Beware The Lions Roar

By Lori

Disclaimer: This story is a Xover between The Sentinel and Highlander. The characters mentioned here belong to Bilson/DeMeo (Pet Fly) and Panzer/Davis (Rysher), except for the employees at Woodbridge, Rezi, Mira, and Fielding. The flashbacks from Methos' journal were first referenced in my story Bonds, where I put forth that Methos had been a guide fourteen hundred years ago. I used the same back-story here, but this tale is not linked in any other way to Bonds. They are not in the same universe; I just borrowed the concept. This takes place approximately a couple of years after Sentinel Too, and after the Highlander series finale.

Day 1-Monday June --

"May I see the charts for Alex Barnes?" the tall, lanky man asked the nurse behind the desk. He was dressed in a wool pinstripe suit and his glasses hung from a thin chain around his neck. If anyone had bothered to look through the eyepieces, they would have noticed that the lenses were comprised of clear glass.

"Just a sec, Doctor Adams," the nurse responded, rummaging though a pile of folders. With a quick bright smile she withdrew the requested chart and handed it to him.

Methos received the chart and opened it up as he began to walk down the hall. He was finally going to meet Alex Barnes. She was the sole reason for seeking employment at Woodbridge, an institution for the criminally insane. No one at the asylum had any connection with the Watchers, nor was anyone immortal, so Methos felt reasonably safe working here. An article written in the Journal of the American Medical Association last month had caught his eye by chance and he was here to investigate it--or rather her.

His fictional resume stated that he was an expert in the mental state that swung from catatonia to manic aggression. In this particular asylum only a few inmates fit this diagnosis, particularly Alex Barnes. Although his caseload was light, he was assured that it would change once he got into the swing of things. Barnes was number one on the list. Nobody wanted to treat the woman. She was dangerous and untrustworthy. Several times she had tried to attack nurses and other staff members. The doctors preferred to keep her in a straight jacket and sedated. Methos wanted her lucid.

"Was she a genuine Sentinel?" he wondered silently as he walked up the hall. The JAMA article didn't state that exact term, but "heightened senses" was used several times. A rush of excitement made him shiver as he arrived at her room and took his first peek at her through the slit in the door.
Her body was covered up in blankets. Strands of light blond hair fell across her face hiding her features. The irregular bumps under the blankets indicated that she was confined within a straight jacket. Sympathy clouded his eyes. This was no place for a true Sentinel. The confining atmosphere and mistreatment was enough to send anyone over the bend, let alone someone with enhanced senses. Using his master keys, he unlocked the door and entered.

The door clicked as it closed. Her eyelids snapped open to reveal bulging blue eyes and full lips, which left little room on her face for a nose. Methos smiled at the intelligent rage shining in her eyes. He was pleased the fire remained in her personality. She would need it in the months to come.
"Hello, Alex. My name is Dr. Adams. Your case has recently been assigned to me. I'd like to get to know you." He gave a soft chuckle. "You have quite a reputation here."

"I assure you, doctor, I deserve it all."

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Because I'm too crazy to go to jail."

"Do you believe you belong in prison?" Dr. Adams questioned.

She evaded the question. "No one wants anything to do with me. What happened, did you pull the short straw?"

"No, you intrigue me. Plus, I think I might be able to help you."

This time she gave a sardonic laugh. "Oh, God, you're one of those do-gooders who thinks an understanding shrink can solve any problem."

"I've been called many things in my life, but never a do-gooder." He paused, amused at the accusation. "Do you know how long you've been here?"

"Couple of years?"

"About that," Methos agreed.

"Are you going to take off this jacket? It doesn't really become me."

"Eventually." He paused. "Is it too bright in here? Would you like me to dim the lights?"

Her eyes narrowed. "They say that the pain keeps me in line. I think they *like* to punish me."

He got up and flipped a switch, turning off the rows of lights over the bed. "Well, I think they're a bit harsh." He sat back down on the chair. He opened her chart and paraphrased aloud. "You were committed because you appeared to be hallucinating without a grasp of reality. Do you remember that?"

"The old insanity plea. Works every time. But, for the record, I was not hallucinating. I'm just able to discern things better than you."

"Like what things?"

"Just things."

"Can you still do so?"

Her eyes narrowed again. "Are you trying to get me to admit to things so you can sedate me again?"

"I have no intention of trying to control you with drugs. In fact, I think half your problems are related to the meds they're giving you. I've told them I'd prefer that you were off of them completely."

"That'll be a nice change. Maybe I'll even be able to keep my dinner down. Think you can get rid of the jacket, too?" she tried again.

"I'll see what I can do," Methos replied. He closed the folder, deciding that for a first meeting it had gone pretty well. No need to rush things. "I need to go see a few more patients, I'll talk to you later."

Alex barely acknowledged his departure. He closed the door and turned to head back to his office.

Another doctor soon overtook him. Methos increased his stride to match his. "Hello Dr. Nyerges."

"Dr. Adams." The reply sounded curt to his ears.

"Something wrong?" Methos asked curiously.

"Millie in C-17 is giving us trouble, again. She's screaming that 'death is at her door'. I am so sick and tired of her doomsday obsession."

"What's the story on Millie?" Methos asked as they continued down the "F" wing corridor towards the hub of the institute. He had heard that she was a nice, eccentric old lady. However, to be in this kind of place, one generally wasn't really "nice".

"She headed a cult in the eighties and early nineties proclaiming that the world was going to end at the beginning of the millenium. The crazy woman converted hoards of people to her beliefs. Then in 1992, they all died. The cops found her sobbing uncontrollably over a pile of dead disciples wailing about how it wasn't her fault."

"Did they have proof that she killed them?" Methos asked curiously.

"Oh yes. Poisoned water. Water, I might add, she hadn't drunk herself. Since she's been here, it seems she's always finding something to fuss about. About five years ago she said the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse had reunited and were going to spread plague upon the world."

Methos stiffened in surprise.

"She refused to drink the water, cause it was what carried the evil. I found that highly ironic since she herself used water to kill her own followers."
Methos felt a shiver run up his spine as he remembered how Kronos had planned to contaminate the Bordeaux water supply with his deadly virus. Staying away from this Millie became a priority in his mind.

They came to the central area. Dr. Nyerges made a left heading down to the "C" corridor and Methos turned right. "Got a crisis of my own developing," Methos told the other doctor. "Good luck."

The other doctor kept up his hurried pace. Methos gave a soft sigh of relief as he closed his office door behind him. The room was on the only wing of the hospital that had windows. He was able to gaze out on the rolling lawns of the institution's back yard. Sometimes the scenery soothed him, but this time his mind was in turmoil. Could this woman really know about Kronos and the rest of them, or could it just be a random coincidence?

Absently, Methos dropped several sterile packaged bandages into his satchel and closed it. The clock read eleven, almost time for lunch. He had one more patient to see, then he could join some of the medical staff on the lawn. The security force never seemed to take breaks, or at least they never rested where he could observe them.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

It actually wasn't until two before Methos was able to take his lunch out onto the back lawn. Three nurses sat together discussing the latest movie. Dr. Simcoe was by himself perusing a journal, munching on pretzels. Methos admitted that he too needed to catch up on his reading, but it was a beautiful June day and he wanted to enjoy the sun and birds. He took out his container of yogurt and spoon and began eating.

"Hey, Adams. We could have used your help earlier," Dr. Nyerges propped himself down next to him.

"Really? With Millie?"

"You bet. She is just obsessed with death, as if it were a name not a verb." He shook his head in disbelief. "It took five of us holding her before we could get her still enough to administer an injection. She was afraid that if she slept, death would search her out and kill her."

"How long has this been happening?"

"A week? Maybe longer. Feels like years." He opened his own lunch bag and withdrew a sandwich.

"When did her obsession with the Horsemen go away?"

"That one actually didn't last long. I think she was afraid for about a month, then she said that three were dead and the fourth wouldn't do anything
without his brothers. She was fine, without hallucinations for almost four years. But then it got to be close to the millenium. That's when, she said, 'the demon was going to be loose on the world,' which was what her cult was all about." He paused to take a drink from his soda. "The demon, came to her room and told her about how he was going to destroy the world. She described a red mist and yet none of us saw it. It was one wild hallucination."

"Red mist?" Despite the warm rays of the sun, Methos could feel the chills run down his back. First the Four Horsemen and now Ahriman? Even the time frame seemed to fit.

"That's what she said. I was in the freaking room with her as she described the mist and how it coalesced into a male form with blue paint and wild dark hair. I didn't see or feel a thing. No cold drafts. That's what everyone says you feel when a ghost is around."

"How long did this go on?" Instead of curiosity, Methos' voice echoed the dread he felt.

"A very long time--over a year. At first she said the Champion was trying to fight the demon, but then the Champion disappeared. That was when her fear took over her life. I think she spent the year sedated. Sometimes we had to strap her to the bed." He stopped talking and concentrated on his lunch.

Methos had lost all his appetite. "Did the Champion ever show up?" Methos knew the answer to that one. Duncan MacLeod had spent a year at a Buddhist monastery, where he discovered inner peace, which was how he defeated the demon called Ahriman.

"Don't know," Dr. Nyerges replied. "One day she just stopped praying and never mentioned it again." He laughed to himself, "At least none of us asked
her."

Methos sat back and stared into the horizon. The lawn branched out for several acres and trees dotted the perimeter. He let his mind assimilate what Millie had been going through, realizing that her insanity had somehow tapped into another realm. Or possibly her sensitivity had caused her insanity. It was something Alex would have to fight for the rest of her life, he mused. Most sentinels were tapped in some way into the spirit world. Hopefully his tutelage would give her an edge and prevent her, in the future, from slipping into madness.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

That evening Methos drove his Toyota 4Runner into Cascade and pulled into the realtor's office. He had been looking at property up in the mountains--very far from civilization. Alex would need the isolation to come to terms with who she was. One parcel of land contained a log cabin, no central heat or running water. It was over five hundred acres in size and situated at the top of a mountain. Even in the summer the temperature probably never reached past sixty-five degrees. It was perfect for his plans.

After signing the purchase agreement, he left the office and returned to his vehicle. He longed to drive down to Seacouver and sit at Joe's, nursing several beers as MacLeod and Joe discussed the finer points of--well just about anything. Then Dawson would get up on stage and play his guitar, wailing blues notes that made one want to cry for lost loves, lost memories and even lost money. The land he just purchased had cost him a great deal. However, this wasn't possible. Joe had bought a new bar in Paris and MacLeod appeared pretty comfortable in his old barge.

Once back to his apartment, he pulled out an old journal. It was written in Latin. It was a copy, one that he had made back in the fifteenth century. The original was written on an old scroll that had decayed long ago. That was a major problem of his, having to copy text because of the disintegration of biodegradable writing materials. This copy was at least in book form and easy to transport. What he needed to do was to make a new copy, one in English, so that Alex could read it.

He found some printer paper and sat down to hand write his translation. Later, he'd put it in the computer. In one way, copying old journals was a way to remember his past. This particular entry took place over fifteen hundred years ago, but he hadn't forgotten a minute of what had taken place. Meeting Rezi was one of the most important events that had ever happened to him. How they met was a different story.

My belly was aching for food. I had died three times already and was heartily sick of waking up cold and empty. My sword was not potent enough against rabbits and deer. My traps were unsprung, and there were no fish in the stream. Against my own better wishes, I needed to give up waiting for Claudianus to join me, and move on.

Sitting on the bank devouring the first meal in a fortnight, a woman came to the river to fill some baskets. She was comely, with curves in all the right places. With one hunger filled, I felt another grow within. Silently I crept to her and caught her. She tried to scream, but I pressed my mouth to hers and silenced the noise, then took her as we stood.

