. That puzzle was like some Dad had me figure out last year when he was teaching me Ancient Egypt. He knows about some traps they put at royal burial sites. How? No clue. He must have read it somewhere, or maybe he went there on a tour or something. He wouldn't tell me."

"Hey! Don't go through that door without saving your..." Joey warned, but then collapsed his shoulders.

A funeral dirge boomed from TV as Claire computer self died and was buried. When a tombstone appeared, Joey slapped her arm. "You lost it."

"Oh well." Claire handed the controller back to him. "I was getting bored anyway. Thanks for letting me play."

"Bored? This is the best game to come along for years. Was a top seller at Christmas."

"Where do you go to school?" Claire asked suddenly.

Joey looked at her as if she was nuts to talk about school when they were on a sort of vacation. "Lab School on the upper east side. Now. For how long? No idea."

"Why do we move so much? You move too, but we don't see each other."

"Dad's job."

"What does he do?"

"I'm not sure. I think he's a doctor. Researcher, but no idea really. He doesn't talk about it."

"What's the school like? What grade are you in? Lab School? Is that all science or something? Do you have a lot of friends?"

Joey shrugged. "It's just a normal school. I'm in seventh. Not many friends. I might have more if Mom let me go to guy's houses, but she wants me to go straight back to the hotel after school so she knows where I am. Man, if living in a big city means you have to stay inside, I want to go back to Kent." Joey took on a perfect British accent to say, "I had good mates there."

"Is your teacher nice?"

"They're okay."

"They?"

"Yeah. I have five."

"Five different teachers?" Claire asked astonished.

"Yeah. I'm in seventh grade. Different teacher for different subjects. I like Mr. Huntley who teaches Math."

Claire grimaced. "You like math?"

"It's okay."

"I don't like math. I like history. Dad makes it interesting."

"Do you have any friends?"

"Not here."

"Well, being home schooled, suppose that makes it hard to meet friends."

"I did at the other places we lived in. I wish we wouldn't move so often."

"Me, too." As if this conversation had gotten too close to the bone, Joey changed the subject with, "I'm hungry."

"Should we order some room service?"

"Room service? Can't afford that."

"Sure we can. At least Mom and Dad can, and since they're renting this suite, it will just go on the bill. What do you want?" Claire got to her feet from in front of the television and found the menu on one of the two double beds in the bedroom.

~~~~~

Katie seemed to weave when she got to her feet after playing with blocks on the floor. Megan swooped down to catch her before she fell on her butt and brought her onto her lap on the couch. Katie immediately nestled against her and fell asleep.

Megan smirked to Nick. "Here I thought it would take a while to get her to sleep. How about that?"

Nick, interested in Sports Center on ESPN, just nodded. At the commercial, he turned to look at Megan, almost falling asleep herself, holding Katie against her chest. Megan opened her eyes from the feeling of being watched, something that she did feel weird about, which was odd considering her line of work, and asked, "What?"

"You look good."

"Well, thank you, sir." Megan's smile seemed to light up the room. Nick made a note to compliment her more often.

"I mean holding her. You're good with kids. I never would have thought it. How do you know about kids?"

"I babysat when I was young, I was going to be a pediatrician when I started college but switched majors and never really finished one. Friends have kids. Why?"

"Are you going to have any?"

"If I find the right guy, I guess."

Nick smiled and edged closer to her on the couch. "Think I might be that guy?"

"You want kids?"

Nick shrugged and absently rubbed his arm that had taken a bullet. "I guess most guys want a family."

"We haven't even gone on a date yet, and you're talking about kids?"

"Only because you're holding one. I'm not good with kids. And say, about that date."

"Think we should go on one?" Megan giggled. "After living with each other 24/7 for how long now? You think we're actually ready to date?"

"It's been pretty hard to keep my hands off you at times."

"Oh?"

Katie made a sound that seemed like a whine and twisted her head, then it fell back to Megan's shoulder. Megan patted her back. "It's okay, sweetie. I should probably put her down."

"Top notch idea. Then we can talk about this date we're going to have."

Megan sat up straighter and then felt Katie's forehead. "She's a bit warm."

"She's in Arizona. I am, too. Should I pump up the air?"

"What do you think? I'm comfortable. How about you?"

"I'm fine."

Megan stood up and brought Katie to the playpen that Amy said she could sleep in. Deciding whether or not to put another blanket on her, Megan noted how small Katie seemed to be. "She's small for her age. She's about two and a half, right? She looks more like a one year old."

Katie opened her eyes. Megan rubbed her tummy and said, "But you're adorable, sweetie. Night, night."

Katie moaned and then started crying. "All right, all right." Megan lifted her back up into her arms and started to bop up and down with her.

"Is she wet?"

"She can't be, I just changed her. I can't believe she's not potty trained yet, but I guess that's not for me to say."

"Amy and Guy have been a bit busy lately. It takes dedication to train a kid, doesn't it?"

Katie's cries were loud against her ear. Megan felt her bottom and said, "You know what? She is wet, I'll bet. No more water for you tonight, sweetie."

After changing Katie and putting her down for the night in the playpen, Megan sat back next to Nick on the couch, who was again enraptured by ESPN. Megan took the remote and shut off the TV.

"Hey!" he said, probably without thinking, then appeared sorry for putting a TV show ahead of her.

"Now, about us," Megan said, then leaned against him and kissed him deeply.

"I think we should skip the date and go right to the bedroom. What do you think?"

"I think there's two kids in the bedroom."

"Damn, that's right." He looked over at Katie in the playpen with his eyebrow raised. "Well, the baby's sleeping..."

Megan laughed and kissed him again. The doorbell rang. For a moment, she didn't know what the sound was, not having ever been in a hotel room with a doorbell before. Nick got up grumbling to answer it, thinking it was one of Clare's overprotective parents. They had almost asked for a blood sample from Leon to make sure he was fit to babysit while they all went to the funeral. "They don't have anything better to do with their freedom but check up on us to see we haven't killed their kids or something?"

When he opened the door, they were surprised by a uniformed young man who rolled a food cart into the room. "What's this?" Nick asked.

The bedroom door opened and Claire and Joey spilled out. "Food! I'm starving," they said.

"You ordered food?" Megan asked, meeting them at the food cart.

"Yeah, cheeseburgers. I ordered for you, too."

"We just ate not three hours ago."

"I'm hungry," Claire said.

Joey said, "Yeah. Saving Neprocolis from the Manixors is hard work."

"Video game?" Nick asked.

"One of the best I've ever played." Joey grabbed a plate with a cheeseburger and fries and the bottle of ketchup and went back into the bedroom.

Nick took a couple of bucks out of his pocket and gave it to the server. "Thanks." He ushered him out.

"I hope they won't be mad about the room service order," Megan said.

"She's their kid. They can work it out." Nick smelled the burger and said, "This is probably the best looking burger I've ever seen in my entire life."

"I can't imagine what it cost."

"What do you care? You're rich."

Megan grimaced to him. Yes, Elizabeth had left her mother eight million dollars and Megan inherited it when her mother died of cancer, but that didn't define her as a person or make her do excessive things, such as ordering a burger and fries three hours after eating. "But I remember when I didn't have money. I don't flash it. I like to live like everyone else."

"You're not used to digs like this?"

"I've never stayed in such a fine hotel."

"Come on, I saw your place, that night we were supposed to have our first date."

Megan hiked a shoulder and took a plate to the couch. "I like conveniences and high tech toys at home, but checking into a hotel like this when a Super 8 suffices isn't in my nature. I'm my mother's daughter."

"What's it like watching a plasma TV?"

"You'll find out, big guy. Eat up," Megan said just before taking a big bite of the cheeseburger.

