THE ELIZABETH SERIES

CHAPTER NINETY

THE SIGN

by JoLayne

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS: M, A, OC's Elizabeth, Claire, Thomas

SUMMARY: While on vacation in Paris, Methos decides to take Elizabeth on a side trip.

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.

~~~~~

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 20, 2013
PARIS

Elizabeth came back to the suite with a new look and attitude. The day spa that Methos had scheduled for her was extensive, and she didn't think there was an inch of her body that hadn't been pampered. From the breakfast of mimosa, fruit, and baguettes through lunch of crab and caviar salad on toast tips to snacking on expensive chocolates all day as she was massaged, pruned, packed in mud, and steamed, Elizabeth was getting sleepy and was extremely full. She hoped that since Methos wasn't there that he had as good a time that day as she had, but she doubted it. If he was honestly cleaning out the apartment he had with Claire, it shouldn't have taken him all day. She wondered if he was planning some extensive evening of full, drink, and indulgence. She could take the indulgence, but if she looked at another meal, she'd probably clean out her digestive tract. She slipped off her shoes to see her freshly manicured and polished toenails, a deep burgundy, which matched her fresh manicure on her fingers. She stretched, yawned, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the wet bar. Her hands immediately went to her hair.

"God, I hope he likes it," she mused as she walked closer to the mirror and scrutinized her new freshly colored chestnut hair which had four inches cut off, with a lot of layering with a razor done. Her hairstylist, or "beautification expert," as Henri had called himself in thick French, seemed to know what he was doing and everyone working on her fingers and toes during the process of the haircut all agreed that it took years off her face. "Much to think, much to thick," he had commented as he sheared more hair, or else, "Much too long. You cannot see your beautiful face." The first five times he told her she was beautiful Elizabeth was in her glory, but after the tenth time she figured he was continuing to call her beautiful to get a bigger tip. He got it. They all got what she thought would be an extremely large tip, but didn't know how much it cost Methos for her to enjoy it. She had seen a price list briefly as she was led from the sauna to the massage table. They seemed pleased when she would quietly hand them Euros after they were finished, so Elizabeth thought she had done well.

Taking a last flip of her hair with her hand, she again deemed it great. More of her natural wave "popped," as Henri declared and she thought it would be easy to style. The color though looked a bit dark and harsh, but that was fixable. If Methos came back and declared he hated it, she'd have to give him a day somewhere he'd like while she got it lightened. If she was to make Methos happy for one day doing something he would enjoy to no end, she thought it would be a brewery or a car race, but then thought that there wasn't anything she could do to make him feel as wonderful as she did now. Sure, she was stuffed, but really felt alive, light, and youthful. The only drawback to the day was when she had seen an old magazine on the table while she had to wait for Henri that was from the previous December. At times, it seemed like it was a hundred years since Christmas, as she was back with her husband and child and hadn't taken any medication since they left New York on Friday. She hadn't once felt anxious or worried. Not even in the Catacombs. Sure, she had been a bit worried about the caves crashing down on her, but that might happen to anyone. Methos had been the best medication in the world. If he wasn't worried, she had thought there wasn't any reason for her to be. She trusted and loved him enough that if he was comfortable, she was. That is, unless he was pulling her leg by feigning they were lost. "The jerk," she laughed.

Even though she was now fine with the world and her memories, reading that magazine full of Christmas sales, decorations, and holiday cheer, she remembered how God-awful hers had been, and it was all due to her. She remembered thinking as she was sitting there with the salon's slip on and a wet head, magazine in her hands that she had the worst Christmas anyone could have was because she had allowed Pyrius and ghosts into her thoughts, words, and deeds. Henri had bounded into the room with much fanfare before she could remember how she had almost taken the love of her life's head. She shook it off and paid sole attention on her flamboyant hairstylist. As she was standing in the empty suite, waiting for Methos was return, and realizing it was getting dark outside, she almost let those memories back into her mind. Instead, she turned on the TV loud and went to draw a hot bubble bath.

As the bath was running, she tried to figure out what time it was in Seacouver and if it was too late to call Claire. She had talked to her when Methos called, precisely the time Claire woke up, and she was doing great. She was having fun with Duncan and Amanda, still fencing but not as much as the first couple of days, and shopping "until we drop, Mom. Amanda can really find the stores."

It was Amanda's gift. Elizabeth had talked to Amanda to ask her if Duncan and Amanda were truly fine with having Claire around, and they could go home soon if they wanted them to. Everything was fine and Amanda was enjoying having her, and confessed again that she wants to be a mother more than anything in the world. Before they could really talk about it, Methos had tapped his watch to indicate they had to get going if Elizabeth was going to enjoy a day spa and all that comes with it. If she called now, they might be in bed and Elizabeth didn't want to disturb them. She made a note to call in the morning and tell Methos that he'd have to wait if Amanda wanted to talk.

Elizabeth tried Methos' cell to see where he was and what he was doing, but there was no answer. The wild, rattling thought that he had been taken crept through her mind, but she sighed, knowing that thought got in there because she was reminded that she had almost done that to him. A bath would be a nice tapper to the day and make her feel better. She undressed and got into it, and decided to turn on the jets. There was a stereo in the wall, which she flipped on to an English station that played tunes from the 90's. It certainly wasn't her favorite decade of music, but at least she could make out the words without really concentrating. After today's relaxation, that was the last thing Elizabeth wanted to do.

She had slipped back into the water so that only her face was above the foam and shut her eyes. Even though the day had been fantastic and thought there wasn't a way to feel better, the jets on the small of her back and legs felt great. Just when she was almost asleep, she felt Methos' return. At least she hoped it was Methos. She sat up and shut off the radio and tub jets to listen. She distinctly heard the key slide into the slot and the door opened. "Daniel?" she called out. If she didn't get a response, she could get out of the tub and lock that door in seconds. She was almost out of the tub with that thought as she heard, "Who else are you expecting?"

Elizabeth giggled and sat back down and turned on the jets and radio. "There's no one else I want to see."

Methos tiptoed into the bathroom with the cheese she had bought the day before with a knife stabbed in it, a bottle of wine, two wineglasses, and a huge smile. "Not enough pampering at the spa?" he asked.

She was going to ask him what took him so long and where he was and what he had been doing, but as soon as he set everything down on the tiled surround of the tub and dropped his pants, it didn't seem the least bit important. "I got plenty. I just wanted to share this with you. It's big enough for two."

He peeled off his shirt and was thankfully laying beside her in the bubbles in no time. "Doesn't take you long," Elizabeth roared with laughter as the water was still rippling.

Methos leaned over her and turned on the jets. "You got a haircut."

She felt her hair, which was wet, foamy, and slicked back, so he certainly couldn't tell by sight. "How the hell did you know?"

"I paid for it." Methos fingered her hair. "Let's see it."

He fluffed her hair out as best he could with it dripping wet and examined the length. "Didn't cut much off. For what he charged, you should have been sheared, my love. The blow dry... hot rollers... kind of like money down the drain."

"Sorry. I guess I should have at least waited for you to see it, but he did show me how to do it. I'll see if I can get it the same way later."

"No need for apologies," he smiled and kissed her. "It's not like we're on our last dollar or anything."

"Or million."

The twinkle in his eye revealed she wasn't even close. "Is that was took you so long to get back here? You stopped at the spa?"

"Yeah. I was going to see how you looked and settle the bill, but you already left. According to Henri, you are "beautiful!" though."

"You didn't tell me you were going to do that. Hey, am I beautiful?"

"Gorgeous."

"I can go and do my hair now if you want to see it."

Methos mused as he reached into his pants pocket to retrieve a corkscrew and opened the wine bottle. "You know what? I like you just like this."

"Like what?"

"Wet."

"I'll be wet more often."

"Please. Do."

After he corked the bottle and poured them their glasses, she toasted him and took a sip. It was even better than the wine they had the night before. He shaved two slices of chevre from the log and gave her one. "Put the cheese in your mouth and then take a sip. Let it mingle together."

She did as she was told, and couldn't believe the woody, nutty, and vanilla flavor of the wine combined with the rich, buttery creaminess of the cheese that melted in her mouth. "Oh, God, she moaned as she swallowed. This is even better than last night."

"It's creamier in the center. I love Chevre de Moulé Main. Good purchase."

"I bought it because I used their bathroom." Elizabeth giggled. "Happenstance. What's this wine?"

"1996 Franciscan Oakville Estate, which I thought would be perfect in combination with the cheese. I was right," he said after doing as he had told Elizabeth.

"You're a wine connoisseur as well as beer? I never knew that."

"Only when it comes to what I like. That cheese made me think this would be a better accompaniment."

Elizabeth took another sip of wine and then put the glass on the tile. She wrapped her arms around Methos and asked, "So, what would you desire?"

"You, my dear. Always you."

Elizabeth glowed inside and out by those words and his tender kisses on her temple. She told him, "I knew coming here with you would be wonderful, but I didn't expect utopia. Can we just stay like this forever?"

"What about Claire?"

"Amanda wants to be a mother..."

Methos chuckled and added, "Mac is getting into those fencing lessons. Yeah. Claire is fine. We can arrange this. We'll just stay right here for the rest of our immortal lives." Methos slid into the tub a little further, taking Elizabeth with him. "No worries, no outsiders, just us."