In no time, I exploded, relieving the hunger that had stolen over me so quickly. Her eyes were dark with fury. I can't believe I badly hurt her, it just didn't take me that long. I wanted to taste her fire once more, but the urgency was gone. I had all of her life to repeat it, and I wasn't going to let her go. It was an instantaneous fire, which swept me, rare enough that even I recognized it for what it was. She was mine, for the rest of her life. Of course it may take that long for me to tame her, but that didn't matter. She was only a woman.

Her long hair had broken free by my wandering hands, and I spoke gently to her. Her answer was to swear at me in my own language and call me foul names. With her incessant screeching, a new noise came out of the woods. A tall man, with a sword and knife. I flung her to the ground ready to defend her against the newcomer. My own blade was within reach and soon it was up and ready for the attack. She ran to him and he cuddled her into his arms. I flushed with jealousy, for she was mine. Fully knowing that I shouldn't be fighting, filled with such emotion, I fought anyway. As an immortal who had spent thirty five hundred years killing to stay alive, this young mortal was no match for me. I dealt him his deathblow within seconds, then claimed my prize.

She was crying over his body saying many improper things. She told me then that I had condemned her entire village to death. They would be wiped out when the great armies of Coreolus and Rikodius came through. I had to ask why this man's death could influence such great warriors, for I knew both, and my word alone would be enough to stay both their swords and their armies. Then she said that I had killed the guide. Their Sentinel now had no guide and must die the ritual death.

Sentinel? I knew not of what a Sentinel was. So she explained it to me.

Vaguely I remembered something of this from my past. But it was not called a Sentinel. I fought for the recollection, but it eluded me. So I asked why must the Sentinel die without a guide? And she replied that the Sentinel would go mad. A guide was the most important member of the community. While the Sentinel's job was to use his gifts for the good of the village, it was the guide's purpose to interpret what the Sentinel told him and act upon it. His was the strength to temper the terrible gift. I asked her to explain with an example, for I still didn't understand. She said a Sentinel had gifts from God that enabled him to see clearer, hear from a greater distance, and smell more acutely than everyone else. But a Sentinel's mind was not usually as strong, and he needed the stability of the guide to give him balance. Twice already in her lifetime, the Sentinel had warned them of armies and they had escaped the slaughter that came from war. Now they were alone. Without a guide, they were without a Sentinel. Without a Sentinel, they were defenseless.

I wanted this woman badly. I killed her mate so that I could have her. So I pretended to be a guide without a Sentinel. I made up a well-sounding lie, which in her own desperation, she accepted. We returned to the village and I became her brother's guide.

They did not want to accept me. The leader said that for every Sentinel born, there is only one guide. I was not that guide; I could not form the needed bond. I implored them to give me a chance. I would do anything to keep the woman. She would do anything to save her brother, although she hated me. The elders relented, for any chance to hold together the tribe, was worth taking. I know they believed that if I didn't function well as the guide, they would kill me. I might even let them, as long as they did it without taking my head. The one thing I didn't tell them was of my friendship with the warriors they so feared. I couldn't tell them that their brutalities were nothing compared to my own. I wanted them to think of me as a gentle man, a guide, an interpreter of the Gods. But my woman knew what kind of man I was. Every night she fought my possession, and everyday she smiled as if she was happy. I was her brother's only salvation; her village's only hope. If she turned me away, I would leave. I was content here for the first time in three centuries.

Methos put down the pen and stretched his fingers. Even now he could feel Mira's soft skin under his rough fingertips. He shook his head; he was getting away from his objective. He started to write again, but found himself doing more reading than writing. Maybe it was time for a break. He'd tackle this again tomorrow.


Day 2-Tuesday June--

Dr. Adams, wearing yet another pinstripe suit, this time in blue, strode through the halls of the mental hospital on his way to Alex Barnes' room. He had expressly asked that medication should not be administered without his consent and he wanted to see if his orders had been carried out.

They had not been. He opened her door and found her unconscious, sporting a bruise on one cheek and dried blood on her sheets. Fury swept through him and he fought to control it. The lights were blazing, seemingly brighter in her room than in the rest of the asylum. He bent over the bed, caressing her head softly.

"Alex. Can you hear me?" he whispered into her ear.

She stirred, but did not waken. As he turned down the lights he thought, consoling himself, at least the straightjacket was gone. Methos spun on his heels and walked out of the room. His first stop was the nurses' station at the end of the hall.

"Can you tell me who was covering Barnes last night?" he asked, trying to hide his anger.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Adams. She became hysterical around three in the morning. First screaming, then clawing at her legs."

"When was the jacket removed?"

"I don't know. Dr. Madlen came to treat her injuries and he ordered a painkiller. She's been out ever since."

"Does she usually have adverse reactions to medications?"

"Oh yes," the nurse agreed.

"Then don't you think that sedation might be dangerous?" Methos unconsciously let his ire leak though.

"Uh, yes sir," she mumbled, chastised.

He felt bad for taking it out on her. The nurse did not order the meds, Madlen did. "Is Dr. Madlen still in the hospital?"

"No, he left around five, after he was sure that Barnes was out for good. Sometimes, you know," she said in a conspiratory whisper, "she wakes back up and she's worse than before we sedated her."

Methos reined in his temper. He had to get her out of there soon. These bafoons were going to kill her. "Do you have my schedule for today?"

"Yes. You have a group session in another hour in the Morning Room with Cassie," Methos winced at the name, which the nurse didn't seem to notice,
"Maggie, Tom, Vince, and um," she rummage through some scattered papers, "Ernest. They all have identity problems."

"Identity?"

"Low self esteem which has resulted in multiple suicide attempts."

"I didn't know suicide attempts were enough to get you incarcerated in an asylum for the criminally insane."

"It is when you kill family members or friends first."

Dr. Adams nodded. That would do it. With only an hour to check on Alex, he took a deep breath and walked to her cell. His nerve endings were twitching in his need to make sure the fools hadn't over medicated her. It was too bad he wouldn't be able to talk to her. He still hadn't verified if she was a sentinel, but he had to go on the premise that she was, and take it from there. A psychopathic sentinel was not a good thing for society--in any day and age.

Using his keys, he opened the door and felt a large bundle of energy leap at him. With quick reflexes, he threw her off and used his hands and body to imprison her against the wall. "Is that anyway to greet your doctor?" Methos asked through gritted teeth. She had either been faking her unconsciousness before, or come out of very fast.

She writhed, but was unable to loosen his hold on her. "For a desk potato, you are in remarkable shape." Alex's breaths came in gasps.

"I heard what a firebrand you were and decided that I needed to be tough in order to keep up with you." He pushed her more firmly into the wall. "I will always be stronger," he told her softly with a deadly glint in his eye.

She acknowledged his comment and he let her go. With a toss of her head, which sent her hair flying in all directions, she sashayed back to her bed.

"Your timing was excellent as I came into the room," he told her casually as he locked the door and took a seat. He directed his gaze into her eyes. "Have you done this before?"

"Jumped the doctors? Every chance I get. I prefer to be alone. Useless chatter is not going to help me."

"What will?"

"Getting me outta here. Can you do that?"

Methos let a slow smile cross his face. "Maybe. First, though, you have to cooperate."

Her eyes narrowed in the way he was becoming increasingly familiar with. Was it suspicion or calculation? "What hoops do I have to go though?"

"I need the truth. I don't care how much it embarrasses you or makes you feel uncomfortable. I don't care if your first instinct is to lie. I demand honesty. As long as I get that from you, I am your friend and will help you out of this mess you find yourself in."

"I'm not in a mess."

"I'd call being locked up in a psyche ward for the criminally insane--a mess."

"So, what ya want to know?" she responded, subdued.

"First, I'd like to know your real name. I read the charts that Alex Barnes is an alias, as is Alicia Bannister."

"Is this the trust thing, or do you have a purpose behind the question?"

"Both." He decided not to elaborate.

"No. Where I came from, the families didn't want a permanent record of my presence."

Methos didn't say anything more and waited. Alex shuffled a bit, eyed the door as if wondering if she could make a run for it, rolled her shoulders, then seemed to give up. "It's Adelaide. That's the name that showed up on a note at the children's home. They gave me the last name of Benson."

The old immortal nodded, glad that she had confided. Her voice had the ring of truth. Maybe he should try for some more information, since she was obviously cooperating. With some finesse he could find out once and for all if she was a Sentinel.

"Exactly what made you get committed? I know the story of the nerve gas and that the Cascade detectives tracked you to Peru. Before I came here, I researched your history thoroughly. What made them think you were insane?"

She seemed to think. Her eyes darted all over the room, obviously uncomfortable with the question. He could see her formulate a lie then decide against it. "The truth. Huh? You really prepared for the truth? I tried to give it when I was first brought here, but they marked it as crazy-talk and gave me numerous brain-washing sessions, trying in vain, I may add, to make me forget or change my story."

"I promise I won't call you crazy," he said softly, with compassion.

"I became overwhelmed down there. I found this temple with magic water."

"A holy spring? I've seen a similar one in Europe."

"This one didn't seem like a spring, but a rectangular pool-- but it wasn't stagnate. I could submerge myself and fly to heaven. It was like my senses were doubled. I was above the earth, yet still felt one with it. I felt its vibrations--kind of like it was breathing all around me. I could hear the water dripping from the jungle canopy, and I mean each little molecule as it fell."

Methos had his proof. She didn't see his satisfied smile as she continued her descriptions of sensory overload--sensory addiction. It was the sentinel test they all were required to take and obviously one she had failed. Part of his mind listened, but the greater portion was making plans. The cabin had to be readied as soon as possible. It probably needed a thorough cleaning, nonperishables stocked in some kind of cupboard, wood and all escape routes closed. It was a daunting amount of work to accomplish in a short time.

She stopped talking, apparently waiting for his "professional" opinion. "You're a Sentinel, obviously without proper control," he told her truthfully.
Her face blanched. She wasn't expecting that answer. Good, he needed to keep her off-balance. "You've heard of this condition before?" Her words vibrated with both fear and hope.

"Yes, I've known a Sentinel or two."

"Like, Ellison?"

This time it was Methos who stiffened in shock. There was another one? "Ellison? I don't know him. Is he a Sentinel you've come across recently?" As soon as the question left his mouth, he knew the answer. Who else but another sentinel could track her in the jungle and have the ability to capture her.

"He's the one who caught and arrested me." Her voice dripped with disgust and Methos was surprised at the sense of betrayal that also resonated there.

"Does he visit you here?"

"No! I'd refuse to see him if he did."

Methos didn't like her vehemence--too much emotion in it--but there was little he could do about it now. This was something they would have to discuss in depth, once they got up to the cabin. "I have to see other patients now. I promise we'll talk later."

"Am I gonna get to have shrinking sessions like the others?"

Methos smiled. "I don't think so." You won't be here long enough, he thought to himself.

Later that evening, Methos sat at his computer making lists of everything he needed to complete before he could remove Alex from the institution. His goal was to get her away from civilization. They needed to live primitively where money had little value and survival was everything. He would take every opportunity to instill in her the cultural importance of her gifts and the moral integrity she would need to possess in order to keep her sanity. How much time they would need depended on her willingness to learn. It might take a year or ten. He would not let her back into society until he was sure that she had been rehabilitated and would be able to function normally. In essence, he was taking a student--just not an immortal one.

Before bed, he took out an old Army duffel and unzipped it. From his satchel that he took regularly to work he withdrew several sterile bandages and a bottle of penicillin and added it to his collection of first aid supplies. There were no doctors but him up in the mountains. He had to be prepared for every contingency--including Alex getting hurt.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Detective Jim Ellison and his partner Blair Sandburg left the bullpen on their way to question a suspect. It had been grueling day--unfortunately it was only half over. When he had arrived in the morning, the first thing on his agenda was to explain to the Captain why he had managed to wreck yet another departmental car during a high-speed chase. Then there was the mountain of paperwork waiting for him on his desk. Now, the two detectives had to help Rafe administer a polygraph test to a suspect. Jim felt used and abused. It wasn't his fault that the person they were chasing lost control and slammed into a parked bus and that they were so close he didn't have time to stop as they rounded the corner. His punishment was babysitting a heart monitor and using his senses to augment the device.