~~~~~

"Why did I use that cell phone?!" George Marlow had been chanting to himself ever since the Watchers caught him in New Hampshire. During the van ride, the plane ride, and this ride in yet another black panel van with only one small window in the back, George kept thinking about his best friends, Tiko and Helen, Mr. Cartwright's Crusade and how he could find Denise. He had seen encrypted e-mails to and from Collin Macalrathy with her name in them, but his decoder was never able to decode the entire email. From what George could gather, she was also in their custody. After Cartwright died, George's main objective was to get Denise back and rally the few remaining Crusades that were still alive and continue the work.

During the long trip, George came to realize how idiotic it was to continue to use Watcher equipment after their Shiloh warehouse had been invaded. He had wanted to continue having access, and attempted to appear against the Crusaders just so he could keep an eye on what was going on. It made George sick that the new head of the Watchers had been tainted so quickly. George knew that Mr. Cartwright had many a meeting with Macalrathy. The exact nature of those meetings was never disclosed, but George assumed they were to feel out the new Watcher Head to ascertain his true feelings about Immortals and the possibility of the entire network seeing the light and destroying them instead of continuing to meekly watch and record.

The van stopped, and the back door was opened. Before George's eyes adjusted to the bright flashlight beam in his face, he was roughly pulled out of the van. He could feel sand under his feet, but had no idea where he was. He could be in the Sahara Desert as far as he knew.

The back of another black van opened and he was pushed inside it. George voiced his complaint at having been tossed around, but he stopped when he saw that he wouldn't be alone in this van. He looked up at the face of Denise Foley. "Babe!" he clambered to her and pulled her into his arms. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

~~~~~

Liam was on his fourth vodka gimlet when Cassandra snuggled up to him and laid her head on his shoulder. She had a pillow behind her other shoulder and one of the airplane's plain grey blankets on her lap. "I wonder why Wulfgar wouldn't come back with us? He just disappeared after the funeral. Not an easy task for someone so large."

"He was a man on a mission. Or rather, a teacher on a mission. He told me he wouldn't be returning with us."

"He did?" Cassandra lifted her head to look at him. "He really didn't talk to me or when I was around. When did you talk?"

"When you weren't around." Liam patted her head with a smile. "Don't take it personally. He's shy. He's not used to people. He was great at the funeral, don't you think?"

"Really. He hadn't said four words since we went to get him in the woods and he makes that speech. I couldn't have been more surprised. I liked what he had to say, too." Cassandra's green eyes looked to the window and mused, "Those bastards had better take care of their mess."

"If they don't, they'll have a hell of a fighter on their asses. I don't envy them at all if they were lying to us."

"If we're not all killed before anyone can sic Wulfgar on them."

"MacLeod's keeping me posted, and I'll keep Wulfgar posted."

"How?"

"The cell phone."

"Of course." Cassandra spouted as if this was normal for a woodsman to have a cell phone and she was silly to think otherwise.

"I just hope he remembers how I said it worked. I got him one in the States so he'd be in contact. Remember when I was in the hall and calling him." Liam laughed harder. "Trying to teach that old man new technology... well, hope he remembers to push the right button when I call to give him updates."

"I saw you make a call in the hall, but you didn't tell me who you were calling." With Liam's laugh, she giggled herself. "I hope you got a large cell phone with big buttons, or he'll push them all trying to push one."

"Biggest one they have. One of the old ones. I think it was a relic in the 90's. But, it works and he knows how to use it, hopefully."

Cassandra pointed to the phone on the back of the seat in front of her. "Should we try it?"

Liam looked at it, then his wife. He hiked a shoulder and said, "Why not..."