~~~~~

The first thing Methos was aware of was the smell of antiseptic that permeated his nose. He slowly opened his eyes to see a bright light close above him. The invading light seared through his brain, making his eyes clamp shut. He heard voices, one of them which filtered straight into his heart, making it constrict. He cautiously opened his eyes to steel himself against the light and tightened his resolve, knowing that if that voice was real, he was in deep, deep trouble.

The voices had stopped. Methos couldn't move, try as he might. He couldn't see his body, but felt that it was laid out in a cross on a cold, metal table. That incessant light wasn't dimming, it was just right above his face. Just as he was going to call out for someone to move it, a rubber gloved hand moved it so that the glare was focused lower on his body. Relieved, Methos focused his eyes above him. There were windows revealing blackness that seemed to be wrapped around the top of the high, white room.

"What's going on?" he finally asked to anyone that would answer him. Methos tried to move, but felt like his body was full of sand.

Methos finally jerked when a man with short black hair, black eyes, and shit eating grin appeared right in front of his face. "What's coming to you," Pyrius said. "You know you deserve it."

"Lizzie!" Methos screamed out, again not being able to move. "Get rid of him! Now!" Methos tried to reach out to punch his greatest foe, but seemed to be pinned to the metal table. Not a metal table again... Methos started to feel a lead weight of dread take over his body once again. His mind went back to Delphi, where he had been Pyrius' lab rat for three days before Duncan MacLeod and Elizabeth had come to free him. If only she hadn't taken that bastard's head... if only MacLeod would have taken it... Methos could have handled never seeing MacLeod again, but it was quite difficult to deal with the love his life with that maniac in her head.

"Liz! Where the fuck are you? Get rid of him!" Methos shrieked as Pyrius revealed a bloody awl in his rubber gloved hand with blatant intention to use it. Gathering the force he had used in sticky situations when there was no escape, Methos confronted his Greek enemy with a hysterical laugh that came with ultimate hope. "You're not real! You're dead!" Methos laughed again just because his words and attitude seemed to off put the immortal.

"Methos?" a calm voice echoed from his left.

"Joe! Thank the gods. Get me off this fucking thing!"

Methos turned to the sound of Joe's voice and saw his mortal friend edge forward with the use of his cane. "Just lay back and take it like a man," Joe groused. "It's important."

"It's important Pyrius takes my head?"

"He won't. That's old news."

Suddenly, Duncan's head was visible by Methos' shoulder. "Yeah, get with the present, buddy. You have to do this. If you don't, it will never be settled in your head."

"Do what?" Methos nervously looked to where he had last seen Pyrius with that awl but only saw Elizabeth standing there looking like an angel in a silk pink dress and looking at least fifty pounds lighter. If a swift wind came, she might just blow away. Her hair was blond and short.

Elizabeth lifted her hand to her hair and shyly asked, "Do you like it? James made me do it. He's here too, you know."

"Why? What?" Methos searched for the reason why Cameron James would make any difference in his life as all. He jerked his head to the other side to look at Duncan. "You took James! Is this all your fault?"

"Don't be silly," Duncan flipped out with a smile.

"Silly?! You insufferable boy scout!"

"I had to save Elizabeth from James twice because you didn't, you coward!"

"It's not my fault!" Methos charged and tried to get himself off the table. "Who's fault is it?"

"It's mine," Elizabeth said sourly. "If I hadn't done it, you wouldn't be here, but I promise you, nothing will happen. I'll make sure of it. I love you." Elizabeth leaned down to kiss Methos on the cheek. Her lips felt cold, dead. "I love you more than life itself. Nothing will happen. I promise you. You have to do this. You have to find out. You have to help. I had to do it. Please, Methos, for me? Please?"

"For me," Joe added.

"Do what?" Methos had no idea what they were talking about, and had the fear that they wanted his head.

"Let her live," Joe plead. "You do this, and she'll live."

"Lizzie? Of course she can live. I want her to live. I don't want that asshole in her head!"

"I'm not," Pyrius' voice boomed. "I'm whole. You saw to that. You know I'm just waiting to come back." Methos dreaded it, but looked to him to see if he was coming at him with that awl or something worse. "You have to find out if I'm really real. I am, I assure you. I'll be in your head because I can't be in hers anymore. You saw to that too. If she didn't love you so much, it would have been so much easier. You'd have been dead ten years ago. But then again, if I didn't find out she didn't love you so much, I never would have been able to get my hands on you. I used her to get to you. Use her to get to me, or you'll never have a peaceful night's rest because you'll always wonder if I'm still out there... somewhere... waiting..." Pyrius' voice was airy, light, and fell away to a whisper.

Methos lifted his hand to try and wring the Greek's neck and to his surprise, his arm flew up into the air. He stared at it, wondering how such a formidable task of getting it off the metal table had been so easy. Methos examined his arm, then lifted his head to see his body under a sheet on a soft bed with linens next to Elizabeth in a bedroom. The light that had burned his eyes was gone. Duncan and Joe, and best of all Pyrius, were all gone. There was only the sound of Elizabeth's soft breathing as she laid beside him.

The first thought in Methos' mind was, "Does she love me? Really love me?" He knew that since they had gotten back together, Elizabeth had slowly climbed out of that shell she had built up around herself. Every time he had an itch, she had scratched it. Every time he needed her, she was there. Why hadn't she been there in his dream? He had remembered the other time he had dreamt that dream of being out of control on a bed with a light on him. During that dream, she had been wearing a dark green dress and her hair styled up. In this dream, she had been wearing almost the same dress she wore when she was "Angel Bancroft," who had lived the life of a grifter with Cameron James. James... Methos hadn't thought about him in a hell of a long time and wondered why he was thinking about him now. Methos stared at Elizabeth as she slept. It must have been the haircut. She hadn't received more than a trim since she had grown out the short blond hairdo she wore while Angel. Now that her hair was dry, Methos tried to figure out what sort of style it was supposed to be. It was still long, which he appreciated. It was still dark, which made him know this was still his Elizabeth wearing it. He picked up a chunk of it that fell on her shoulder. It was shorter on the sides, and much thinner. Could a simple haircut, and maybe the mystery of not knowing exactly what it looked like, made him remember the last harsh cut she wore? Was his subconscious making a haircut that important to his psyche?

Pyrius. It seemed that all dreams that rattled him starred that damn Greek he had been foolish enough to leave behind, twice! The first time when he destroyed his village and the second time when he turned him. While Methos was Death, he didn't think about the long run. He only lived passionately in the moment. He should have known! Methos mentally slapped himself for being so stupid, then as being Death in the first place!

Elizabeth had been the only one he had told the truth of his life as Death to that hadn't immediately shut herself off to him. Elizabeth was the only immortal he loved enough to marry and trust with his head. Then she tried to take it, and flirted with taking it at the church after Joey's baptism, while under Pyrius' control. The first time with his quickening; the second time with his ghost. Is he still with her? Will Pyrius always be a part of their lives, a living reminder of what Methos was 2,500 years ago? If he is, can he live with that?

