All characters belong to Panzer/Davis and are fictional. No
copyright infrigement is intended or inferred so please don't sue
me!  Lost Hours copyright 1998 Celedon
--------------------------------------------------------------------

LOST HOURS 
by Celedon 
<celedon1@airmail.net>


Prologue

The sun began sinking slowly toward the horizon and the lone man,
lightly wrapped against the Mediterranean breeze, looked out toward
the crescent shaped bay. Fishing boats bobbed in the choppy waters,
heavily laden with the evening's catch. As they slowly made their
way back to shore, the man abruptly turned to walk away.

He was tall and lean; he had a finely chiseled face of planes and
angles with an aquiline nose. It was when you saw him in profile
that he seem to have appeared as if he had come off a freshly minted
Roman coin. The shock of dark hair tousled by the wind was short,
and he seemed to carry himself with an air of tragedy. Dark eyes
hollowed by the dark circles under them spoke of pain and a tragedy
that few could even begin to fathom. Absently, he fingered the small
velvet box which he held in his hand.

Once more he looked out to sea and then looked down at the ring, now
removed from the box. A crimson, heart shaped ruby delicately set in
gold, twinkled bloody. He bunched up the ring in his fist and tears
began to roll down from his eyes. The island of Santorini silently
watched as he flung it out to the sea, with all his might,screaming
torturously as he did so.

"ALEXA!!!! ALEXA!!!!" Only the sea birds crying and wheeling
overhead answered.

-1-

"So, where to, milady?" Methos asked as the Volvo sped away through
the snarl of traffic. He glanced over at Alexa, and smiled
encouragingly. She smiled back then looked away, lost in thought.
"Time, give it time.", he reminded himself. But the knowledge that
time was a valuable commodity to her and they both knew it caused
him more than a little anxiety.

"I can't believe that you are doing this. This is like a dream--are
you sure that this is what you want? I mean, the cost, the money--"
She looked at him, perplexed. "How, why?"

He took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry, about
anything. Just leave it up to me. And yes, this is what I want. As
to the why, it's very simple, really."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows arched so beautifully, he thought as he looked at
her.

"Yes. Because my dear, the alternative would be unthinkable. Not to
be able to spend what time you have with you is a very bleak
prospect indeed. I won't lie to you and I promise that we will live
each moment like you have never even lived before." With that he
turned his entire face to her and smiled.

She watched, still somewhat in disbelief, then shaking her head,
began to giggle.

He frowned. "What-was it something I said? Did I say something
funny?" She laughed harder at this and he liked the sound of it.
Rich and so full of life, like her. He began to laugh too. He
swerved from hitting a car. "Whoa! I think I better attend to what
I'm doing."

Later, at the airport, as they stepped up to the ticket counter, she
took a long look around and sighed. "Are you all right?"
Instinctively, he wanted to protect her, although he had to smile at
himself for feeling it. "Five thousand years you've been saving your
neck and now you want to save hers." The irony of the situation
wasn't lost on him.

She nodded, then slowly said, "I've never been anywhere that's
really far from home. This is a big step for me. I'm scared a
little."

He reached down and gave her a big bear hug. She felt more reassured
then and began to anticipate the trip.

The ticket agent motioned them forward, "Next?" Methos placed the
baggage on the scale. "Destination?" The agent continued.

"Cairo."

-2-

"Comfy?" Methos adjusted the blanket about Alexa and she nodded,
laying her head on his shoulder and getting adjusted for a quick
nap.

She thought about what was ahead and for once in a very long time,
she had reason to hope. "Here's to new beginnings," she whispered
and closed her eyes. She wasn't going to admit to how tiring all of
this was, how much it drained her to Adam. She didn't want to worry
him any more and she didn't want to be a burden. She'd been far too
independent to have made it this far by herself in the course of her
illness to have to rely on someone now. She had almost accepted the
fact that quite possibly she might not see her next birthday, or
even next year. She was almost fatalistic in her outlook in many
respects. But there was just something about Adam, that made her
want to go on forever, to live a whole life and fulfill her dreams.
And she wanted to do it with him by her side.

Methos glanced at her sleeping form beside him, with her head
resting on his shoulder. The stewardess walked by, inquiring if
anything else was needed, and he shook his head. A strand of dark
honey colored hair had strayed from the side of her head and had
become attached to her moist mouth. Gently, he reached up and pulled
it away, watching it fall back into place, savoring the texture of
the strands. He smiled as he thought how much of a marvel she was.

"Why,", he asked himself, "do you bother? You haven't been involved
with much of anyone or anything for over a century." He glanced back
down at her sleeping form an dsoftly smiled to himself. "That's
true, you’ve blended in, saved yourself all these centuries." He
knew why. He was lonely. And she--she just seemed to fill a void.
But for how long?

It just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to her, to him to anything that
this could happen! "Life’s not fair--you've known it for how long?"
he asked himself once more for the umpteenth time. Sighing, he
reached carefully for the phone on back of the seat in front of him.
He had preparations to make plans to put into effect.The phone lined
crackled and a baritone voice answered the other end of the line.

"MacLeod."

"Hello, MacLeod. I have some favors to ask of you for Alexa's sake."

"Methos! I thought you were on your way to Cairo."

"Ever hear of phones on airplanes or don't you remember such
things?" he said sarcastically. No comeback was heard so he
continued. "I need you to contact Geneva for me, please. I am going
to need a base of operations so to speak, so that when it comes time
for her to get her treatments, we have a place to stay. And you know
me, I do well to get something suitable for me."

MacLeod said, "What do you need? I'm willing to help any way I can,
you know that. And you know that you don't have to ask for Alexa's
sake only." He snorted. "I remember your place very well...I
wouldn't advise getting a place like that for the two of you. And I
think Geneva's a good place to be. Good hospitals--some of the best
in the world--"

"I'll leave it up to you--you've had more dealings with things of
this nature than I have had in who knows how long. I'm putting some
money in an account in Geneva that you'll have access to so that
everything is taken care of. I don't want to be bothered with the
mundane details. I want to concentrate on her, spend my energy on
her--"

The phone line crackled once again. "You don't have to worry, my
friend.” MacLeod said gently. "I understand. I'll get reservations
and fly out to Geneva tomorrow."

Methos nodded. "Thanks." The phone line went dead.

-3-

The day burned hot and one could see the waves of heat radiating
upwards from the tarmac on the runways of Cairo's airport. Methos
and Alexa wove through the crowds of tourists from differing
countries, making their way to customs. They patiently answered all
the questions which were asked of them, and watched as their luggage
was inspected for any weapons. Methos winced when they found his
sword and held his breath waiting to see if they would take it out
and examine it. When they didn't, he let out an almost audible sigh
of relief.

The customs agent glanced quickly up at him and then turned to his
partner, speaking quickly in Arabic, then motioned for the package
that held his sword to be examined closer. Methos began to protest,
but then spoke in Arabic to the first agent.

"There's no need to examine that. You wouldn't want to upset the
lady, would you?" His eyes narrowed as he tried to will them into
not opening up the package. The agent's eyes and face remained
impassive.

"I will examine it as I please. If you don't have anything to hide,
then you have nothing to worry about, do you?" He almost swaggered
as he spoke.

Alexa couldn't understand what was being said but it was very clear
that whatever was going on, Adam clearly was agitated. It had
surprised her when he began speaking Arabic and quite fluently too!

The heat was stifling and the airport crowded. She watched as people
of many nationalities swirled about her, not quite believing that
she was really in Egypt. She pinched herself just to make sure that
she was indeed, awake. Observing the conversation as it swung back
and forth between the two she carefully watched as Adam, in the end,
seemed to get the upper hand and won the argument. The agent backed
away and stamped the passports, albeit reluctantly.

They gathered their things and made their way to the outside to hire
a cab. The streets were noisy and very congested, the air filthy
from the smog which surprisingly hovered in the city. Once inside
the cab, Adam once again gave directions to an address in Arabic to
the driver.

"I didn't realize you spoke Arabic, Adam. Have you been here
before?” she inquired.

"Yes, many times. You pick up the language. Nothing special." If she
only knew how many times he'd been here, how many lives he'd
known--how many immortals he'd killed...or trained to play the Game.

He silently laughed to himself. He pulled her hair back from her
face with a tender motion, using the back of his hand and gave her a
quick kiss.

She leaned into it and gave him one in answer. "Where are we going
to? A hotel?" She kept craning her head around taking in all the
sites, all the bazaars and open air markets that they passed. Her
excitement grew at each new sight.

"No. We're going to a friend of mine who has invited us to stay
while we are here. But he's devoutly Muslim so there are certain
things you should know. You know, customs and the like." He waited
until she turned to him, listening.

"All right. First thing, hide your hair. It's very, shall we say,
sexy in the Arabic world. If you show your hair then you are
considered, what's the word--loose. Next, remember to retire with
the other ladies once dinner is over and don't be surprised if you
eat your meals separate from me or the other men."

"What! You mean I have to--to, not be with you or share your
company, meals or anything? " She was surprised and hurt by the
restrictions he was placing on her, not quite comprehending what she
was hearing. "I don't understand! I mean--"

He held a hand up to quash the protest. "Remember, this is their
country and you must follow their rules. Also, remember that
polygamy is still practiced here although that is found out more in
the rural areas provided that the man can provide for all of his
wives and children. Here in Cairo, it's more Western and has a more
western "air" in some respects but yet it retains it's sense of
being caught in a time warp between past and present with an outlook
to the future. Shall I continue?"

Alexa quieted, knowing that it would be worthless to try and say
anything and yet it fascinated her to listen to him because it was
almost as if-- as if he were intimately acquainted with all of the
intricacies of the Arabic world. And now he was lecturing her as if
she were a child. She tried to suppress a yawn but it came anyway.
She shook herself despite herself and grinned. "I'm sorry, couldn't
help myself. It must be the heat. How DO they stand it?"

He grinned, shaking his head, silently admitting defeat. 'How long
has it been since that happened, old man? Ah, you've forgotten
feminine wiles--and how they use them.", his inner voice spoke to
him. "Well, I suppose you get used to it. And growing up here,
well--" He shrugged and let the thought trail off. He carefully
watched as things went by and they maneuvered out of the city.
"We'll be at el Ahmed's very soon."

"How long have you known him?"

"A very long time, you could say."

Soon they arrived, and el Ahmed came out to greet them as the taxi
speed away. Alexa gave Adam a withering look, as if to say, "What
did you tell me about customs?" once she took in el Ahmed's very
Western appearance and manner.

Methos frowned at her, then turned his attention to his old friend.
"Mohammed, you have certainly--er, changed since we saw each other
last!" The accompanying buzz from him was easily ignored, rather
like a pesky fly. "What happened?"

"You cannot expect me to stay locked into one way of life forever,
can you? After all, this is the twentieth century!" He laughed
richly, and continued. "Tell me--"

Methos mouthed the name "Adam."

Taking his cue, Mohammed said, "Adam, what brings you to this land
of mine once more? Surely it wasn't for the heat and flies?"

Methos, beginning to sweat from the noonday sun, replied, "I think
if it weren't for the flies and heat there would BE no Egypt. Do you
mind if we go inside? It's damn hot out here and she's" he indicated
Alexa, "not used to the heat, unlike you."

Mohammed focused his attention fully on Alexa. "One thousands
pardons, my dear! Do come in and grace my house with your presence,
please. This way." He led them inside the house where it seemed like
heaven to her since it was cool and shaded and showed her to her
room. "These are the women's quarters. You will stay here. My wives
will come and help you with your things." He turned to Adam. "And
you will come with me. I will give you only the best quarters you
have had in perhaps many---" his eyes twinkled merrily, "years."

Methos shook his head, and grinned. el Ahmed could be a real pain
sometimes especially when he would remind him of his age. And that
was often when they were together. It also explained why Methos
hadn't come to this house in over a century.

Alexa put a hand on his arm to detain him as he turned to go.

He paused. He wasn't sure of what she wanted, but something told him
that it wasn't going to be very favorable to him. He turned to his
friend, and told him that he would join him in a few minutes.
Mohammed shrugged, slyly smiling at him, winked and walked away
laughing.

He waited. She paused long enough to see that they were alone then
whispered vehemently to him, "Customs? Don't tell me about customs!
I am not some stupid schoolgirl that doesn't know when to follow the
rules! And he said wives, plural! Why can't I stay with you? You
have no right too tell me what to do. He is about as old-fashioned
as I am."

Methos waited till she paused to catch her breath."Are you finished
now?” he asked sarcastically. He was caught off guard by her anger
and put on the defensive, which he didn't like. He hadn't had to
explain himself for centuries to anyone and he didn't feel in the
mood to begin again now. Her eyes blazed at him and he couldn't help
but feel like deja vu, but with other women, other wives--even other
times long since vanished.

Alexa felt as if she had been cut by his remark. She knew that
Duncan and Joe had tried to tell her about him, but she didn't
listen. She had always been a sucker for a face, a voice, and an
accent. She began to cry.

At this, Methos gathered her up in his arms and held her
tightly."Shhh, shhh, Alexa, I'm sorry," he intoned into her hair. He
stroked the silky honey tresses and kissed her head. "Shhh, shhh.."

She continued to cry, and held him tightly. She cried for the
remark, for the argument, out of homesickness, out of pain. Her body
hurt and she wouldn't acknowledge the fact that things might be
changing once more for her physically. She had faced the truth once
before, but now she wanted to ignore it-- to live.

Slowly she raised her head till their lips met, and they kissed,
each tongue wrapping entwined about the other and the kiss deepened.
Breathing became heavier and each began the quickly undo the others'
clothes. Fingers and hands began to fly across exposed skin and each
set began to explore the other.

Suddenly, a woman's laughter broke through their consciousness. Both
of their heads broke apart and up at the same time, looking guiltily
in the direction of the laughter.

A woman stood in the doorway in full Muslim chakra, the dress that
covered her body from head to toe and included the veil that covered
the lower part of her face. She held her hand to her mouth, with
eyes wide as she gazed upon them.

"Damn!" they both said in unison, and quickly gathered their
clothes. The woman scurried away in the direction of the rest of the
house. They looked at each other and began to laugh, dissipating any
leftover clouds of anger between them.

Methos tenderly took her face into his hands. "To be continued, rest
assured, later," he said, voice hungry with want. "I promise."

-4-

Dinner came and much to Alexa's dismay, she had to take her dinner
separately as Adam had told her she might have to before their
arrival along with the other wives. She knew that she was the object
of speculation--one didn't need an interpreter to know what the
sidelong glances and overt attempts at communication meant. She
smiled shyly at the women wishing that she had someone to talk to
but thoughts of the afternoon's interrupted kiss interwove through
her thoughts, Secretly, she smiled to herself.

Methos and el Ahmed meanwhile sat eating and drinking to their
heart's content, reminiscing over lifetimes and of people they had
both known and lost. Their game of one-upmanship, which they engaged
in each time they met, continued.

Methos noisily licked his fingers as he ate, indicating his
satisfaction with the food, which Mohammed noted and smiled. "So
why," he went on to say, "did you decide to change after all this
time? The last time we met, you were still very much the Bedouin,
out in the desert, breeding some of the finest horseflesh around. As
I recall, many of those horses led some of the Egyptian chariots at
the battle of Agrippa--before they fled and were killed by the Roman
army." He belched loudly and wiped his hands, looking at his old
friend across the table.

Mohammed nodded. "Ah, there you are right! My horses are some of the
finest you will find. I pride myself on them for without them, I
would be nothing." He shrugged and continued, "It keeps me in touch
with my roots. I can never forget where I came from--the desert, and
the nomadic way of life. Although," he said, as he surveyed the
room, "I have given up wandering. I was getting too old for it." He
laughed loudly and belched.

A woman appeared and silently poured some of the thick and heavily
sweetened Turkish coffee into cups, laying a small platter of
baklava and Turkish delight on the low table. She left and Mohammed
watched her go with obvious affection. "My youngest wife.” he simply
said.

Methos smiled and then asked, "Tell me, whatever happened to that
chariot driver, Tek-Ne? You remember him; he was run over by a
runaway cart and became one of us." He paused and sipped at the
scorching drink.

"Ah, yes! Last I heard he had gone to Scotland but that was
what--450 years ago!" He poised a hand of the sweets, carefully
making a selection, then biting into it with delight. " I heard that
he took the name --what was that name--? Hmmm..oh yes, Juan Sanchez
Villa-Lobos Ramirez. An Infidel's name. One of your students, wasn't
he?"

Methos slowly nodded. "Yes. Quite a good sword arm as I recall. And
a good man. Scotland, hmmm? I wonder..."

“Wonder? What is it that you wonder about, old man?" Mohammed
grinned as he teased his friend about his age once more, something
he would not let Methos forget about but he deeply respected.

Methos frowned at him, slightly irritated. "Old? You are hardly
young yourself--" he said dryly. Changing the subject he asked to go
and see the stables and they both walked outside in the bright of
day. They toured the complex and Methos had to admit that there was
indeed something to be said about giving up the life of a wanderer.

He shaded his eyes and looked out towards the direction of the
Pyramids, which could be seen, not too far off in the distance.
"Things have sure changed,” he said outloud, more to himself than to
his friend as he noted the smog which covered Cairo and was creeping
out towards the Pyramids.

Night fell and they retired early, Alexa too tired to care what else
happened that night. The flight and accompanying jet lag had caught
up with her and sapped at her energy.

Methos came to see to her needs and to make sure that all her
medications had been taken. He gently lifted her head for a final
kiss and with a wink he said, "Remember what I promised. Be prepared
for a surprise." He kissed her again. "Now, go to sleep. Good
night."

"Surprise? I don't understand. What are you-"

He placed a silencing finger on her lips and guided her to her bed
then left.

She stood there perplexed and then got into bed, weariness
overcoming any curiosity that she had and instantly fell asleep. She
tossed about in her sleep. The heat had permeated the night and even
the distance from the center of all the hustle and bustle of Cairo
had done nothing to dissipate it. She rolled over to her side and
slowly awoke to the knowledge that someone was in her room. She
stayed silent; intently listening to the swish of fabric as it drew
closer to her bed.

A hand reached out and shook her gently. She pretended to be asleep
and waited anxiously for the intruder to go away. "Where's Adam?"
she wondered to herself. "Damn, I hate this arrangement!"

The hand shook her again, more urgently. She sighed. She glanced up
to see a man in flowing robes and turban looking at her. A cloth
drawn from the wrappings of the turban covered the lower part of his
face. She began to scream and he quickly clamped a hand over her
mouth, effectively stifling her scream.

"Alexa, for the gods' sake, shhhhhh!" It's me, Adam!" He removed the
wrap from his face and showed her that it was really he. Her eyes
flew open wide and then blazed in fury.