~~~~~

When the van stopped, Denise's heart had started to pound wondering where she was. She heard men's voices outside the van and couldn't understand why they weren't opening up the door and freeing her. She didn't even know if she was in the country or a town. Outside the small window in the back, was total darkness, so they had to be in the country somewhere. Suddenly, the back door jerked open and she saw a Joshua tree illuminated by headlights. She arose from her seat to leave the van, but a man was pushed inside and the door was slammed shut again. Through the dimness of the van, she couldn't see who it was until she was back in her seat and studied him. "George?!"

"Babe!" George Marlow clambered to her and pulled her into his arms. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

After a string of kisses, he asked her, "Where the hell have you been? I've been looking all over."

"I was captured."

"Those bastards. They're working with the sewer rats and don't even know they're annihilating our own race. We'll get them. We'll get them all. Who are you in contact with?"

Denise pulled herself from George's arms. "What are you talking about?

"The plan. The Crusade," he replied as if to a kindergartner.

"That's over, George. We were..."

"It's still on, babe. Don't be stupid."

"George, it's..."

"I lost some close comrades, but as soon as we give these creeps the slip, I can get a hold of the others, after I buy a new cell phone. One that's not bugged," he shouted to whoever was listening, certain there were listening devises.

"George, I've been thinking."

Shaking his head with frustration at being trapped, he said, "Never do that, babe."

Offended, remembering how he could be so chauvinistic, she jerked his hands away when he went for her again and yelled, "Get your hands off me!"

George calmed Denise down and said, "I'm going to continue what our leader started because he can't and it needs to be done."

"No, it doesn't. I've been with them. I know them, well, not really, but they're not sewer rats."

George was silent. He looked at her strangely, then shook his head again. "You've been brainwashed? Well, don't worry. I'll take care of you."

He looked out the window in the back. The lights of the Valley of the Sun were behind them on a lower elevation. They had to be on a dirt road in the desert because he saw a line of intermittent white lights that indicated the interstate they had taken from Flagstaff. It was totally dark, but he could see a tall, bright fire in the distance.

"Where are we going, anyway? Well, it'll be easier to lose them out here."

"I don't want to lose them. I want to help them."

George looked slowly around at her. "Them? Them who?"

"The Watchers and Immortals."

"What?"

"We were wrong, George. So wrong. They do have feelings. Elizabeth does feel bad about my brother and she didn't have anything to do with his death."

"You... oh man, it's going to take some work to get you back to normal. Don't worry." He put his arm around her. "I'll take care of you now."

"I don't want to be taken care of," she said, flipping his arm off her. "I'm my own woman. I've told them who I know in the organization and-"

"What?!" When George stood up, his head hit the ceiling. "You ratted on me? I knew they had to have had an informant. No one knows about my hiding place. I thought it was my cell phone!"

"I did. They said they'd take care of us if we cooperate. Mr. Dawson said I'd probably just get a reassignment and a fine but no prison and won't get shot. You, too."

"Mr. Dawson? Joe Dawson? That rat lover? You believe one word he says?"

"Yes. And Mr. MacLeod and-"

"Mr. MacLeod? Duncan MacLeod was the one we had to get rid of first! What got into you?!"

The van stopped, so George looked out the window again and saw four pairs of headlights and there could be more due to how bright it was. His heart tightened. He'd been on the other end of this sort of thing before. "You stupid, idiotic, bleeding heart...," he spewed at Denise.

"What's going on?"

"We're done for that's what!"