"Jim, you with us?"

Jim jerked back to awareness and realized he had walked past the polygraph room. He turned into his partner's worried face. "I'm fine," he responded curtly.

"You getting enough sleep?" Sandburg asked, relentless in his bugging-the-truth out of him.

"We'll talk about this later," Jim replied and then opened the door, forestalling any further comment.

Later in the evening, after dinner had been cleared away, Jim sat back on the couch with his eyes closed and feet stretched out in front of him. He pushed all thoughts away, letting the soft sounds of Blair rummaging around in his room sooth his tattered nerves. Several minutes or hours went by before Blair joined him in the living room.

"Tell me what's going on?" Sandburg asked, concern etched on his face.

"I've been having dreams," Jim admitted wearily. "Most of the time I can't remember what they're about; all I remember is the fear."

"Is it something to do with Peru or your family? Maybe one of the cases we're working on? You know your senses might have picked up on something that your mind is trying to decipher."

"I'm seeing a spotted cat," Jim blurted.

"You mean like the, uh, spirit animal of, uh, *her*?"

"Yeah."

"Have you called the hospital? Maybe she's escaped?"

"I did and she's there, nothing is out of the ordinary. She pinned a new doctor against the wall today, now she's back in a straight jacket." Jim sounded tired, even to himself. He didn't need to have to deal with Alex Barnes again.

"Let's go back to your dreams." Sandburg requested. "What can you remember about them? Is the cat pacing? Is it doing something?"

"It's just sitting there, as if waiting for something. I can see shadows, but nothing with form. Her cat also sees the shadow but is ignoring it or knows what it is. The tail flicks back and forth, but otherwise it's immobile."

"Creepy."

"You're telling me. I'm the one that sees it over and over again."

The men sat in silence. Jim leaned back on the sofa and rubbed his eyes. How long had these dreams been occurring? He didn't know. Mostly they stayed in his subconscious until the next one happened. Then he remembered seeing the cat, again. Assured that Alex was still at the insane asylum, he had to wait and see if his dreams revealed anything else.


Day 3-Wednesday June--

Methos left the institute that night with the next two days off. He decided to start work up at his new cabin. The mountainous road was reported to be steep and impassable in spots. His plan was to drive as close as the terrain would allow and then hike the rest of the way, carrying as many supplies as possible. On the way back to his apartment, he stopped at Home Depot and bought some equipment. Next he stopped at the grocery store for a stockpile of non-perishables and lots of salt. He spent the night at his apartment, having decided that navigating the county roads, not to mention the dark mountainous paths was too dangerous in the dark.

The next day, he was up and the Toyota was packed by four in the morning. He drove through the city, watching the sunrise in his rearview mirror. Breakfast consisted of four orange juices and an Egg McMuffin, eaten while he was driving. It might be his last taste of grease for a couple of days. In fact, eating wasn't going to be high on his priority list. Getting the cabin and surrounding grounds ready for himself and Alex to live-in was at the top.
He was pleasantly surprised to find that the dirt path was wide enough for his SUV and he managed to get within five miles before he had to stop. Filling a backpack with the canned goods, and carrying a bucket filled with rags and soap, an ax, and a shotgun, he debated the wisdom of leaving his sword for another trip. An overabundance of caution, made him retrieve the blade, although it seemed almost superfluous considering the ax. He never liked fighting with that type of blade, it was more suited to Silas-heavy, sluggish, but deadly.

The trail to the cabin was rugged and difficult to follow. It might have been impossible if not for the white disks nailed to the trees. Methos made a mental note to remove the disks after he memorized the path. One of the things he needed to do was to erase any outward signs Alex might be able to follow in an attempt to escape. To get to the cabin, the map showed three separate bridges over flowing streams. He intended on destroying each of them to also further ensure their solitude. One, however, was a suspension bridge at least two hundred feet over a deep ravine with a river coursing at the bottom. Methos mused that there might be fish for them if he could ever persuade Alex of the benefit of fresh trout.

By noon, he had safely arrived at the lodge. It was quaint, as the real estate agent had led him to believe. It had only one room, with two fireplaces on opposite sides. Beside one, was a semblance of a kitchen, with a sink, and many cupboards. Inside one, he found cast iron pots and a frying pan. The rest were empty--no utensils, nor serving ware. He'd have to lug them up himself. One set for each of them should suffice.

Unloading the backpack, he placed it back over his shoulders and began the trek back to the 4Runner for another load. It was going to take awhile to
move all of his necessities to the remote cabin. He considered dragging MacLeod over to the States to help lug the supplies through the forested trail, but his sense of privacy won out. He didn't really want anyone knowing about his new student. They wouldn't understand his techniques and he needed isolation in order to get through to Alex. The Boy Scout/clan leader might take exception to the way he taught. Students were different in their needs and Alex needed a total refit.

The trip to the SUV didn't take as long since he now knew the route. He packed the backpack with more supplies and even included a few books. The heaviest of the load included a jug of kerosene for a lantern. Calculating the amount of light left to him, Methos hoped to get one more trip before sunset. He intended on spending the night in the cabin, cleaning some and returning to Cascade the next evening.

Methos leaned against the door jam, watching twilight descend over the mountain. He was satisfied with all the work he had accomplished today toward his ultimate goal. The trees cast long shadows across the clearing in front of the cabin. It was a peaceful calm, one he relished after living in the city for these past few years. Why couldn't MacLeod have retired to Glenfinnin for a decade or two? That would have made his life infinitely easier.

With a sigh, he turned and went back inside the almost dark cabin and lit one of the lanterns he had brought. Methos carried it over to a freshly cleaned table, where his journal of Rezi sat besides some paper and pen. He picked up the pen and began writing, mostly from memory, but taking the occasional quick glance onto the faded sheets of the journal.

Rezi and I returned with the other warriors with three stags. The women went to work skinning and then salting the meat. It was not a large amount of food, but it would last the clan at least a week. One gutted stag was put immediately on a spit for roasting. The hot summer day had taken its toll on the warriors, turned huntsmen, in the time of need. We bathed in the stream and collapsed in shade of the oak tree.

I looked among the women for Mira. She was busy pulling the skin off one of the deer. Her glances never went my way. This was a welcome relief. While her glances were one thing, her vitriolic tongue was another. I had no stamina to put up with it today.

When had I lost my patience? I don't recall. Her jealousy came on so slowly that I didn't recognize it for what it was. Her constant nagging that I was spending more time with her brother than her, merely irritated me and induced me to spend even more time with him. Because I had originally joined the tribe to be with her, she believed that her allures would keep me bound tightly to her.

One main source of contention was her lack of children. She rightfully blamed me for her barrenness, not because I didn't bed her, but because I had no seed to sow. Without children to occupy her, what her life was missing did.

Methos reread what he had written. Alex didn't need to know this. He needed to show her how a sentinel and his guide were two souls joined together for the good of the tribe or clan and each other. He shuffled back in the journal. Mira wasn't even mentioned in these parts, just him and Rezi, working as one.

We sat upon the banks of the river. I had much to contemplate and was happy that my sentinel was engaged in another activity. Rezi watched the sunlight flickering off the backs of the fish as they swam past. His spear was ready to strike when one big enough to pass his mental scales went under the spear's shadow. I had a net in my hand with five flapping inside ready to be dinner. I was able to do nothing but think and hold the net ready for another offering.

We had been gone most of the day, wandering the hillside, talking about life and things. I knew very little about being a guide. His former one was a man he didn't feel comfortable with, so they hadn't done much together. They had been paired for two years, yet Rezi confided in me that he was more content after being in my presence during the first week than with Mira's first mate in those two years. I asked if it was common for sentinel and guide to share families by one marrying into the other and he said that it only sometimes happened.

When we had been walking, talking about my previous life, in which I told him very little, he stopped suddenly at the top of a hill and stared at my feet. I asked him what it was that he saw. I thought he was going to mention a colorful bug or a coin, but much to my surprise he said a lion was standing at my side.

A lion? Rezi seemed to go into a trance, still staring at my feet, but not hearing me as I talked. Did he have a poison coursing through his body? I drew my sword, ready for an unseen foe to jump out at us, now that the sentinel was incapacitated. No one appeared.

I felt a hand upon my shoulder and knew it was Rezi's. He explained that the lion had been talking to him. There was no danger and I could put my sword away. I was much relieved about the lack of enemy, but more fearful about the conversation he said he had with the lion. I have seen many lions in my travels and none could talk.

We sat on the hilltop and he told me of spirit animals who were there to guide us. Sometimes they told us things that were important to the tribe, but other times they just helped us see ourselves better. Rezi said that the lion told him that I was his true guide. The spirits were working though me when they made me come near the village.

I shuddered. These are bloodthirsty spirits if they made me kill Mira's husband. Rezi said that they did not make me kill; it was my blind need that could not find a source so I mentally attributed it to lust. My sentinel was always trying to find the good in me. I let him.

Methos dropped the pen and flexed his hand. He missed the computer. Rereading what he had written, he found himself pleased. This was more what
Alex should read about him.

We returned to the village, carrying twenty large fish, enough to add to the general pool of food. Mira screamed at me as I entered our hut. I had been gone all day and she had specifically made me a new tunic that I needed to try on. I offered her my body, but she declined, saying that it was too dark to do any more sewing. I placed my shared of the cleaned fish on the table and proceeded to season it for cooking. She sulked as she pulled the fresh bread from the earthen oven. After filling my belly, I offered my body once again, untying the strings to her dress. She submitted, but didn't get any enjoyment from the experience. Her eyes were cold and her words more so. I believe that the only reason she didn't complain was the wish for babies--ones I'd never be able to give her.

As I rolled off of her, she turned her back, sliding a blanket between her legs to soak up the aftermath of my desire. I felt chilled by her rejection and got off the bed and went to find Rezi. He always welcomed my company. Even when he was asleep and I walked into his hut, his face would relax into a half-smile. I went there now and he was just getting ready for bed. I had a pallet by the fire that he dragged out for me when I needed an escape from my own home. I think I too felt more relaxed when sleeping in Rezi's home rather than my own.

Methos again stopped to stretch his hand. Why did he keep straying to Mira as the subject matter? Did he regret what he had put her through? Not really. She had been a shrew. But this again, not what he wanted Alex to read. The lion part was good, but not his marriage problems. That piece of paper was balled up and stuffed in his pocket. Picking up the journal, he flipped some pages. Where was an example of him and Rezi working as a coordinated team?

The clan decided that a raid was needed on a neighboring tribe. We needed more wool and the tribe to the northwest of us had a glut of sheep. Rezi and I were called in to help plan the attack. They knew nothing of my skills and I offered very little in the way of suggestions. I both dreaded the raid and eagerly anticipated it. I was born to plunder and this would be my first chance in a score of years.

Our cover would be darkness. We rode horses and dark cowls over our shoulders. Rezi and I were in the lead. He had to listen for anyone who might hear our arrival and the warriors would make sure they didn't live to tell anyone of it. When we came close, Rezi and I dismounted and walked leading the horses. I had one hand on his shoulder, another holding the reins. Rezi didn't think about my hand's presence, but I had noticed that it helped him concentrate on the chore at hand. If he thought about it at all, he would believe I needed to be guided in the dark.