"Why you--"she began after he removed his hand. The other women who
shared her quarters tossed and began to stir. She glanced over to
them, then back at him. She quieted then whispered, "What are you
doing in that get-up anyway?" She propped herself up on her elbows
to get a better look at him. Somehow, the robes looked natural on
him, like they belonged on him.

He knelt down and whispered back, "I thought you might like a
midnight ride to go sightseeing. It's the perfect time. No tourists,
avoid the rush." He paused and then said, "Saves on money too. No
fees to pay." He smiled at her then.

She melted. "OK, but there's a problem. I have never ridden a horse
before." She got up silently and quickly got dressed as Methos tried
unsuccessfully not to look.

"Don't worry about it. I think I can remember how to do it. Leave
the driving to me. Shall we go?" He led the way back out to the main
room of the house and then to the stables outside.

A pure white Arabian stallion stood, already saddled in the Arabian
style—tassels hanging brilliant red from the bridle and brightly
colored saddle blankets and saddle all ready. He helped her into the
saddle and mounted behind her.

They headed towards the pyramids and she leaned up against him
swaying and rocking to the horses' pace. He glanced down at her as
he maneuvered the horse around the roads, which sprawled in the same
direction to the pyramids so that they were actually riding in the
desert itself.

A full moon overhead bathed the dunes in soft light and Alexa
thought that perhaps she had never seen anything so beautiful. The
ripples of the sand and the now looming relics to a time past gave
the atmosphere an enchanted eerieness. She looked up at Adam and he
seemed quite at home and yet distant from her here. He wore a look,
which she couldn't quite describe--one of returning after a long
time from being away perhaps or maybe one of sadness. She couldn't
decide which.

They drew up and he dismounted, then lifted her down. Hand in hand,
they strolled through the area, and he proved to be quite an
interesting guide. He pointed out where the caravans loaded with
tribute from Nubia and Hyskos had come through as well as other
caravans with other treasures and merchants hoping to sell their
wares in the cities of Thebes and Luxor even Alexandria would pass.
It was if he had been there and to hear him speak of it enthralled
her. His face took on a different light while talking of the past.
In a way it was disconcerting but she loved him all the more for it.

"Adam--this is wonderful! I have never dreamed of doing this, this
close and the things you are telling me--it's almost like--like you
were there!" She turned to him and kissed him. She looked around,
arms outstretched and twirled about as if she were a child again.
"If I shall never live past tonight--I shall always keep this memory
and treasure it forever. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She
kissed him in gratitude again and he pulled back away from her.

His eyes troubled, and his thoughts tumbling about, he watched
without responding as she searched his face. "Is this a part of
it?", he wondered. It bothered him to think that it could be just
this one night then there would be no more. "Is this what mortality
is?" He desperately wanted to not allow it to be so and forced
himself to smile at her. "I'm glad you like it." He had given of
himself to her a part of his history in telling her about where they
were and what had transpired here. He was unsure if he would ever
tell her the truth, but who said that he ever told the truth? Not in
totality at least. It wouldn't be believed. Why bother?

They both fell into silence as they came up to the Sphinx. They
looked up into the face and Methos remarked upon the how the face
had been used as target practice when France had tried to take over
Egypt in the early years of the nineteenth century about 1814. The
end result was that the nose was shot away. Wind and erosion by the
desert sand played a role in how it appeared now in the present.

Alexa slyly looked up at him and remarked, "Oh, did you pose for its
head? I seem to see a resemblance between it and you!" She took his
chin and turned his face to and fro studying it from different
angles. Finally, in turning it to profile, she exclaimed, "Yes!
There is a resemblance! It's the nose!" She pulled away and began to
scamper off.

He laughed loudly and took off after her, each running madly through
the dunes chasing the other. Their laughter rang in the silence of
the night and echoed in the dunes.

Finally, she collapsed, breathless, holding a hand to her side and
he collapsed at her side. They looked at one another in a subtle
challenge and she reached out to kiss him but he moved as she was
almost upon him and they collided in mid-air, his nose hitting her
cheek and she missing her intended target. They drew back in
surprise, and then laughing, tried again. This time contact was made
and both drew the other into an even deeper kiss.

Methos broke free to look at her lightly remarking, "It's the nose,
you're right, I did pose for it! How nice of you to notice!"

She laughed and drew him once more to her. He slowly began to work
his hand into her blouse and she fumbled around looking for an
opening in his robe. When none could be found she pulled on it till
it came off over his head.

She gazed at the wiry strength of him and reached out to stroke his
chest while he removed her bra and then her blouse. The naked want,
the hunger each felt was evident on their faces and they merged
together as if they were one. Caresses became intimate and he began
to stroked then kiss her breasts. She gasped and licked at his ears
and they in unison, became more hurried in their desire for one
another. Off came her pants and before long, the jackal's laugh in
the night was joined by the laughter of two bodies entwined amongst
the dunes.

Afterwards, she turned to look at him tenderly, as her breath slowly
returned to normal. Lightly, she touched his face with her
fingertips and traced his lips with her thumb. He looked over at
her, her face shining, eyes glowing. Smiling,he said, "You are the
most beautiful woman I have ever known." He reached over and kissed
her, stroking the hair from her face. "I love you, Alexa."

She smiled back at him and nodded. "And I love you too."

He glanced at the stars and upon hearing the horse stamping its’
hooves, began to get dressed. "It'll be dawn soon. Get dressed. We
need to return. We wouldn't want to offend our host by not being
there for breakfast."

She got dressed and they both re-mounted the horse and went back as
the sun just peeked over the horizon.

-5-

When they arrived back at the house, they found that everyone had
been awake for some time and were bustling about doing the daily
chores that were necessary in order to make life bearable in the
desert heat.

Mohammed, with a twinkle in his eye, grinned from ear to ear as they
came through the door and inquired if they had had a nice ride.
Methos merely smiled in answer and Alexa thanked him for asking and
yes, the ride was wonderful!

They both went to their respective areas of the house to bathe and
clean up.

Absently she took her medications without counting the amounts out
carefully before downing them, before stepping into the cool water.
It felt so good to the skin, as it ran down her and into the drain.
She kept recreating what had happened over and over in her mind and
she closed her eyes as she remembered. Her smile got broader as she
contemplated what would happen on the next stop on their journey.

Methos, meanwhile, showered and shaved, thinking furiously all the
while about how much he should let her know about himself without
revealing too much. It would be, he decided, too much against what
he had been over the centuries to tell her much if anything about
himself. His instinct for self-preservation had been honed with a
razor sharp edge as his sword was over the centuries. That fact had
saved him so that he had indeed become as old as he was. Revealing
things about himself didn't come easy to him. It just wasn't in his
nature because of the differing circumstances an immortal might have
had to face. He'd had his share of differing circumstances and had
survived them all.

He emerged first, just as a small boy from the street handed
Mohammed a cable, then stuck out his hand for payment. Mohammed
tousled the boy's thick dark hair and tossed him a coin which was
adeptly caught in mid-air. He spoke to the boy and told him where to
find the kitchen so that he could at least have one decent meal for
the day. The boy scampered off in search of the kitchens, clutching
the coin and grinning broadly at the thought of food for his hungry
stomach.

Mohammed glanced at the name on the cable and held it out for
Methos. He took it, and walked over by the window so as to get the
morning sun on his back and better light to read it. He opened it.

It read:

ADAM:

ALL ARANGEMENTS MADE AS REQUESTED STOP. APARTMENT NEAR LAKE STOP.
GREAT VIEW. STOP. COME AND SEE IT STOP. WILL MEET YOU AT AIRPORT
STOP.

DUNCAN

He frowned and began tapping the cable against his other hand. He
hadn't planned on going to Geneva so soon and wondered what was up
with MacLeod.

"Trouble, my friend?,” Mohammed asked.

"No, just maybe a change in plans." Methos glanced in the direction
of the women's quarters. What was taking Alexa so long? He went over
to the table and sat down, stretching out his tall frame across the
chair. He looked over the cable again and tossed it onto the table.

Mohammed started to reach for it then paused, looking at his friend.
"May I?"

Methos nodded. He waited till it had been read then digested. "He's
a friend. He's one of us. One of the best of us. I had asked him to
get me a place in Geneva."

"Geneva? But for what reason--you've always never stayed in one
place too long." el Ahmed's face became a furrowed mass as he tried
to understand.

Methos' eyes told Mohammed more than words could, yet the
confirmation was still a shock. "She's dying." He looked down the
hall once more where there was still no sign of Alexa and he was
beginning to get concerned. He got up and began to head towards her
room. It gave him something to do so that he could put his energy
into something rather than to face any more questions.

He heard the water running from the shower before he reached it and
then saw her arm peeking out of the stall on the floor. His heart
began to thump as he pulled open the door to the shower open,
revealing her crumpled form on the stall's floor.

He quickly turned the water off and grabbed a towel to wrap her in.
Turning his head, he screamed in Arabic for someone to call a doctor
immediatly. He carried her over to the bed and began checking for
vital signs, his doctor's training taking over while his mind was
reeling. "Live!", he kept telling her in a repeated litany as if to
will her to do so.

Mohammed and his wives came running in. He gave quick instructions
to make sure that everyone understood that it was imperative that
she get medical attention immediately. One of the wives scurried off
while another began to softly moan. Mohammed quickly turned to her
and reprimanded her for her behavior, then sent her out.

Methos looked at Alexa's pale face, and pushed back her hair from
her face. Her heartbeat had sounded good but her breathing was
shallow. He was thankful about her heartbeat was good but he then
felt her skin again. It was clammy and he lifted up her eyelids to
check for dilation. Something was definitely wrong but the couldn't
place his finger on it.

He reached over and took a look at the myriad of pills that lined
the small table near the bed. He then remembered what it could be
and he grabbed her and began walking her back and forth fervrently.
He glanced at Mohammed, standing in the doorway, feeling quite
helpless.

"She's bloody well overdosed on her pills!" He glanced down at her.
"Alexa, c'mon keep going. Alexa!" When he didn't get a response from
her, he began to shake her like a rag doll. She slowly began to
moan, then roll her head about limply.

Her eyelids fluttered and Methos began walking her all the harder.

"ALEXA! ALEXA! Listen to me--wake up, c'mon you can do it! ", he
encouraged her.

She moaned a bit louder, and started walking under her own power bit
by bit. Her head turned to him and she opened her eyes long enough
to see him. "Adam?"

"Yes, it's me, stay awake, you hear me? Alexa, awake!" He slowed
down the pace of the walking and slowly let her slip back onto the
bed in a sitting position, with him next to her to support her. She
laid her head down on his shoulder.

"The doctor is on his way." Mohammed said after speaking to the wife
who had called for help returned.

Methos looked up at him gratefully. Maybe Geneva wasn't such a bad
idea after all, he thought to himself. She needed to get her
treatments again and the mountains would be beautiful this time of
year. Bittersweet memories of Byron at the chateau along with the
Shelleys began to weave through his mind. Sweet Mary—no, it was best
not to think about that; he pushed the thought to the back of his
mind.

He looked down when she made a small noise then she proceeded to
vomit up her stomach's contents. He gently held her head until she
was finished then wiped her off with the towel's edge which was
wrapped about her still. Even though he was disgusted with what had
happened he never let it creep into his voice. "Shhh, I'm here,
Alexa."

She looked up at him rather blearily and gave him a slight smile.

With that one smile, his heart lifted. She was going to make it, he
was sure. She was a fighter all right and he admired her for her
spirit. He leaned in closer to her ear as he laid her down to rest
on the bed and whispered, "Looks like were going to Geneva..."

-6-

Four and a half hours later, their plane arrived in Geneva and as
promised, MacLeod was waiting for them complete with a wheelchair
for Alexa. They gathered the luggage and placed it in the rental car
and drove off to their new apartment. Alexa slept during the ride
which gave the two friends a chance to talk.

MacLeod looked over at Methos' haggard face. "You look like hell--"
he began.

Methos looked at him. "And you look like Mary Sunshine.", he said
snidely. He sighed deeply and glanced at Alexa in the back seat.
"She scared the hell out of me, MacLeod!" He looked at MacLeod, eyes
narrowed. "I suppose you think that's funny."

Duncan glanced at him as he wound his way about Geneva's convoluted
streets. "No, I don't think that's funny. I think that that's a
normal reaction under the circumstances." He pulled up to a small
building in one of Geneva's older neighborhoods. "Here we are.
Second floor, corner." He dangled the keys.

"You're not coming up?", Methos asked as he grabbed the keys. Alexa
began to stir in the back seat.

Duncan shook his head. "No, I have a plane to catch back home."

Methos frowned. "Then why did you pick us up at the airport? Why did
you stay around after finding the place?"

"Maybe I wanted to do some sightseeing?" He looked seriously at
Methos. "If you need anything--call. Oh, and tell her that Joe and
Amanda send their regards."

Methos opened the car's door and bent down to peer at him. He began
to say something, then thought better of it, and nodded instead. He
opened the back door and gently woke Alexa who sleepily got out, and
whispered to her.

Duncan, meanwhile, popped the trunk and removed the luggage, placing
it on the sidewalk. The two men looked at one another in unspoken
mutual understanding and slowly, Duncan got back in the car and
drove away.

Methos watched as he drove off then sighed and turned to Alexa.
"Looks like it's just the two of us." He reached down and grabbed a
suitcase then wrapped an arm around Alexa's waist.

They went up the stairs then inside to the elevator. It seemed that
time dragged while waiting for the elevator. Neither of them spoke
to the other and Methos took a close look at Alexa while waiting.
She was pale, and still weak from the overdose; the ordeal told on
her features.

She glanced at him momentarily, and started to say something. She
bit it back after seeing the silent anger and resignation on his
face and kept quiet. The doctor in Cairo had given her something in
the IV that made her groggy and yet counteract the drugs she had
taken. She tried to remember what had happened. She knew that it had
been accidental, and that she should have been more meticulous in
taking the pills but she had been dreaming about that night and what
had happened in the desert. She remembered coming in and getting
undressed for the shower, then going over to the table and opening
the pills.

Frowning, she hit her forehead in frustration, trying to remember
how many had been taken but try as she might she couldn't remember.
And she couldn't remember anything more once she got into the
shower. "Oh, I hate this!"

The elevator came, doors sliding open, and they both entered. Methos
turned to her when she spoke. "Hate what?" Admittedly, he was angry
at her. He didn't want to lose her--not yet, not so soon and
especially when it could have been prevented. He damned himself also
for his stupidity for not insisting on her staying with him. But he
hadn't wanted to offend el Ahmed either. He shook his head and then
both went into the apartment once the elevator had arrived on the
second floor.

The apartment was spacious, with a fireplace at one end, over which
an elaborately carved mantle hung. The floors were of solid oak, and
Oriental rugs covered them in places. The walls were paneled also in
dark cherrywood which were broken up by the amount of windows which,
Methos knew, would face the lake. A balcony with French doors opened
to a sight that was breathtaking.

Mountains, with peaks of snow surrounded them; both Geneva and Lake
Geneva shimmered royal blue in the sunshine. You could see pleasure
boats taking the tourists around on the lake and the rest of Geneva
sprawled out beneath the peaks.

Alexa gasped at the sight, and leaned out over the railing, looking
to the sights below. A flower cart wheeled by, with a heavyset man
offering his flowers to buyers. He sang in French of his wares and
Alexa clapped her hands in delight. She came back in to see Methos
sprawled in an overstuffed chair of Victorian vintage.

All the luggage had been dumped beside the chair, and he looked at
her. "What is it you hate? You said that while we were waiting for
the lift."

She took a deep breath, sat on a matching chair across from him and
looked him squarely in the eye. "You want to talk about what
happened--that's what you really want to talk about, isn't it? Well,
I'll tell you what I hate--I hate having done such a stupid thing
and that no matter what I say, you won't believe me when I tell you
it was an accident. If I really wanted to die all I would have to do
is wait. Look at me! I'm DYING! And no matter what I do, or what
anyone does it's not going to matter because I'll still die!" She
paced the room in agitation, hands thrown up. She whirled back to
him. " Is that what you wanted to talk about? Is it?"

His anger slipped away in the face of her justifiable wrath. "Alexa,
that is not what I wanted to talk to you about.", he replied in a
calm, soothing voice. "But, since you brought it up, let's talk
about you dying. What we need to focus on is not you dying--but your
living. Maybe it's true, that you might not have a lot of time left,
but you really don't know HOW much time you have--no one does. Death
could come at any moment to anyone--we never know when exactly we
are to die. It could come tomorrow, or three years from now. You
don't know!"

He reached out as she went by and pulled her to his lap. "Don't
worry about it--live for now, live because you ARE alive now, and
live because we are together. No matter what happens, I'll be right
here. And I'll be with you until you don't want me around anymore."

She looked at him solemnly, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't
want to die. I'm scared! Hold me, please!" Tears spilled over onto
her cheeks and she hid her face in his neck. She sobbed as if her
heart was breaking; Methos kissed away the tears which fell. Not a
word was spoken between them, and yet two souls spoke volumes to
each other. He leaned his head back, eyes closed, heart open.

Soon she fell asleep and he lifted her up gently, went into the
bedroom and laid her onto the massive four poster bed. She sunk into
the mattress and surprised, Methos felt it. Goose feathers! Great!
"There goes my back.", he thought wryly. "Some kind of humor you
have, MacLeod.", he added under his breath.

He took off her shoes, then carefully removed her clothes, making
sure to not wake her. He swore when it came down to removing her
jeans because he couldn't see way to get her out of them without
waking her. Women's liberation! Things were so much easier when they
wore dresses only--and that was not too long ago. He tugged at them
and she stirred. Exasperated, he threw up his hands, rolling his
eyes skyward. "Hell, let her sleep in them!"

He put her under the wine-colored goose down comforter and antique
ivory lace duvet. She snuggled into the pillows, quieted, and softly
smiled. He reached over her and quickly kissed her cheek.

Returning to the living room, he quickly began the process of
unpacking and putting away what needed to be put away. He then
walked out onto the balcony, smelling the crisp mountain air. His
feet kicked a package on the floor of the balcony.

Puzzled, he bent down to retrieve it. A note was attached. He
recognized MacLeod's scrawl. "To Alexa" it read. "So that you can
see beyond what is."

Curious, Methos opened it. Inside, a brass ship's telescope and
accompanying tripod lay. He looked out over the lake, and began
remembering people, places and times long past as he began to set it
up onto the tripod. When he was finished, you could oversee all of
Geneva from the balcony into a clear crispness afforded by the
telescope. He nodded in approval.

He went in to sit at a rolltop desk in what could be described as a
small study. Rows of empty shelves lined the walls and he stared at
them, his mind working in overtime. He picked up the phone and began
to dial then stopped himself. He frowned trying to remember what the
time difference between Geneva and Seacouver was. When he couldn't
think of it, he shrugged and dialed anyways.