The door jerked open, and George was pulled outside.

~~~~~

Ignoring the incessant ringing from his backpack, the giant stood, arms apart, head to the heavens, in front of a booming fire in the desert. The timber had been made up of dried wood, desert grasses, cactus limbs, and a bit of powder brought from the back woods of Germany, which made the fire burn a colorful red, orange, pink, and purple, with wisps of blue. Wulfgar started chanting to the gods, as a river of tears flooded down his face, asking that they receive his ceremony for his fallen student and the innocent babe that were so cruelly taken from their husbands. He prayed for strength to endure life without his beautiful student, his daughter, Brynn Thayer, in the world. He prayed for help to relieve the bitterness that had invaded his thoughts. There was still evil, even after all these centuries, that dominated men's souls. He prayed that the men who would fight this evil would do so swiftly and without mercy for the bane that sought to murder those they did not understand. Still, fear of the unknown made men do desperate, horrendous things. As the embers of his pyre started to wane, Wulfgar got on his knees and grasped fistfuls of sand then allowed each grain to sift through his fingers, hoping the anger he felt since his son Liam had brought him the unfortunate news of Brynn's passing would ebb. He still chanted with a hoarse voice to make sure he was heard and the gods would act quickly to receive Brynn's and Terry's souls and to decimate the evil that had taken them.

At the end of his reverie, Wulfgar noticed a couple of flashing lights atop cars speeding their way towards him.

"Civilization..." he grumbled and he said one last prayer to Brynn and Terry, then gathered his belongings into his bag.

The giant hadn't gotten ten paces from the pyre when he was confronted by a small beam of white light coming from a man dressed in a dark blue uniform with a badge on his chest that glinted when it moved in front of the fire. "What the hell you think you're doing?"

Wulfgar figured that "walking" wasn't too good of an answer, so he just kept on doing just that. When he passed the man, and saw another one behind him, and two more exiting a vehicle with those flashing lights on top, Wulfgar just kept on walking to the east.

"Hey! I'm talking to you."

Yes, Wulfgar thought. You are... so?

One of the newly arrived men in the same sort of uniform looked up at Wulfgar as he passed and exclaimed, "Jesus! Just how tall are you?"

Wulfgar slung his bag over his back and just kept walking. Mingling with men wasn't one of Wulfgar's strong points besides he had finished his business there. He was going home and had a long road ahead of him. He didn't need to be distracted.

A mingle of voices were behind him. "Hey! I'm talking to you," and "I've never seen anyone that big."

"Stop!" Wulfgar heard just before he heard the click of what he knew was a gun. Though Wulfgar never used one, the few people he had come across in his forest had and so he knew what they sounded like. He turned his head and saw there was no way they could see him in the darkness, so he continued walking east, noting the position of the North Star in the sky.

"You can't shoot him," a voice called out.

"But he's just walking away!"

"You think he'll even fit in the prowler? The fire's almost out."

"Damn idiot! Hope you get bit by a rattler! Serve you right for burning up the desert!"

The voices drifted off behind him in the distance, then Wulfgar could see a large vehicle lumbering up the road to where his pyre had been. This one was bright yellow and also had flashing lights at the top. Because it wasn't doing anything to him, Wulfgar just kept walking as it sped past him on the long piece of hard earth vehicles usually traveled upon.

~~~~~

Denise shielded her eyes when the sudden harsh beams of lights from two other vans invaded the darkness of the van with the opening of the door. "George!" she cried out, her heart pumping, not knowing what was happening. She had thought she was going to be brought back to headquarters for debriefing, but this wasn't at all what she expected from the process. "George!" she cried out again as gruff hands pulled her from the back of the van and onto the sandy ground of the chilly desert.

"Hands behind your head!" Denise heard a no-nonsense voice command above her, so she did.

"What's happening?" She called out in sheer terror. None of this felt right at all. "George? What's happening?"

Realizing he was on the ground next to her with his hands behind his head, she was a bit relieved, but then he stretched his head to sneer at her. "Still trust 'em?"

"NOW!" The harsh voice called out again, just before there were two metallic bursts as if from a high powered gun.

"NO!" She yelled as George's face was sprayed with blood. Her heart pumped so fast she thought it would burst from her chest. There were two more gunshots. "No..." she moaned just before a blazing hot prick entered the back of her head and then all was dark and silent, calm.

~~~~~

"What's that humongous idiot doing now?" Zebly muttered, the audacity of the giant still bit as his nerves, when he thought he heard a barrage of gunfire in the far distance. It was eerie how sounds traveled in the darkness of the desert. "Should have shot him when I had the chance."

"Don't be an idiot yourself," Ryan intoned. "You don't shoot an unarmed person, even if they did set a fire."

The firemen in yellow fire jackets were putting the last bit of water on the structure of Joshua tree branches, mesquite brush, and cactuses that was now a simmering mess.

"What you think he was doing out here?" Ryan asked as he flashed his light on the fire ring. "You think he belongs to a cult? There have been rumors of one up here." He looked up. "Not even a full moon."

Ryan was once again astounded by the view one could get in the desert by moonlight. In the city limits, you could only see about a block unless you were atop one of the many mountains peppering the Valley of the Sun. Out on the open ranges, with the moonlight showering down on the desert vista, Ryan thought he could see almost twenty miles in the distance, especially from the bluff they were on. Because the giant had built the fire on a bluff it was easily seen. Ryan cringed when he thought about the fact that if that ranging fire hadn't been found and put out, they could have lost a lot of landscape and maybe even Rio Verde or Pinnacle Peak.

Zebly batted Ryan's arm and said, "I don't know, but that was definitely gun shots I heard. Let's check it out."

"Gun shots? Where?"

Zebly pointed behind Ryan to a lower spot in the desert in the distance with a band of white stationary lights to the west. "Over there. Doesn't that look like headlights to you?"

Ryan squinted to see; there were possibly four vehicles in a circle about a half mile away down the bluff they were standing on. "Situation's under control here, let's check it out."

Just as they reached the patrol car, the vehicles seemed to break up and drive off in different directions. Ryan hit the gas to be able to wrangle at least one of them while Zebly called it in to headquarters.

The vehicle that Ryan had focused on and tailed was a black van with shaded windows. Ryan hit the siren and lights as he sped behind it. He was glad for his photographic memory as the red Arizona license plate reading 829 with a picture of a cactus then ZPT was seared in his head.

"Drug deal gone wrong, maybe?" he asked Zebly, who nodded as if he was certain that was the case.

"Guy's driving like a maniac!" Ryan yelled as they were now off the road and on the uneven, brushy landscape of the desert. Even though he tried his best, the van was able to get away. The bottom of the van was higher than the patrol car, and Ryan hit the steering wheel with his fist when the car got stuck on some underbrush.

"Wonder if Big Foot is a part of the drug deal." Zebly asked in the quiet but idling car.

"Get out and push. Make yourself useful," Ryan spit out at his partner. He was getting on in years and the capture of a drug dealer would have done wonders for his career and he might have finally gotten that promotion instead of having to investigate fires in the desert.

Zebly pushed as Ryan gunned the engine, then rocked the car back and forth before Zebly pushed again. Finally, the prowler came loose from the brush and Ryan waited for his partner to get back in the car before going to the area where Zebly swore he heard gunshots.

When they got there, there were tire tracks from six vehicles, which had all been parked in a circle. In the middle of it, there were impressions in the sand that appeared to have been made by bodies. Ryan knelt down and concentrated his flashlight on the ground. He put his finger in what had got his attention. When he flashed his light on his fingers, he could see it was fresh blood. Each impression on the ground had a pool of blood where the head of the body would be.

Zebly wailed, "My God! This was an execution!"

Ryan charged to the prowler and almost yanked the radio cord out when he announced with shaking hands. "This is Officer Peter Ryan, All Points Bulletin! North of Phoenix, black paneled van, license 829ZPT. Wanted in an execution-style murder in the desert! Repeat! All Points Bulletin! North of Phoenix, black paneled van, license 829ZPT. There was an execution in the desert approximately four miles west of I-10 near Cave Creek!"