Methos turned to his side and examined Elizabeth's face as she slept. Could he trust her? Is his love placed wisely with her? He had long wanted a life with someone. He had been tired of living alone, losing those he did love, having to constantly look over his shoulder. When he had met Elizabeth at Amy's apartment before her wedding, there wasn't anything about Elizabeth to declare that she'd be the love of his life, but Methos now had to admit that she was. She was the one he had chosen to marry, twice. When they are apart, he almost couldn't breathe. Claire had been the personification of their love, hope for a normal life, and future that some part of their being will continue after they're separated from their heads. Was it all in vane, because Pyrius had poisoned it?

What had happened in Kent was more than Methos could take. It was so tragic that he didn't ever want to dwell on it. He didn't want to understand it. Elizabeth had many times tried to explain what had happened, and Duncan hadn't been mute on the subject. They were both adamant that they had seen a fully corporal body that was Pyrius. Duncan had been able to describe his height, weight, face, coloring, and voice, which Methos put down as his being his captive in Delphi. What Duncan argued was that he was drugged or tortured without being face to face with the immortal in Greece. The only time Duncan had seen him clearly during those days was just before Elizabeth cut off his head to save Methos. Methos realized that Duncan had explained him so well, he had to have seen him face to face, shoulder to shoulder, in Bethany Stone Manor. Maybe everything Elizabeth swore happened truly did happen. Methos didn't find this thought pleasant. He had made her life a living hell, as much of a hell as his was, because he didn't believe her. It wasn't that he didn't believe her; during his life he had seen a ton of things that were odd, unnatural, and could qualify as paranormal or even a miracle.

Methos knew that a dream was a subconscious telling you what you already knew or wanted. Pyrius' words from his dream came back to him. "You'll always wonder. I'm just waiting to come back."

Was there a chance that Pyrius could spring up and make his life a living hell again? If Pyrius was hell on him, Methos thought about what he does to Elizabeth. Methos laid his head close to Elizabeth wondering if the Greek was still in there. He closed his eyes as if to really listen if he could hear his voice rattling around in her head. Had her actions and words just been to make Methos feel comfortable to declare and show his love to her so that he could try to kill him again and take his head finally?

Methos shook his head, not wanting to believe it and shake the insanity from his mind. He knew logically that he had to be gone, but there was a part of him which would always wonder and wait for another strike when he least expected it. He had to find out. The thought of Pyrius in waiting would grate him all the days of his life with Elizabeth, which he doesn't want to lose. She and Claire were his life. If he lost or left either of them, Methos felt he would wither and die, although not literally. He had led decades of not having a soul mate. Just getting through the day. Just taking care of business. Not having any light or laughter or family or bond or love. He didn't want to live that life again, not when he had all he wanted now. Elizabeth had kept asking him how she could possibly repay him for this trip to his favorite city in the world. Again tonight, she had asked him what she could do for him after her day at the spa, where she felt so bad about not waiting for him to see the result. All Methos wanted in exchange for any presents or surprises he gave her was her for to be happy and give him a big smile. That sounded self-deflating, as if she meant more to him than himself, and he chuckled. No one could be that dishonest with themselves to think such a thing. What he wanted from her was to be happy because when she was, she did the little things for him. When she was happy, Methos would wake up to breakfast in bed before making love. She would get a beer for him before he realized one would actually hit the spot. She let him watch what he wanted on TV and not leave the room in case he wanted to critique it or he was reminded of a story from his past. She would listen to his stories. She would dress sexier, which always made him happy. Methos was a normal guy with simple needs, but Elizabeth met them.

She couldn't have that Greek still swimming around in her subconscious like a shark waiting for blood to strike. But how could he be for sure? She was sleeping now, deep in her own subconscious. Was Pyrius talking to her right now? Of course not, he told himself, but then hedged, "How can I be sure?" he asked aloud.

~~~~~

"You know you have to keep up with your studies, Claire," Amanda told Claire when the girl wanted to do something other than some Math problem that Duncan had set up before taking more boxes to a storage garage. The only math Amanda needed was to figure out how much a tip to leave, how much tax was going to be needed to purchase something, and balance her accounts. Addition, subtraction, and percentages, that's all a person needs. She looked at the chicken scratches Claire had made on paper in pencil. "Do you understand this, honey?"

"Kind of."

"You're farther along than I. Just keep at it."

"Amanda, I want to go outside. It's beautiful outside."

It was a tough call. There was nothing more she wanted than to have another day of fun with Claire and feel like a mother and take care of her child's needs, but Methos cold stare blazed in her head that she'd receive if Claire didn't do all the work that he had left for her. If you're going to be a mother, you have to do what's best, not easy or just fun. "Later," Amanda said as she looked at her watch. "Give it another ten minutes, or Mac comes back, whichever comes first."

"Yea!" Claire erupted with a large satisfied smile.

Amanda rethought her decision. Claire seemed way too happy with the situation. Did she do well? Oh well, Amanda thought. Make mistakes on a child that can be fixed when her parents take over again. This will be something to learn for her so that she raises her child perfectly.

Amanda paced the room quietly not to disturb Claire, who was deep into the math problem again, and wondered what her child would look like. She chuckled. Where she was going to get one was the more immediate problem. They could go to an adoption agency, but a preimmortal like Claire would be more what she wanted. Duncan still hadn't been totally convinced this was a good decision, so getting his ass into an adoption agency wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Amanda felt like a forty year old mortal woman who's eggs were shriveling up and the biological clock was ticking. She wanted a child now!

Her eyes glanced at the calendar, and she saw a post it note attached to it. "Call Celeste." Jeez, Amanda jerked. She was going to call her the first night in Seacouver, but hadn't wanted to wake her up, knowing she was getting up there and usually read in bed at seven every night until she nodded off. There was plenty of time to call her now, so Amanda darted for the phone by the bed and dialed New Orleans.

Celeste Baudreau's whiskey-rattled voice grumbled from the other end of the phone line. "I'm closed today, I have a hip ache again, damn doctors."

"Celeste?" Amanda asked through a chuckle. That was just the sort of welcome one could expect from the initially grumpy dame, who one soon found out was one of the nicest and loving people Amanda ever had the joy to know.

"Whadawant?" Celeste grouched.

"It's Amanda, Celeste."

"Damn it girl, you're stretching it pretty thin. I'm not going to live forever, and how often do I turn 75 anyway?"

"That's why I'm calling, hon. Happy birthday!"

"Too late. I was expecting your call, and a gift, last month. You're lucky I lived long enough to get a call."

"Oh, get over yourself," Amanda intoned with good humor. "You'll outlive us all."

"Not all, sweetie, you know that. But, I outlived the bastard down the street who borrowed Kermit's lawnmower three years ago and never brought it back. Dropped dead of a heart attack last week. Best thing that could have happened."

"Did you get your lawnmower back?"

"Nah, I've paid a kid to do it since my Kermit bite the big one, fifteen years ago now. How 'bout that? Sometimes it seems like yesterday he was getting in my way. Where are you? Are you going to stoop to see an old lady before she kicks off and be bored to tears?"

"I wouldn't be bored. You have great wine and stories. I could come soon. In fact, I'd love to see you again. Things have been kind of..." How does one explain the reason she hadn't come for Celeste's birthday? 'I was strapped to a metal chair and a bunch of maniacs were going to behead us all,' didn't seem appropriate. At least, not over the phone. Celeste knew that Amanda and Duncan were immortal and always asked what immortal danger they had gotten into. The fact that Celeste could keep a secret in "the vault" made it easier to be truthful and teasing with her. With Claire within hearing range, Amanda didn't want to go there in case something fell out of her mouth, like Methos' real name, which led to Methos and Elizabeth's first argument. At least Amanda thought it had been their first argument. They hadn't gotten along well after first meeting, but Amanda could see their griping was chemistry-filled and there was an attraction between them.

"Kind of what? That Highland hunk of a husband keeping you on your back?"

Amanda actually felt herself blush. To talk about sex wasn't new to her, but it always was when it came out of Celeste's mouth. She looked as prim as a nun with the mouth of a sailor. "Oh, you know it."

"Ha!" Amanda heard Celeste yell, as well as what she was sure was the slap of a knee. For a Cajun, she sure took on the demeanor of a hick, probably 45 years with a Norwegian did it. Celeste's voice softened as she declared, "I'm so happy you two kids worked it out. Come here and let me see you both. I want a big hug from the big guy. What do you say?"

"Sure, we don't have anything set in stone by way of plans. I'll bring the kid too."

"Kid?! You a momma? What kid? Oh, Amanda, you do make me laugh."

"I wasn't trying to be funny, Celeste. We're babysitting." Amanda saw Claire grimace at her, as she hated being "babysat." Amanda mouthed, sorry, to her.

"Mandy, are you drunk?" Celeste asked. "You know you're not a good drunk. Don't fool with this old heart."

"No, I'm not drunk. Mac and I are taking care of our niece, Claire."

"Niece? You don't have any siblings, neither does the-"

"Figure of speech, Celeste. She's a great kid. We can bring her with us." Amanda asked Claire, "How would you like to go to New Orleans?"

Claire asked, "Why?"

"Because I said so."

Celeste laughed over the phone. "Watch out there, Amanda. You may have the makings of a mother after all."

Amanda beamed.