A sleepy man's voice answered,"Hello?"

Methos smiled to himself. "Must have woken Dawson up." he wryly
thought to himself. "Hello, Joe. It's me."

"Methos, do you have any idea what time it is?" Joe asked gruffly as
he glanced at the clock beside the bed.

"Hmmm. I would venture to say that it's night there. Am I correct?"

He could hear Joe swearing under his breath at him. "What do you
want? It's not Alexa, is it?"

"Actually, yes and no.I need for you to do me a favor."

"That being?" Joe straightened up in his bed.

"I need to lay my hands on every book there is about oncology,
toxicology, any and all things related to the illness that Alexa
has. I don't care how remote or if they are far-fetched. I'll take
medical treasties, research studies,textbooks-anything!" He
continued in earnest. "I want to beat this."

There was a distinct pause on the other end of the line. Joe held
the phone from his ear and stared at it as if to see Methos. "Are
you telling me that you are going to try and save her life? Isn't
that a bit arrogant? You knew about it before you left and remember,
I tried to dissuade you from getting involved with her? You think
you have the time to play God?"

Methos sighed sadly. "I have the time, Joe. She doesn't. Will you
help me?"

"Yes, I'll help, for her sake." Joe replied after a moment's pause.

Alexa woke late in afternoon, sat up, and looked around her. She
looked and felt better after crying and sleeping jag. It was as if a
big weight had been lifted off of her and relief flooded through
her. She slid off the bed and into her clothes.

Going into the living room, she followed Adam's voice. It sounded
like he was on the phone to someone and as she stepped inside the
small room, she realized that he was speaking German to whoever was
on the other end. She frowned at him and went over to look out the
small window at the view.

He glanced up at her and smiled. He started scribbling down notes as
he talked, and nodded on occasion. Finally, he hung up the phone.
"How are you feeling, better?", he asked.

"Yes." Her stomach growled, and she quickly covered it in
embaressment. "Excuse me!"

Methos laughed. He walked over and held her tightly. "We'll get
through this together. We will. Trust me.", he whispered. He leaned
down and they kissed. For some time, they both stood silent, gazing
out at the window.

Her stomach growled insistantly. This time both laughed.

"Maybe it's time to think of getting a bite.", she said at which he
nodded in agreement.

"I think you're right. Grab your coat--it gets a bit cold at night
here. We'll go and do the tourist thing."

They left and began walking the streets, taking in the flavor of
Geneva both old and new. They paused at the Hoftra, the oldest open
air market in Geneva and picked up some fresh food for the
apartment, and each pointed out the Old World architecture with it's
elaborate masonry and grounds. Hand in hand, they walked,laughing at
themselves and the other more obvious tourists.

Finally, they settled on a restaurant, ordered their meal and
waited. The conversation came to a lull and finally Alexa
asked,"Just HOW many languages do you speak, Adam?"

He looked at her, judging his answer. "Living or dead languages?" He
took a sip of the dark German lager he had ordered, refusing to look
her in the eye.

She was taken aback at that. "What do you mean, living or dead? I
don't understand!" She took a drink from her wine and looked closer
at her companion.

"Living means that they are in use today and dead means that they
aren't. I thought that it was self-explanatory." He knew that he
could play cat and mouse with her easily and she'd never get a
straight answer from him. But it was something that he didn't want
to do unless he had to.

She curled her nose at him."Very funny. How many?"

He paused, trying to remember all of the ones he had known and used.
"Do you want me to list them?"

She sat back in her chair and started to speak when the food
arrived. They mumured their thanks to the waiter and began to eat.
The food was exquisite and they nodded as they ate the gastronomical
wonder in front of them in appreciation of it's taste.

She paused from eating, wiping her mouth and looked directly at him.
"Well? Are you going to tell me or not?"

He gulped down more of the lager, thinking of how to reply once
again. "You're very persistant, aren't you? I suppose you want to
know how many I read as well?"

Intriged, she silently nodded.

He took a deep breath and ticked off the languages on his fingers as
he counted. "Let's see...English, French, German, both high and low,
Farsi, Hind, Arabic, hmmm...Spanish, Porteguese, Greek, Italian,
Latin, Mandrian Chinese--there are others."

She sat there, eyes wide and stared at him. So many! And if were
true that he could read them as well--!

Avoiding her eyes, he went back to eating. "Your food's getting
cold."

Absently, she picked up her fork and started to eat. Her mind was
whirling at the amount of languages he knew.

They finished eating in silence.

On the way back to the apartment, they stopped and caught a horse
drawn carriage that wound it's way through the cobbled streets which
paved the street on which they would be living. Alexa was getting
tired and Methos didn't want to have her overtired. He knew that she
needed her strength.

The clip-clop of the horse's hooves on the cobblestones were in
marked contrast to what was commonly heard in most streets.

Alexa snuggled into Methos' side and he put his arm around her,
holding her hand. "Where and how did you learn all those languages,
Adam?" she softly said.

He looked straight ahead and answered her, dead-pan. "I traveled a
lot when I was younger. I needed to learn them to survive."

"Oh. How exciting that must have been!" She grinned, thinking of all
the places he must have been to.

"I wouldn't necessarily call it exciting." The carriage drew them up
to their doorstep. Methos paid the driver and they both went back
upstairs to their new home. "I forgot to tell you--you're scheduled
to begin your treatments next week at the Hospice.", he said once
they were inside.

"Oh?" She turned from hanging up the coats and faced him.

"Yes. And once they are finished, WE are going to--" he paused as he
wrapped his arms around her.

"Where?", she asked, as if she were a small child getting a treat.

"Vienna..."

-7-

The next week came and Methos escorted Alexa to begin her treatment
He served as her interpreter for the intake.

Everything went smoothly until after Alexa went in to start the
treatment. The attendant sat filling out forms asking and getting
answers from Methos. She glanced up at him and asked, "Do you have
insurance?"

Methos sat back, perplexed. "Insurance?"

"Yes, insurance. How do you intend to pay for this?" She looked at
him patiently.

"Cash, bank draft--does it matter?" Methos replied, a bit
exasperated.

Annoyed, she glanced at the paperwork which lay in front of her.
"Well, Mr.--Pierson. Are you saying that you have no insurance to
cover this?"

"I suppose the answer is no. I haven't been sick in--" he paused,
"centuries you could say." His eyes narrowed and glittered with ire.

"Very funny, Mr. Pierson. Sign here."

He signed his name to finish out the formalities, then started to
stroll out toward the door then stopped, turned about and winked at
the woman. Smiling, he turned and walked out the door.

She sat there, looked around to see if anyone had seen what had just
happened and blushed.

That night, Alexa was ill from the chemotherapy. She couldn't keep
any of her dinner down and spent a great deal of the night in the
bathroom, getting rid of anything and everything that was in her
system plus some things that weren't.Finally, she came out of the
bathroom, disheveled, pale and drawn.

Methos helped her to a rocking chair that she had seen and fallen in
love with at a small store near their home. He had bought for her on
the spot. She sat there, motionless, waiting for the world to stop
spinning.

"Water?", he asked, feeling a bit useless and uncertain.

She shook her head and weakly smiled at him. "No. Just think! Only
five more days of this. It's something I really can look forward
too." She bit her lip and struggled to sit more upright.

He laughed. "I see you haven't lost your sense of humor. That's
good." He walked over and easily picked her up and walked into the
bedroom and laid her on the bed.

"Not tonight dear, I have a headache," she whispered, smiling.

He laughed. "I wouldn't worry too much about it--for now, at least.
But wait until you are back on your feet!!" He mimicked a growl deep
in his throat.

It was her turn to smile and laugh, which she did clutching at her
stomach. "Oh, please, don't make me laugh! It hurts too much!"

He became serious. "Listen--you get some sleep. I have some reading
to do. If you need anything--just call, all right?" He planted a
kiss on her forehead. "Good night, milady." The door closed behind
him.

Crates had begun to arrive from Joe in the States, and Methos poured
over the books, research papers,graphs and charts every night. Many
nights, he spent until the wee hours of the morning, reading while
Alexa slept alone in the bedroom. Each article he read, each book,
all came to the same conclusion about Alexa's condition: terminal.

He sat back late one night after reading a paper on new methods of
treating tumors in advanced stages, leaned back in his chair, and
blearily rubbed his hands over his face. Looking around, he decided
that what he needed was a beer, if not for the wetness down his
throat, then for the solace that it might provide.

Terminal.

He knew in his heart that deep down, there was nothing he could do
for her. But the acceptance of the fact was difficult at best.

Opening the refrigerator, he pulled one out, and downed it quickly.
He walked to the bedroom door and watched her as she lay, silently
sleeping. Sighing deeply, tears in his eyes, he nodded to himself in
acceptance of her inevitiable death. He slipped off his clothes, got
into bed with her and laid there just watching the rise and fall of
each breath she took. "Alexa--why do you tug at my heart so?",he
whispered to her sleeping face. His finger traced the contours of
eyes, cheek and nose; the softness of her skin, the warmth of her
breath upon him as she breathed. "Alexa, Alexa, Alexa.", he repeated
in a litany of deep sadness.

She stirred, and he quieted. Drawn as if to a flame, his fingers
roamed down her body, so warm and alive. She opened her eyes and
looked at him. Smiling, she whispered, "Go on."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

They made love slowly, tenderly, and sweetly.

-8-

In the morning, all the last minute preparations for the trip for
Vienna had to be rechecked and double checked. They had planned to
stay in Vienna for a few weeks and travel to the Rhine valley by
boat on an extended trip if Alexa's strength held up. They both
smiled as they checked last minute details, Methos humming absently
to himself, and Alexa still glowing from the night before.

Finally, all was ready and they took off. They were going by train
so that more of the country could be seen. They didn't mind the
length of time spent on it either. They liked the cabin they had
been assigned to--close quarters bred closer relations between them
and they often filled the long hours making love in the berth.
Methos couldn't get enough of her nor she him. It was if both were
teens again and it became a private joke between them. They knew
just by looking when the other wanted them and both glowed from the
love they shared.

One afternoon, they were in the midst of making love. A tap came at
the door, breaking up the concentration and the impending orgasms of
both. Annoyed, Methos asked in German what the person wanted, while
Alexa covered her face to keep from laughing out loud at the
incongruity of it all. He was acting as it had never happened to him
before and try as she might she couldn't surpress the laughter and
burst out laughing. He looked down at her, finger to lips trying to
silence her but by doing so, it only made her laugh all the more
loudly.

The coachman, outside the door, upon hearing this, grinned widely
and visions of what was happening behind the closed door swam before
his eyes. In answer to the man's query he answered, "We will
arriving in Vienna in ten minutes. Please be ready to disembark
there." He turned about and walked away to the next private cabin ,
leering slightly.

Methos looked at her, as she lay grasping her sides, still laughing
with tears rolling down her cheeks in merriment. "What is so funny?"

She tried to catch her breath,then said,"You are."

"Me? What do you mean me?" He sat up and began getting dressed.

"You looked like that had never happened before." She too, begain
gathering her clothes and putting them on, softly giggling the
entire time.

He shot her a exasperated look then said, "You just wait..."

-9-

They rented a room at a hotel near the famous Ring, the encirling
set of buildings which surrounded the main square of Vienna. Looking
out the winds of the room, one could see the spires of St. Stephan's
cathedral, a part of the heart and soul of Vienna originally built
in the 1300's with towering, ornatly carved spires reaching
heavenward.

Methos told Alexa how when Hitler had invaded Austria, the Germans
had bombed the church thus having to have the roof replaced once the
war was over. You could also see the Hapsburg palace and the Vienna
State Opera House, both buildings masterpieces in their own right,
elaborate in the design, and ornately carved.

They got unpacked; Alexa stood by the windows, a hand drawing back
the delicate lace of the curtain, devouring the sights and scenery
of the city.

Methos pulled out his CD player and one of his CD's and stretched
out on the bed. Before too long, he sat back up, hands and feet
drumming in time to the music, head nodding to the beat too.

The sound of the rythmic drumming of hands and feet, drew Alexa's
attention from the sights outside the window and annoyed, she turned
to watch him. She couldn't help but smile as she looked at him with
his eyes closed oblivious to anything but the music in his head. He
reminded her of a teenager--maybe even herself when she really liked
rock, but the older she got, the more she began to appreciate
classical music, with it's ability to elict emotional responses by
the music alone or the use of a single instrument.

She walked over to him, pulling the headphones off his head gently
and slipped them on.

He watched as her smile turned into a frown, then into disgust.

She threw them back at him and walked away. "You call that music?
You've got to be joking!"

"There is nothing wrong with my musical tastes. I have excellent
taste in music, I'll have you know. Do you want to argue? Or maybe
you need to go out and "do the tourist thing" again as in Geneva?"
He stood up, stretching his tall frame, then walked over to where
she stood.

"Who was that group anyway?" She half-wanted to argue but the idea
of going out and actually seeing the city whose very existance was
culture and refinement and of course, music held a tremendous
appeal.

"They are a British group, "Queen", if you must know. I happen to
think that they are a very good band. You are allowed your opinion,
of course." His whole being seemed ready to challenge her. "Do you
want to go out or are we going to argue about musical tastes?", he
continued.

She looked at him then outside, biting her lip as she did so. "Ok,
outside. Let's take a walk."

Methos smiled. "Ok, let's do that. Are you hungry? You haven't lived
till you have hit some of the coffee houses here. And of course, you
must try the strudel--between here and Bavaria it's a toss-up as to
which is better."

They left making small talk and headed toward a small coffee house
which overlooked a ornate garden and from which you could see the
Alps, shining blue-grey in the sun, with snow capped peaks still
visible in the distance. The strudel, it turned out, was as divine
as Adam had said it would be.

They passed massive bronze and copper fountains in the squares which
had figures of seraphs and nymphs, playing in the cascadinig water.
Other ones had images of the gods in repose or looking out to
eternity, silently watching the march of time.

Alexa was awestruck with the sights and once again, Methos provided
the commentary in great detail, although they did stop at a small
gazebo type stand and bought a tourist guide in English this time.

She kept swiveling her head from one side to another and the little
tiff in the hotel had been forgotten as she took in the vast
richness, yet gentleness that is Vienna. Its' richness in culture,
musically speaking, and the other arts combined in to a way of life,
despite it being overrun time and again by invaders from the ancient
Romans to Hitler and never once even in the worst times, gave up any
of its' heritage.

After the waiter brought the strudel, they ate in silence. Alexa
began to read outloud finally about places she wanted to visit and
then she remembered that this was the city where of course the
Vienna Boys Choir originated from. She excitedly told him about
seeing them on "The Ed Sullivan Show" on tv when she was a little
girl and now she was actually here!!!

Methos listened in bored disinterest, but he agreed to take her to
Hosburg Chapel where the choir performed nine months of the year. He
had hoped to go back to the hotel and catch some sleep. But she was
so excited at the prospect of hearing the choir, that he conceded to
going.

The chapel is located in what had been the Imperial Palace for the
Hapsburgs and the Holy Roman Empire. They arrived just in time for
the next performance and paid their way in, sitting near the front.
Gilded and enamaled panels of the life of Christ and the
Resurrection covered the walls directly behind the beautifully
carved Renaisannce alter.

The choir filed in quietly, row upon row of them, and remained
standing. Each face reminded Alexa of a freshly scrubbed penny, all
shiny and bright and each wore stiffly starched robes with lace
collars. They began to sing in pure voices that seemed to rival the
angels in their beauty. The sound of them was haunting in its'
simplicity, as voices interwove into intricate melodies and chants
that seemed unearthly.

Methos sprawled in the pew, one arm draped protectivly about Alexa's
shoulders, as he looked about like he really wanted to be somewhere
else.

"In the 500 years of their existance," he thought to himself,
"surely they would change the songs ever so often." But they hadn't
and despite the beauty of the surroundings and the voices, he was
bored.

When the concert was over, Alexa had tears in her eyes, and Methos
sat upright and asked if she had liked it. She nodded her head in a
very ferverent "yes" as she wiped the tears away.

"Did you like it, Adam?", she asked as they made their way back to
the hotel.

He looked at her. "Well--it's certainly not Springsteen, was it?",
he said dryly and continued to walk on until he noticed that he was
walking alone. He stopped and turned to face her.

"What kind of answer, is that? ", she wailed in indignation. "I
thought they were magnificant!!!"

"Just not something that interested me, that's all." He shrugged.
"Besides, I've seen them before." He remembered when both composers
Hayden and Schubert were young boys singing for the choir. Yes, it
had been good--back then.

She angrily strode up to where he stood his ground and waved a
finger in his face. "You have no appreciation for the finer
things--no culture at all!!! How can you say that?"

He pulled her hand down away from his face gently and listened to
her tirade with a bemused expression on his face. He put a hand
around her waist and propelled her back to the hotel, not answering
any of her accusations.

She had quieted down by the time they reached their room and she
walked in under her own power, still a bit angry about his remark.
She sat on the bed, and began to take off her shoes, coldly ignoring
him as he stood by the doorway.

Finally, he turned and walked out, telling her that he would be
returning after a bit once she cooled down. The door slammed shut
and she laid on the bed. Soon she was fast asleep.

A knock on the door woke her and she went to answer it, only to find
a large box with an accompanying smaller box on top of the larger
one on the floor. She brought them in and began to unwrap them when
another knock came at the door.

Impatiently, she got back up with a backwrds glance to the packages
on the bed. She opened the door to find two dozen red roses and the
concierge who brought them, smiling broadly. She dug about and
passed a bill of some kind to the concierge, hoping that that would
be enough of a tip. The concierge looked at the bill and half bowing
to her, left.

Smiling, she dug through the flowers and found a small note which
read:

Milady, Be ready by 6:00 sharp. Your carriage will be waiting.

-A-

Intrigued, she paused as she laid them down on the bed. She began
opening the larger of the packages and gasped as she saw what lay
inside: a white silk ballgown, cut low at the bodice, with an off
the shoulders type neckline. Also, there were white satin
three-quarter length gloves included in the box. She held it up to
herself and it seemed to be a perfect fit.

Quickly, she opened the smaller of the packages and found shoes that
matched perfectly to the gown and an invitiation to the Vienna State
Opera Ball. She sat down, almost missing the chair, in the
realization that she was going to a real ball. She glanced at the
clock--it was almost four o'clock now!! She smiled from ear to ear,
dreaming of the night she hoped she would have and feeling very much
like Cinderella.

"Oh, she was going to apologize to Adam the very best she knew
how!", she kept thinking to herself. "But where was he, anyways?"

-10-

Methos impatiently held the phone to his ear listening to the ring
at the other end. He stood with one arm outstreched as the tailor
made last minute adjustments on the his coat for the ball and sighed
in frustration. Why weren't they picking up the phone?