~~~~~

After the funeral, James Payson had been stoic and thoughtful, so Jan had left him alone when they arrived back at the Payson house. When Jan had to use the bathroom and realized that it was there she was turned when the men came to kidnap her sister and brother-in-law, Jan had a terrible time controlling her shakes, but didn't say a word to James. He was shut in his studio seeming not to want to be disturbed.

Jan had spent the rest of the day going through her sister's things. Jan would almost laugh as tears strolled down her face going through one after another of the outrageous outfits that Terry always said she felt most comfortable in. Satin and spandex seemed to be the norm for the wardrobe. When James had decided to cremate Terry, Jan had suggested maybe painting the official and clinical urn that would hold her ashes for eternity bright purple or hot pink, but James shot her a glare that told her not to suggest anything more. It didn't matter what color Terry's urn was. What mattered was that she wasn't with her anymore.

After the daylight ebbed, Jan had turned on the lamps and sat on the bed to go through some photo albums she found in a drawer. One was of Terry and James' wedding, another was all the vacation photos Terry had taken, another was of their family as they were growing up. Surprising her about an hour later, James appeared in the bedroom seemingly on a mission. "Come on," he said shortly and then disappeared into the hallway.

Jan hadn't snapped to attention, as she assumed his command had required, too interested in reliving the past when she had a sister who was sharing a room with her, wasn't married to an immortal, and certainly wasn't dead.

He poked his head back into the room and said, "Come on. Can't you understand English?"

"Come where?"

Jan had only uncurled one leg from under her when she asked the question, and James bolted into the bedroom and grabbed her hand, yanking her from the bed. The photo album fell to the floor, but James didn't give any indication he cared. He brought her out into the walled back yard and only then came to a halt.

"What's going on?"

"It's dark now, so we'll start. We won't be disturbed if you don't make a lot of noise."

"What's going on?" she repeated, starting to lose her patience. There was the start of a chill to the air, and she'd rather be inside with the memories of her sister, not being harped at in the dark on top of the gravel that consisted of a "lawn" in Arizona.

"You have to start training, Jan," James said with a little more patience. "It's imperative you learn how to defend yourself. I've never taught before, and spent the last couple of decades sitting on the sidelines, but once you have fought, you don't forget how. You just get rusty."

Jan became nervous when he reached into a long, narrow box and pulled out a sword. "I almost lost my head, you turned, Terry... died... we both have to get into shape in case there's anyone wanting to take our heads."

A look of evil glinted in James' eyes, and the streetlight from over the fence shone on the long, thin, sharp blade of the sword he was holding as he neared her. "I've never seen you like this. This is a new side of you."

"I don't have sides. This is me. I tried to squelch swords and fighting for decades, but," he said as he thrust the sword into her hand.

She dropped it immediately.

"The most important thing," James instructed, "is to learn how to hold the sword. Pick it up."

"I want something to eat."

"Pick up the damn sword!"

"I just buried my sister! I don't want to think about death!"

"You have to! From now on, you have to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?"

"You are immortal, Jan. I'm sorry, but you are. You have to live with it, deal with it." James voice was soft and coaxing now. "Please, pick up the sword. Hold it for a while. Swing it around. Get the feel of it. It's yours now. Make it your best friend. In the immortal world, it's the only friend you're going to have. While you do that, I'll make us dinner."