~~~~~

Methos sat at what had turned out to be their favorite sidewalk café as they had usually eaten at least one meal there since the beginning of their trip. He leaned against the hip high rail by their table and reminded himself that as much as he loved high tech, being on hold while on a cell phone irony of the highest order. Elizabeth was in the bathroom and their order hadn't come yet. There wasn't anything for Methos to do as he waited for the seemingly scattered woman at the airport to deem to get back to their conversation.

They had planned to go through Methos' storage garage today, for him to show her what he knew she would be glad to see, but after making love and having a swim in the hotel's pool, and then having a leisurely stroll along the Seine, he wondered if it was too late to get to it now. Besides, he had other things on his mind. That dream he had last night was still clear and just as startling to him.

He felt the immortal approach and instinctively looked in the direction Elizabeth had gone to the bathroom. She didn't exit it, but he still felt the new needling intrusion. Turning his head to the street, he saw a young, blond man looking at him, who then waved, smiled, and looked both ways before crossing the street to him.

Thomas Davidson looked in a fairly good mood, and approached Methos with good humor. He reached out his hand for a shake once he reached the railing, which Methos took in a friendly gesture. The immortal had always produced seeds of jealousy in Methos, as he knew that Elizabeth had been more than friends with the man who looked young but was much older than his wife.

"Hey, Dan, still in one piece, I see," Thomas said with a grin.

Methos honestly said, "I'm glad to see that you are as well, Thomas."

The trauma of Shiloh had made Methos glad to see all the captives in one piece and in good moods. They both felt Elizabeth approach, and Methos heard her before he turned to see her.

"Thomas!" she yelled and rushed to give him a big hug.

"Hey, good lookin'," Thomas said with a kiss on her cheek. "Where's MacLeod?"

"In America with his wife," Methos snipped.

Thomas' gaze shifted from Elizabeth and Methos and back again. "Oh. Everyone's back where they belong. If one good thing came out of Shiloh... great."

"You're looking good yourself," Elizabeth said quickly, probably in haste to change the subject. "Want to join us?"

"I'd love to buy you lunch as a flimsy gesture for your saving my head, but I'm meeting someone a couple of blocks away, and sorry to say, I'm running late."

"You're living here, right?" Elizabeth asked. When he nodded, she asked, "Well, we'll have to get together one night."

"Where are you living?" Methos asked pointedly, getting an idea that he might be useful. From what Amanda and Elizabeth had said about Thomas, he had a fleet of planes at his disposal. Instead of the nameless, faceless private plane he had tried to arrange, where customs and passports were a problem, Thomas might be able to help him out much easier.

"Same place. Liz knows," Thomas said, and Methos thought he had just to needle him, which was fine.

Methos smiled. "Got a cell?"

"Nah, I hate those things." Thomas reached into his back pocket of his pants and produced a card, which he handed to Elizabeth. "My pager number's on there. Give me a call so we can get together. You can meet Ariel."

"Your lunch date?" Elizabeth asked, evidently glad for him that he found some lass to woo.

"More than that. Good to see you, tell Amanda hey for me, and I'll catch you later," Thomas said hurriedly, grasping Elizabeth's hand and kissing her again on the cheek.

As he trotted down the street, Elizabeth sat down with a smile. "So good to see life goes on. I'd been wondering how he was doing. Have you heard from Joe?"

"Nope." Just in my dream..., Methos kept to himself. He had tried to call the Watcher to see what was new in the hunt for the Crusaders, but only got his voicemail. He had even tried to wheedle information out of Guy, calling with the excuse to see how Amy was, but the man had the tightest lips in the world. He hadn't been following Elizabeth during their trip to Paris, and Methos was actually surprised to find him in New York City with his family. Methos again looked around for anyone who might be chronicling their movements. Once again, he hadn't noticed anyone who was interested in them. Methos could only hope that the Watchers were a "new organization," as Joe and Guy would swear on a stack of bibles was true.

"You're quiet all of a sudden," Elizabeth said after they had been served their lunch and he had only played with it with his fork. "We're going to the garage next? I can't wait to see what's in there."

"It's on the other side of the city, and may take a while to go through it all. Maybe we should wait until tomorrow, or the day after."

"How long are we staying here?"

"Why? You're not enjoying yourself?"

Elizabeth laughed and leaned into him for a kiss. "I'm having the time of my life. I'm missing Claire, but I could stay here with you forever."

"Maybe we should have Claire flown here and find a place to live," Methos threw out there to gauge her reaction.

"If we want to live in a shell, sure, but there's friends, who are like family, living on another continent, and I don't want to be away from Amy anymore."

Before Methos could suggest they move here as well, Elizabeth stopped him. "She wants to live in America too. Case closed?"