He clicked it off then immediately redialed as the tailor valiently
tried to keep up with his arm movement as he was dialing. Finally,
he heard a answering click as someone picked it up on the other end.

"Joe's. May I help you?" Loud music was playing in the background
and the bartender put a finger to his ear to hear better.

"Is Dawson there?" Methos asked, relieved at last to get a person on
the other end, despite the distraction of the music. He was anxious
to speak to Joe and he thought that Joe would be just the person to
go to.

"Say what?" The bartender, yelled over the music.

Methos rolled his eyes and said between gritted teeth, "JOE! Is he
there, or not?" He pulled himself out of the coat as the tailor took
it in the back to fix.

"Joe? Yeah, he's here. Hey Joe!" the bartender called out, then said
back into the phone, "Just a moment, he's coming." He handed the
phone to Joe.

"Dawson." Joe looked around while pressing the receiver to his ear,
nodding at MacLeod as he came in the door with Richie.

"Joe! Finally! It's me. I need some advice." Methos sat down near
the mirror and glanced at his watch. He knew that Alexa had
receiived the dress and flowers by this time and it was only a
matter of time before he'd see her again but he wasn't real sure
what her reaction would be to them.

"Methos--where are you? Damn! Where's Alexa?"

"It's good to hear you too, Joe. We're in Vienna and she's not with
me right now." He ran a hand through his hair. "I have a problem and
I need your advice."

"Wait--you have a problem and you want MY advice? Whoa, that's quite
a change, coming from you. Tell you what, I'll take this call in my
office. Hang on." The phone went dead but moments later in the
relative stillness of his office, Joe picked it back up. "Ok, what
do you want to know?"

"It's Alexa--we seem to fight all the time--she snaps and is
argumentive about the littlest things and I don't understand why!"

"How's her health? She still able to get around?" Joe shifted in his
chair, arms propped on the desk. He reached for a cup of coffee he
had left there, making a face after sipping it and realizing that it
had grown cold.

"You want me to answer as a doctor or as a companion?" Methos stood
again as the tailor returned with the jacket, finished and ready to
go. He paid the man, who bowed and went to attend another man who
had come into the shop.

"Aw, c'mon, Methos, you want my advice or not? I have a business to
run, for God's sake!" He tossed the storeroom keys to the bartender,
who had come in, miming his need for them.

"Dawson, you are a royal pain in the--sorry. ", he said contritely.
"We had another fight this afternoon. In answer to your question, I
think that she's hiding a lot from me about how she feels physically
and, I think that mentally she's not ready to give up the fight
yet."

He sighed. "And by the way, thanks for the help on the books and all
you sent me. Interesting reading--" he paused. "Too bad I couldn't
use it." He closed his eyes as the church bells rang evening Mass
outside the shop's windows.

Joe nodded, heaving a deep sigh himself. "Yeah, well, you wanted to
help, I know. But there are some things that can't be stopped and
this is one of those things. You can't change it. Have you thought
that she's angry because she's dying and knows it and everytime she
looks at you she's reminded of that fact? And remember, you may have
died many deaths but she's dying only once and that time is right
now!" There was quiet on the other end of the phone and finally Joe
said, "Hello? Methos? Still there?'

Methos stood and put on his jacket while cradling the phone on his
shoulder. "Yes, still with you, Joe.", he said quietly.

Joe glanced again outside the door where MacLeod stood, hand on
doorknob. He held up a hand in greeting then motioned for him to
wait a moment. Mac nodded then walked away. "Methos," Joe began,
"does she know about you? Does she know what you are--how old you
really are and all that?" He went on gently, "Do you intend to tell
her, if you haven't already?"

Methos softly replied, "No, she doesn't know about me. Look, I have
to go. I have a date--I hope." He started to hang up but then said,
"By the way, thanks, Joe."

The phone went dead. Joe looked at it as Mac came in. "Who was that
on the phone, Joe?", he inquired.

Joe shrugged. "Methos, of all people." He got back up and walked
towards the door when Mac put a hand to his arm. He looked up at his
friend.

"Is everything all right with him? Alexa?" Concern marked MacLeod's
face.

"What do I look like-- a priest? Sorry, that was uncalled for. Tell
you what--let me buy you a drink as an apology for that one. And
yeah, " Joe grinned, "everything's as good as can be expected under
the circumstances. It's hard for them." He opened the door and waved
Mac out of his office.

MacLeod walked out, saying under his breath, "Yes, it always is."

Six o'clock. Alexa could hear St. Stephan's bell tower ring the
hour. She put on her last earring on and raced out to the lobby only
to find that Adam was nowhere to be seen. She looked around and in
the dining room but still, no Adam.!

Where was he?

A employee came up to her and handed her a note. She opened it and a
slight smile spread across her lips. She raced outside then only to
stop dead at the top of the stairs, staring at what lay in front of
her.

A horse-drawn carriage with a pair of horses, blue--black in color
and sporting headgear of fine feathers sticking upwards from the top
of the bridle, stood at the bottom of the stairs. On the reins and
entwined on the harness of it were red roses along with delicate
lily of the valleys interspersed with tiny silver bells that tinkled
with each movement of the horse and carriage.

The door of it was open and Adam stood there, dressed in a black
tuxedo with tails, starched linen shirt and silver-grey cumberband.
His bow tie matched the cumberband and he was wearing a full length
black cape lined in silver grey satin.

She smiled at the sight of him and thought that she'd never had seen
anyone look so handsome before in her life. It lit up her entire
face like a halogen light.

Methos stared in return at Alexa, whose gown looked like poured
water flowing over her body and she had her hair up in a quick but
elegant, French twist. The bodice and neckline accentuated her
perfectly and he smiled in return at her, eyes glittering in
admiration.

Finally, they both started talking at once to the other. "Adam--I'm
sorry--" "Alexa, I was wrong--"

They stopped and both burst out laughing at the silliness of it all.

"Does this mean that you'll go with me to the ball?", he asked,
smiling.

"Of course. How could I ever a refuse an offer like this!!!" She
slowly descended down the stairs but tripped on the last one on the
hem of her dress and fell right into his arms.

He held her in his grip for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then
they kissed like nothing had ever happened that morning.

One of the horses stamped his hoof, sending a small symphony of the
silver bells to their ears. They both looked up and both smiled.

"I think we'll be late, Adam. Shouldn't we go?"

"This is Europe, milady, and you can always be fashionably late
here." He paused as he led her to the carriage and helped her in.
"However, we mustn't keep the musicians waiting." He kissed the back
of her hand as he got in and then thumped the driver on his back and
sat down.

The carriage started to their destination as Adam turned to her and
asked, "You can waltz, can't you?"

-11-

They walked inside and paused as Alexa took in the grandeur of the
building. A three tiered set of box seats, in a horseshoe shape,
stood in front of them with massive chandeliers, six feet across
spanning the ceiling. The room was also festooned in white
carnations, thousands and thousands of them, in arrangements spread
throughout the room.

Another room was across from where they stood and they moved through
the massive crowd of other dancers in evening gowns and black tails.
To their surprise, it had been set up differently, with a different
theme than the main room and disco was to be played there. They
looked around and spied another room yet and entered it, only to
find that it was to have big band music plying there and it was
themed as such. Room after room was entered, and each was different
in size, theme and music.

The food was abundant and fine champagne flowed freely as well as
beer if you so desired. Any other beverage that was to be had also
was available should one be so inclined. Food, ranging from the
freshest oysters to the most common goulash, was served and one
could be secure knowing that you wouldn't have to go home hungry
this night.

Methos looked around noticing the changes that had been made since
he had been here last for the premiere of Mozart's Don Giovanni in
1879. He thanked whomever thought of air conditioning mentally since
it had been a hot day when that opera had premiered. And one could
tell it when sitting next to the people next to you. He nodded,
approving of it all.

The beginning strands of music were heard from the orchestra in the
pit at the front of the room and the couples began to line up in
pairs, preparing for the opening of the polanaisse. Alexa began to
panic a bit--she wasn't sure what to expect and she sure couldn't
dance this kind of dancing. She looked at Adam, trying to get his
attention, waving slightly.

He glanced at her and winked. "All will be well", he mouthed to her.
He smiled and the music started in earnest.

The men bowed to the ladies while they curtsied in return. Two
singers, began singing in German a waltz tune and all 400 dancers
came together in a swish and swirl of skirts. All spun in unison, a
hand about the waist of each lady, another held in mid-air. The
strings sung sweetly and Alexa found herself off of the floor in a
turn as Methos picked her up and swung her around so that her feet
didn't touch the floor at all.

Around and around the marble floor they danced; Alexa slowing
finding her way about the intricacies of the dance and surprised at
how adept Adam seemed to be at this. He guided her just by using a
touch and she knew which way to turn, which way to go. It all seemed
so natural.

Methos, in turn, had eyes only for her. He wanted to store this
night in his memory for eternity. She was so beautiful! The music
went through him and into his movements, as his natural quickness,
normally hidden, became apparent on the floor.

The first set over, the dancers as a group applauded, then bowed and
curtsied to one another's respective partners. Alexa fanned herself
with her hand and Methos looked at her closely. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Where did you learn to dance like that? I had no idea
you could dance!" She smiled at him and he grinned.

"You could say it's an old habit that I haven't used in some time."

"Oh?" She began to say more, but the music began for the next dance.

Once again, the sea of white and black swirled and eddied about the
floor in time to the music and once again, they locked eyes and saw
nothing else, let alone no one else.

Hours went by and through dance after dance both flowed as one.
Alexa finally had to sit down for a moment as she was getting dizzy
and pulled Methos off the floor to a nearby chair in the foyer. She
collapsed on it, kicked off her heels and rubbed her feet.

Methos bent down and held a foot in his hands and began to massage
it. "Here, let me."

She leaned back and closed her eyes in ectasy as he kneaded and
rubbed her foot, then picked up the other, repeating the same for
it.

She groaned in sheer delight, then sat up. "You want to dance?"

"You sure you're up to it? We could go if you want." He looked at
her, concerned. "I don't want you to get too tired."

"Yes, I know doctor, duh." , she said, with a sarcastic tone to her
voice. Then with an impish smile, she kissed him.

He grinned in return, and pulled her up. "If you are feeling that
good, then let's dance again. But let's try something a bit more
sedate, shall we?" He led her into a smaller room where the band was
playing more mellow tunes and he began to slow dance with her.

"Adam?"

"Yes?" He looked down at her, waiting, trying to decide if he should
tell her about--

"I'm sorry about this afternoon." She nervously laughed. "Wow, after
tonight, I'll never doubt you musical tastes again. Forgive me?"

"Yes, of course, how could I not forgive you?" He took a deep breath
and led her to a corner of the room. They danced in silence for a
few minutes before Methos broke the silence by saying, "When it was
fashionable to hear and listen to Handel, I did. When it was
fashionable to listen to Mozart, I did. For each era, there has been
a standard of music and certain personages to hear or listen to.
When in the '50's, Elvis was the thing, I listened. In the 60's, it
was The Beatles. Before that, long before that, it was Beethoven.
Before that era, it was the Church. Before that, it was the shamans
and the elders around the campfires. I have listened to them all,
Alexa. I have been to them all."

Alexa stopped dancing and looked at his face, so serious in it's
conviction. She looked and couldn't believe what she was hearing and
yet when she looked into his eyes, just for a moment, she thought
she could see ages upon ages within them.

She shook her head, backed away from him and looked at him again
carefully. Silence hung in mid-air despite the band's playing. "You
have got a very strange sense of humor-you almost had me believing
that you're as old as the hills!" She came back to him and began to
dance. She laughed. "What a great joke that is, Adam. You say it
with such conviction!"

Methos looked at her and slowly nodded. He had tried to tell her but
who would believe such a thing?--unless it happened to be you. "I
guess I do, at that.", he replied, a bit dissapointed sounding.

Alexa laid her head on his chest and listened to the heartbeat
there. It was so strong and yet so mysterious like him. She smiled
to herself, thinking of what he had just said. Ridiculous!

"Adam, I've been thinking. You know how we've been talking about
traveling up the Rhine? I changed my mind. Let's go to Athens
instead. Can we, please? It'd be warm and sunny and beautiful!" She
looked up at him. "I promise to call the doctors in the morning and
get the ok about it. Please, can we go?"

"Athens? Well, hmmm..." He mimed looking at a schedule after he
stopped dancing. "I don't know if we can fit it into my-our
itenerary."

She poked him in his stomach with her index finger. "Say yes." He
said nothing and she jabbed him again. "Say yes!"

"OUCH! Alright, alright, yes. Bloody little finger of yours hurts!"
He rubbed where he had been poked.

She grinned and brought her finger to her mouth, blowing on it as if
she were blowing out a candle. "Another one down!"

He grabbed her, picking her up over his shoulder as she whooped and
others stared. He carried her out to the carriage and they returned
to the hotel where he once again caried her over his shoulder in to
the room and tossed her on to the bed.

The rest of the night from that moment on, was spent making love.

-12-

They slept late the next morning with Alexa waking before Methos.
She eased herself out of bed, so as not to wake him, and headed for
the bathroom. She wasn't feeling at all well--she thought that
perhaps maybe she had overdone it just a bit the night before as far
as the dancing. It had really taken a lot of energy from her but she
wouldn't have changed things for the world. However, now all she
could feel were waves of pain washing over her.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out as she walked, her body
rejecting the ability to move. She had to hold out a arm to steady
herself against the wall for suppport as she walked. But she forced
herself to make it and then entered, closing the door behind her.

She slid down the wall into a crouch and pulled a towel from the
rack, stuffing an end into her mouth to stifle the sobs which broke
over her. She didn't want Adam to know what was happening but she
was getting weary of the constant pain she went through but never
spoke about to him. And as much as she loved him, she couldn't bring
herself to share this part of the illness with him.

She had always been the strong one in her family growing up, but now
there was no one of her family left. She was alone--except for him.
And she wasn't sure what to consider him as. And she wasn't sure as
to what he considered her. That they were friends and lovers was
certainly a fact, but anything beyond that she had giving up
dreaming about early on in Seacouver. In regards to other men, once
they had found out about her illness, it was easier to show a harder
side to them and others than to be hurt and rejected. But he was
different somehow.

Methos rolled over in bed, a hand reaching out to Alexa's empty
pillow. Upon finding it, it sat him bolt upright in bed completely
alert. He quickly looked around only to not see her anywhere. He
slid of the bed in haste, grabbing a pair of chinos from the floor
left there from yesterday afternoon and hopped about on one leg as
he pulled on them on.

Cocking his head, he thought that he could hear something coming
from the bathroom and he headed that way, pausing to look out the
window to see if he could spot her outside. No Alexa there, so he
went over towards the door, hearing her sobs despite her efforts to
conceal them.

Alarmed, he tried the doorknob. It was locked. "Alexa?" He called
through the door, after rapping on it gently. "Open the door, let me
in." His self-control took over and he remained on the outside calm
but inside he was truly panicked. There was no response except for
the sobbing stopped and a silence hung in the air. "Alexa, OPEN
UP!", he said a bit more forcibly.

Nothing happened.

He slid down the door and leaned his forehead against the smoothness
of the wood and he closed his eyes as he concentrated on what was
happening on the other side of the door when he heard her retching.
"Alexa, I'm coming in!" As he said that, he slammed his shoulder
against the door and splintered the frame as the door gave way. His
momentum propelled him into the shower, tripping over her legs as he
went crashing into the far wall. He heard a shoulder blade crack
from the impact and felt the blinding pain which accompanied it.

He got himself back up quickly,holding his mending shoulder and drew
his breath in sharply. He knelt down to her, seeing blood laying
small pools on the floor,and splattered on the toilet seat.

Hemoerrage!

He pulled her up as she continued to vomit it up and called the
staff doctor as well as the ambulance.

He gently laid her on the bed, where she curled up in a fetal
position on her side, very pale, bloodstains running down her chin
and on her hands. He sat beside her, pushing back her hair from her
face and whispered gently to her about how very much he loved her
and that he didn't want her to leave him--not yet, not so soon!

She closed her eyes, and tears began to roll out of them once more.

"Remember what I said Geneva? You and I are in this together--and we
will do it TOGETHER!", he whispered to her fervrently. "Don't leave
me out of this, please, please, milady, I beg you." He kissed her on
her cheek and he started to softly and quietly cry also as he held
her hand tightly.

Soon after, the ambulance came, and rushing her to the hospital
where the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, he spent by
her bedside as they slowly stabilized her and stopped the internal
bleeding.

Once that was accomplished, the nurses managed to pry him out of her
room so that she could be prepared for a few days stay. They pushed
him down towards the hall where he spotted and older man heading in
his direction. He glanced at his name and recognized him by his name
as being the doctor who was to be Alexa's for the next few days. He
stopped the doctor in the hall. The doctor, who had been reading the
lab reports on the new patient, looked up at him in surprise.

"Herr Doktor, I'm Adam Pierson." He extended his hand and they
shook. "I understand that you are to be my friend's physician for
the next few days and I wanted to find out about her condition from
you."

They strolled over to the waiting room, and the doctor shook his
head sadly. "I am afraid that I cannot tell you about her. That is
between patient and physician. Surely you must have this same kind
of confidintiality in your country? You must understand that I am
under an obligation here." He started to leave but Methos grabbed
his arm.

"Herr Doktor, I am a doctor like yourself--I graduated from the
University at Heidleburg some time ago, but if you could just grant
this one favor out of professional courtesy, I would be most
indebted to you." He paused. "Please." A look of mild deseperation
flashed across his features for only a moment.

The doctor looked at him and heaved a deep sigh, nodded his head and
said, "Professional courtesy only." He handed the lab reports to
Methos, who glanced at them.

"Rather than me going through them with a fine tooth comb, tell me
what they say, if you would, please." He indicated the two chairs
behind them and they sat.

"You know that she's terminal, do you not?", the older doctor said,
gently.

Methos slowly nodded. "What does it say? The reports I mean."

"All indications show that she has less than three months to live.
That's what they indicate and show. All the reports are accurate to
98%." He put a hand to Methos' arm. "Are you ok? I'm sure this must
be a shock to you, judging by your reaction."

Methos had fallen back into the chair and all of his breath seemed
to stop at the sound of that pronouncement. He looked away from the
doctor to the window as his mind whirled.

Less than three months to live...

"I'm fine." Methos said after a few moments to the doctor. "Thank
you for your time and for telling me." They both stood and shook
hands again and the doctor continued on his rounds. Methos stood and
watched him go, one hand to his mouth, his mind racing as he
digested the news.

"Alexa--" he thought to himself, "does she know?" He strode down the
hall with a purposeful stride back to her room pausing just outside
the door and watched her sleep.

Three months.

For the first time, he noticed as he stood there, the weight loss
which showed in her face and on her body but that he had never
noticed before. She had kept many things well hidden from him or
else he hadn't noticed them before as being out of the usual. How
could he have missed it? She looked so peaceful lying there, quietly
resting. Death was coming before he was ready for it to take her.