James eased back from her and watched. Jan picked up the sword, which immediately felt heavy in her hands, but then after moving it around for a moment, started to not feel too encumbering. James nodded and smiled. "That's right. After dinner, I'll show you how to hold it properly." He walked into the house saying, "Keep on. I'll call you when dinner's ready."

~~~~~

It wasn't just Cartwright's death and the funeral that afternoon that gave Joe licence to ease back into a life of not being on high alert. It was early evening that same night in Arizona that had done the trick, made Joe believe life was going back to normal again, and just might become better. He and Benji, wanting to get some alone time, had decided to take a drive after the funeral since the children were settled with first Leon, then Megan Willis and Nick Hartford while the adult immortals and Watchers spent an evening alone. It had been Benji who spotted the sign, "Joe's Grotto," and said, "Looks like you own another place, Joe. There's a lot of business owned by a Joe."

It had been Joe that spotted what was under the name of the establishment, "LIVE JAZZ," which made Joe swerve into the parking lot. Even though it was a bar and Benji was only 17, Joe was going to go in there with him and live the adage he'd been preaching to everyone, "Get back to living." He loved music and had missed it during the past couple of months when he hadn't even picked up his guitar to strum in order to come up with a new strain for a new song. He had been touring with his last CD, but had to call the tour off when all hell broke loose with the Crusaders.

Joe had turned into the crowded parking lot of the strip mall the bar was in and parked the rented Durango as close to the entrance as he could find. Even though he had left his guitar back in Paris, Benji never went anywhere without his. There was a hand-written note in the window, "Open Mike Night."

Benji didn't need telling. He whooped and got out of the SUV, going immediately to the back for his Fender. Now, as Benji was nearing the end of his guitar solo on stage, the entire crowd was in rapture at the young man's talent. Benji had wanted Joe to go up on stage with him after Benji heard only his name called by the MC. Joe had just signed Benji up; Joe knew that as soon as Benji came of age he should go out on his own and make a career for himself. This was the perfect opportunity to get his feet wet. The young man had been nervous, but Joe saw the sparkle in his eyes as he was urged to the stage with his guitar. Benji had started out slowly with the murmurs from the crowd distracting him. It only took the spotlight, silence from the crowd, a few nervous coughs from Benji, before his fingers were making perfect notes on his Fender. That had given Benji enough courage to forge on. Joe took it as a compliment that Benji had chosen one of his songs to perform.

Halfway through the song, Joe watched the crowd, silent, listening, faces turned toward Benji on stage, some heads nodding and some feet keeping time with the beat of the tune. Soon, as the tempo and emotion of the song swelled, so did the crowd's reaction to him. By the time the song ended, people were on their feet swaying to the music and some clapping along. When Benji was finished, the crowd applauded and whooped for him. Some of the whistles seemed to float through Joe's soul as Benji's face took on a completely overwhelmed smile. Even though the crowd was clapping for him and calling for an encore, Joe clapped and whistled the loudest, not able to envision being more proud. He could see that it was him that Benji was focused on. In some ways, he was still such a kid, needing nurturing of his talent and prodding in the right directions. When it looked like Benji was going to leave the stage after a jerky bow of thank you to the crowd, smile still lighting up his face, Joe shook his head no and called out, "Encore!"

Benji stopped and turned around, almost knocking the clapping MC over when he bumped into him. "You want to hear another one?" the MC asked the crowd with his microphone on. The crowd answered with harder claps and more whistles.

Benji sat back on the stool under the spotlight. The crowd was quieted by a few more strums from the Fender guitar. It didn't take Benji as long to get into the moment with this new song that he and Joe had just started to write together months ago. Joe started to hum along, hoping that Benji would remember the whole song. To Joe's amazement, Benji knew it by heart, and even started to sing along. During the first song Benji played, the mike stood unused. It had to have been the boost from the crowd that made Benji get up the nerve to start singing the song. During a couple of lines, Benji just hummed, and on other lines, he sang different words than what they had written. To Joe, it was magic. He wished it was being recorded so he could savor this moment for the rest of his days. Benji had become like a son to him, family, and Joe had never felt more proud of him. After all the urging from Joe for him to ready himself for a solo career, and Benji denying his talent and wherewithal to do it, Benji now had his first taste of what his life could be like if he wanted it.

Joe could barely hear it in his pocket with Benji's performance and the crowd, but he knew his cell phone just went off. Joe looked at the caller ID. Collin Macalrathy. He'd better take that call. Joe got up and stepped past the small round tables and people staring up at the stage to the bathrooms where he could get a little privacy. He answered the call with, "What's up?"

"Joe? I was just going to hang up," Macalrathy's voice replied.

"I had to get where I could hear you. Benji's wowing them on stage, Collin. You should see it. You want to hear him? He's great up there."

"No, Joe. I have to go. I just wanted to tell you that we found five more of them. The list of those we need to find is getting shorter, my friend."

"Oh, that's good news, Collin." Joe didn't think he could take more good news, there had been so much happiness today already. "What are you going to do with them?

"Debrief them. See how far their minds are fucked up. Get them help and rehabilitation. I want you to know this organization will not stand to have traitors in our midst. I'm cleaning up the Watchers. You make sure to tell Mr. MacLeod and his friends that."

"Friends... you mean the giant at the funeral?"

"Yeah. Him especially."

"I'll give them the good news. Thank you, Collin."

Joe figured Benji was almost through with the song and didn't want to miss the reception for him. "Gotta go," he said before clicking off the call and dropping the phone in his pocket.

He got back to the stage area just as Benji was singing the last line of the tune they had written together, "Keep on, just keep walking in that sunlight..."

Benji bowed more gracefully this time, the smile on his face would have been impossible to erase if you tried. He spotted Joe at the doorway to the bathrooms and bolted off the stage to the crowd's cheering and grabbed Joe into a bear hug from all his enthusiasm. "I thought you left. You're not mad I used our song, are you?"

"Are you crazy? It was great! Congratulations, son."

The word son had just come out with all the protective and proud feelings Joe had felt for the young man, and Benji stared at him. Joe would have thought it impossible, but Benji's smile grew wider and he hugged him again.