"Yep, this is our place, just the two of us." Methos put his arm around her shoulders and felt at home just holding her. They'd be at home anywhere they were together. But, he had to get rid of that prickling thought that danger could be lurking around every corner as long as he ignored what happened at the end of last year.

~~~~~

Elizabeth couldn't be more excited. Methos had paged Thomas that evening and asked him for a favor. To his pleasure, Thomas was happy to oblige and told him to meet at Le Bourget Airport at 9:00, and he'd have one of his planes ready. Thomas was going to arrange the flight to England and forget to mention that he'd have two passengers on board. Methos had to refrain Elizabeth from asking where they were going on an 'excursion,' which was all Methos would tell her they were doing. He had made sure she had her passport and pack a bag in case they wouldn't be back that evening. He didn't want Thomas to know what they were up to, and Methos didn't know what would happen. It pleased Methos that Elizabeth was so happy packing her bag and asking what kind of clothes to bring. He hoped she would keep her good mood so this might go smoothly.

Methos didn't know what to expect when they get to Bethany Stone Manor, or what was left of it. Because they had just walked away, or driven fast with a pissy attitude in Methos' case, he didn't know if the locals had taken away the destruction or not. It was, after all, a landmark. Maybe they would be stupid enough to rebuild. He hadn't received any mail over what had happened. No admonishments for destroying a protected site, no bills for cleanup, nothing.

When they had arrived at the lobby of the hotel, Methos spotted a man in a gray uniform with a cardboard sign that read "Gordon," and walked toward him, escorting Elizabeth with her happy mood. Thomas had told Methos that he'd send someone and use the password, "Cherbourg," to make sure the man Thomas had sent was the one who would take him. After being kidnaped, Methos had been glad that Thomas was as edgy and alert as he was about going with some driver, who could be wearing a Watcher tattoo.

Elizabeth grimaced to Methos after saying Cherbourg, and Methos didn't know why she had such a reaction. Her eyebrows furrowed more when she saw the vehicle the driver led them to. A black paneled van was parked at the curb in front of the hotel. She intoned, "This pretty much brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Methos had to agree that this was much the same type of vehicle preferred by nefarious factions. He asked the driver, "Who's your employer?"

"Thomas Davidson, and we're running late, sir."

Not to be deterred in making sure it was wise to enter that van, Methos asked, "Where are we going?"

"Le Bourget Airport. Where the plane is going, I'm not in the loop." The driver, who spoke English without a French accent reached into his chest pocket and produced a cell phone. As he smiled, he pushed a speed dial number and handed the phone to Methos.

Methos heard Thomas' voice on the other end of the phone line. "Good to know you're taking precautions. Mark's been in my employ for more years than you and Liz have been married, Dan. Get in the van. We gotta take off if you still want to go."

"Right," Methos said, then flipped the phone shut.

All the way to the airport in the back of the van, which had a bottle of wine, cheese, and fruit for their indulgence, Elizabeth kept interrogating Methos for their destination. He kept mum and only put a piece of melon in her mouth so she wouldn't ask anymore.

The van got to the airport and drove into an authorized area, between hangers, and onto an airstrip, where a sleek, private plane was idling with the door open and portable steps at the base. The van pulled extremely close to the stairway, and the driver told them to wait for a second and left the van.

The side door was pulled open, and Methos saw Thomas at the plane door. "Hurry up, keep low," he said as he motioned them to get in. Methos had Elizabeth go first, and he crouched but ran up the stairs behind her. As soon as he was inside, the van pulled out and the steps were pulled away. Thomas said, "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back when we're in the air."

The interior of the plane had two rows of seats on the left and on the right was a shiny thick wood table with holes for glasses and card playing felt with two airline seats on each side so two were facing backward.

"Nothing like covertness," Elizabeth said as she took one of the seats by a window on the left that was as cushioned as a Lazy-Boy recliner. "Where are we going?" she asked as she dropped her bag at her feet and fumbled for the seatbelts.

"You'll find out," Methos said in a noncommittal tone. He didn't want to sound too excited, knowing that she'd probably not guess or be too happy about their destination when they actually might have the world at their feet.

When Methos took her bag to stow in the compartment behind one of the table seats, she handed him her purse. She asked, "Rome? Madrid? Istanbul?"

"You'd like to go to Istanbul? I never knew that. One day, sure." Methos got into the seat next to her and snapped his seatbelt snug. He reached over Elizabeth and pulled down the shade of the wide window. "No peeking."

With his smile, Elizabeth leaned her head against his took his hand. She seemed so content, he just hoped she'd stay that way. He had to know how she'd react and what would happen with the both of them at Bethany Stone Manor once again, for the last time. They would leave together or apart. He steeled himself for the prospect of Pyrius taking her over again, and also convinced himself that if that were the case, he wouldn't just leave her like he had after she had taken his quickening, attacked him at Joseph's baptism, and was overwhelmed by him last November. He'd do the right thing and try to take care of getting rid of that Greek bastard in any way he could, save taking her head. He felt himself take Elizabeth in as she folded herself against him as best she could with her seatbelt and again felt at peace and home. She was his life and he was afraid he was making a terrible mistake for defying happiness to settle what may never come to light again on its own.

When the plane took flight, Methos had the overpowering urge to holler for them to stop, that this was wrong. The habit of ignoring danger and leaving touchy situations for another day had kept him alive for centuries. It was too late now. He felt the plane even out. He'd look like an idiot if he got out of his seat and yanked open the cockpit door and demand they return. If he were to give another destination wouldn't work either, as Methos was sure Thomas would have had to file a flight plan and if it was changed in flight, it would call attention to the plane. Methos had arranged a rental car at the airstrip in Kent, Thomas had arranged for them to not have to show passports or go through customs, they weren't even on board as far as anyone knew. No, it was too late. He kissed Elizabeth's head and looked into her eyes when she smiled up at him. "Love me?"

"I suppose," she tossed out with a shrug, looking away, then laughed and faced him. "What do you think?"

"I think you do," he said as a ripple of love and warmth flowed through him. He did think she did, he just had to prove it to himself so he could sleep peacefully again and live life without the threat of her turning on him with the nudging of an unincorporated quickening. He needed Pyrius to be in the past and scolded himself again for not taking care of him when he had the chance. Four times Methos could remember walking away from Pyrius before he was kidnaped in Seacouver. Four times. Those were just the times he could remember. There might have been more.

Thomas' exit from the cockpit put a cessation to Methos' musing. He swept his blond hair back from his face after standing straight and looked at them. "What you sitting there for? Over here is much more comfortable," he said, pointing at the table. "We can have a chat."

As Elizabeth unbuckled her seatbelt, she asked, "Where are we going, Tom?" as if he'd tell her.

Methos gave him a look as he unbuckled his belt and followed Elizabeth to the table and took the seat next to her so they weren't sitting backward. Methos never liked facing backward in a moving vehicle and was glad that Elizabeth had chosen that side of the table.

Thomas reached into what turned out to be a fridge and pulled out three German beer bottles and three iced mugs and set them on the table. He thankfully didn't answer Elizabeth except for a smile. "Or would you prefer water, juice, Coke, Diet something or other. I got a little bit of everything."

Methos took one bottle and twisted off the top. "This is fine with me." He offered it to Elizabeth, who grabbed another bottle and handed it to him, taking the open one and pouring it into a mug.

"So, Tom," Elizabeth said as she set down the bottle. "How are you doing, really doing?"

The immortal who looked like a kid to Methos shrugged and said, "Getting back to life. Did you see those planes at the airport?"

"Um, no. We were in a paneled van," Methos pointed out.

Thomas winked. "Well, thought you'd get a kick out of the concealment. Adds to the adventure, right? Well, you're both not supposed to be on this plane, but you really can't be too careful nowadays anyway." He slid onto a seat across from them and said, "We're putting on an air show that starts tomorrow and runs through next week. You'll be back in time to see it? I've got about ten vintage World War II planes for tours and the Hooligans from the states are performing along with the Blue Angels, or whatever they're called over here. Can't remember. It's all be a jumble getting it together. Keeps the mind busy so you don't have to think."

"Yeah," Elizabeth mused. "Thinking is sometimes quite overrated."

"Couldn't agree more," Methos said, raising his mug for a toast. He'd thought things out too much lately and still had a gnawing feeling he was heading for disaster, but it had to be done. "To a clear mind and attached head."

"Hear, hear," Thomas and Elizabeth echoed and drank to it.

"How's Warren doing?" Thomas asked somewhat cautiously.

"No idea," Elizabeth said. "Why?"

"Well, he wasn't too happy with me when he took off. Haven't seen him for a while."

"What did you do?" Methos asked. Warren hadn't been one to anger easily, except for towards him, so it was odd that the two would have parted ways after they had so strongly forged a bond after Shiloh. They were going to work with Joe to rid the world of Crusaders.

Thomas took another gulp and admitted, "He didn't like my taking my student's head."

Elizabeth croaked, "Why did you do that?"

"He was a Crusader, hello," Thomas grunted. "How's it going on that end anyway? I haven't heard a thing."

"I haven't talked to Joe in a bit. We've been on vacation," Methos said, scanning the label of the beer which was really hitting the spot. "Fine, I guess. We're keeping out of it so the Watchers won't get antsy." Methos remembered what almost happened to Joe by the hands of Watchers during the Galati mess. New regime or not, Methos wasn't stepping over that line if he didn't need to anymore.

The three immortals fell silent with the subject at hand. Finally, Elizabeth mumbled, "Good luck with the air show, Tom."

Methos could plainly see that her mood had taken a downward turn. That wasn't at all what he wanted, as he knew she wasn't going to be too pleased when the plane sat down in Merry Ol' England, which was not bustling London with museums, restaurants, theatres, and nightlife. "I could use another one, Tom," Methos said.

Thomas reached behind him to open the fridge and took out three more beers. "Wonder what's going on," he mused. "You know, it's bad enough to know that we're after each other, but it's hell on the psyche when you have to pay attention to mortals, too."

"I'm sure it's fine," Methos snipped, wanting to get off this subject.

"You do? Really?" Elizabeth looked at him as if he'd lost his last marble.

Thomas agreed and asked, "How can you be so sure? I mean, Liz took out a shitload of them and I took out Paul, but how many others are there?"

Methos said adamantly, "Joe would keep us informed if there was something... you know, if they hadn't been... remember he did say they were rounded up."

"Sure, but all of them? There were a hell of a lot of them for their plan to be pulled off," Elizabeth said in a scared voice that was making Methos feel a bit trepidatious as well. It was only prudent to deal with one gnawing feeling at a time! He couldn't deal with the prospect of Crusaders along with the chance that Pyrius was still making himself comfortable in his wife's head!

"Joe had received that call and was pissed, remember?" Methos told her, and looked to Thomas to make sure he was paying attention too. "A bunch of them, even the one MacLeod had, were executed in Arizona. Makes me sleep better at night." Now that he really thought about it, there was a Watcher tattoo in his dream. Gods! He shouted to himself. Maybe there are more of them!

"But, if Thomas had to take his student's head because he was a Crusader, an Immortal Crusader on top of everything else...," Elizabeth started, then abruptly turned to Thomas. "Where was this?"

"Boston."

"Daniel!" Elizabeth shouted, totally worried. "If they thought they got them all in Arizona, what the hell was one still doing in Boston?"

Thomas added, "With pinheaded geeks like Hartford at the helm, I'm sure that ship done sunk."

"Stop it!" Methos demanded of them, as well as for his own whirling mind. "Both of you. Joe is our best friend and he wouldn't keep any Crusader secrets from us. Even if there are stragglers, which I'm sure there are, they're not formed. That's for another day. We have enough to worry about to dwell on that too!"

"Like what?" Elizabeth asked.

Methos looked to her and didn't want to say, 'what you're going to do when we get to Bethany Stone Manor so I can see if I see Pyrius for my own well being.' No, he couldn't say that at all, but his mind was blank on how to answer her.

Elizabeth shook her head and looked away, then lightly gasped. "Oh, we're over water. Where are we going?"

Thomas tossed out, "Somewhere boring, if you ask me. No idea what you want to go there for."

"Because it's there," Methos answered stonily.

"Care to fill me in?" Elizabeth asked hopefully, putting her hand on his leg and sliding it upward.

"No bribes. Just sit nice and drink your beer," Methos said with a smile, as well as tight chest. He hoped things would go well and the worst thing he had to do was admit he was a goof for even thinking Elizabeth was nothing more than a loving, attentive wife.

With how her hand was exploring his lower body and how her eyes were twinkling slyly, Thomas stood up and said, "Well, if you kids need alone time, you've got a bit of time before we land," and walked back into the cockpit with a wink. "Those chairs recline."