He slowly entered the room , gently sitting on the bed beside her.
Stroking her hair, he thought of how much she had taught him, about
courage, about life and love, and allowing him to be at ease for the
first time in a milleneum. But now, he was going to lose all that
all too soon.

She opened her eyes and weakly smiled at him. "To my rescue once
again, huh?" she rasped out and watched as he nodded, turning his
head away from her as he did. "Guess I kind of needed a vaction from
all the sightseeing we've been doing, I suppose. But this isn't
necesarily what I had in mind, you know?" She reached out and held
his hand, giving it a small squeeze.

He looked at her then, and smiled at her weak attempt at humor. He
cleared his throat then said, "I suppose not. But it does mean that
there will be no Athens for a few more days." He frowned and
continued, "Why didn't you tell me you were feeling so ill? This
illness of yours--it involves me too, you know. You aren't alone in
this any more."

She shifted a bit in bed and he pulled her to a more upright
position. "I don't know.", she said quietly. "I've done this on my
own for so long, I guess I'm just not used to having someone there
for me." She looked away, then back at him. "And," she went on, "I
guess I just wasn't too sure of myself--and of you." She looked down
at her hands in her lap and remained quiet.

"Milady, how can you say that?" He laid his forehead to hers."I LOVE
you, understand? Here, I have something for you. I meant to give
this to you earlier but the time wasn't right." He fumbled in his
pockets. "Where did I put it? Ahhh, here we go." He held out a small
box.

She hesitated before reaching out to take it. "What's in it? "

"Something that belonged to Empress Sofia of the Hapsburgs before
she and her husband Franz Joseph were assasinated."

"How did you come by it? ", she asked suspiciously, as she opened it
up, then took a sharp breath and held it when she saw what lay in
the box. A heart shaped ruby encased in a delicate swirl of
filigreed gold lay inside.

"It was given to me. I want you to have it." He watched as she held
it up to the light then tried it on her right hand. He removed it,
placing it on the ring finger of her left hand and held her hand. He
bent down and kissed her.

She looked at him steadily and placed her hand upon his. "Why?", she
finally manged to say.

"Because I want you to be with me." He looked at her as a small,
imaginalry knife tore at his gut in the knowledge of what lay ahead.
"Think on it. No need for any answers anytime soon."

She nodded and yawned. "Sorry, but I'm tired." Methos got up and
tenderly placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

"I'll see you later, then."

-13-

A week later, they were in Athens and had checked into one of the
finer hotels. Alexa had recovered to some degree, although her
stamina wasn't what it had been prior to Vienna and Methos had been
warned that it would steadily decline as the illness reached its'
final stages.

They took small trips around the city seeing the sights including
the National Museum of Antiquities, where Alexa sat in awe at the
bronze figures and objects from Greek's golden age. The sculptures
that were in the museum were so lifelike that it was hard to grasp
how old they really were. Time and again, she reached out to touch
them only to pull back knowing that one couldn't.

They went out one day, on a short excursion to see what was left of
the ancient city. Piles of rubble lay strewn about and small tour
groups were gathered in clumps over the hillsides, each speaking a
different language. Methos held her hand, with his other hand about
Alexa's waist to keep her from falling on the treacherous ground.

They had been half listening to a British tour group nearby them
when suddenly he pulled himself upright, eyes searching the area.

"What's wrong, Adam?" Alexa looked about too, although she wasn't
sure what she was looking for. He started to guide her toward what
she recognized as the Parthenon. She stopped and wouldn't budge
furthur.

He swung on her. "We need to disappear and fast, Alexa. Whatever you
do, don't stop now." He began to pull at her again toward the
ancient building. His eyes constantly scanned the crowds and the
hills surounding them.

"Why do we need to disappear? What is happening?!!" Fear began to
fill her voice and it trembled. Reluctantly, she allowed herself to
be led towards the building and onto its' grounds.

"I can't explain--you'll have to trust me." He honed in on where the
buzz was coming from and looked behind her in the shadows of the
great temple that it was once. "Get behind me!"

She was slow to respond and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her behind
him, making her cry out in pain. He said, to whomever it was in the
shadows, "Come out and show yourself!"

A hollow applauding was heard in response, with's its' echoes
reverberating, causing the doves to scatter in all directions from
the rafters.

"Remember, this is Holy Ground!" Methos called out, only to hear
laughter from the shadows. He frowned. He didn't like the situation
one bit. "My lucky day!," he muttered under his breath.

"What is happening?", Alexa screamed, drawing the attention of the
tour group near them. She stayed close as he slowly circled the
perameter of the front of the building. She looked about and into
the ruin but all she could see were the long, dark shadows cast by
the hot afternoon sun.

"Be quiet, Alexa!" Methos threw the words over his shoulder at her
in a voice that was steel-tinged. He needed his full concentration
to get them both safe and away from here---and away from whoever was
in the shadows. He reached over to where his sword should be, only
to remember that it had been left at the hotel.

Ok, it would have to be a battle of brain against brawn then.

He cautiously entered the old ruin, after glancing over at the tour
group who were coming closer to them, and made his way through the
front passageway, into the shadows. Alexa's wrist was stilled
gripped in his hand, and he could almost smell the fear on her. It
was something one never forgot through the millineum. He knew about
it, never having had a reason to forget it, no matter how much he
might want to.

"Show yourself.", he said to the person that he knew was in front of
him, but still was hidden in the dark of the temple.

A rustling sound approached a shaft of sunlight as the other
Immortal entered it, revealing a man of medium build, but of immense
musculature. He looked like someone from the frescos that one saw in
the museum of the Greco wrestlers. One hand he held behind his back,
staring at them in such a way that it made Alexa cringe.

"I am Mikalos Stephanapoulis." His voice had a deep sound to it and
he spoke in what Alexa thought must be Greek.

"Do you always challenge on Holy Ground or have you forgotten the
rules of the Game? If so, allow me to refresh your memory!" Methos
recognized the ancient Myceanae which his opponent was speaking.
When he spoke it back, it threw Stephanapoulis off guard.

Methos sized his opponent up as he was talking, but decided that the
best way out of the situation was to try and talk him out of a
challenge. He didn't want Alexa to be a part of it; quite frankly,
he wasn't too sure that he would survive the challenge if one was
made. It was easier to know when to disappear and then do it, than
to fight knowing that only one will survive.

Stephanapoulis warily listened to him and said back, "I know the
rules. Nothing personal, of course." He looked over at the tour
group where they had stopped and were watching the drama unfold in
front of them. "Who are you?"

Methos shook his head. "Tsk, tsk, tsk...you know you should never
ask a stranger their name. What do you want? We are in public you
know--and we don't want people to talk about us, do we?" He relaxed
his grip on Alexa's wrist and circled about the shaft of sunlight
out of Mikolos' reach and sword thrust.

Alexa rubbed her wrist and backed off from the scene. Something very
deadly was happening here and she didn't understand any of it. Adam
was involved in something that seemed so unlike him. It was as if
were someone else speaking and not him. And his command of the
language once more astonished her as it had each and every time they
went somewhere new.

Who was Adam anyways? What was he?

She turned and ran outside away from it all, holding her hands to
her temples as the heat hit her once she was out in the sunshine
again.

Methos watched her go momentarily, then turned his eyes back to the
other. "So, what now? Were you going to challenge me? Or introduce
yourself?", he said snidely. He watched as Mikalos thought about
it--he could see the thoughts racing as they flew over on his facial
expressions.

Mikalos nodded, eyes narrowed. "I cannot challenge you here. As you
said, this is Holy Ground. I remember this place in all its' glory,
the people cheering, the festivals, Athena, with all that she gave
us. But once you step outside, you can be mine. Understand? Mine!"

"I don't want to fight you. But if you challenge me, I'm honor bound
to accept." Methos smiled self-depreciatingly to himself. "When did
you ever tell the truth?", he asked himself and in answer, said
under his breath, "Never."

He turned and began to walk outside, past the tour, who whispered
amongst themselves, and nodded to them. "Afternoon!" he said
cheerily to them although he felt suddenly quite old. He would have
to explain what had just transpired to Alexa and she wouldn't
believe him. Or would she?

He continued to walk outside and had almost reached the portico when
he heard Mikalos' voice, echoing from the ruin's depths.

"MINE!! YOU WILL BE MINE!!"

Taking a deep breath, he walked out of the safety of the temple and
over to where Alexa sat, head in hands. "Come on, we're leaving.
Back to the hotel."

She looked up at him, saw the set to his jaw and got up. She reached
out and took his hand and they made their way down to the street
past the Acropolis and caught a cab back to the hotel. Neither spoke
on the ride back about what had happened, but once they arrived they
found a message in their slot to Adam.

"Who'd be calling you here?" Alexa craned her neck over to peek at
the note. "Besides, who knew you were here, anyways?"

Methos opened it up and looked read through it then re-read it
again, his face becoming a frown. "It's from Joe!", he finally said.
"MacLeod's in trouble."

"Duncan?" Alexa repeated. "In trouble? How?"

"How the bloody hell should I know? Do I look like I have all the
answers to the world?" The lock was stuck and despite the key
rattling in it, it refused to open. Methos smashed his fist in
frustration on the door, "OPEN up!!"

The lock finally gave way and they entered the room. Methos began to
throw their things back in the suitcases, while Alexa pulled them
right back out. He paused and looked at her in annoyance. "Leave
things alone after I do things, alright? I know you don't
understand, but we have to leave right now and go somewhere else."

She continued to pull clothes back out and fold them neatly, while
looking at him, trying to find the words to ask him about what had
happened at the Parthenon. It was hard to put into words everything
that she wanted to ask about because the more she thought about it,
and about him, the more things didn't make sense.

Finally, she asked a simple question. "Why?"

"It's not safe here for you--or me, for that matter." He turned to
the window, and looked out at the Aegean Sea and was quiet.

"Why isn't it safe?" She sat on the bed, beside one of the
suitcases.

"Because we could both die here--", he began, but cut himself off in
mid-sentence. He turned, walked over and knelt beside her. "You must
trust me. I can't explain right now."

"Why not?" She steadily looked him in the eyes. "Who are you? What
are you?" She placed a hand to his shoulder, and he turned away.
"You told me that you would never lie to me. Remember?"

He stood and walked back towards the window. "I remember. I remember
everything." Taking a deep breath, he looked back at her. "Finish
packing. We're going to another hotel. I need to call Joe and see
what is going on with MacLeod."

"Wait--you didn't answer my question!!", she called out to him as he
walked out the door.

The door slammed shut, leaving her alone. She sighed, then began to
pick up their things and placed them in the suitcases. He had been
so unlike his usual self when they had been confronted by that man
on the Acropolis.

Adam had referred to Holy Ground. She sifted through things that it
could refer to in her mind. Well, it could mean places that were
consecrated or places of worship, sounded reasonable and logical,
didn't it? "Yes, it did.", she thought as she nodded to herself

What places could it be? Churches, most certainly, were on
consecrated ground. Cemetaries were another. She walked over to the
window and looked back out at the Acropolis which overlooked urban
Athens. Temples? Yes, those too. She started to make a mental list
and had it almost completed when he walked back in.

"Are you all ready to go? I've got the room all paid for and
reservations at another hotel where you'll be safer." He hefted up
the suitcases and started out the door.

"Aren't you being a bit paranoid, Adam, about all this?", she said
as she followed out the door. "I mean sure, that was quite
frightening earlier but--" she paused as the elevator doors slid
open. "But I think that maybe you're over-reacting to it.", she
continued.

He grimly looked at her. "A strong man knows when to flee from
danger, Alexa. A weak man doesn't." The doors slid back open and
they left, into a waiting cab.

-13-

Once they arrived at the new hotel and into the room, he sat her
down on the bed. "Alexa, I want to talk to you about a lot of things
but I don't have time to explain, right now." He sat down beside her
and held her close, stroking her hair. "I love you, but--I have to
go away."

She drew back sharply, pulling her hands away from his and stood
facing him. "What do you mean that YOU are going to HAVE to go
away?!!!" She put a hand to her head and frowned. "OH, you have some
big explaining to me to do and I want an explanation now! I DEMAND
an explanation--you owe it to me!" She began to pace the floor in
agitation, and shot him a look that would have killed him, if that
had indeed been possible.

"Do you think that this is easy for me to tell you this?", Methos
said with his hands upraised. "I tried to tell you in Vienna but you
didn't either hear or grasp what I told you." He rose and took her
by the arms and sat her back on the bed. "Don't wear yourself out,
Alexa, on my behalf." He stood with his hands on his hips, eyes
narrowed."I have certain obligations that traditionally I must
attend to, you might say. But you must believe me when I tell you
that I will be back for you--understand? I will come for you!" He
paused, then said in a softer voice, "If I survive."

"Survive what?" She grabbed at his hand and held it. "Tell me,
whatever it is, we are in this together. That's what you told me.
Didn't you mean it when you said it to me? It can work both ways--"

He took a deep breath and turned away from her, saying "Some things
can never be two ways, Alexa. Never." He paused. "Do you want to
know why Joe called?"

"You told me that Duncan's in trouble but never said what kind of
trouble he was in. I mean is he in jail, or hurt, or something like
that? Just tell me--I'll understand, really I will!", she said
earnestly.

"You wouldn't understand this. I must go and help MacLeod--I'm the
only one who can help him now." He started to unpack her things,
laying them on the bed beside her. Once that was finished, he turned
and grabbed a smaller suitcase and placed a small amount of clothing
in it, then sat it by the door.

He thought about what lay ahead, then went over and sat back down by
her, looking deep in her eyes. "You're right--I do owe you an
explanation, but it's not something that comes easily to me to sit
or tell anyone."

"Why can only you save him or help him or whatever? Why can't he
help himself?", she asked as she tried to fathom what lay behind his
eyes and words. There it was again--that look of ages upon ages in
his eyes, like what you would see in the elderly.It was elusive and
fleeting yet it was most definatly there.

"Because only I have the knowledge to help him. He can't help
himself right now. He doesn't know how! Hell, I don't even know for
sure how. But I must try."

She shook her head, and backed away from him once more. "So you're
telling me, that you are choosing him over me. Is that what you are
telling me? He's more important than me, who you say you LOVE?" She
scrambled for the head of the bed, spiiling her clothes everywhere.
She sat, with her knees drawn up to her chin and stared at him, her
eyes filling with tears.

He shook his head and reached out to touch her, but she drew further
away. He let his hand drop and said, "No, that isn't what I said or
meant at all. He needs me for an entirely different reason and there
are certain things that I promise you, I'll tell you all about. This
isn't about choice, Alexa! It's about a life, and a good man." He
ran his hand over his face, then looked at her again. "I love you,
but you will be safer if I go."

She turned her head away from him and covered her face. "I guess
you've made your--" she began as tearful sobs racked her body,
"choice. Now I make a choice, Adam.! Go to hell, and don't come
back. I won''t be here if and when you come back." Sobbing, she got
up and ran to the bathroom and locked the door.

He ran after her, only to have the door slam and locked moments
before he arrived at it. He pounded on the door, only to hear the
sobs increase in volume. "Alexa, be reasonable! I will be back for
you! You must trust me!" He leaned his weight on the cool wood of
the door, listening to the crying within.

"Go to hell!"

He waited, finally pushing himself away and walked over to the front
door, pausing to rummage through her purse. He finally pulled out
what he had been searching for--her passport, stuffing it into his
pocket of his chinos. "You won't go far without this, " he muttered
under his breath. Opening the door and reaching down for the
suitcase, he paused, looking in the direction of the bathroom. "I
love you, Alexa. I will be back, if I can!", he whispered and then
left,closing the door behind him.

-14-

The phone rang and Joe picked it up. "Dawson."

"Joe, I have some unfinished business that I have to take care of
before I can catch the next plane out. Where is he now?" Methos
asked, looking around at the milling crowd in the bazaar, from where
he was calling from. Night was falling and the people were beginning
to close up their shops, packing and folding up the wares to be
displayed in the morning for the tourists, once more.

"Methos--he hopped a freighter; I've contacted the harbor master and
found out that it's due to dock in Le Havre in a few days. He's
dangerous, Methos. Tried to kill Richie and me--hell, almost
succeeded in killing Richie if I hadn't of shot him." Joe shifted
around some papers on his desk. "I've contacted Watcher HQ in Paris,
and we have a man on him once he hits France. When you come-for
God's sakes, be careful."

"Careful is my middle name." Methos said, swiveling his head as he
felt a buzz nearing. "Joe, I have to go. My business just showed up.
And Joe--" He spotted Stephanapoulis standing on the other side of
the street, half hidden in the long shadows of the dusky evening.

"Yeah?" Joe said, wondering what was going on in Athens.The tone of
voice Methos was speaking in, was a bit strained.

"Alexa's here--she's alone, no passport. If you don't hear from me
within the next few days, come and get her for me. Will you do
that?" He hung up before he heard Joe's reply, nodded an
acknowledgment to his opponent,and they both walked off to a nearby
alley.

"Methos! What the hell are you--" The phone went dead. Joe sat
back,in deep thought. The whole conversation was so unlike Methos;
it didn't sound like him at all. Then it dawned on him that maybe
there was another immortal tracking him.

He quickly tapped into his computer all files relating to any known
immortal in Greece and their whereabouts then whistled when he saw
the name of Mikalos Stephanapoulis. "Nasty piece of work this guy
is!" he said, as he began to read his file.

In the alley, both opponents took their places. "You never told me
your name." Stephanapoulis began.

"Does it matter?" Methos looked steadily at the other immortal, then
glanced at the sky, which showed portents of rain. He slowly circled
Mikalos, within the narrow confines of the alley as a dog barked
nearby.

"It seems that you are the one who doesn't know the rules. Perhaps I
should refresh your memory!" Stephanapoulis said as he licked his
lips in anticipation of the battle to come. On his guard now, both
he and Methos had withdrawn their swords, the steel glinting cold in
the light.

"I made the rules, so there is no reason to tell me again what they
are. And, by the way, my name is DEATH!" Methos swung and felt the
shock of the steel connecting with Mikalos' sword.

They began to swing, thrust and parry in earnest, with Mikalos
striking first blood on Methos' face. Blood poured from a cut over
his eyes, partially blinding him. He wiped it away with the back of
his hand and thrust quickly into an opening that presented itself
when Mikalos over-extended a thrust of his own. He was rewarded with
the feel of Stephanapoulis's soft flesh yielding to the razor
sharpness of his weapon. He twisted it for good measure, and sharply
withdrew it.

Mikalos grabbed at his abdomen, as the sword was withdrawn and
groaned in pain. His eyes glowed hot with rage and hate and he swung
wildly at Methos once again, missing him.