We came silently upon our neighbors, asleep. One guard was standing vigil and I released him from his earthly bonds. I received a scolding look from the clan leader, which I pretended not to see. We slipped in, took a hundred head of sheep and slipped away once more. As the sheep left their confines, many started bleating. Some warriors were chosen to stay behind and cover our retreat, while Rezi and I led the others to home. We arrived at dawn and there was much celebration. I basked in the approval given by everyone. But Mira was nowhere to be seen.

Methos scratched out the last sentence. A yawn overtook him as he reread what was on the paper. It was enough for one night. Folding his arms on the table, he dropped his head and fell asleep with the lantern still blazing and papers strewn all around him.


Day 6-Saturday, Jun

Feeling sore from the physical activity, but rejuvenated, Methos returned to work. His first stop was his office to find out his schedule for the day. Next he went directly to Alex's room. He was curious as to whether his request that they keep the straight jacket off would be followed. So far, he hadn't had much luck with his recommendations. He didn't dare do anything more and thus call attention to his special interest in Alex.

She was sitting up in bed with a tray of breakfast on her lap. He used his key and entered her room. Her eyes never left her food, but he knew she was aware of exactly who had come in. A sentinel would have identified him before he even got to the door. She might even know when he entered the building. That might be an interesting fact to learn.

"Good morning, Alex."

"Where have you been?" she asked, while tearing small pieces of crust off the toast.

"I had a weekend off. I chose to spend it up in the mountains. Do you like nature?"

"Not particularly," she responded belligerently.

Methos ignored her moodiness. "I guess you missed me."

She grunted and continued picking at the food. "I had something I wanted to talk to you about yesterday," she commented, with feigned indifference.

"What about?"

"I had a dream. Do you have dreams? Sandburg said that dreams that have my spirit animal in them are trying to tell me something and I should always listen to them. But I can't tell what this dream meant."

"Tell me about them," Methos instructed in his best psychologist's voice.

"My animal is a spotted cat, like a leopard or jaguar."

"This cat was in your dream?"

"Yeah, he was fighting this lion."

Methos sat up straighter in his chair. "Tell me more."

"I was killing this lion, ripping his gut open and then watching him bleed on the ground."

"Why do you think you wanted this lion dead?"

"I don't know!" she cried out. "But the lion didn't stay dead. I'd kill him and then look away. When I looked back the lion was standing as if he hadn't been dead. I must have killed him six or seven times."

"Did the lion fight back?"

"No. He, or I guess it was a she, just stood there, letting me kill it and then it would come back to life."

"Did you see it come back to life or was it dead in one second and then alive the next?"

"What difference does it matter? I don't know," Alex replied distraught. "But, what does it mean?"

Methos took a calming breath. "Maybe it means that you're fighting a battle that you can't win. The cats are symbolic. The spotted animal is a representation of you."

"I know that, but who's the lion?"

Methos internally debated the wisdom of telling her the truth and then decided against it. It was too soon. "I don't know. An authoritarian figure?"

"No. This lion is a particular person."

"Okay. Is it the other Sentinel, Detective Ellison?" Methos questioned, pretending ignorance. He was relatively sure she'd recognize that particular spirit animal, especially since Ellison had been hunting her down in Peru.

"No, *he's* a black jaguar. And believe me, he was never that passive. This lion just lets me kill it over and over," she responded, sounding perplexed at the lion's actions or rather inaction. "Jim would fight 'til his dying breath."

"Have you had any other Sentinel dreams?"

"Just the usual. Ellison's cat and Sandburg's wolf, both berating me for trying to kill them."

"Do you regret you past actions?"

"Would I do the same thing over again? I don't know. I'd probably try harder to avoid Jim and not take him to the water. I wanted to share the wonder with him and he refused to go in. I forced him."

Methos was appalled. "You forced another sentinel into the holy water?"

"I wanted him to experience what I was experiencing-to understand me better. But he was too close-minded."

"He must have sensed that experiencing the holy water was a private thing, not to be shared. Every sentinel sees something different. It's a way of cleansing the soul, being reborn into your spiritual self. You degraded the ritual."

Methos stood up, afraid that he wouldn't be able to control his disgust. She didn't need to see it. Her soul was fragile enough without him damaging it by accident.

She must have sensed his mood. "You can't condemn me unless you've experienced the water yourself."

"I *have* experienced a similar holy spring in Europe," he told her ruthlessly. "It has powers we as humans can only begin to understand. I sat on the side of the pool and could feel the power radiating up, but was too afraid to enter. My soul was too evil and I was afraid I'd be rejected, cast out--dead!"

He didn't look at her, but opened the door and left her room. His hands were shaking and he prayed the walk to his office would be made without witnesses to his agitation.

By lunchtime he had recovered his composure enough to join Dr. Nyerges on the back lawn.

"Hey, heard from Dr. Madlen that Barnes jumped you on Wednesday."

"Jumped me?" Methos was confused.

"Yeah, before your two day break, when you went to see her, she leaped on you as you came into her room."

"How did you hear that?"

"She told Madlen, and sounded proud of it. Seems that your leaving really pissed her off. I guess you'd better check in with her next time you decide to have a weekend," he joked, "and make sure that it's okay with her."

"We'll have to discuss her aggressiveness."

"How about scheduling a lobotomy. It might work better."

Didn't anyone at the hospital feel anything but contempt for her? How could they hope to treat her mind if they were so outwardly hostile? "I think I'm going to take a walk. I was a little too active this weekend and my poor muscles are stiffening up. Care to join me?" Methos hoped for a decline and was disappointed to find his suggestion eagerly accepted.

His lunch bag contained only a bag a Ritz crackers and some cheese. He munched on them as they set off across the lawn. There was a path that led around landscaped gardens. The first burn contained tulips and daffodils and they were all past peak. The second had rose bushes with white limestone rocks covering the dirt. Everything was expertly crafted and well taken care of. In the distance, the rolling lawn ended at a line of tall pine trees.

"Is there a fence beyond those trees?" Methos nonchalantly asked his companion, as he chewed on his crackers.

"Yep, and it's electric. Enough to send you flying off your feet if you touch it."

Methos nodded. "What's on the other side of the fence?"

"I think it's a mall or plaza or something like that. I've never checked it out. Why you so curious?" Dr. Nyerges looked at him with suspicion.

"Sometimes we forget that this institution is a prison because of the hospital atmosphere. I see very few guards and I'm just wondering how secure this place is if something was to happen."

"Believe me, it's secure. Barnes has tried twice to escape and both times didn't even get out of the building. There is no way in hell any of the inmates can get as far as the electric fence," the doctor assured Methos.

Methos nodded, playing his part, but inwardly he was calculating the possibilities. She'd have to get out on her own. He'd position himself so that she ran into him and have no choice but to accept his aid. It would be much more difficult for him to smuggle her out.


Day 8-Monday, June--

Methos had drawn the second shift for the week. He was pleased, hoping it meant that he was trusted to work alone without any of the other psychologists keeping tabs on him. Before going to work, he made yet another shopping trip. There were just so many supplies he needed to get up to the cabin. After debating with himself all weekend, he decided to go ahead and buy a small cart. He wasn't sure if he could get it across the suspension bridge, but the thought of having to build one later this summer didn't thrill him. If he was able to get it over the narrow bridge, it would make his trips that much easier.

Leaving his apartment relatively early, he made it to Wal-Mart just as it opened. Armed with a list, he pushed his shopping cart down the aisles, tossing stuff inside as he mentally checked off each item. A metal pipe cutter was first to go in. Next, a large Bowie knife, several pairs of work gloves, rope and a package of burlap bags and so on. With just the cart to find, he went to the gardening section, which was alongside the camping area.

There were two men arguing. Methos didn't know why they caught his attention, but he found himself watching them. There had to have been close to a ten-year gap between them. One was tall with a short haircut and the tell-tale military posture. He had an aura of command that seemed to come as natural to him as breathing. The other man, who looked younger, had long curly hair, reminiscent of the sixties, and the posture of a devil-may-care hippy that had been so popular back then. He thought back fondly on those times. The two men looked as mismatched as any two pair could be. What made the scene intriguing was the fact that the long-haired man was yelling loudly at the military man without restraint.

"It was not my fault the tent leaked!" the younger man ranted.

"Chief, you strung the tarp over the tent and let them touch."

"I didn't *let* them touch. How was I supposed to know that I had to play chaperone to canvas tarp and a nylon tent?" He paused for breath. "I didn't know that knots loosen in the rain."

The older man shook his head in exasperation. "The rope didn't loosen, the tarp got heavier and sunk."

"Whatever."

Methos let a smile crease his face. They had to be brothers. He bent over to turn over a price tag, when the younger man's frantic voice reached him.

"Jim. Jim! What's going on? Come on, look at me."

"Shush."

"What? You hear something?"

"No. I see a lion."

"Where?"

Methos kept his head below, feeling his blood pounding through his veins.

"It's just sitting there in the aisle."

"I don't see it."

"I know."

"What do you think it means?"

"Remember when I saw the spotted jaguar at the convenient store and that was before you had made contact with Alex Barnes?"

"You think we've got another Sentinel around? It would explain your edginess."

"I don't know. I don't get the same feeling of hostility or dread with this cat. She's just sitting there, looking at me, occasionally blinking her eyes."
Methos peeked around the corner, but couldn't see the cat. He had never seen the spirit animals. Only Rezi had been able to see both the lion and his own red wolf. Carefully he backed up, returning to the display of carts, listening hard.

"Is she trying to tell you something?"

"No," he said slowly. "But, I think she was in the dream."

"What dream? The dream with Alex's jaguar?"

"I think the lion is the shadow."

"You don't suppose that Alex is--has--a guide?"

"It's gone. The lion disappeared when you said guide."

"I'm getting shivers, man. I just can't imagine *her* with her senses under control. The destruction that she's capable off is enough to blow my mind."

"I think I need to take a trip to Woodbridge--talk to her doctors--see if anyone has tried to visit her."

"I'll stay home."

"Excuse me, aren't you supposed to be at Winding Creek School this afternoon for D.A.R.E.?"

"Oh, yeah!"

Methos could hear the happiness in his voice. What the hell was dare?

"I've got some cool skits we're going to act out."

"Skits? Aren't you just supposed--"

The words grew softer as the two men walked away toward the front cash register. Methos noticed that the older, military man was carrying two sleeping bags, while the younger was jumping around, waving his hands as he explained the skits. The old immortal couldn't help but like the two men and hoped they wouldn't cross paths in the future. However, with the Sentinel coming to see Alex's doctors, it was unlikely he'd be able to avoid the meeting.

Methos quickly picked out the cart he wanted and took his selections up to the front to be purchased. His mind going over every detail of what he had heard. The two men had to be Detective Jim Ellison and his partner, Blair Sandburg. What a small world it was that they should run into each other at a discount store.

The immortal spent the rest of the morning packing and organizing his latest group of supplies. He had absconded with a bottle of morphine pills and two bottles of Bactrim. From the drug store, he had bought a wide selection of bandages and antiseptic cream. Methos knew that Alex would end up hurting herself in her rush to escape and he wanted to be sure he had all the bases covered. From the grocery store he had bought more canned goods and he was waiting for the call saying that his new hunting rifle was in. He could have bought one off the black market, but he needed to be sure it was in fine working condition. He didn't want to be caught up there without a reliable gun. He had enough new supplies to make another trip.

Glancing at the clock, he was startled to find that he had run out of time. He took a quick shower, dressed in his uniform of a pinstripe suit and left for work. He had to work Monday and Tuesday, Wednesday he had off, and then work Thursday. He'd go up to the cabin Wednesday morning, stay overnight and come back Thursday morning. It was doable. As he pulled into his assigned parking place, he wondered if he had missed the Sentinel detective.

He had just made it to his office door when Dr. Madlen intercepted him.

"Dr. Adams. Could you please join me in the Cranberry Room? Detective Ellison is here and would like to ask you some questions about Alex Barnes."