~~~~~

Just when he was ready to fall asleep with Elizabeth in his arms, the plane started its descent and a chirp to announce a seatbelt light went off. Methos and Elizabeth straightened their clothes and sat up, bringing their seat backs with them, and just got his belt fastened when the plane touched down. Methos noticed that Elizabeth hadn't, and had slipped forward a bit in her seat with a jerk of the plane's descent. Her eyes focused on the window with her mouth agape. He wanted to reach over Elizabeth to shut the shade to fend off her knowing where they were for a bit longer, but he knew it was too late. When he moved forward to gauge her expression, he wasn't comforted.

It was like a shade of fear and dread had been pulled over her face, which changed to what could be described as outright fury when she faced him. "We're in England," she accused. "Not just England, I saw the Mount of Olives School."

Thomas exited the cockpit just as Elizabeth slapped Methos' leg. "What the fuck are we here for?!"

"Whoa," Thomas chuckled, but he lost whatever mirth he might have had when Elizabeth faced him.

"And you brought me here without telling me?!"

"Tell you what?" Thomas asked, probably thinking she was pissed at him. "What's wrong with this place, except there's not much action."

"I can't begin to tell you what's wrong with this place," Elizabeth spat out. "Get back in there and get us the hell out of here?" She thrust her finger at Methos and accused, "Are you insane?"

"No. Settle down. I knew you wouldn't be happy, which was why I-"

"Wouldn't be happy?!"

"Liz," Methos said, holding her hands down so she wouldn't strike out at him again. "Calm down!"

"Don't tell me to calm down, you ass! Tricking me into thinking this was just a romantic getaway from the romantic getaway we were having... I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU!"

"There's unsettled business here," Methos said quickly. "We have nothing to fear but fear itself! We have to do this!"

"Son of a bitch!" Elizabeth stewed, jerking her hands out of Methos' grip and leaning away from him panting strongly.

"Are you having a.. Whatever you call 'em, panic attack?" he asked, completely worried that this was definitely the wrong thing to do.

"NO! I'm mad as hell! It was a shitty thing to do. The least you could have done was tell me. All you would have had to do was tell me, 'Liz, I think we need to go to Kent and relive all your failures and all the things you did to me, to make sure you never forget what you did to me," but no, you-"

"It's not like that!" Methos said forcefully. "We need to go there, but NOT at all for what you think!"

"Tom!" Elizabeth yelled, and for the first time, Methos saw Thomas wasn't standing there completely surprised anymore. "Get this plane pointed in the other direction right now!"

Methos heard a voice from the cockpit, "I make it a point not to get into marital arguments."

"Son of a bitch," Elizabeth muttered and sunk into her chair, shaking her head.

"Lizzie, we have to do this," Methos said quietly. "I can explain but not with ears just right over there. I'm not blaming you or making you remember anything. It's my dream. I need to know things. Please, just come with me."

"I can't believe you're still testing me. Your dreams. You're still having the dream?"

"Yes."

Elizabeth slapped him hard. Not only did his cheek sting, but the pain in her eyes did worse. "Why didn't you tell me? I thought there weren't any secrets between us anymore? You're still dreaming that I'm going to let someone take your head. You really know how to cut me up. I'm sorry I almost took your head. How many times and in how many ways do I have to say it?"

"Never again. I know you are. It's not that."

"Then what the fuck is it?"

"I'll explain when we get into the car."

"What car? You have a car waiting for us? You've really planned this out." She started to laugh softly, but it wasn't at all filled with glee. The way she shook her head bitterly and looked away from him was as if she was closing herself off to him. This was interesting to Methos, and he wondered if just the shock of where they were had made Pyrius happy and come to the surface.

Suddenly, Elizabeth stood up and stepped over Methos' feet and past him to the cockpit door, which Thomas had shut. She was too fast for Methos to stop her and caught up with her when she knocked on the door. "Hey, thanks a lot, buddy. Thanks for telling me," she muttered as she noticed the open door and walked off the plane, which Methos had just realized was open and a staircase was waiting for them.

Methos grabbed her purse and their overcoats and dashed outside. When he saw her just standing on the tarmac with her arms folded in front of her, he knew she wasn't going anywhere. After all, where did she have to go? He put on his coat and adjusted his Ivanhoe at his side, took their bags and her purse and walked out to her.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, paying careful attention to her stony face.

"You don't want to know."

She didn't look at him, and her voice was low and gravelly. He stepped back from her, getting a terrible feeling. Then he saw there was a tear on her cheek, which she wiped off gruffly as she sniffed back more tears. "I really hate you sometimes."

"I know the feeling." He dropped their bags and edged closer to her to see if there was any Pyrius in her manner.

"How could you? We went through hell here. Haven't we had enough of that?" She asked in a small voice he could hardly hear over the sound of the plane's idle not far from them.

"Yes. That's the point. I want to know it's all truly behind us. It has nothing to do with what you did or what I didn't." Methos touched her arm, and she didn't flinch. This was good news to him. "It's about living."

"And your Godforsaken dreams. Let's get this over then. Whatever you want to do, fine. Whatever. I'll do it. Fine."

Methos looked around and saw a burgundy sedan with the rental company's logo on the bumper. He picked up the bags and walked to it, putting them in the back seat and waited for Elizabeth to join him.

Elizabeth came to the rental if she was dead man walking. Methos didn't like it. He didn't want her to be this distressed. Sure, he hadn't given thought to what she would think or feel being back there, but she shouldn't feel like it was the end of the world. That is, unless she truly did have Pyrius in her.

She walked around the car and got into the back seat and stared out the passenger side, saying nothing, and again clenched her arms tight in front of her. Methos got into the driver's seat, moved the read view mirror so that he could see her, and started the car.

Methos had driven for a couple of miles, glancing back to her at times, and she hadn't moved a muscle. He was startled when she did talk, "What did we do a half hour ago?"

"Made love."

"Oh, is that what it was? Or was it another test?"

"Lizzie," Methos moaned. "I love you."

"Stop the car."

"No."

"Stop the car!"

He did when he heard the car door open. As soon as the car had parked at the side of the road, Elizabeth got out and started walking. He saw their mailbox just a bit down the road and for the first time knew they weren't far from where Bethany Stone Manor had been before it went up in flames. Methos shut off the car and locked it with the remote and took long strides to catch up with her.

"If I have to go back to that hell hole, I'll do it under my own steam," Elizabeth told him as she walked stiffly. "I need some control here."

"Not feeling any control?" Methos thought that interesting and wondered if she was losing it again. He felt his Ivanhoe at his side, which always made him feel better.