Methos deftly stepped back from the sword's momentum and heard the
sing of it as it rushed past him. He raised his sword again, waiting
for the next blow. It came, but from an unexpected direction and
sliced through his side like butter. He fell to his knees, sword
clanging to the ground, where it was kicked away.

Mikalos lifted his sword up for a killing blow as Methos struggled
to get to his feet, cluching his side and in immense pain. He looked
up and saw the upraised sword and bent down once again to barrel
into Mikalos, knocking him off his feet. Both fell, and both
struggled trying to get to a weapon, any weapon, or anything that
could be used as one. Mikalos, who was stronger, captured Methos'
wrists in his massive hands and squeezed until he heard the bones
crack and fracture.

Methos could only feel a ball of pain envelop him. Yet still he
continued to fight even though he was essentially without the use of
his hands.

Both opponents separated; Methos was kicked across the alley,
slamming into a wall on the far wall. He cried out in pain as he
slid down the wall and fell, only to find his sword withing reaching
distance. His breath was coming in gasps and he forced himself to
reach out for it.

Mikalos ran over and stepped on his wrist, shooting even more pain
up his arm.

Methos kicked him in the groin and Mikalos fell heavily on all
fours, clutching himself. He took the opening to crawl over to where
his weapon lay, wrapping his hand around the hilt, as he cried from
the pain. He struggled to upright himself and did, raising the sword
over his head. "Remember this rule?" he said through gritted teeth.
"There can be only one!" and slashed downward with all his might,
severing his opponent's head.

Blood gushed everywhere and he felt the immediate quickening,
levitate him, and again he cried out as it blew the lights out with
glass flying in deadly shards about him. All of Stephanapoulis'
memories, strength and other quickenings taken over the two thousand
years of his lifetime hit Methos full force,spasming him into a
contorted mass of flesh.

As quickly as it had begun, it ended. He fell back to the ground,
hitting the pavement with a loud thump. He looked around, to see if
anyone had seen what had happened and heard the dogs barking like
mad. People were beginning to stream out of the buildings to see why
they had lost power.

He slowly crawled over to where Mikalos' sword lay, past his body.
"I told you," he said to the body, "I am Death." He grasped the
sword in his other hand, biting his lip as he did so and stood up
again weaving, then walking away to find a place to heal in the
darkness of the night.

-15-

Alexa sighed as stood by the window, looking out at the busy scene
below on the streets. Night had a particular dark inkiness to it
here in Athens, she had noticed since their arrival except for the
brightness of the Acropolis at night and other tourist attractions
which abounded in the city.

She had come out of the bathroom when she heard the room's door
click shut, only to find the room empty and herself alone, in a
strange country,unable to speak the language and, as she quickly
discovered, without a passport. "Damn Adam!"

She shook her head at the memory of the arguement; it was her fault
perhaps, she ruefully thought, that it had escalated. Before he left
her, she had never admitted how much she needed him and depended on
him for everything. Her translated for her, accepted her, loved her,
everything. And he very rarely took offense at whatever she threw at
him. He would--she turned away from the window,and stopped in mid
thought as she heard the doorknob rattle. Her spirits rose, and she
waited in expectation for the door to open and Adam to come in, but
the noise ceased and she heard a druken man's voice carry itself
down the hall past her door.

Once again, her spirits sank. She went over and laid on the bed,
glancing at the daily medications, which sat beside her on the
stand. She picked one up, and looked at it, then replaced it. No,she
told herself. He said he'd come back--if he could. She sat back up
and with a sweeping motion, knocked them all of it on the floor
where they exploded into a miasma of brightly colored pills of
various shapes and sizes all over.

Hanging her head, she went through everything on the list she had
compiled on what the Holy Ground thing was that she had heard Adam
refer to. And she also tried to think of plausible explantions of
his uncanny ability to speak the various languages she had heard him
speak, plus the others she hadn't heard but that he had said he
spoke and read.

No plausible explanation was forthcoming.

She looked back over at the suitcases that he had left behind. He
was so secretive and a great mystery at times to her and yet she
instinctivly knew that there was more to him than what he had ever
said. How else could you account for the look in his eyes at times?
She doubted that she would find any answers within the suitcases but
still she went over and opened them.

Inside were his clothes he favored, oversized shirts, and jeans plus
some other items of clothing. She smiled despite herself, as she
fingered the fabric of his clothes and the memories they evoked. She
felt around, along the sides and hit a rectanglar shaped object. She
pulled it out, to discover a very old book.

As she turned the pages, saw that it had been illuminatedin the
style not unlike The Book of Kells, made by the Irish monks
centuries ago. It looked to be an original; it was obvious that the
pages were not true paper but instead, perhaps vellum. They were
very fragile, and crumbled if she didn't take great care in turning
the pages.

She sat it back down as she had found it in the suitcase, more
intrigued and confused than ever. A piece of paper jutted out from
where the book had gone and she pulled it read it. It was from
Duncan to someone named Methos. She frowned.

Odd name, Methos. Why would Adam have it in his suitcase? She read
furthur into the note, and saw that it referred to a date both
seemed to have some kind of meaning to the two of them.

What did this Methos character and Adam have in common? And where
did Duncan fit into it all? She felt a pang of jealousy when she
thought of how he had choosen him over her. The whole thing was
incomprehensible to her and yet things somehow were beginning to
form a pattern. She wasn't quite sure what it was but there was
something else that perhaps she didn't know about. Another piece of
the puzzle in regards to Adam was still missing.

She yawned as she finished closing up the suitcase and then got into
bed. She was completely spent and she couldn't think straight about
it now. Maybe in the morning more of it would make sense. She closed
her eyes and praying that wherever Adam was, that he was safe.

Glenfinnan, Scotland

The pub was small as was the hamlet, Methos thought as he took in
the area of MacLeod's birth. He had heard Duncan talk about it for
some time although Duncan rarly mentioned it without an almost
imperceptable trace of longing in his voice. Once MacLeod had
returned from his birthplace earlier in the year, he made mention of
his clan's sword-his father's sword and that it had been hanging in
the pub on display, wrapped in the tartan of his clan.

Methos decided that this was what Duncan needed to help fight the
dark quickening that he had experienced and was going through even
now. But how does one get an honored antique from the hands of its'
safekeepers?

Methos half smiled. "You lie and forge some papers.", he thought to
himself as he stepped through the door into the smokey room that
held both the only lodging for travelers and what he wanted.

He went up to the bar and ordered, took a sip from the draft and
glanced up as the patrons fell silent to better gauge the stranger
in their midst in suspiciousness.

A young woman, with auburn hair and a no nonsense manner came in and
looked at him. "Can I help you?" she asked in a distinctive brogue.

He looked at her and said,"Yes, I was looking for a Rachel MacLeod.
Do you know where I might find her?"

"Depends on why you want her. I might know where she is and I might
not." She drew an ale for someone and sat it on the counter.

"I'm a friend of Duncan MacLeod's, and he sent me here to speak to
her for him personally." He sipped at his drink and watched as she
stopped cleaning the counter with her rag.

"Duncan MacLeod, did you say?" Her eyes held a spark of interest.
That was a good sign.

"Yes."

"I'll be Rachel meself then. How do I know that you're who you say
you are?" She took a piece of paper that Methos held out to her, and
read its' contents. She glanced around and then told the other
patrons that the pub was closed, would they please be so kind as to
leave?

The patrons grumbled but eventually all left. She turned to Methos
and then at the MacLeod sword hanging on one of the posts.

"I don't believe you told me your name." She waited.

"Sorry, I'm Adam Pierson." He extended a hand and they shook. "If
you don't mind, I'm in a bit of a hurry and Duncan wanted the sword
as quickly as possible."

Rachel mulled over what was being asked of her--the note did look
like Duncan's handwriting and signature and this man seemed sincere.
But to loan out the clan's sword and heritage! That was asking a
lot.

Finally, she nodded in assent and went over to remove the sword from
its' place of honor on the support beam, still wrapped in its'
hunting tartan. She handed it over to Methos who carefully took it
in his hands and cradled it carefully.

"Thank you, Miss MacLeod. I'm sure that Duncan will be glad to see
this once more. And I'll take good care of it, don't worry. I'll
take as good of care of it as I do my own." He smiled, and extended
his hand once more to her.

She took it, shook it as she watched him walk out the door with her
heritage, then sat back down at the bar, wondering all the while why
Duncan would need it again. Then it occurred to her. He had said
that he would take as good of care of it as he would his own. She
frowned. What exactly had he meant by that and what exactly was
going on?

Seacouver, United States

"You sure about that, Harry? It's a definite kill? Yeah, he was a
bad one looks like, just from reading his file. Stephanapoulis was
one mean son of a bitch. Any ideas who did it?" Joe scratched at his
beard as he listened. "No? Ok, well, thanks for all your hard work
on this for me. Yeah, tell you what. You come out this way, I'll buy
you dinner sometime, deal? Alright, great. Oh, and tell Connie and
the kids hello for me. Ok,I will, bye." Joe sat back in his chair,
looking out the window to the beauty of the winter which Mother
Nature had seen fit to dump on Seacouver early.

"Damn, Methos! What the hell are you thinking?" he said outloud as
he wondered for the thousandths time that day as to why he hadn't
heard from Methos. "Where the hell are you and why don't you call?"
he said to himself.

Just then the phone rang again. "Dawson. Methos! Where the hell are
you?"

"I'm at the barge in Paris, Joe. Where's Duncan? Did he dock in Le
Havre yet?"

"Yes, he's there, better get there as quickly as possible--my man
says he's worse than even I thought." Joe looked at a list of names
of the field agents in France. "You want his name?"

-16-

She was right there--he could almost reach out and touch her once
more, smell the warmth of her skin, feel the softness of her hair.
She smiled, and ran laughing, away and he chased her through the
dunes. She pulled away once more and try as he might, he couldn't
hold onto her. She kept slipping away from him.

He stopped and looked around, then at himself. It was Vienna now,
and they were dancing once more, and he held her close, closing his
eyes, at the feel of her to him, and the music continued. He heard
himself say,"I love you," but it was hollow sounding. They turned
and circled about the floor, but the sound of swords clashing rang
through the room, and women began screaming, running for cover.

Behind them, four horsemen came, with blades flashing and sending
death to all. Methos recognized himself and watched as he neatly ran
a woman through as though it didn't matter. The horseman who Methos
recognized as himself, dismounted from the horse, and came over to
check on his kill. He rolled her over, pulling back the woman's
golden hair, only to see Alexa's face.

The scene dissolved again, and once more he was dancing with her,
but watched in horror as her features, dissolved into dust,
revealing the bleached skull underneath. He tried to push himself
away from her but she clutched him tightly in her grip. He twisted
away, breaking off a hand in the process, screaming all the while,
while she laughed the sweeet, rich laugh of hers.

He ran away into what he recognized as the apartment in Geneva. He
stopped, gasping for air, and looked around. All seemed calm and
normal here and he walked over to sit in her chair. He rocked, back
and forth, catching his breath. After awhile, he got up to get a
beer from the refrigerator and passed the bedroom door. Looking in,
he could see her sleeping on the bed in the gown that was his
favorite. He smiled; all was well. He went over to touch her, only
to draw back in horror at the coldness of her skin--and at the rigor
mortis which had set in. He backed back out of the room, turned
around only to confront himself. "I am Death," it told him and swung
its' sword--

Methos woke with a start, sweat pouring off him, looking around,
trying to orient himself. One hand had clutched the sword that he
always kept by the bed, unconciously. He looked at it as if he'd
never seen it before and threw it away in disgust.

He put his head in his hands, and sat there in the darkness, slowly
calming back down from the nightmare. He had been tracking Duncan
for a week and had had sporadic contact with him. A week lost, when
he should have been with Alexa. Both people were important to him,
but one had time to spare, and the other had little time left at
all. He got up and walked over to the window gazing out at the
moonlit countryside of France.

Duncan hadn't made things easier. Even though he had had a watcher
on him and that Methos himself had interfered with the mission so
that he could help his friend at the risk of his own life, Duncan
still knew enough to be able to sidetrack him. He was thankful
though, that MacLeod was predictable as that made things easier to
know where and what he might do next.

He wondered how Alexa was; he had decided not to call her until this
whole thing was over so that he could concentrate fully on it. It
was going to take all his cunning and skill to help MacLeod--and
keep his head at the same time. Alexa would just be a liablity if he
were to think or feel anything for her now. He supressed consciously
all the thoughts he had of her. Despite everything he did though,
some would still creep back in unannounced.

He shook his head and got himself a cup of coffee. It looked to be
another sleepless night for the rest of the night.

-17-

Alexa knew that she was weakening in body, and had only a short time
left. The doctors who had treated her had never told her, but she
knew. There were more things that previously she had been able to do
that now, she found she couldn't. She had need of sleep more and it
was becoming more difficult to want to eat, even though she forced
herself to.

She waited for the phone to ring, to hear from Adam, to know that he
was all right and safe, but it hadn't since the fight. She stayed in
her room for most of the day, sleeping and only venturing out when
it was necessary. The questions about Adam still haunted her and she
hoped that he would answer them all when he returned.

If he returned.

Where was he, anyways? Why didn't he call?

It'd been a week since she had told him to go to hell, and not one
word. She began to think, and went over to her purse, pulling out
her calling card, and dialed with the operator's assistance,
Seacouver and Joe's bar. She waited,listening to the phone ring
repeatedly but never picked up. She sighed in frustration and hung
up the phone again. Maybe Joe would know something about where he
might be--at least she was hoping so. She also was longing for an
American voice on the other end of the phone. She was getting tired
of hearing Greek and thought if she couldn't hear English soon she
would go crazy. She redialed, and finally got an answer.

"Hello?"

She clutched the phone, a large smile of relief and happiness spread
across her face. "Hello, Joe? Is that you? It's me, Joe. Alexa."

"Alexa?" Joe grinned broadly and sat down on one of the bar stools.
"Damn, it's good to hear from you! You still in Athens?"

"Yes! Listen, I was wondering if you could answer a question, well
really questions, for me, about Adam."

Joe paused and the smile dropped off his face. "What about him? I
can't say I can say much, but I'll try.", he said seriously. He felt
a bit uneasy discussing him with her and it was obvious that he
hadn't said anything to her, just from her tone of voice.

"Well, first off, have you heard from him? We had a fight after he
got the phone call from you and then he disappeared." She paused,
then said, "Actually,it was my fault. I told him off and said I
never wanted to see him again, but when he left, he took my
passport. I'm stuck here!"

Joe smiled at the thought of Methos running off with her
passport--it was so typical of him to do that. "That's what he meant
when he told me that!", he thought to himself. "Well, yeah, I 've
heard from him. He's in France. But that was last week and I haven't
heard anything since. Did you really tell him off?"

"Yes, I did, and now I feel terrible about it!"

Joe heartily laughed when he heard that. "Serves him right--that guy
always thinks he has the last word on everything!"

She laughed with him. "I agree, to a point." Wistfully she
continued, "It's so good to hear an American voice again, Joe. I
wish I were home." She brightened then said, "Ok, now the next
question-what do Adam and someone named Methos have in common?"

"Where did you hear that name?" Joe was all ears now. The shit had
just hit the proverbial fan, he thought to himself.

"It was on a piece of paper in Adam's suitcase he left here."

"Careless of him..."

"What did you say, Joe? I think the connection is getting bad.
Repeat what you said, please."

"It wasn't important, Alexa. I can't tell you about the name and
Adam's relation to it. You'll have to ask him about it when he comes
back."

"Will he come back, Joe?" Alexa's voice was full of hope and of
hurt.

"I think so. Tell me about you--how's it going? You holding up, ok?"

"I don't think so, Joe. I'm very weak now. But I don't want to talk
about it, if you don't mind." She hoped that he would take the hint
and leave the subject alone.

"Alexa, it's ok, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want.
But I hate to say this, I gotta get ready to open so I need to go.
You need anything, just call me, understand? Anytime, day or night!
Ok?"

Tears filled her eyes. "Thanks, Joe, you're the best. I'll remember
you. Take care. Bye."

"Bye." She didn't sound very good at all, Joe thought. Not at all.

Did Methos know how sick she was getting?, he wondered. He began to
pick up the phone but replaced the receiver when he realized that he
had no idea where he was in France. He stared at the phone,
wondering if he should go to France himself.

-18-

Methos was tired, and all he could think about was going back to
Athens. He had kept his head, despite MacLeod, and now that Duncan
was his old boy scout self again, it was time to head home, back to
Alexa. Four days had past since the nightmare and the holy spring
which helped to heal Duncan's psyche and himself. He had given him
the clan sword to him for his safekeeping, knowing that it had been
worth it to have when it was needed. He had made his goodbyes on the
barge and was looking forward to being with Alexa again. The
nightmare still haunted him but he dismissed it, thinking that it it
meant nothing. He boarded the plane, and leaned back in the seat.
"Soon, Alexa, soon", he said to himself.

Alexa woke to the sound of the phone. She struggled to sit upright
but became tangled in the sheets. She grimaced in frustration.
"Hello?"

"Hello, beautiful. Sorry, did I wake you?" Methos looked up at the
stairs that led to their room, smiling secretively.

"Adam? Is that you?", she said, fully alert, and hanging onto every
word. "Where are you? Are you ok? Are you angry with me?", The
questions spilled out like water from a pitcher.

He laughed, happy to hear her voice once more. "Wait, one question
at a time!!!" He was relieved to hear the spirit in her voice,
although she did sound tired.

"ADAM!!! Where ARE you?!!" She grew impatient for the answers and
listened once more to his laughter.

"I'm somewhere, Alexa.", he teased. "And yes, I'm fine now that I
know that you are all right. And no, I'm not angry with you." He
paused as she growled at him in frustration.

"ADAM! Please tell me where you are!" She wanted to strangle
him--after other things.

"Well," he started,"I could possibly show you. That is, if you want
me to." He dropped the phone and bounded up the stairs before he
heard her scream her answer.

The door rattled and Alexa pulled the sheets off the bed as she
swung around to the edge of the bed, waiting, wondering, if it were
some drunk again. It swung open, and Adam stood there, arms
outsretched, and she skipped a step then ran into his arms, tears
streaming. They held each other tightly, feverishly kissing, the
unspoken longing finding an outlet in the closeness of the two. She
pulled back, looking into his eyes, face beaming. "I missed you so
much!! Don't leave me again, promise?"

"And I missed you tremendously." They hugged and he lifted her up,
noticing how light she felt, in his arms. He carried her to the bed
and he gently placed her back on the bed, sweeping her hair from her
face, just like he had in the past. "I'm glad to be here again,
Alexa. You'll never know how much I mean it." He bent down and
kissed her again, and held her hand. Noticing the ruby on her
finger, he peered at her, "You know,you never gave me an answer to
my question in Vienna. Do I get an answer, or will I have to guess
it?"