"Isn't he the detective who arrested her?" Methos asked, staying in character.

"He is."

"I don't think it would be a good idea for me to meet with him. I think I've gained her trust and if I meet with her sworn enemy, she may lose confidence in me as her doctor and then how can I help her?"

"Believe me, Dr. Adams, she'll never know."

Methos didn't know how to answer that. He knew both Sentinels were probably listening in to the conversation and hoped Alex wouldn't hold this against him. The point was moot as Madlen grabbed him by the arm and forcefully escorted him down the hall to the group of conference rooms; each named for the color of the decor.

"Detective, this is Doctor Pierce Adams."

When no further comment was made, Methos realized that the two men had talked extensively about him. "And you are Detective Ellison." Methos flashed Madlen a look of annoyance, hoping that both men would interpret it as a response to the other doctor's bad manners.

The detective stood and they shook hands. Ellison began, "I'd like to ask you some questions about your patient."

"I'm sorry I can't answer very much. You understand--patient/doctor confidentiality."

"Dr. Adams. This is a unique case. Detective Ellison has full rights to know what is going on."

"I beg to differ, doctor. He's not family. He's not married to my patient and even then I don't think I'd divulge anything she told me in trust." Methos turned to Ellison, keeping a benign expression. "What is it you want to know?"

"Has she had visitors recently?"

"I haven't authorized anyone in to see her," Methos answered truthfully.

"Has she mentioned any strange dreams?"

"Yes. Her dreams are vivid and generally quite violent. We're dealing with them." Methos paused and smiled. "I believe they feature you quite often."
Ellison stiffened and looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Can you give me any specifics?"

"No, I cannot." Methos was glad that he hadn't written any of them down. He wouldn't put it past Madlen to have gone through his notes.

Madlen confirmed his suspicions when he added, "Do you document everything she says?"

"Anything important." Methos knew the consequence of not telling the truth with a human lie detector sitting in front of him.

"Has she spoken of a lion?"

Damn the man was direct. "I believe," Methos answered, "that she is very afraid of this 'lion'."

"What lion?" Madlen interrupted. "I don't understand."

Ellison ignored the outburst. "Does she say why she's afraid of it?"

Methos thought about it. Maybe he'd give Ellison a tidbit. It would really puzzle him since he believed the lion was Alex's guide. "Actually, she wants it dead."

Ellison's eyes widened. It *had* clearly shocked him. Good. "Has she mentioned anything else?" he asked.

Methos ignored the question. "Since you know about the lion, possibly you could tell me what the animal signifies? I seem to be at a loss." He hoped Ellison would his interpret his increased heartbeat for excitement, and not a lie, if indeed his heart had sped up.

Methos felt Ellison's intense stare. It felt like the detective was trying to read his mind--it was rather unnerving. Methos purposely wore his most bland expression, hoping it would ease any suspicions on Ellison's part.

"I don't know who the lion represents," Ellison finally answered, reluctantly.

"Possibly Miss Barnes will be able to tell me, when she herself discovers the truth. The mind is a wondrous thing. It only reveals facts when it thinks we are able to handle them. And never before. Self-protective, I would say."

Ellison snorted. After a last look at Methos, the detective rose to his feet. "I think I've learned all that I'm going to."

Methos admired his choice of words.

"Please contact me if you learn anything else. If Alex does tell you who the lion is, he or she might be in need of protection."

"I think," Methos remarked slyly, "that we have an adequate police presence here. It is after all--a prison."

Ellison flashed him a glare then shook Dr. Madlen's hand. "Thank you, Doctor, for your time."

"Anytime, Detective. I'm glad to be of help."

Methos slowly rose to his feet. "It was nice meeting you, Detective Ellison. I'm sure we'll talk again."

"Riiight," Ellison drawled as he left the room.

"There was no cause for your impudence," Madlen chastised as soon as Ellison had closed the door.

Methos tried to act contrite. "I'm sorry, sir, but I felt like he was denigrating our fine institution."

"I don't think that was his meaning at all. He only wants to help."

"I stand corrected." Methos wanted to get out of the conference room and witness the detective's departure before he went in to talk to Alex. The last thing he wanted was to be overheard. "When I see him again, I will contrive to be more courteous. Is there anything else you need to see me about?"

"No, you can go."

Without wasting a second, Methos was out of the door heading to the front entrance. He peeked out of the front vestibule window and saw the detective get into his truck. It appeared that he was truly leaving the institution. It was time to face Alex, despite the scent of the rival sentinel on his person. Methos was curious to see how Alex would handle it. Was her control strong enough to hold in her rage and jealousy?

His first stop was his office where he took off his jacket and picked up his clipboard and folders. It was always good to appear as if he was taking notes on Alex's condition, when in fact he had put nothing of relevance into her case files.

Taking the circuitous path of hallways that led to his main patient's padded cell, he had to pass the intersection with the "C" hallway. Shrieks echoed from an open room. Almost against his will, his feet made him turn and investigate.

"A Horseman is alive," the shrill voice announced. "Sword and famine! Wild beasts and plague! He will kill all men and animals! There is no hope for the world!"

There were some mumbling and then a scream. Slowly the scream's intensity lessened and silence overtook the hallway. Abruptly he turned and walked quickly back to junction of hallways and continued to Alex's room. He regretted his lack of composure, but he almost seemed to need Alex's condemnation in order to regain his sense of self.

He paused and took a deep breath, readying himself for an attack, either verbal of physical, then slid the door open. Much to his surprise, Alex was seated on her bed, uncuffed, no straight jacket and looking quite unperturbed.

"Millie's insane remarks have upset you," she commented with curiosity. "Your heart rate is through the roof. Your pits are sweating so much that I could smell it before you opened the door. Yet, your entire conversation with *him* didn't faze you in the least." She looked at Methos quizzically.

"I sympathized with her predicament. She knows things that people disregard as lunatic ramblings. She's scared for the world." It was the best explanation he could come up with that was part truth.

"Why did you say I was afraid of the lion?" Her eyes flashed her annoyance.

"I wanted to make him think."

"About what?"

"He sees this lion and believes it to be your guide," he informed her simply. "I replaced that idea with something else."

"Another rival?" she smiled. "Interesting," she added as the implication sunk in.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jim Ellison came home to an empty loft. Blair was undoubtedly still at Winding Creek Elementary School. He had been drafted to represent Major Crime this year as the D.A.R.E. policeman. Each department was responsible for one of the city schools and the different officers took turns fulfilling the obligation to the community. Blair was the natural choice considering his aptitude for teaching. Unfortunately, he took his duties very seriously, often staying longer and putting much more detail and thought than officers did in the previous years. He was going to be a tough act to follow, unless they could talk him into doing on a permanent basis.

Slipping his shoes off, he decided to take a little snooze on the couch until his partner got home. After all, it was Blair's turn to cook. Leaning his head back on the small square pillow, he let his thoughts wander back to the conversation with Dr. Adams. On the surface, everything was fine. Yet, the hairs stood up on the back of his neck during the entire meeting. His instincts were screaming at him to be careful of this man--the good doctor wasn't what he seemed. Jim couldn't put his finger on what had aroused his suspicions, but his internal radar was binging loudly.

Stifling a yawn, he thought back to the man's physiological responses to his questions. Not once had he shown any sign of fabrication. His heart rate had remained constant. Adams had no problems looking at him straight in the eye without flinching. For Jim, that was a rarity, even among the innocent. It showed that Adams had no fear of him. Fear. Lion. Alex Barnes was afraid of the lion--wanted it dead. Eyes drifted shut.

An open field replaced the loft. High grasses swayed as the breeze caught the seed tips. Jim was in the grass, yet he didn't have a body. It was more like he was the breeze, a spirit witnessing nature. As the gold stalks moved in a slow rhythm, a blonde cat became visible and then vanished. As his sight became clearer, he recognized the cat as a female African lion. She was lying on her side with her head up and eyes closed, dozing in the sun.

A movement off to the side caught Jim's attention. The lion's ears flicked once in the same direction, yet she showed no alarm. Another cat, whose spots stood out more in the light colored surroundings, was stalking the lion. Jim tried to warn the lion, but no sound emerged from his brain. He was trapped in the scene as it played out before him. The other cat leaped onto the lion, forcing her onto her back. With a snarl of frustration, not triumph, the hunter began ripping open the belly of the lion as she lay passive. Blood poured out of the numerous wounds and still the jaguar didn't stop. The lion's massive head fell to the ground and Jim could tell that she was dead. The spotted cat backed off and stood watching the dead lion. Jim again tried to get in closer, but his dream wouldn't allow it. His consciousness stared with hate upon the jaguar, when suddenly it howled. It sounded like a screech from hell. The lion suddenly stood, shook herself and slowly padded away. The jaguar didn't follow.

"Jim! Wake up."

"NO!"

"Jim, it's me. Come on, you're having some weird dream. Come back."

The grasses dissolved before his eyes and the loft, with its artificial lights and aroma of grilled steak, greeted his senses. He blinked a couple of times, then bolted up. "My God, what a dream!"

"What happened? Was it a Sentinel dream?"

"Yeah." Jim looked at Blair and saw the concern however much it was coupled with curiosity. "It was about the lion." He described his conversation with Dr. Adams; how he had mentioned that Alex was afraid of the lion and then took him step by step through the dream.

"You mean the spotted cat actually killed the lion. I don't understand, I thought you said it might be the guide."

"That's what I thought. But you should have heard the roar after the attack. It seemed like this was a scene that had replayed over and over. The lion dies and then comes back to life. The spotted cat can't win and the lion knows it. She's not concerned over the attack, practically ignores the approaching jaguar."

"Man this is creepy. A lion that dies and comes back to life? I can see how that would infuriate Alex. Killing is her way of keeping control."

Jim couldn't think of anything to add. His nose twitched as the scent of sizzling meat pervaded his thoughts. "I think I better rescue those steaks before they're nothing but charcoal."

Blair gave an uncomfortable laugh and the lion subject was dropped. Jim didn't really want to talk about it anymore. He needed time to process and find the relevance in it. A nagging feeling told him that the dream contained important information and he had to separate the facts from the symbolism. Sandburg was hopefully doing the same thing.


Day 9-Tuesday, June--

Methos left his apartment early and decided to find the mall whose land adjoined that of the asylum. Grabbing a pair of powerful binoculars, putting on sturdy shoes and a light jacket, he set out for the Creekside mall. After perusing a map the night before, Creekside seemed the obvious choice. The parking lot was relatively empty with only the employee's cars parked on the outskirts of the stores. The policy of close spaces being reserved for patrons fit his plans nicely.

Methos climbed onto the top of the SUV and pulled the binoculars to his eyes. A small creek did run to the south of the mall parking lot. He was now parked on the south side next to the JC Penny store. The road the mall was on was to the east, and a housing track was to the north. That left the south and west for the probable locations for the property line between the asylum and the mall. It was almost impossible to see through the brush surrounding the creek, so Methos hopped off his vehicle and started walking.

Inside the small dense grouping of trees, he followed the creek until he found a way to cross. It wasn't deep, but the water was flowing rapidly. It had the look of a mountain run-off caused by melting snow. On the other side, he quickly walked south of the stream. Before he came out of the trees, he came to a fence. Excitement quickened his pulse. This could be it. He couldn't detect any sign of people having been there. With regret, he reached out and touched the fence. The volts sent him back several feet and left his hand tingling.

Directly on the other side of the fence was nothing but more trees. It was an excellent place for Alex to break out. Withdrawing a knife from his pocket, he cut a mark into one of the trees. Then taking a blue Sharpie, he colored the white bark a bit. This evening, during his dinner, he'd try and find this place hidden in the trees. As he walked the fence line a little further in a westerly direction, he saw a large pine tree, easily topping the others on the asylum's side of the barrier. The branches on the tree went all the way to the ground and offered a wonderful place to hide metal cutters. Methos smiled with satisfaction.