At the end of the line of trees that bordered their property, Elizabeth stopped, turned to look down the drive and took a deep breath. Methos looked at what was left of Bethany Stone Manor. It was a pile of burnt wood, crumbled stone, and broken glass down the lane. It hadn't changed one iota since the last time he had been there with Amanda. Not one bit. He wondered why. The manor had been a historical site. Surely, someone would have at least cleaned up the mess.

"We used to walk Claire down to this spot where the bus would pick her up for school. Do you remember that?" Elizabeth asked him, looking at him for the first time. "Do you remember any of the... few... good times we had here? I'm going to remember the good times."

Elizabeth walked down the drive to the heap of a house. "Well, what's the plan? You have it all planned, don't you? Or should we just cut to the chase and I'll kneel down and you take my head now and get it over with."

"I'm not going to take your head," Methos asserted, spinning her around to face him. It was like a punch in the stomach that she even thought that was a possibility. He was comforted by the Ivanhoe at his side in case she did something to him, not for him to be on the offensive.

"Then why are we here? I thought you wanted closure of it all and you were just playing with your prey all this time. Make me feel good and trusting and you get a couple of laughs, and then you challenge me? Well, I don't have the strength or the sword, so go ahead."

"Stop it! I don't know what to expect here. I just know we have to be here."

"Why?"

His whole idea of seeing if Pyrius was in her head now flew out of his. How her tear-filled eyes peered up at him with her totally limp and defeated demeanor made him know that there wasn't a trace of Pyrius in her at all. Methos wanted more than anything to wipe those tears from her face and hold her to make her know that it was silly, and maybe he should have just talked with her and not just take her here, to a place they both hated for some grasping at straws of what might be a danger. When he reached out for her, she flinched and gasped. Her eyes searched his hands.

"What?" he asked her.

"I thought you were going to kill me."

"I'd never do that."

"Yeah, you would, and you did. After you left me, after reading the journal, after taking all those heads," Elizabeth whispered, more tears running down her face. "I went to Paris to talk to you. Joe and Duncan couldn't get you to see reason. I went to talk to you and tell you I love you and it was over, he was gone, and... you killed me. You cut me. I'm surprised you just didn't take my head then and get it all over with."

Methos now felt stinging tears form in his own eyes. He had done that. He remembered her telling him that she loved him and was sorry and it was over, but he hadn't listened to her. He did cut her with his Ivanhoe, cut her and then killed her. He also remembered having the overpowering feeling of taking her head then, but had known that Joe was there and would have shot him if he tried.

Methos barked out, "Lizzie," as he took hold of her. She didn't fight him, but didn't accept him either. "I didn't..." he could continue as a sob escaped him. "Don't look at me like that."

Elizabeth jerked away from him and stared at him as she backed away, toward the remains of the manor. "If you're going to take it, might as well do it in your beloved manor. Or maybe your stables. That's where you were three fourths of the time while I was dealing with shit in the house."

"I'm not going to take your head!" he growled, angry that she was thinking as she was, angry at himself for bringing them there, really pissed that he was crying so much.

"Yeah, how about in there?" Elizabeth walked to the stables, the one building on the property that hadn't gone up in flames.

Methos ran to her and grabbed her arm. She ran into the stables, and he held onto her, running hard in there as well. His anger roared in his chest as he flung her against the wall. "Listen to me! I don't want to take your head!"

"This is such a great place. I'm sure you'd like it, you rebuilt it. For some reason. Why did you?"

"So I had a place that was mine!" he yelled before he realized what he said. When he took note of his words, he held his breath as he staggered back, thinking it through. He walked back into the work bench. His hands braced himself and felt metal. He looked down to see his hand on a hatchet.

"That was what they made me use to kill you. I didn't want to. I almost cut off my hand instead. Remember?" she asked in an even tone. "Okay. Use it. I've always said I want my quickening to go to you. Go ahead. I can't stop you. Just tell Claire..." When she mentioned their daughter, her voice choked and she started crying again.

Methos picked up the hatchet and threw it with all his might in her direction. It thudded into the beam to her right. The sound and the fury of it made her jump and gasp, stare at him with wide eyes. She sidestepped fast. "See?" he told her furiously. "You're not complacent enough to just let me take your head! Stop it! It's nonsense!"

"Being here is nonsense!" she countered. "What draws you here anyway? It did when we had to move here, it does now, that is so all-powered special about it, and why... what did you mean, you needed a place that was yours? All of this is yours, Claire and I were just living here."

Methos' mind was working overtime. So fast, he couldn't make out all the memories that were shooting past. He had been so happy to move there, so excited that Elizabeth and Claire had been agreeable to leave the Claire Elizabeth and live there. He had such incredible memories of being there with King Alfred and Amanda and living out carefree days that he had wanted to return to them. What better than live there with his family? The days of moving with Elizabeth and Claire flashed through his mind as he clutched the workbench behind him. They had been truly happy, but then one day he remembered getting an eerie feeling. The same feeling overcame him as he clutched the workbench hard and thought he had gotten a splinter in his hand. For the first time, Methos knew that he had a bad feeling about the manor that he hadn't acknowledged at the time. When they had moved into the manor, he had thoughts of writing, but not long after, he had decided his mission was to rebuild the stables. He put all his strength and will into building those stables, almost from scratch, making sure it was just as he remembered them being in the 900's. He realized why. He wasn't truly at peace in the house. The eerie feeling was still swimming within him. A feeling that he was being watched. Maybe these stables, which he never did fill with horses because Elizabeth had woke him up with a sword... no, he couldn't blame her. He should have been aware. He should have known something was going on. He should have realized that Elizabeth was slowly slipping away from him as he was busy building these stables.

Methos studied the thatched roof, wood beams, straw on the floor, tools on hooks on the wall. Gods, the tools were alphabetical! Awl, hammer, empty spot for the hatchet, screwdrivers according to size, Philips-head then straight-head, saw... "What the hell was I thinking?"

He hadn't known he said that out loud until Elizabeth answered him, "The $64,000 question."

Methos charged to the hatchet embedded in the beam, scaring Elizabeth as she cried out and side stepped him, and grasped its handle, pulling it out of the beam. He tossed it to Elizabeth, who caught it but flinched as if he had tried to use it on her. She couldn't have been more wrong. "Let's have fun," he croaked, his throat dry.

Grabbing the sledgehammer that was in the corner, he whacked it into the wall. Damn, that felt good. Maybe this building was left standing, and Methos subconsciously knew it was, and it had to come down too. His neurosis one this property had to be demolished as well. He slammed the sledge into the wall again, where a good chunk of it fell down, dust and plaster thick in the air. He turned to Elizabeth smiling and said, "Come on, join me. Let's pulverize it."

"Why?"

"Because it's there."

Methos hit the beam, and the sledge reverberated in his hands, making them ache, but it just gave him more gumption to take another swing at it. It can't fight him. He was going to win. It was going to come down. He turned to Elizabeth, who shrugged and grasped the hatchet. "That's as good a reason as any I guess."

Elizabeth hacked at the wall near her. The hatchet got stuck in it. She walked by Methos, and he was pleased to see her get the hammer off the hook and ram it against the wall. "Atta girl." Methos slammed the sledge against the beam again and it gave way. The roof started to sink. "Come on! We can do it." With his adrenaline pumping, he yelled at the stables, "I put you up, I can take you down."