She blushed, and pulled her hand away to examine the ring. "An
answer? You mean, I never gave you one?"

"No." He couldn't stop touching her, and stroked her skin as she
answered.

"Yes."

"What's that? Did you just give me an answer?" He held his breath as
she repeated her answer.

"YES!" She sat back up and caressed his face and neck, then kissed
his nose. She hugged him tightly about the neck and Methos' head was
spinning from her answer. "See, you didn't make a fool out of
yourself after all, did you?" he heard his inner voice say and
broadly smiled.

The boat rocked as it rode up and down the sea's swells making it's
way to tiny Santorini in the Cyclades' system of the Greek isles.
Methos stood hanging onto the side watching the dolphins swimming
besides the boat. He pointed them out to Alexa, who watched in
fascination. "They say that they will guide you through the reefs
safely and there are stories of them saving men from drowning after
a shipwreck.", Methos said as she watched them cavorting alongside
the boat.

"Do you believe that story, Adam? ", she yelled over the wind. The
sun was hot bearing down on them but the winds which blew them, kept
her cool. It whipped both clothes and hair about and the fresh salt
air stung in her face. She loved every moment they had been on the
sea on this old ferry and it made her feel so alive and free to be
out on the ocean. She snuck a peek at Adam, and smiled. He didn't
want to use a boat to go-something about having a bad experience
some time back on the sea.

Gulls and albatross flew overhead and glided on the sea's breezes,
swooping down to catch the breadcrumbs that Alexa threw to them,
laughing as they caught it in mid-air on occasion.

Things were calmer now between the two of them, since Athens. They
were both very contented and it reflected in everything that they
did. Methos did watch her carefully, though, keeping track of the
days, and having to cajole her into food every once in a while. It
was getting harder to have her interested in the food, let alone
eating but he was proud of his abilituy to get her to eat at least
something. It was a start, and it kept up her strength.

The captian called out to him, pointing ahead and nodding.

Methos nudged Alexa and pointed to a speck that was growing larger
by the minute. "Welcome to Atlantis, Alexa!," he hollored over the
roar of the ocean.

She gazed at the high cliffs which streched upwards from the ocean
and the whitewashed houses one could see in the distance even from
the sea. The closer they came into the bay to dock, the more she
became enchanted, as they passed the small fishing boats with the
eyes painted on the bow, not unlike what the ancient Greeks did.
More sea birds wheeled and cried overhead; some she recognized, like
the gulls and albatross, and others she didn't. She was truly happy
and the glow of her happiness was evident to all who looked at her.

Methos was lost in thought, as he watched her. Little had been
discussed about what had happened when he had left her in Athens,
and he knew that she had questions but wasn't going to ask. How does
one explain immortality to a dying woman? He'd never trusted anyone
with his secret in all his years; it was safer to not say anything
than to reveal himself.

He shifted his position on the deck, and looked at her again. Could
he trust her? He wasn't sure of her reaction if she should hear the
whole of his life--or even parts of it. She was so beautiful, her
skin pinked by the Grecian sun, honey colored hair, flying in the
breeze, smiling and laughing.

He turned away and glanced at the starboard side of the ship as one
of the small fishing craft passed by. He sighed; she was slipping
away too fast and it was more apparent everytime he looked at her.
Her mind was still intact--but her body was failing.

They pulled up to a dock; they grabbed their things and walked down
the gangplank once it had been lowered. Rows of nets were strung
across the masts of the boats and across the crates and packages the
awaited delivery to Fira, the capital, which sat on the cliff high
above them. Putting a hand to shade her eyes, she looked up at the
imposing cliffs. "How do you get up there?", she said, pointing.

"Well, you have a choice. You can walk up the 582 steps to the top."
He paused as she looked at him with widened eyes.

"No way! Nope,won't get me to do that." She shook her head and
giggled.

"Alright, then you could hire a mule to take you up the path there."
He said as he pointed out a small rough path, which transversed the
cliff to the top.

"Mules? Are you serious?" She eyed him skeptically, then shook her
head "no".

"Or, you could use the modern convinience of the cable car. Which
one? Hmmm. Let me guess, no to mules you said, and no to walking,
which, by the way, might do you some good. That leaves me to deduce
that you wish to take the cable car to the top. Am I correct in
assuming this?", he said in a most Sherlockian Holmes way.

She rolled her eyes at him, and began to giggle. "I'm supposed to
say now that it was all elementary, aren't I?" Shaking her head, she
started to head off in the direction of the cable car.

He pulled her back, putting his arms around her waist, and gave her
a kiss.

"What's that for?", she asked, as she pulled away.

"For you! Nothing, everything, no reason, really." He grinned as he
picked up the bags. "Come on, let's get out of the sun and go to our
new home. You're burning."

She smiled seductively at him. "I'll say!"

They settled into a home on Santorini, and became a part of a world
where ancient and modern time existed on the same plane. Alexa, when
she was feeling up to it, would sit out on the balcony of the small
villa they had rented, and even though it was isolated, felt whole.

From the balcony, she could see the vinyards which covered the small
island, producing grapes that were of the muscatel family as well as
olive and fig orchards. She watched the ocean liners pass in the
night and days, the very blueness of the ocean taking her breath
away no matter how many times she saw it. The weather was perfect,
the sun warm , with both the sunsets and sunrises too beautiful to
even attempt to describe to others.

Methos watched her in the times when she wasn't looking and saw her
slowly fading from him. Often, he'd talk long walks along the black
sand beaches which encircled the southern side of the island,
mourning her, trying to think of some way that maybe he hadn't of
before, to save her. But nothing came of it, except the pain of
knowing that she was dying.

If only she were immortal.

Occasionally, they would venture out together to Akira, where they
had, on occasion, seen some of the annual festivals both church and
family. They both enjoyed watching them, and would always laugh at
the antics of the children and even the adults. Alexa would make up
stories about the people she saw and they would laugh till their
sides hurt at them because the stories had absolutely nothing in
common as far as the real people and incidents which prompted them.

It became a favorite pasttime to tell stories to each other when she
was bedridden, so that he could at least try and keep her spirits
up, while, deep inside himself, his would sink.

About three weeks after arrival, they had been telling stories about
some of the locals they had seen the day before in the village. They
had been laughing and Methos sipped at his tea, while trying not to
laugh at a comment she had made about the local matchmaker.

Alexa stopped giggling long enough to sayin a very serious voice,
"How old are you, Adam?"

He dropped the cup and it shattered. "Here it comes-" he thought to
himself. He bent down and began to pick up the pieces of the
shattered cup. He was trying to buy time for himself, in actuality,
but knew that she would not be satisfied until her questions were
answered to some degree. He remained silent and went outside to
throw away the cup, after having cleaned up the liquid.

He came back in and looked at her, and knew immediatly that this was
the time to try and say something to her and make her understand
about what he was and had been for five thousand years and then
some.

"Well, are you going to answer me?" She struggled to move to a more
upright position, and he came and pulled her up, placing more
pillows behind her to prop her up comfortably. She waited patiently,
searching his face with her eyes.

He sat on the edge of the bed, held her hand, and steadily looked at
her. "Of course!", he said lightly. "Did you want that in the
Gregorian or Julian calendar years?" He tried to smile but her look
stopped him cold.

"Very funny! How old are you, really?" She waited.

"What makes you want to ask that now, after all this time?" he
countered.

"Because I want to know. You never discuss yourself hardly ever!"

"Maybe there's not much to say, Alexa." He patted her hands and
moved off the bed to a nearby chair.

"Why won't you tell me your age?", she persisted.

"Maybe because it's not something I want to discuss. Didn't your
mother ever tell you that it was rude to ask such personal questions
of someone?"

"Yes, but I'm not asking if you're a serial killer, either."

She reached over to get some water from the small table near the
bed.

"True. Ok, let me ask you a question." He bent forward with his arms
resting on his knees. "How old do I look?"

She frowned, and looked at him hard. "Ok, you look like you're about
35."

"Well, then, you guessed it! Right on the nose." He leaned back,
relieved.

She shook her head. "No. I don't believe you."

He paused and took stock. Could she be trusted?

"Ask me any question, Alexa, about myself. I'll try to answer it but
there are certain things that I won't talk about." He waited.

"Ok, tell me about your childhood then since you don't want me to
know your age." "Why was he being so evasive?" she asked herself,
while waiting for an answer from him.

"My childhood?" He looked at her and whistled. "I don't remember my
childhood. Or my family, for that matter, if that was going to be
your next question."

"You don't remember? How can you NOT remember?" The more he spoke in
riddles, the more intrigued she became.

"It was some time ago--you know how memory fades over time? Maybe
that happened to me, or maybe it was a traumatic one and I'm
pschologically blocked from remembering it." He shrugged, and
prepared himself for the next question mentally.

"Ok, score one for Adam!" she said snidely. "You don't like to talk
about yourself, do you?"

"It's more polite to talk about others and their accomplishments,
rather than your own.," he parried back to her.

"Ok--" she paused. "What does someone named Methos and you have in
common?"

Methos' warning signal came on full force inside of himself and he
paid her strict attention. *Where had she gotten his name from? How
did she learn it?* He deadpanned. "What was that name again?"

"Methos!"

"Afraid I don't know anyone by that name. Sorry.," he lied.

"Oh? Then what was it doing in your suitcase on a note written by
Duncan? I found it and a very old manuscript in your suitcase while
you were away and I was stuck in Athens. Now why would you have
something addressed to a perfect stranger and written from Duncan in
your suitcase?"

He took a deep breath. "Bloody hell! Damn careless of me, to say the
least." he angrily told himself. "Ok, ok, Alexa. Maybe I do know
him." He was trapped but still had some tricks up his sleeve. "He's
an old, old friend of mine, who doesn't want people to know about
him. And, yes, Duncan does know him."

He watched carefully to see if the lie would have the desired
effect. He hated to lie to her but his skill in survival through the
centuries had taken over.

"Why then did you lie to me about him?" She sat back, hurt in her
voice.

"Because I respect him--he's a very old man and has the right to
privacy. I also said that he doesn't want his location revealed to
anyone."

"I talked to Joe, while you away doing whatever it was you were
doing for Duncan--don't worry, I'm not going to ever ask you what
that was--and he said he couldn't talk to me about it and to ask
you."

"Oh? Did he say that? Well, you've asked me and I answered you. End
of that!"

Frustrated that her questions had all but been answered she looked
at him then dropped her eyes downwards. "Adam?" she tenatively
began, a bit unwilling to brooch a new but necessary subject.

"Yes?"

"When I die, will you have me buried here? This is where I want to
be buried--over by the lone olive tree, where we had our last
picnic, remember?" She smiled at the memory, and reached out a hand
to him, which he took, and held it tightly.

He looked at her, then away. When he spoke, his voice was strained
and choked. "I remember the one. It's near the orchard, isn't it?"
He looked back at her, unshed tears in his eyes, and silently
nodded.

"That's the one. Do this for me, will you? Please?" She waited and
tears spilled down her cheeks when he came over and held her close
as if he would never let her go. "It's not like I can live forever,
you know?"

Methos'heart was tearing into small pieces. He held on, knowing that
it wasn't going to be forever, not like he had been and that her
whole life was only transitory while his was never-ending as long as
he kept his head. His pain was almost tangible in this moment of
time.

"I will. I promise.", he managed to choke out at last.

The evening came and Alexa slept. Methos slipped out of the house
and took a walk toward the ancient Minoan ruins. He was deep in
thought about the afternoon's conversation.

He'd seen plenty of deaths in his lifetime, both natural and
unnatural and even had been the cause of thousands himself. But none
had really affected him quite like this with Alexa.

He walked over the landscape by memory when he had last been here
before, three thousand years ago and except for the ruins and the
cliffs, not much had changed. Except, of course, when the volcano in
the bay had erupted with a force ten times more powerful then
Krakatoa had in the 1870's, then collapsed in on itself and formed
the bay which it had now, that really had changed the face of the
island and given rise to the legend of Atlantis. The old bay had
been obliterated and the tidal waves nearly destroyed civilizations
far and wide around the Mediterranean area when the eruption
occurred. He hadn't been here then but counted himself lucky that he
hadn't been.

He found the ruins, and climbed down inside of them, walking once
more the ancient streets, as memories came flooding back of how it
had looked originially with the red tiled houses, palaces and the
Labyrinth, with brightly painted frescos of priestesses doing
acrobatics off the horns of bulls. He drew solace from the ancient
stone walls, now silenced forever except for when the tourists came
to gape and flash their cameras.

He sat down and looked to the stars, silently naming many of them to
himself until he was calm enough to return back to the house and
face another day with her, as she visibly slipped furthur away and
death came one step nearer her door.

He headed back. When he arrived, he was surprised to see her awake
and waiting for him. He took off his jacket and walked over to her.
"What are you doing up? You should be asleep!"

"I couldn't sleep." she simply replied. "Where did you go?"

"For a walk. Couldn't sleep either." He sat on the floor next to
her, legs crossed.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Morning?"

She lightly slapped him on his shoulder."Adam!"

"You asked!!"

He looked at her, in her gown and robe and stood back up, scooping
her in his arms as he did so. "Come on, let's go!", he said smiling.

"Go? Go where?", she asked in mock terror at the very thought.

"Why, to the beach to watch the sunrise, of course! It shouldn't be
very long before it does." He awkwardly reached over to pull a light
blanket from the chair.

She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. "Of course!"

He carried her to the beach which ran below the cliff where their
house sat and wrapped the blanket around the both of them. The
breakers splashed upon one of the jutting pinnacles of rock nearby,
sending waves cascading high into the early morning air.

"Comfy? If not, we could move.", he asked as he shifted her body
against his.

"I'm fine, no need to move." She leaned into his chest and searched
the still night sky, gazing at the bright stars which seemed so
close overhead.

Both sat in silence, listening to the waves as they hit the
shoreline and edged up towards their bare feet.

She dug her toes into the wet sand, feeling the softness of it as
well as the roughness of the grains between her toes. Turning her
head back towards him, she glimpsed the sadness in his face, as he
sat lost in thought, oblivious to his surroundings. "Hey, you ok?",
she asked gently.

"Wha-what?" He looked down at her, and gave her a squeeze. "Yes,
fine--just thinking." He pulled her around to look at her better.
"You're still beautiful, you know." He kissed her forehead. "And I
want you to know how much you have given me in the months that we've
had together. You have taught me so much. Thank you." He held her
close once more. "Do you see that group of stars,there, low on the
horizon?" he said, pointing.

"You mean, those?" She also pointed to the same constellation.

"Yes."

"What about them?"

"They are called the Southern Cross. Sailors who ply the waters
through here and the equatorial zones throughout the world use them
to get their bearings accurate in conjunction with Polaris, the
North Star.," he lectured, without knowing that he was doing so.

She shook her head, not understanding his point. "So?"

"I won't have my bearings straight when you go, Alexa. I won't have
something to guide me through."

She reached up and stroked his face. "I'll be here with you. Look,"
she said as she placed a hand to his heart, "I'll be right here."

He looked out to the horizon where the sun was beginning to peek
out, golden in the morning air. He nodded, eyes closed. "Yes, Alexa,
right there. Forever." After a few moments, he collected himself
enough to say, "What were you thinking about just a bit ago, when we
sat down here?"

"Thinking about? Me?" She frowned, then said, "I was saying my
goodbyes."

He gulped at those words. "Goodbyes?"

"Yes, to Santorini. Adam, I want to go home." She held his hand,
playing with his fingers, as she spoke.

"To Seacouver?" He was visibly relieved at her explanation.

"No, silly!" She smiled shyly at him. "To Geneva, of course! Why did
you think I meant Seacouver?"

"Well, I thought--"

"Nevermind what you thought. It was wrong." She shrugged and
laughed.

She turned back towards the ocean and sighed at the beauty of the
sunrise. "It's gorgeous!"

He nodded silently in agreement, then snapped his head up as a
memory hit him. He wondered. "Alexa, do you believe in immortality?"

She turned to look back at him. "You mean like God and church and
all? I don't know, never really thought about it."

He hesitated, bit his lip, but then he continued. "Do you think that
it exists today? Here and now?"

She curled her nose at him. "Aren't you getting a little
philosophical so early in the day?" She turned back to the view laid
out before her as ocean and sky sparkled golden with deeper blues
intermingling with the gold. After some thought she replied, "Well,
I suppose that it is possible, right now."

He thought a moment. "If someone were to offer you the possbility of
immortality, right now, would you take it? I mean, if it were real."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

He took a deep breath. "What if I were to tell you that immortality
exists and has always existed?" He looked deeply in her
eyes."Watch."

He drew a line down his arm with a small penknife, drawing blood. In
a flash, his arm was whole again.

Frowning, her eyes searched his and then widened. "Are you
immortal?"

He looked away to the distance, still reluctant to tell her the
whole truth about himself. He shrugged with a bemused look on his
face. "What do you think? If I were immortal, would you still love
me as you do right at this very moment?"

Lowering her eyes, she searched her soul's innermost reaches. Did
his little secret mean anything at all? Or was he toying with her?
But her instinct told her that he was telling the truth. She stroked
his face tenderly. "No."

He started to head back up the path to their house, then paused,
looking down at her in his arms. "It just struck me--you said, "no",
you didn't love me. Alexa, is that true? After everything I just
told you, you don't love me? Or maybe something else, perhaps?"

She looked up at him and smiled slyly. "Gotcha!," she teased. "How
can I not love you, you've been the best thing that's ever happened
to me, Adam. Thank you. For everything, thank you."

He rolled his eyes, and shook his head ruefully, knowing that she
had made a fool of him after all. He smiled, then got serious. "Do
you believe me now? About the immortality?," he said as they tramped
back up the cliff and into the house.

Later that afternoon, Methos busied himself with the packing as he
tended her too. They had just had a late lunch and he was getting
her ready for bed. They had discussed the concept of immortality all
day on and off and the conversation continued as they headed for the
bedroom.

"I don't know what to believe--but the healing that I saw--it's
unbelievable!" He placed her back into bed. "Adam, really, let me
help pack, " she said as she struggled to get out of bed, but fell
back, too weak to try again a second time.

He sat down beside the bed, hands folded in front of him. "It's only
a part of it, Alexa. There's so much more to it than that." He stood
and pointed a finger at her, as he started to leave the room. "Stay
right there. I'll take care of all the arrangements. Get some
sleep."

She nodded. "Ok, if you insist. I am sleepy!" She yawned. "G'nite,
darling."

"Goodnight, sweet milady."

-19-

They had taken the first plane out of Athens after taking the ferry
once again to mainland Greece. Methos had arranged for their things
to be sent after them to the apartment in Geneva.