Next stop was into the mall to buy Alex a mountain wardrobe.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Methos walked back to his office and shut the door with relief. A knapsack with the metal cutters was safely buried under the pine tree. The whole operation went off without a hitch. No one appeared to have observed his movements or questioned him as to his actions. He wanted to make one last visit to his patients and then head home to rest before his excursion to the cabin early tomorrow morning.

He poured himself a mug of coffee and headed back out. The central common room was empty. Everything was quiet on the "C" corridor. Something made him pause. A guard stood sentry, but there were no other doctors around. Maybe he should pay Millie a private visit. He knew a meeting was inevitable and doing it on his terms was important.

Using his passkey, he slowly unlocked her door and went in. Her lights were on and she was staring at him intently as he closed the door.

"I've wondered how long you would take to come," she said, sounding confident.

"I wasn't sure how you would react meeting me face to face," Methos responded.

"You're wrong in your self-assessment. All your life you've considered yourself, Death. But, it's not true. You are the Deceiver, the master of half-truths and the art of camouflage. Killing is never your main goal. I don't know *what* you want in this place, but I have no doubt that you will get it."

"What makes you so sure you know me so well?"

"Just because you cannot see your true reflection doesn't mean that God can't. He uses you for His will. Through the ages you have tried to make up for your heinous crimes. God uses that feeling of guilt."

Methos was affronted. "I have no guilt. I may not be proud of my past, but I don't dwell on it."

"That would defeat His purpose. Why do you think you became a doctor? Why not an engineer or farmer?"

"I've been a farmer."

"But only to eat and only because your wives held the farms and you wanted to be with them. Farming is not in your blood. Saving lives is. It is a method of atonement. You prevented the Four Horsemen from starting a worldwide plague. God's judgement has been put on hold because of your sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"

"You saved the Champion at the expense of a Brother. It must have hurt."

Despite Methos knowing that this woman was a true seer, her insights truly scared him. Never had he met such an awesome spirit. "It did," he responded, not trying to hide the pain in his voice.

She snuggled deeper into her covers and closed her eyes. The interview was over. Methos wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. He stared at her for several seconds then turned to go. As he went turned to close the door, he noticed that she was sitting up.

"Do you know the story of the Damoclean sword? Be careful it doesn't happen to you. In your world, true happiness can be perilous."

His heart hammered in his chest. Taking deep breaths, he strived for composure then headed back to his office. The coffee was stone cold. He'd need another cup before facing Alex and trying to explain both his absence the next day, and what had just happened with Millie. Alex would be intrigued at how easily Millie could get under his skin. Methos went back to his office, made a fresh pot of decaf, and shuffled papers on his desk. When the coffee started bubbling out, he stuck his mug under the stream, capturing the concentrated brew. Wishing instead for a bottle of beer, he settled in his chair, taking deep breaths and sips from his mug.

Knowing that he had avoided the excursion long enough, he started once more to see Alex. As always, she knew when he was coming.

She gave a slow smile as he entered. "You've had quite a day," she started.

Wearily, he sank to a chair and waited.

"Our sessions haven't really been designed to help me, but actually to help you. I've been puzzling over it until today." She got up from the bed and walked over to him. Seductively, she slid her hands onto his shoulders and massaged them. "Does that feel good, doctor?"

He moaned in appreciation. His muscles *were* tight.

She bent over and whispered into his ear. "What did you hide under the tree branches?"

He should have known that she'd follow his walk with her uncanny sense of hearing. "Can you tell which tree if you had to find it?"

"Oh, yes," she responded, quietly.

"Fence cutters with rubber handles."

She let her breasts graze the top of his shoulders and she bent once more to whisper. "Did anyone see?"

"I sure hope not." He groaned as she continued her ministrations. It did feel good. The amount of planning and execution was staggering and then to top it off with Millie's revelations, his mind was overloaded. "I have tomorrow off, but I'll be back Thursday. Sit tight until then. I can't help until I'm back in town." He turned and roughly pulled her onto his lap, then whispered in her ear, "You can't get out alone. You've already failed twice."

Her eyes clouded with anger and she squirmed out of his grasp. He let her go--his point made. She made no allusions to Millie.


Day 11-Thursday, June--

Methos entered his apartment and went directly to the shower. He was filthy. The trek up to the mountain had gone as planned and several loads had been deposited to the cabin. The cart was able to get over the narrow suspension bridge and therefore he had been able to accomplish almost twice the cargo. All the clothes and personal items were now there: food and utensils along with tools and a pair of shotguns. Cleaning equipment and kerosene were stocked. Sleeping bags and a pair of mattresses leaned against the wall to the right of the fireplace. Even the medications and first aid supplies were stored in a trunk. Methos found a hiding place for his sword, which he hoped he wouldn't need. Alex must never find it. Everything was ready but the details for her escape.

His shift at Woodbridge started officially at four, but he entered early, hoping to have a few minutes to get settled. Dr. Nyerges was leaning against the nurse's desk and pounced as soon as he walked by.

"Adams!" he called. "You missed another thrilling couple of days."

"Millie up to her old tricks?"

"Yeah, and Barnes tried to escape again."

Methos stopped in his tracks. "She didn't?" he asked in stunned disbelief.

"Since you've been treating her, she's been quite docile. One of the aids went into her room to retrieve her dinner tray and she pounced. It was quite a chase throughout the hospital corridors. I couldn't believe how well she knew them, considering that she has never been out of her cell."

"Except for the other times she tried to escape."

Dr. Nyerges coughed. "Yes. Well. There was Millie chanting in her cell about the four Horsemen and that death rode not a pale horse but a white horse. He was a deceiver and then she'd laugh insanely wondering how many of us were taken in by his cunning disguise. All the while, Barnes is sneaking around the halls looking for a way out of the building."

"Did she get out?"

"Nope. Dr. Madlen had a guard shoot her with a tranq. She went down like a ton of bricks. Serves her right."

Methos felt his breathing slowly return to normal. "Is she conscious yet?"

"Yep, and back in the straight jacket. Her eyes are wild."

Relief was taking a back seat to anger. He had been hoping to make their move Friday night and now the guards would be more alert than ever. "I better go see her," he dismissed the other doctor and heading directly to Alex's room.

Methos schooled his face to reveal nothing. He opened her door and went in. She was sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard, glaring defiantly at him.

He stared directly at her face and slowly let his fury show. "How dare you disrupt my timetable? You are a fool. Not only have you prolonged your stay here by at least a week, I am almost ready to wash my hands of you entirely." He walked up to the bed and leaned over nose-to-nose with her. "It's not my senses that are out of control."

Her eyes didn't drop. She wasn't afraid. This made him even angrier. "You will do nothing further, until I give the order."

"I do not take orders from you, Doctor. I could tell them that you plan on helping me to escape. Which would make anyone think 'why does he want me free'. Do you have some corrupt scheme in mind? Robbery? Murder?"

He backed up from her, disgusted. "I don't need your help to kill," he responded offhandedly. Her eyes widened a bit. "You do anything else to jeopardize things, I will walk out of here and not look back." He hoped the threat would work.

"You going to get me out of this jacket?"

"I don't think so. Is it uncomfortable?"

"Very!"

"Good." He sat down on the chair and opened up his folder. "How are you eyes? Are they dealing with this light?"

"It's no worse than normal."

Methos got up and shined a light into her pupils. "Yes, they seem to be responding normally." He went back to his seat. "How is your sense of smell?"

"I can smell your aftershave, Old Spice, isn't it? I can smell a faint odor of sweat and dirt. You did manual labor on your time off."

"I did and it was refreshing. How about taste?"

"I haven't eaten anything since two nights ago when I got out of this room. First I was unconscious from the drugs and then they called in through the door that no one was willing to come in."

Methos nodded. "I can understand how you got your reputation. You stab everyone one in the back. Is it a reflexive action?" Methos asked rhetorically. "When I first arrived, I was appalled at how you were treated. Now I quite understand."

He let himself feel and show the anger and disappointment, then turned abruptly and left Alex's cell. She needed to be punished. While she wallowed in isolation, he'd make the necessary plans for her escape. The first thing he needed to do was gain access to the floor plans for the institution. Walking out was not an option. Her route would take her through the ventilation system. His job was to locate the best possible tunnel that would fit her and hide her from the guards.

The second thing was to find his set of lockpicks. Amanda had given them to him as a Christmas present several years ago. He had used it only once. They were special because she said they could spring the hardest lock. Even with Alex's keen sense of hearing, her lock would not be forced open easily.

The third thing was to obtain another car--one that wasn't traceable to either Pierce Adams or Adam Pierson. It would have to be nondescript. If by some chance they were seen leaving, no one would connect him with Alex's escape until the next day when he didn't show up for work. His Toyota would be hidden in the mountains where they would never think to look.

As he made his mental checklist, he slowly began to cool off. Nothing really had damaged his plans. Not that he would tell *her* that. It would just be a manner of days before they were both free of civilization. How he longed for the freedom.


Day 15-Monday, June--

Methos leaned against the tree that had his mark scratched into the bark. There was very little light, only a few stray streaks of moonlight were able to penetrate through the leaves. He knew that it should be a matter of minutes before she began cutting the fence, but the time crept by slowly. As soon as she cut through one link, the alarm would sound and her escape would become known.

He glanced at his watch. The illuminated dial read four-thirty. Tick. Tick. A bird began chirping from a branch above him nearly sending him into cardiac arrest. The sun would soon be rising. Tick. Tick. She had better--snap! A twig snapped. Was it her? He heard a rustling and then the sound of the fence bending. Her blond head poked through, followed next by her back and then legs.

"How's my timing?" she whispered, laughing in quiet triumph.

"Not bad. This way." He started jogging toward the parking lot. "That's my car," Methos told her, pointing to an old Honda Accord. The early morning moon illuminated the open area with plenty of light for Methos to see.

Alex's breaths came in quick gasps. She nodded and changed her direction slightly, aiming for the front passenger door.

As they settled inside and buckled their seatbelts, Methos reached into his coat pocket. Her attention was directed outwards.

"Can you hear anything?" he asked, as his fingers surrounded a small dart whose tip had been coated with a mild sedative the night before. The hard airtight plastic container prevented her from smelling its presence.

"Some are almost to the hole in the fence, but the majority are still searching close to the building." She gave a sarcastic laugh. "They probably think I'm looking to steal a car." Her breathing was becoming less labored. Her eyes darted around the Honda. "This isn't your truck," she stated, obviously just realizing it.

"That's right. I wasn't sure if I'd be seen aiding your escape and I didn't want them to be able to track us by my 4Runner." He unobtrusively slipped his hand out from his pocket, leaving the container within.

"And where is the-" her eyes widened in surprise as his hand went to her neck and poked her with the dart. It only took seconds for the drug to take
effect.

"Sorry, Alex," Methos muttered to the sleeping woman. "I couldn't take the chance that you'd try and kill me before we got to the cabin."

He lifted her out of the front seat and placed her supine form across the back seat. The small amount of sedative would only last for fifteen minutes, which should be enough time for him to get back to where he parked the SUV. His medical bag with more of the drug was there. Things had gone pretty well up to this point. He turned on the radio and sang along as he navigated through the streets to where his truck was waiting.

It took only minutes for Methos to pull next to his vehicle. He quickly removed the syringe and injected her with more of the sedative. Her eyes didn't flicker. Having her drugged on the trip up into the mountains was the wisest course. Then he did a methodical search of her person to make sure that she hadn't pirated any weapons during her escape. He found a scalpel and a pair of scissors. Not bad, he thought admiringly. Taking a blanket from the car's floor, he wrapped it around her, carried her to the SUV and slid her onto the backseat with a pillow under her head. Locking the Accord, he returned to the Four-Runner and pulled out of the underground garage. Phase one was now complete. He now eagerly awaited their adventure in the cabin without the usual amenities.