They both whacked and chopped at the walls and beams, and when the thatch roof gave way, they laughed with energy as they destroyed everything they could swing the hammers at. Methos was feeling a release, as if he had taken down some monument to past fears and dreads. He smiled to Elizabeth, who was panting and sweating from exhaustion. She wasn't smiling. He thought she had laughed with him, but her face was flush and she tossed the hammer on the ground and walked away from the stables.

~~~~~

Elizabeth staggered from the stables with her head pounding. She took a deep breath and started to practice the calming techniques Dr. Bradford and Dr. Stone had taught her in therapy. She realized, as she found herself walking toward what was left of the manor, that helping Methos destroy what had taken him months to build felt great. If only she could do it to the manor, but then again, the fire took care of most of it.

She jumped when she felt Methos' hand on her arm. "Are you okay?"

"Why? That matters to you?" she snipped, walking away from him. When she walked closer to where the front door of the manor had been, which was now only an opening in the crumbled stone walls, revealing a massive pile of ashes, burnt boards, and debris. Their life there. It was only garbage. She didn't know why she kept walking to the manor, but she found she couldn't stop. As she walked past the opening into the house and stood looking up and into the pile, she didn't have a clue what she wanted.

Elizabeth stepped up on a slanted board and felt Methos grab her arm. "Careful," he said, and she thought he really meant it when she turned to look at him.

"Should have told me that before I got on that plane."

She wasn't stupid, she took Methos' hand and together they climbed up as far as they could. Sitting on top of the ashen heap of the manor, she could peek through some of the top crumbles to see the steeple of St. Mary's Church in the distance. The air was clean, crisp, and welcoming as she took in deep gulps. Suddenly, when Methos took a seat beside her on a board, she chuckled. "I'll be damned."

"What? Are you okay?" Methos' focus seemed to be solely on her.

Elizabeth looked at him and admitted, "Yeah. I'm quite shocked, actually. I would have thought I'd have a full-blown panic attack being here. I haven't been on meds for days and been drinking like a fish. But, I'm fine. I'm mad as hell at you, but that's quite understandable, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he admitted quietly.

"It was the most selfish thing I've ever heard of. You could have told me you were still dreaming it. You could have mentioned where we were going, see how I'd think about it. Get my opinion, but no. Everything's always about you."

"I know that now."

"Did I pass the test? Or are there more to come."

"Lizzie, I'm sorry."

"Sure, you are now after being called on what an idiotic plan this was. What were you expecting? Pyrius would take over and I'd come after you with a sword? Challenge you? Is that what you wanted? Is that why you always say I don't need a sword because you have one for both of us?"

"I wanted to know it was over."

"Ask me. I knew it was. I knew the minute Amanda tossed him into the fire and he burned up that it was over. But then, you didn't know that. You didn't know because you never asked me what happened here."

"But you've turned to therapy and medication... how was I to know it was really over?"

"I did all that because I didn't have you, you idiot! I've only had one panic attack since we've been back together, and it was because the museum reminded me of this place. Did you remember that before thinking I'd just come here? Didn't you think I might have an attack, and maybe you'd confuse that for Pyrius?" Elizabeth leaned her face closer to Methos, and her gaze almost bore through him. "Is he there?"

"No."

"Of course he isn't. I could have had big ol' attack just by even the thought of coming back here." She picked up a chunk of burned wood next to her and threw it as hard as she could in front of her, upsetting the pile and for a moment, clutched the board she was on in case it slipped like others had. "I didn't though. I'm damn proud of that. I'm only confused by you and mad as hell. I'm so mad at you."

Methos sat calmly, looking at his feet, the pile, the sky. She continued to state in an even tone, "I thought we were one. I thought we were trusting each other with everything, including our heads. I want to go shopping as soon as possible."

"For what?" he asked softly.

"A sword. All of mine are in here somewhere, melted into useless crap. I don't want to have to rely on your sword anymore. I want my own."

"Okay, but you can always rely on me. Look, this was stupid. I admit it. I should have talked to you about my dream, but it was so real."

"No, it was a dream. I took your head in this dream?"

"No."

"What did I do?"

"Pyrius was there and Joe and someone else, you told me to just relax and they were going to take my head."

"Oh, I stand corrected. THAT is the stupidest, most selfish thing I've ever heard. You don't trust me and you never will. Fine. I'm so mad at you I really don't care right now."

Confusing her, Elizabeth felt a tear slip down her cheek. She thought she had everything under control. She had been about to tell Methos to find his own way back, she was taking the car, driving to the nearest airport, and flying back to Seacouver to collect Claire, and they were out of there. When she wiped off the tear, she saw Methos' handkerchief at ready. She slapped it away and stood up to get away from him. The action of it made her slip and she fell on her knees, sliding down with a board. Methos grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back up to where he was and didn't let go of her. Damn him! It felt too good to be in his arms and what she wanted more than anything was turn around and really take him in, but she was so betrayed, she couldn't. All she could do is cry.

Methos leaned his head against hers, holding her tight, and whispered, "I love you, Liz, more than you'll ever know because I obviously can't show it correctly. I admit this was stupid, but it was important to me, and I was scared you'd not want to come and I'd never find out. I know now. It's over. He's gone. We can live."

"We already were living," she moaned.

"Yes. We were. It was perfect. Please don't let this have spoiled it. Let's make a new pact: we can do one stupid thing. Okay? This is mine."

"I'll never let you live it down."

"That's okay. You still have one."

"Almost taking your head wasn't it?"

"No. I understand you were overcome. I know it was like when you took his head in Greece. That's over. It's all over and done with."

Elizabeth pulled away and said, "It always had been."

"Will you tell me what happened? Here? After we moved in and until I saw you at Amy's and acted... I shouldn't have acted like that."

"What the hell did you know? I almost took your head. Do you really want to know or are you placating me?"

"I really want to know. I really want this all behind us so I need to know."

For a long time, she had wanted Methos to say those words, but now... She sniffed, "I don't want to talk about it. I didn't like myself then and was so powerless, in a daze." Elizabeth pointed in front of her. "That's where I crawled out after finally reviving after the fire."

Methos touched her shoulder. She pointed to the left. "Amanda was over there."

Elizabeth turned around and saw Methos' face, which was red from crying. "Duncan burned alive back there. Amanda and I had to dig him out or he'd have never revived on his own. Good thing Guy came around and had blankets in his car because our clothes burned off our bodies, everything burned. Everything I owned was here. It's all gone."

"Not exactly."

Elizabeth gaped at him, and Methos sniffed, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and smiled lightly. "The things in the storage garage... it's your stuff too. Stuff you probably forgot about."

"What stuff?"

"Well, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?"

"No more surprises, Methos. Please?"

"Only pleasant ones from now on. Promise."

A glimmer of light caught her eye as she was looking at Methos, calming inside, her anger ebbing slightly. At least he had wanted to know, that was good enough for her. She stared at the shine in the far corner of the manor and looked behind her to see the sun had gone down a bit. The sun was reflecting something in that corner. "What is that?" she pondered as she carefully got up and stepped over Methos.

"What are you doing? You want to leave?"

He held onto her until she got too far away from him in her crawl across the high burned debris pile, putting her hands and knees strategically and slowly to see if what she was on would carry her weight as she made her way to the glimmer. As she reached it, she fell into a little hole, but Methos was again there to pull her up. She didn't let him pull her all the way to safety, as she just had to reach out to grab what was shining and did. Both Elizabeth and Methos slipped in the pile. He had a hold on her waist and maneuvered her on top of him as they tumbled down the pile, coming to rest feet below on the stone floor by the opening of the front door, landing on their backs. They were both sooty and achy and was sure they had a load of slivers all over their bodies. "Got a tweezers on you?"

"In my bag," she said distractedly as she opened her hand. She had grasped what had shined like a beacon at her. As she looked at it, she was stunned. There wasn't any way on earth this should still be in pristine condition. No way at all.

Methos took her hand and gaped at it. Elizabeth said, "I thought it was a goner like everything else. I kept in my jewelry box and only wore it for special occasions."

"That's the ring Claire I gave you."

Right before their remarriage in Las Vegas, on Valentine's Day, Claire had been so excited to give Elizabeth the present that their daughter said was special and she picked out herself and that papa had only bought it. The emerald and diamond engagement ring looked as clean and sparkling now as it had when she had taken it out of the light blue Tiffany box in Las Vegas.

"That was in the manor when it burned?" Methos asked determinedly.

"Of course. Everything was," Elizabeth said, surprised she could form words and actually answer.

"It's a sign, Liz."

"Of what?"

"Everything good."

"This is what you wanted to find here?"

"I.. I..." Methos wondrously shook his head and fell mute. After a smile lit up his face, he said, "It's gotta be a good sign. We're still made for each other." Methos took the ring from Elizabeth's hand and put it on her right ring finger.

Elizabeth took it off and handed it to him. "Keep it. It's your sign, you need it for some reason. It's a beautiful ring and I love the two people who gave it to me, but..." She got to her feet, sighed heavily, and walked away. He heard her say, "I'm so Goddamned mad at you."

CONTINUED