Life became precarious as Alexa became totally bedridden, dependant
on him for everything and had been put on a liquid protein diet
since she could no longer tolerate solid foods. She required almost
round the clock supervision, which Methos refused to have anyone
else come in and do. He tried to make her as comfortable as
possible; as she slept, he watched her, almost without sleep
himself, so that nothing would happen or if it did, he would be
right there for her. If Death had been in the same room with her,
Methos would have spent every last ounce of his strength to fight
it, to stay the hand of it.

But this was a battle he knew that he was losing, and he would
gladly have given his life of it would save her, if only he were
given the opportunity. And yet, something that he had seen in
Research, in Watchers Headquarters in Paris, nagged at him.

He had read about, and had known the myths of the Methuselah stone
for sometime. The crystal was supposed to bring immortality to the
person in possession of all the parts.

The crystal was very old, and he knew that Amanda's mentor and
teacher, Rebecca had broken it up and gave each of her students a
piece of it, when they had completed their training. Many of her
students had been scattered, and with them, the pieces of crystal.
Not much more was known about it.

But the thought of something that would provide immortality to an
otherwise mortal person haunted him in the night. He needed to do
more research on it--but that would mean that he'd have to travel to
Paris to Watcher HQ to do so, and he was reluctant to leave Alexa
alone with anyone else. But through his dreams at night the crystal
and it's possible promise of hope, called to him.

One morning, he awoke with a start, to the sound of Alexa choking.
He quickly scooted the chair back in which he had fallen asleep in,
and ran over to her. She was semi-cyanotic, and her eyes were wide
and unseeing, as she struggeled to breathe.

"Alexa!! NOOO!" He ran back out to the living room and quickly
dialed up an ambulance; in what seemed an eternity, they arived
after he had performed a crude tracheotomy on her, so that she could
breathe at least. They wheeled her out with him following close
behind.

On the ride to the hospital, he held her hand tightly, watching her
close. "Hang on, Alexa. Hang on.", he whispered to her even though
it was doubtful that she even heard him. The paramedics had filled
her with needles and wires and had run an oxygen tube down her nose,
to allow more air into her lungs. He hated the sight of her like
this and wanted to tear each needle out of her skin, break each wire
to the machines which monitored her every heartbeat and breath. This
wasn't his Alexa, lying there. No--it couldn't be!

They pushed him out of the ER, upon arrival to the hospital, and he
paced in anger and frustration, in the waiting room. A doctor came
in and extended his hand. "Mr. Pierson? I'm Doktor Schmidt." He
indicated the chair behind them, but Methos refused it.

"How is she?" he said, almost pouncing upon him for any kind of
information on her condition.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but she's gone into a coma. She
has no response to outside stimuli and in my professional opinion,
won't be coming out of it, prior to her death."

Methos held one hand to his head. "NO!!" He quickly paced over to
the wall and punched at it, only to be rewarded to the sickly crunch
of bones splintering. He drew it back, cradling it in his other hand
as he turned away from the doctor.

"Mr. Pierson! Here. Let me look at it." He held out his hand but
Methos waved him off as his bones quickly knitted back together. He
then turned and nodded to the doctor, accepting the prognosis. This
was it, then, for her.

"How long, and can I see her?", he asked his voice struggling to
remain composed.

"Time-well, we don't know what the time frame could be for her. It's
in God's hands. We aren't miracle workers and we can't predict the
future. I'm sorry. I wish I could give you a good answer as for how
long she has. As far as seeing her, come this way."

They walked down the hospital corridors, and Methos felt nothing. He
was in shock, and numb. They stopped at her room so devoid of color
and sanitary in it's whiteness. Tubes ran off her and wires
connected to machines which beeped and went off in alarm if
something happened. Needles were stuck in her hands and taped in
place. Methos could only stare at her; the doctor clapped him on the
shoulder in sympathy, then walked away.

He slowly, gingerly, made his way in the room, and reached out to
touch her, but drew back and took an appraisal of the equipment
attached to her in one form or another. He grimaced in disgust at it
all, saying to no one else but himself, "Modern technology!" with a
tone of revulsion.

He came closer to her and peered at her face, pulling away the hair
that always seemed to congregate there, no matter what she did to
try and stop it from doing so. He leaned down by her ear, whispered
that he loved her, as his heart was breaking.

"Alexa, listen, I'm leaving for a few days. I'm going to Paris, but
I'll be back. Hang on for me, please. Hang on!" His voice broke.

-20-

Methos arrived in Paris at Orly Airport, with one thought in
mind--to research the crystal and to see if it existed. If it was an
actual, existing thing, then he wanted to use any method necessary
to obtain it. He made it through customs and headed back to his
apartment on the Left Bank to drop off his things. He then headed to
a large, gated Baroque-styled building, which to innocuous eyes was
a normal business: the International Asset Corporation, according to
the sign on the front of the enclosure which surrounded it.

He drove into the gates, and a man stopped him at the entrance to
the parking garage, checked his credentials, and waved him on in. He
parked and went through another electronically controlled door into
a long corridor.

He walked into a door marked Research, and looked around at the rows
and rows of files and computers scattered about the room. A desk was
marked with the name of Adam Pierson; and he sat down and turned on
the computer, while checking his messages.

One of his colleagues came in and he gave them a perfunctory nod as
his computer booted up to the chronicles, a database containing a
listing of most of all the known immortals, and any information
gleaned down through the centuries on them. He typed in one word:
METHUSELAH.

The computer paused and then displayed a mythological set of
references, to the crystal and what attributes it was reputed
through the centuries to have, including immortality. Methos read
all the references, then sat back as it displayed one last bit of
cross information on it.: Luther, deceased. Killed by Duncan
MacLeod: at time of death in possession of much of the crystal.
Crystal obtained by HQ, Western Europe.

He sat back and then re-read the screen again. Was this correct? Did
it exist and if so, was it within the same walls of the building
that he was sitting in now? The very thought that it wasn’t
necessarily a myth and that it might be quite possible to obtain it,
set his mind racing.

He called one of the other, lower ranked research assistants to go
and get other more older texts, with references to the crystal, and
he took notes on Amanda’s mentor, Rebecca, as well as carefully
looking at the detailed sketches of the crystal.

Soon, he had acquired three or four older texts and a older folder
filled with parchment pages. He moved to a bigger table so there
could be more room to lay things out on. His assistant had just laid
down another book on the subject when a man approached him, closing
the folder as he was trying to glean more information from it. He
was asked who he was and after providing his name was told that the
man in front of him was his boss. Until that time, he had never met
him and yet this same man confirmed that the crystal was real and
that it was on the premises in the Director’s Gallery.

He asked if he could see it and was told yes. When they arrived at
the gallery , he looked at the crystal, which was sitting under an
oversized magnifying glass attached to a desk. He took a sharp
breath and held it as he gazed upon the translucent, yet prismatic
pieces of crystal that were almost completed into wholeness again
after centuries of being split up.

Before him was the hope for Alexa that he had come in search for. He
knew that getting it out of the building would take cunning and
skill. Cunning he had, skill at stealing it though, was another
matter. He knew that he might need help and he knew where to get
help. He needed an expert.

Someone like Amanda.

First, he needed to find her. She held a piece of the crystal; it
was the last piece needed to complete the piece into wholeness once
more and who better to know her whereabouts than MacLeod?

He left shortly after seeing the crystal, and began to plan on what
the best way to steal it might be.

He headed over to his home and placed a call into the hospital in
Geneva. He wanted to check in on Alexa only to find out that there
had been no change in her condition and that it was still very
precarious for her. He was becoming desperate to save her, even at
the cost of his own life if necessary, if it would save her. The
stress and strain showed in his face and he sat back in the darkened
room, thinking of her and the hope of saving her with the crystal.
He also knew that getting Amanda to give up her piece of the crystal
would be difficult at best. However, he was willing to do anything
or sacrifice anybody for her sake if need be.

He rang up MacLeod, and found out that Amanda was in the city. She
was, in fact, staying with Duncan, as she was apt to do when she was
in town. He also found out that that someone had tried to kill her.
He found that bit of information not surprising in the least,
considering that this was Amanda, after all.

Now came the hard part--getting her to give up the crystal and to
help him get the rest of it so that he could take it back to Alexa.

Geneva, Switzerland

The doctor looked at the charts, then peered over his glasses at the
nurse. “Do you know where the next of kin is? “ He lifted up a page
on the charts, reading the information in his patient, laying in the
room behind him. “"An Adam Pierson seems to be paying the
bill--hmmm. No next of kin listed, but there’s a note to contact him
immediately if her condition worsens and to treat him as next of
kin.”

The nurse shook her head, "We’ve tried to get hold of him to no
avail. There’s no forwarding phone number to call in case of
emergency. Pity. I feel sorry for him."

The doctor glanced over at her at that comment and the nurse
continued, "He was beside himself when she was brought in. We had to
pry him from her in the ER so that she could be treated. Nice
looking man, and obviously very much in love with her. He left after
talking to Dr. Schmidt, and going down to her room to see her. It’s
such a tragedy. She’s so young."

The doctor slowly nodded his assent at her apprisal of the situation
and sighed. He walked back into the doorway of Alexa’s room. “Young
and pretty." He turned back to the nurse. “Keep trying to contact
him. She’s losing ground."

The next few days became a blur for Methos as accusations flew,
hopes and dreams were found only to lose them moments later, cross
and double-crossings were dealt amongst the Watchers and immortals
alike.

He nearly lost his head over the crystal, and was killed when a
small group of Watchers discovered both Amanda and himself inside
Watcher headquarters trying to steal it for Alexa. He took a bullet
for Amanda in order for her to escape but, in doing so, revealed
himself as an Immortal within the framework of the Watchers. The
outcaome of it was that he was taken hostage and held in exchange
for Amanda’s piece of crystal which was provided by Amanda, with
Duncan’s influence, of course.

On the bridge where the exchange was to take place, his eyes grew
big as Amanda’s Watcher killed the other ones with him including his
boss and held Amanda and himself at gunpoint, then himself at the
point of a sword.

After seeing the crystal whole and it begin to work, Duncan pulled a
coup d’etat using a small detonator for the bomb that he had pre-set
on the bridge’s structure, and destroying both ends of the bridge as
a distraction so that Methos could be freed and the crystal
retrieved.

However, gunfire rang out and the crystal was sent over the edge of
the bridge into the dark, swift river below as the body of Amanda’s
Watcher went over the side of the railing, after being hit by the
hail of gunfire.

Amanda and Methos could only watch as the crystal broke into bits
once more than sank piece by piece into the water. However, one
piece remained on the bridge itself and she picked it up and kept
it.

Methos’ heart sank, knowing that the rest of the crystal couldn’t be
retrieved in time to save his love. He turned away, visibly shaken.

Amanda and Duncan, who was clutching at his shoulder from a gunshot,
joined him as they walked away from the carnage on the bridge back
to the car.

As Duncan maneuvered the car over the Parisian streets to Methos’
apartment in silence, he glanced back in the rearview mirror at his
friend on occasion.

Neither of them said much, but Amanda also kept looking over her
shoulder at Methos, concerned about his silence.

Methos sat in deep thought, rubbing at his wrists where he had been
bound. After they arrived at the apartment, Methos got out and
Amanda grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. Their eyes locked for
a moment, and he slowly withdrew his hand from her grasp. She noted
the pain in his eyes and the strain on his face.

He nodded silently, turned and entered the building.

Once inside the apartment, he fell heavily into a chair, one hand to
his forehead, as the memories of the last year came flooding back to
him of Alexa.

Cairo, Geneva, Vienna,Athens,Santorini....and all of the other small
and wondrous places they had stopped and visited on the way. Visions
of their love making, hung in mid-air before him in the darkness of
his apartment. He could almost taste her in all her sweetness, and
breathe in the smell of her perfume almost made tangible. He closed
his eyes.

"Oh, Alexa, I failed.", he softly whispered to the walls.

He flew out to Geneva the next morning after Duncan and Amanda came
back after a bit to say their farewells. Amanda had hugged him,
telling him to have courage.

Alexa, he had told them, would never know how close she had come to
becoming immortal, and it was evident from his tone of voice as he
said it, that his heart was breaking.

At the hospital he immediately went to her room, standing at the
threshold of it, once more repulsed at the amount of machines and
wires connected to here in order to maintain her life. A nurse
walked by then stopped in surprise upon seeing him.

"Mr. Pierson? Are you Adam Pierson?” she asked, touching him on his
sleeve.

He nodded, then said as he indicated Alexa, "How is she?"

The nurse gulped, looked at him and slowly shook her head. "I’m very
sorry, Mr Pierson, for what you’ve been through. We’ve been trying
to get hold of you for some time but we had no way of contacting
you."

He swung his head in her direction but managed to hide his sense of
alarm, that was fighting to break free of its’ bonds which held it
deep inside of him. “What? What has happened?”

"Perhaps the doctor should explain--" she began, but stopped when
she saw the icy look he gave her. It sent chills up her spine and
involuntarily she shivered.

"No, you explain to me. I don’t need an explanation from the doctor
when you probably know just as much as he does.", he said, waiting,
arms crossed in front of him.

"Well, really--that’s really a doctor’s job, and not mine...," she
stopped again, then continued in a hesitant voice, "but I can see
how much she means to you and how much you care for her." She took a
deep breath. "Listen, we want to make her as comfortable as
possible. She’s failing physically but we have the technology to
keep her alive for a few more weeks or so. In order for us to do
this you need to fill out some paperwork and sign it."

He got up and walked back into her room, softly, as he thought about
prolonging her life.

She looked as if she were sleeping, he thought, and then he looked
about him, listening to the incessant beep of her heart monitor,
recording every beat and the suction of the respirator as every
breath was drawn and exhaled. Droplets of glucose leaked into an IV
that ran down the length of her harm and inserted into the back of
her hand. Should her life be prolonged?

Who would it really benefit--the living or those whose time should
be up?

"Mr. Pierson?"

He turned at the sound of the nurse’s voice, and looked at her. He
looked back at Alexa, his face full of sorrow. "I need some time to
think about it. Would that be all right?"

"Of course, but if we are to do it, then it has to be soon, before
she’s too far gone." She touched him on the sleeve for a moment.
"I’ll leave the two of you alone now." She turned and closed the
door behind her.

Methos watched her go and then went over, pulled the drapes which
covered the windows of the room and went over to sit beside her on
the bed. He picked up her hand, laying limply on the blanket and
stroked it, gently.

"What shall I do, Alexa?", he began as if she could hear him. "I
tried and I failed in so many ways to save you." He sadly smiled. "I
never answered you fully about a number of things--and I never
explained things to you as I promised I would. I’m sorry."

He shifted his position on the bed and carefully picked her up in
his arms, mindful of the wires and tubes and held her tightly
against him. "Do you want to know my secrets, Alexa?" he said, as he
hid his face in her hair. "I am five thousand years old. You
wouldn’t have believed me if I had told you when I should have told
you in Santorini on the beach. I have been many things in that time,
and married many times in that time too, but you--you made more of a
difference to me than so many of the others."

He pulled her away from him and gently kissed her face, as he looked
at her. He gulped down the lump that kept rising in his throat, and
fought back the tears in his eyes. He needed to think clearly so
that he could do what was right for her.

Looking around at the sterile whiteness of her room, he slowly
nodded, his decision made. He carefully placed her on the bed and
walked over to the window. He pulled it back and looked outside to
the rain hitting the windowpane. "Listen, Alexa! Do you hear that?
Remember our first date? It was raining like--" He paused and
glanced back at her. "Of course you do."

Dropping the curtain, he walked outside the room over to the nurses’
station, which was unoccupied. He looked up and down the hall, then
went behind the desk, and began flipping the warning lights to her
monitors off. He heard someone approaching so he slipped back into
the room, and began removing the wires and tubes from her.

"Forgive me, milady. You don’t have any dignity this way, and
certainly it’s not the way you’d want it. I don’t want you to go but
this is preferable than to be living at the whim of a machine." He
slipped back onto the bed with her, held her once more, and then
reached behind him and shut down her respirator. "You have been my
redemption, I want you to know that."

Immediately, she began to struggle for air and he held her tightly,
telling her that he loved her, that she would always be with him,
and that she had been his teacher. Tears began to well up in his
eyes as she slowly struggled less and less then finally ceased
altogether. He continued to hold her feeling the warmth leave her
body and her bodily fluids released themselves. He rocked her as all
of this happened and his heart broke.

After awhile, he put her down gently on the bed, stroking the hair
from her face a final time, then turned and left.

He wandered about aimlessly, mindlessly for hours after he left the
hospital although he wasn’t sure where he’d been or for how long
he’d been doing it.

He was numb with the grief and when he finally began to come out of
it somewhat and of what he had done, he found himself in front of
their home. He went up and, upon opening the door, took a final look
around. It was too painful to see what had been theirs together and
he drew his sword in anger at fate and began to hack and swing at
anything and everything in sight.

Splinters of wood went flying, as chairs and antiques were
demolished, and glasses were smashed into slivers of deadly
intentions. He continued to chop, slice and mangle anything that
would remind him of what had been while she was alive.

Finally, he collapsed in sheer exhaustion, throwing away his sword
into the middle of the room and fell to his knees, sobbing.

Seacouver, 2 months later

The bar's door opened and silently closed. Joe looked up from the
accounts he was working on and grinned widely."Methos! When did you
hit town?"

Methos sauntered behind the bar, and pulled out a icy beer. He
shrugged as he sprawled on one of the bar stools. "Sometime ago,
actually. I wanted to see the place again." He grew silent as he
twisted off the cap and flicked it at a nearby wastebasket.

Joe watched him, a bit uneasy, not knowing really what to say to
him. "Look, Methos, about Alexa...I'm truly sorry. But you knew what
you were getting youself into."

Methos, coldly angry, stood abruptly, knocking over the stool. "Are
your platitudes supposed to make me feel any better? Is your little,
"there, theres" going to bring her back? You don't even know what
really happened in Geneva, do you?"

He took a long swig of his beer and sat it hard on the bar, sloshing
it out the neck. "Do you think that in 5,000 years I have learned to
accept the deaths of those I have loved and lost? Well, one never
learns that no matter how long one lives. Take that little nugget,
and put it in the Chronicles!"

Methos turned swiftly on his heels and headed for the door, his face
a mixture of anguish and anger.

Joe was taken aback at the outburst but wanted to try to make
amends. "Methos--"

Methos paused as one hand held the doorknob. "What?" He turned his
head to look at Joe; as he heaved a great sigh, swallowing back the
tears which threatened to erupt.

"I'm not one for words too much, but I didn't mean anything bad. I'm
sorry, that's all." Joe's concern showed on his face.

Methos stared at him for a good, long while before he slowly nodded
and spoke. "Put the beer on my tab, will you, Joe? I've best to be
moving on." He opened the door and left, leaving Joe shaking his
head at the bar.


The End