The low traffic volume made the trip uneventful. Two police cruisers sped past at one point, but Methos wasn't worried. They hardly looked in his direction, intent on their destination. He parked his SUV at the usual spot to unload his cargo. The cart hidden in some bushes was his first chore. He scooped the debris out and placed a blanket on the bottom. Next, he gently lifted Alex from the back seat and placed her inside. Satisfied that she was as secure as possible, he went back and took out his backpack filled with more supplies. Methos placed the backpack down next to the cart then went to hide his vehicle. The little dirt road shouldn't be on anyone's map. In effect, it was his private driveway. Hiking back to the cart, he started the arduous journey up the mountain, removing the white discs marking the trail as he went along.

The first obstacle he encountered was the bridge. He crossed it with little difficulty, but then had to destroy it. Using his ax, he chopped the wooden planks into pieces and threw them into the running stream. The incline wasn't great, but the water didn't look safe to forge.

He did the same to the second bridge.

The third bridge was the suspension one. He had to first carry Alex over it, then come back for the cart. Safely on the other side, he began hacking away at the ropes. It didn't take long for them to give way and the bridge to disconnect from his side and fall down. It didn't quite reach the bottom, but Methos wondered if someone could navigate down the ravine and then climb back up the other side using the bridge's slats as a ladder. He must not forget this possibility.

With a shake of his head, Methos turned back to his cargo and continued to hike. The sun had just reached its zenith when the cabin came into sight. Going directly to the well, he pumped out water for him to slack his thirst. As he drank, his gaze went back to his guest to see if she showed any sign of waking. Still no movement. Taking the chance that she wasn't playing possum, he went into the cabin and hid his Ivanhoe. He did *not* want her to find his sword.

After replacing the stones, he went back outside to find her still asleep. With a sigh of relief, he carried her inside and placed her on the bed he had assembled for her. Using the time wisely, he unpacked the remainder of the supplies and began to organize them.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jim was woken at five in the morning by the telephone. He sleepily navigated the stairs and picked up the receiver. Blair came out of his room looking curious as to who would call this early. It was either a police emergency or a family one.

"Hello," Jim spoke into the mouthpiece.

"Detective Ellison? This is Dr. Madlen. I work-"

"I know who you are doctor. Is this about Alex Barnes?"

"She's escaped."

"What!!!!" Jim roared into the phone. He could feel his partner's eyes boring into his back with fear. Hell, he felt the same fear.

"I think she had help. In each of her other attempts, she never got outside the building's security. This time she had a lock-pick, knowledge of a particular air vent, and metal cutters."

"Any suspects?"

"Not at the moment," the doctor informed him. "But we're checking into it."

"I'll be right there." Jim slammed the phone down.

"I'm coming with you."

"Sandburg, that isn't-"

Blair interrupted. "I'm safer with you than on my own here. This might be the first place she goes."

As arguments went, it was weak. But Jim had to admit to himself he'd feel better if Sandburg was within sensing range. Less chance of danger to either of them. "Okay."

They drove in silence to Woodbridge. Jim was lost in his own thoughts on how he would react when he came face to face with her again. He wasn't proud of his previous responses and hoped Blair would keep him grounded enough to resist any "biological imperatives."

Jim pulled into the parking lot and had to get through security before he was allowed to park his truck. Dr. Madlen was waiting for them at the front door.

"It seems that our new doctor Adams is involved." Dr. Madlen's face was red with anger. "On paper he seemed an excellent choice, but since he's been with us, I've had my doubts."

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Jim said, annoyed at the doctor's reticence.

"He was so good with her. While he worked, she was a model patient. When he had his days off, she became unmanageable again. The staff approved of him whole-heartedly. It saved them from having to deal with her, you see. It never occurred to me that he'd help her escape." He sounded as bewildered as he looked.

"Well, he has. Can you give me his address and any pertinent information you might have?"

"I have it compiled for you here." Dr. Madlen handed Blair a folder. "I checked out his references myself. They were impeccable."

"I want to take a look around the grounds, see how she got out. Is that okay?"

"Fine. I'll clear it with the guards."

Jim and Blair were shown Alex's room. Jim search but couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Blair took off down another corridor to question some of the other doctors.

They met up at the back door leading out onto grounds. Blair was practically bouncing on his toes.

Jim held up his finger, "Wait." He had a semblance of an idea as to where the fence had been cut and headed in that direction. As they left earshot of the staff he turned to Blair. "What did you learn?"

"Most of the doctors really like Dr Adams. None could believe he'd let a criminal loose like that. But one doctor thought that Adams might have a soft spot for her. Then I saw," his eyes widened even more with excitement, "Millie."

"Millie?" Jim asked.

"She's a patient."

"Chief. These patients are insane-criminally insane."

"Millie isn't like that. I admit she has some strange ideas, but some of the stuff she said-well it was weird."

"How weird?"

"First she started talking about the end of the world and that it had been avoided. Then she went on to say that 'sometimes evil can change into good. Death is like that.' What spooked me is that she started talking about how 'she thinks she can kill her teacher but that he won't ever die. He's lived through the Four Horsemen, the death of Christ and has evolved into a decent human being.' Then she laughed and said we'd never find them--*he* made sure of that. Isn't that eerie?"

Jim had to agree. "I don't understand most of that, but-"

"What about the fact that she tries to kill him but he won't die? Doesn't that sound like your dream?"

Jim stiffened. It did sound like the dream. The spotted cat tried to kill the lion who wouldn't stay dead. "This Millie called Adams her teacher? What does that mean?"

"Maybe Doctor Adams is going to teach her how to be a sentinel. You did say he mentioned her dreams and didn't seem fazed by them," Blair suggested.

They continued walking as Jim mulled over Millie's words. "I don't like the sound of Adams compared to the Four Horsemen and death and evil. What if these two are joining up for nefarious reasons?"

"Great word, Jim. I don't know. I think we have to find them, despite the fact that Millie said that we won't. Maybe I should go back and ask her where they are. Maybe Adams told her."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Let's try honest detective work first."

They arrived at the line of trees that hid the perimeter fence from plain view. Jim used his enhanced vision to find the hole that had been cut. Taking long strides to the area, he examined the ground closely around the fence.

"She came here alone. He didn't help her escape from the hospital." Jim crawled through the opening. As he stood upright, he noticed a blue "X" carved into a tree trunk. "Dr. Adams scouted first, found a logical site to break through the fence and marked it for future reference." He scoured the ground and found multiple footprints, too many to distinguish individually and then some that lead away from the institute's grounds. "The doctor waited for her here and then they left together."

Blair joined him on the other side and they both followed the trail to a stream and onto the other side.

"It's a parking lot to a shopping center," Blair blurted out.

"He had a car parked here and this is how they made their escape." Jim straightened as he looked around the asphalt. Nothing among the debris shed any light on where they might have gone. "I didn't see the fence cutters, so he must have taken them with him." They went back to the property line and Jim went back though the fence. He looked all over for any tools. Under one of the pine trees, he found an old backpack.

"Jim, this fence has been cut from the inside. See the links have been pulled in, not out."

"I agree. Adams must have hid the tool in this pack, under the tree, and told Alex to find it and cut the fence close by."

"It's a pretty tall tree. Good landmark," Blair noticed, looking up the long trunk.

Jim glanced at it absently. "I think we should check out the good doctor's office."

Madlen met them at the door. "Did you find anything?"

Blair briefly filled him in as they made their way to Dr. Adams' office. Dr. Madlen unlocked the door for them. Jim started with the desk. The front drawer contained pens and pencils--nothing unusual. However, way in the back was a pair of glasses. Jim slipped on latex gloves and reached in for them. He held them up. "They're clear. Not magnifiers or prescription."

Blair reached in and brought out an evidence bag.

Madlen went directly over to the filing cabinet and pulled out some files. "Damn the man." The expletive made Blair jump. Jim flung his hand over
making sure that his partner didn't drop the bag.

"What?" Jim asked, as Blair recovered.

"He's only made brief notes in *her* file. Nothing about his sessions with her, only that he found her 'drugged again' and that the lights were blazing in her room."

Jim and Blair exchanged looks.

The doctor continued. "Adams was forever nagging me about keeping her lights dim because they hurt her eyes." He gave a disgusted snort as if he didn't consider the suggestion worth his time.

Jim started feeling confused. He had been ready to think Adams was a nutcase, but now he was beginning to empathize with Alex. The director had been abusing her. He brought himself up short. Alex was a criminal. She didn't deserve his sympathy.

"He didn't leave anything, Jim," Sandburg broke into his thoughts. "Let's check his home."

The address was written on a copy of Adams' resume. Jim told Dr. Madlen they were leaving and would be in touch.

The two men left the asylum. As they drove out of the parking lot, Jim noticed that Blair was staring at him.

"Were you losing it in there?" Sandburg asked.

"No. I just felt a moment of empathy. Those lights *are* too bright."

"That's all, right?"

"That's all," Jim assured his friend

Several blocks later, Blair pointed out the window. "That's the street listed here."

Jim turned.

"My God, look at that?" Blair spoke with amazement.

Jim smiled. "It's a new high rise apartment complex that caters to the bankers and businessmen of Cascade," Jim added as he pulled up to the front of the building.

Blair rubbed his fingers together. "Big bucks. Wonder where he gets his money?'

"Doctors are very well paid. I'm sure he manages."

"If he's a real doctor," added Blair.

Jim acknowledged the possibility as he rolled down his window. A security guard came over to the car.

"Can I help you?"

Jim flashed his badge. "I need to talk to the superintendent or manager about one of the residents."

The guard pulled out a cell phone and pushed a button, mumbled a few words, which Jim chose to ignore.

"This way," they were directed.

Jim explained to the man in charge that they needed to see Dr. Pierce Adams' room. The man didn't show up for work and his boss feared he might be in trouble. It didn't take much coaxing.

The manager took them up an elevator. Each floor had only four apartments on it. They were shown to the door on the far right. After a knock, the man used a master key and opened the door. Jim wasn't sure what he expected, but what he saw was incredible. The furnishings were more expensive than anything his father might have ordered. The front room was completely dirt-free and immaculate-not even a magazine out of place.

Jim and Blair toured the apartment, going from one room to the next. The closets were full. Several suits hung alongside casual shirts and Dockers. The dresser contained an array of boxers and socks. The kitchen had food in the cupboards and there was even a gallon of milk half full.

"Jim, maybe she kidnapped him."

Despite the evidence that Dr. Adams hadn't packed for an extended leave, Jim didn't quite buy that Adams had been kidnapped. The detective turned to the manager. "Can you check and tell me if his vehicle is parked in its usual spot?"

The man pulled out his own cell phone and pushed a number. "No, his Toyota 4Runner is gone. The guard said that he never came home the night before. We didn't think anything of it since he works odd hours at that hospital and frequently takes off for two or three day stretches."

Jim's internal alarm buzzed. "Has he given any indication where he goes?"

"I think he likes camping. I happened to see him leaving very early one morning with his truck filled with kerosene and lanterns and equipment like that. He was gone for three days."

"Did he ever mention where he liked to camp?" Blair asked.

"Oh, no. He didn't know that I even saw him. We've never talked since he rented the place."

"How long is his lease?" Jim asked, looking for more facts.

"He signed for a full year and paid the whole thing up front. I wasn't going to complain. He said something about never knowing what day of the week it was and if he didn't pay up front he'd forget."

"That must have been a huge hunk of change," commented Jim as he mulled over the time frame of the lease.

"Sixty-thousand dollars. Wrote a personal check for it. It didn't bounce, so I didn't think anything more of it."