~~~~~

Methos couldn't figure out where he was. All he knew was he was in a dark room on a skinny, hard table with his arms spread on each side of him. He couldn't move his arms and didn't like being in a crucifixion position. Even though he couldn't see anything, his other senses had kicked in. The room was humming with the roar of mechanical equipment on a table. There was a metallic, antiseptic smell. The table he laid on was cold. A spotlight trained down on his face. Then he could see something outside the spotlight's range. At first, he thought the man with short black hair approaching his bed was Pyrius, since this felt much like it had when he had been captured by the maniacal Greek. Another man, then a woman, appeared behind the first man. Methos didn't like this at all. For all he was worth, though, he couldn't move a muscle. Terror rose within him as he saw the people crowd around his bed. What finally made Methos call out was the sight of one of the men's wrists which had a Watcher tattoo etched on it. "Liz!"

When she didn't come, Methos struggled to move. It was then he realized his wrists had been strapped to the table. He could feel his ankles had been too; he couldn't move his legs either. "Liz! Elizabeth!"

Just when it felt he couldn't breathe any longer, Elizabeth appeared at his left shoulder and put her warm hand on his shoulder. "I'm here. It won't take long." Methos looked at the glimmering green ball gown she was wearing, and her hair was pulled into a fashionable updo as if she was going to a party.

"They're going to take my head!" He tried to tell her, but she left in an instant, and he couldn't utter a sound. His mouth was covered by one of the men's large hands, which felt like a 500 pound weight over him.

"Just breathe," the man clamping down on his face whispered.

Even though lifting a finger seemed impossible, Methos struggled. He tried to move his arms and kick out with his legs. "Liz! You promised you'd protect me, dammit!"

With one forceful kick, he was able to sit up and gasp for breath, the hand no longer at his mouth. "They're going to take my head!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Gasping for breath, he looked around the dim room. He was in a wider bed now, one that actually had pillows and bed linen. He saw Elizabeth climb over the side of the bed back into it. "No one's going to take your head," she said almost groggily.

"Get real! Everyone wants my head."

When she sighed and put her legs under the sheet and blanket, Methos tried to clear the terror that filled him just moments ago. "You weren't dreaming again, were you?" she asked.

"Dreaming?" He paused. He could breath now. He could move. Those people were gone. Elizabeth's hair was flat on her head and she wasn't wearing a green ball gown. In fact, she wasn't wearing anything. "Where am I?"

"In Phoenix, sweetheart," she said, putting her hand to his face.

He clapped his hand over hers and laid back down on the bed. "Dreaming..." he intoned, just before an involuntary shudder made him catch his breath. He took another deep breath and drank in the peace of the room. He realized he had been dreaming and now could breath and there wasn't a spot light on him.

"It's all right," Elizabeth whispered, kissing him, "though I don't appreciate being kicked out of bed when you dream, so don't do that anymore," she demanded with what strength exhaustion hadn't taken from her and closed her eyes before laying her head on his shoulder. She yawned wide. "You must have remembered being in that chair."

"What chair?"

"The steel chair. In Shiloh," she said with another shuddering yawn. "With the blade at your neck. I dream about it, too."

"Oh yeah. No. This was different."

"Your dreams usually are. Just don't dream it again. Forget about it. We're safe."

Before he knew it, Elizabeth's breathing evened out and she was asleep again curled up against him. He remembered where he was and how he got there. He remembered making love to Elizabeth a short time ago. He remembered the funeral and Wulfgar's appearance. He remembered Claire was with Megan and Nick and they were armed.

Methos tried to calm down so he'd be able to fall asleep again. It was just a dream, he kept telling himself. He dreamt weird things all the time, but they only seemed to come true if he dreamed them three times in a row. He wouldn't dream it again. He wouldn't lose his head. The Crusaders were found out. They weren't going to come after them.

With thoughts racing about how they would, not they wouldn't, others like was Claire really safe where she was, yes she was, did Elizabeth really love me, of course she does, were going through his head, added to the worry about dreaming about being in that dark room with Watchers again, Methos had a hard time falling asleep. He slipped further down under the covers while Elizabeth, in her sleep, snuggled up to him again. He cradled her head and kissed her forehead as he played with a long lock of her hair, twisting it around his fingers.

Remembering that Joe was on the case and was convinced that the Watchers were taking care of the Crusaders, that Duncan was relaxed enough to say he was done with worrying and was going to lead his own life, and that Megan and Nick could be trusted with their daughter, Methos started to get sleepy again and closed his eyes. A half hour later, he couldn't sleep and slipped out of bed careful not to disturb Elizabeth, and walked into the other room. He looked at the time. It was early morning and they had to be asleep. Methos didn't care. He called the hotel suite where Megan, Nick, Claire, and Amy's kids were staying. He had to know Claire was all right before he could possibly get himself back to sleep.

After four rings, a sleepy, "Hello?" came on the line.

"Megan?"

"No, this is Nick," the groggy voice turned deeper after a clearing of his throat.

Methos chuckled. The hello had been so high pitched. "Nick, this is Daniel. Is Claire all right?"

"Why wouldn't she be? She went to sleep hours ago. What time is it?"