Jim took another look around the apartment. The magazines on the table consisted of Biography, Golf Digest, Smithsonian, and several written in French, which he didn't recognize. All had been bought off the shelf--no subscriptions. There was a desk in one room. He went through the drawers and found them empty except for blank paper.

"Jim?" Blair asked for his attention.

"Yeah?"

"You notice that there isn't anything personal in this room? No plants, no pictures, a few books-best sellers-not-wait. Look at this."

Jim saw Blair with his head in a book with an astounded look on his face. "What is it?" He walked over to his partner.

"It's a first edition of Mary Shelley's, Frankenstein. It's even signed."

Jim looked over Blair's shoulder and read the inscription a loud. "Doc. To my favorite monster disguised as a gentleman."

"I can't imagine him leaving such a valuable book behind. Man, I'd treasure something like this 'til I died." Blair paused, flipping the pages of the book. "Wonder who Doc was?"

The book's presence implied the man was coming back. "I don't know what's going on. This place has given us more questions instead of answering any," Jim remarked, annoyed. But, except for the book, Blair was right there was nothing personal in the room. The plates and silverware were--wait--there was no silverware in the drawers. In fact, as Jim opened each drawer, he found them all empty. No dishtowels, or spatulas or anything of that nature. He did find pots and pans in the compartment under the stove--but no utensils.

Using his sentinel gift of enhanced eyesight, he swept the room looking for any scrap of paper or misplaced minute items that might give him a clue, but the place was immaculately cleaned. Nothing was out of place, which was very unusual. "Sandburg. Take that Shelley book and bag it. I want to dust for prints. Maybe our Doctor Adams isn't who he says he is." He took one last look and turned to the manager. "I think we're done here. Let me give you my card. If Adams comes back, you call me immediately. Understand?"

"No problem, detective."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Methos carried an armload of wood inside the cabin. The sun was setting and still she hadn't woken up. Perhaps he had given her too much of the sedative? There was a fire going and Methos added this bunch to the growing pile. He sat calculating how more he would need when he felt eyes on his back. He turned slowly and found her still but staring at him.

"Glad your awake, Alex. Getting hungry? I've been waiting for you to wake up before I start dinner."

She didn't respond. He shrugged his shoulders and went out for another load. When he returned, she was sitting up looking around.

"Where are we?" she asked. Her words were cold.

"I took you up to my cabin. You might recognize the smell from when I--"

"You came up here on your days off. To get it ready for me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." He dropped the wood and came over to stand in front of her. "The reason I took the job at the institution in the first place
was to get you out and bring you here."

"Why?" Her apparent lack of feeling was replaced by curiosity.

"You need a teacher. You have been let go for too long."

"Let go?" she asked, anger showing on her face.

"Alex, you are a strong woman and many men can't handle you."

She laughed. "And you can?"

He smiled at her naivete. She would learn that the lion is stronger than the jaguar. "Yes, I can. Now, what would you like for dinner? We have limited perishables, so we'd better eat them first. Soon, we'll be living off the land."

"What does that mean?"

"We eat what we can scavenge or kill. Deer, squirrels, rabbits animals like that."

She looked horrified. "Why this back to nature routine?"

"You need to learn about life. In fact, there are so many things you need to learn it would take days to list them. For now, we concentrate on the jobs at hand."

A sly look crept over her face. "You going to give me a gun so I can shoot the little animals?"

"Yes. When you leave the safety of the cabin, I want you to carry a rifle for your own protection. There are bears and wolves and other predators up in these mountains. I would prefer that my teaching not go to waste and have you die prematurely."

"Aren't you afraid I'll turn on you?"

"No." He said with such surety that it made her pause.

"Why did you drug me?"

He had wondered how long it would take her to ask. It gave him hope that things were going to be okay. They were talking. "I couldn't take the chance that you'd try to get away. I didn't trust you. I had told you not to try and escape while I was gone and you did anyway. You don't keep your word. Up here, we have to depend on the other for survival. There is no going back." He implied no going back to civilization, but he meant going back to the way she was before his intervention.

"We're never going back? We're stuck up here forever?"

"Forever is a long time. But I don't see any reason to go back. You are an escaped convict. If you go back, the only thing you can look forward to is a real jail. They won't make the same mistake twice. At least up here you're free."

"With you as my jailer," she mumbled quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. Several minutes of silence passed before she asked, "So what did you bring for food? I'm getting hungry."

Excellent. He wasn't deluded into thinking that she wouldn't try to get away from the cabin, but he was confident that eventually she'd settle in. Even her dreams indicated that she'd try and kill him. He was ready for that and for the lesson it would evoke.

He had a fire going in the stove. The large iron frying pan was warming up over one of the holes. On the shelf, a package of hamburger was waiting.

"Do you like hamburgers? I brought up a couple of pounds of frozen meat, to start us off."

Alex removed herself from the mattress and sauntered over to the kitchen area. "Hamburgers sound wonderful. The institution has something they called hamburgers, but I don't think there was any meat in it. Or maybe they served us dog," she said spitefully.

"I've had dog before. It's pretty dry."

She lifted an eyebrow. "When?"

"A very long time ago."

She laughed, but it sounded forced.

"Why don't you set the table. There's a bag over there that has some bread. I brought enough for a week, but after that, we'll have to make our own."

She stopped in her tracks. "We have to make our own bread, too?"

"Our days will be full trying to survive. You'll have to do your own share, or you'll starve. For these first weeks, I'll end up doing most of the work as I teach you how. Pretty soon, you'll have to carry your own weight." He looked up at her, but she had already turned her back to him.

Slowly, she found where the utensils and plates were kept and set the table. Methos had some vegetables, which were stored underground. He cut up an onion and sliced a cucumber and two peppers.

"What's to drink?" she asked sullenly as she bit into her burger.

"Water. I did buy a couple of cans each of powered lemonade, tea, and a fruit punch to mix with the water."

"No milk?"

He patiently tried to explain. "We don't have a refrigerator. We can't have milk because we can't keep it cold."

"Then why did you bring me here. I was better off *there*!"

He refused to get mad. "I can take you back, but it would be very difficult and you'd probably end up getting killed on the long journey out. It's better
if you just get used to it."

Alex stuffed a pepper slice into her mouth. "It's getting dark outside. If there is no electricity, I suppose that means no lights either."

"I have lanterns; but not a lot of kerosene. We have to use it sparingly. There is, of course, the fireplace. That gives out a lot of light."

She grunted.

There wasn't any more conversation during dinner. Methos could tell that her mind was going a mile a minute and wished he had an inkling of what she was considering. He knew it wasn't going to be pleasant for him. He still had to contend with her image of the spotted cat killing the lion. How many times would he have to die?

Alex finished first and carried her plate to the sink. There was a hand pump and she filled the sink with cold water. "I take it we just forget about the hot portion of wash water?"

"No, I have some heating on the stove."

"Oh, I thought that was for coffee."

Methos didn't dignify that with an answer. "There is some soap under the sink."

"Are we going to making that, too in the future?"

Methos laughed inside. "Of course," he kidded.

She scowled, but did her share of the work.

Methos went over to the fireplace and added more wood. The previously roaring fire had died to a pile of glowing embers by the time they had finished dinner. He placed two logs on top of the coals and then two on top of them. Using a large stick, he poked at the embers trying to give it some oxygen and to start the logs. Suddenly he heard Alex behind him and then felt a thump of pain as she took a log and smashed it against his head. For a few seconds he felt nausea rise, then nothingness.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jim Ellison sat at his computer running the set of prints Sam had been able to lift from the pair of glasses. His partner was at Rafe's desk surfing on the computer and then making phone calls. Dr. Pierce Adams was a mystery. Blair was researching his medical school records and personal history. So far, it didn't look like he had one.

"Jim," Blair squeaked in excitement. "I've got something!"

Jim rolled his chair next to Rafe's desk.

"I decided to try his ID picture--you know the one from his Woodbridge file. Look, he was a guest on a game show back in 1996 called Wheel of History. It's a complete match. He gave his name as--ready for this? Adam Pierson. He described himself as a student of ancient history at the University of Paris."

Blair punched in some more keys and connected with the University. "You know French? I know some, but --oh, the page is in English." He connected next with the history department and then called up the student directory. Pierson wasn't listed.

"Try alumni," Jim suggested. "He might've graduated."

"Or this also could be a lie," Blair muttered as he called up the alumni directory.

"Bingo!" Jim found Pierson's name first. "It says he defended in '97. It even gives a last known address."

"But, it's in Paris. You think Simon'll let us go there to search for Alex?"

"Don't know. But I can check and see if there are any records of Adam Pierson flying to the States. You keep on trying to locate an address for Pierson around here."

Jim sent his chair rolling back to his own desk. One by one, he called up the manifest from each flight leaving Paris to the States from the day before Adam's start date at Woodbridge back four months. It was slow going.

"Jim, I found an address for Adam Pierson from a 1996 Seacouver phone book. He's not listed in the 1997 one."

"I found a listing for a British Airways flight for Adam Pierson from April twenty-seventh. He left Paris, landed in New York City and continued on to Seattle." Jim hit the print button. "So, this man gets a graduate degree in ancient history and then creates a resume for himself that says he's a doctor and lands a job an Woodbridge. Works several weeks and then helps Alex Barnes to escape."

Jim heard Blair gulp before saying, "He must know she's a sentinel."

"I agree. But, what does he want with her and where did they go?" Jim pondered the questions, not liking any of the answers he came up with.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Alex could hear the roar of her spirit animal as she clubbed her captor across the back of the head. She didn't know or care whether it approved or not. All she wanted was to escape. Purposely delaying until after dark, when she'd have the advantage, she found her chance to subdue him and took it. In her rush, she hit him too hard. There was no heartbeat.

Not feeling any remorse, she scoured the cabin looking for a coat and some heavy clothes to keep her warm. With Adams dead, she didn't have to hurry. Finding his backpack, she loaded it with all the food she could find. Next she looked for the rifle. He implied that there was at least one. She couldn't find it. Feeling the need to leave now, she opened the door and walked outside and the darkness swallowed her up.

Alex felt like she was back in the Peruvian jungle, except that it was cold, and not as many bugs. She had her senses on full. Her first order of business was to figure a direction in which to head. Since they seemed to be on a mountain, her instinct said to head down. Her cat snarled and loped ahead of her.

She came to the end of the clearing when she heard Dr. Adams' heartbeat start. Her feet paused of their own volition. She knew she had killed him. Yet, now he was groaning and sitting up. Curiosity held her still. The door of the cabin opened.

"Alex, I know you can hear me. I'm not coming out to chase you. Wander around all you want. I'm going to be in my nice warm sleeping bag while you're freezing your ass off. Just remember, the lion can't die."

The door closed. Alex felt her legs give way under her. The full pack kept her from falling on her back and her arms caught her before she found her face full of grass, leaves and dew. He was dead, but alive now. Just like the lion. No matter how many times she killed him, the lion always came back. She never told Adams how many dreams she had, but they never varied. The lion was dead--then alive. Now Dr. Adams had been dead--then alive.

The shock soon wore off and the futility of her actions hit her. She wasn't getting off this damned hill. He would never let her wander around if there was the slightest chance of it. He had full confidence that she'd come crawling back asking for forgiveness. That would be a cold day in hell. She had never asked anyone for forgiveness. The specter of Blair Sandburg rose in her mind. Using all her mental strength, she banished him and tried to consider her options. She could explore and see what she was up against. One way or another she would escape the clutches of that madman inside. Guile might work better. She needed him to find her way back to civilization. Playing along with his game seemed the best plan--for now. Sooner or later, they'd have to leave. No one could live in the wilderness forever. With it all resolved in her mind, she returned to the cabin and the warmth of a sleeping bag.

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