"I'm sure it's an appropriate hour to call somewhere in the world. Did I wake you?"

When there was just silence over the line, Methos knew he had. What a stupid thing to ask. "Can you check on Claire for me?"

"What? She's asleep. So's everyone else."

"Please, Nick. Just see that she's okay."

Methos heard a grumble of swear words after a heavy sigh and the clink of what was probably the phone being set on the table. "She's sleeping with Katie on one of the beds in the bedroom. All right? I even checked her pulse, and she slapped out at me in her sleep. Satisfied?" Methos heard Nick grouse after he came back on the line.

"All right," Methos said relieved. "Thanks. I know that's strange, but... I needed to know. Thanks. Go back to sleep."

There was a click on the line, and Methos knew that Nick just hung up without continuing with the conversation. He was sorry he woke him up, but if he was looking after his kid, Methos would prefer it if Nick didn't sleep at all. He should be on watch for him.

Methos took one last look out the window at the lights of a sleeping Phoenix and the beginnings of the sunrise on the horizon before turning back to the bedroom. He was surprised to see Elizabeth standing in the doorway, arms crossed, wearing one of the hotel's robes. "What are you doing?" she asked with another yawn.

"Being father hen," Methos replied, only a bit embarrassed for having awoken two people.

Elizabeth smiled. "How's Claire?"

"Sleeping."

"Big surprise there...," Elizabeth held out her hand to him. "It's cold without you. Come back to bed."

Methos took her hand and pulled her into a hug. Holding her and nestling her head against his, he felt comfort wash over him. "You'll protect my head, right?"

"With my dying breath, my love," she replied, holding him tighter. Then she said as she walked them to the bed. "I wish you wouldn't take so much stock in your dreams. You interpret them wrong anyway."

As she crawled into bed after shedding her robe and kept the covers raised for him to join her, she said, "I dream all the time. Doesn't mean they're going to happen. They scare me or make me happy, then I wake up and live my life."

"You can't deny some of my dreams-"

"Yeah," she said, cutting him off. "Come here. I'm cold."

"Well," Methos said with a smile. "I can take care of that." He got under the covers with her and wrapped his arms and leg around her as she giggled. "The human blanket at your service."

She rubbed her hand over his head and kissed him. "What did you dream?"

"I'll let you know if I dream it again."

"Don't you ever dream happy dreams?"

"After leaving you in Kent, I kept dreaming that I was holding you like I am now. They weren't happy thoughts and dreams at the time because I was so mad at you I could have taken your head, but now I see they were quite prophetic."

Her face had initially looked quite guilty with his words, but it had softened by the time he had finished. Methos kissed her and said, "I love you with all my heart, Lizzie."

"That's my dream come true," she said as she snuggled against him again and closed her eyes.

There was a moment of silence, and he thought she was asleep, but she asked, "What did you dream about?"

"You were letting some watchers take my head," he stated matter-of-fact, not thinking about how it sounded until he said it. Immediately he was sorry.

Elizabeth snapped her head up, now seemingly wide awake. "What?!" She sat up and gawked at him. "Are we back to that again? You don't trust me?"

"Of course I do," he said, urging her to calm down and lay back down feeling the chill from her vacating his side.

"You dreamt it! You don't trust me, you don't really think I love you."

"Yes, I do," he argued.

"If you did, really did, you wouldn't dream it. Dreams are your unconscious speaking to you."

"I'm sorry, Lizzie, look. I can't tell my subconscious what to show me. I know in my heart and in my head you love me and I can count on you to protect my head if I can't. I know that."

"Then why did you ask me a few minutes ago?"

"I... I...," he stammered. "I was tired! I just saw Watchers all over me and couldn't move and you looked ready for a party. I don't know. I just had to check."

"You had to check?" She stared bullet holes into him. He was sorry to say it like that and knew that his dreams, if they did come true, were usually wrong, and he was just confused and still feeling that big hand over his mouth. She stated evenly, "You had to check. Thanks a lot. You know, I've dreamt I fell out of an airplane, but that doesn't mean I should interrogate the first pilot I see about some scam he has going against me. I can't believe you still don't trust me."

When it looked like she was going to get out of bed, Methos pulled her back and whipped his leg over her to keep her there. "But, you have acted and said things on impulse. I can't? I just wake up from a nightmare and you think I should be coherent right off the bat?" When she stopped struggling in anger, he said, "I made a fool of myself and woke Nick up to make sure Claire was safe. That's not a rational thing to do now that I have time to decipher my behavior. Asking you if you love me after how we've been since Shiloh... It was stupid. I admit it. I'm an idiot!" he screamed to the ceiling for all to hear.

He studied Elizabeth's face for her reaction. Her grimace of surprised betrayal had eased, just before she cracked a smile. "Well, I wouldn't go that far..." she offered as a peace offering.

Methos kissed her, laid his head down on her shoulder, and held her hand. "Nothing left unmentioned, right? Isn't that our new deal? I asked, you answered, I believe you. It's over. Just don't talk to me right after a nightmare and we're fine."

"Keep questioning my undying devotion to you, and we're not at all fine," Elizabeth said with authority but when her smile stayed plainly on her face, Methos knew they'd gotten over that bump in the road quite nicely. Methos was comforted enough to fall asleep again knowing that his dream would be wrong even if it did come true, and determined it wouldn't dream it again anyway.

Continued