Beware The Lions Roar

By Lori

Day 16-Tuesday, June--

Methos woke up as soon as the birds starting singing. He glanced over to his cabin mate, but she was still sound asleep. Alex had come in shortly after he had stoked the fire one last time and then gone to bed. The embers were still smoldering, so he took a few and started a fire on the stove. The stove itself had to date back at least a century. He was very lucky to have something along these lines.

He started a saucepan of water to make coffee. Despite his joke the night before, he had brought quite a few jars of instant and some Cremora. Today was going to be one of revelations. He was going to explain immortality and the fact that he had been a guide a long time ago. The South American brew was a necessity.

She opened her eyes.

"Would you like some coffee?" he asked, as he carried a mug of the steaming liquid over to her bed.

"Thank you," she responded, taking the mug and sipping the contents carefully.

He gave her a smile and returned to the kitchen area. "I've got some toast browning over the fire, come on over and have some."

"Is there butter to go with it?" she asked, her former sarcasm returning.

"I brought a little, but we should use it sparingly. It's all we got to last a lifetime."

She gave a shudder as she sank into a chair. "How's your head?"

He was happy that she brought the subject up first. At least she wasn't a coward. "I admit you walloped me pretty good, but I heal amazingly fast." He carried a plate full of the toast and sat down with his own mug of coffee. "Eat," he commanded.

Several minutes passed in silence. Methos could hear the wildlife outside and wanted to begin showing her the wonders of nature--and the perils. Survival was the key.

"Why are you still alive?" she asked suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts.

"It's a long story, but technically I'm immortal. I cannot die no matter how you try to kill me. Well, actually I do die, but I come back to life."

"Does it hurt?" she asked, showing no emotion.

"The dying part, yes, it hurts. The coming back part is just--disorienting."

"Are you the lion from my dreams?" Her face was ashen.

"Yes. I am."

"Does that mean you're my guide?"

"I was a guide about fourteen hundred years ago, but he died of old age. When I heard about you, I knew you needed my help. I know about sentinels--their weaknesses and their strengths. So far, all I've seen are your weaknesses. I intend to teach you your strengths."

"If I don't learn?"

"We'll be here a long time." Giving her a careless smile, he stood up and returned the dishes to the sink. He poured himself another cup of coffee, when he really wanted--needed-- a cold beer. Then he heard her mumbling some profanity under her breath. "What?" he asked confused.

"Again I get a used guide," she complained bitterly.

"What do you mean?"

"Sandburg was the one who gave a name to the chaos I was feeling. He gave me pointers on how to control it. But he belonged to someone else. Now, you say you're here to help me, but you, too belong to someone else."

Methos didn't know what to say to her. It was all true. He knew in his heart and soul that he wasn't her true guide. If fate smiled on him, Rezi would be born again. He would know by his spirit animal, the red wolf. The lion and the red wolf would always be connected. "I don't have a sentinel now. You should learn from all teachers who are willing to impart their knowledge to you. Maybe the gods don't believe you're ready for your true guide. With your temper, you might kill him or her. Maybe you need to prove yourself worthy."

Alex burst from the table and stormed out the door. Methos let her go. This was a truth she needed to work out on her own.

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

Jim and Blair sat in companionable silence as they ate their breakfast. The younger man was busy jotting down notes on scrap paper between bites. The older one took slow deliberate mouthfuls, as he stared at a dirt mark on one of the cabinets. In truth, he was in deep contemplation of what happened the previous day. Alex's escape had thrown him in a loop. He oscillated between fear and the absolute need to *do* something. Even if it meant a trip to Paris.

"Jim, why don't we check around where he used to live in Seacouver. Maybe he has or at least had friends there?"

"Good idea. I'm thinking we need a vacation."

Blair looked shocked. "Where to?"

"I'm gonna book us two seats to France. I want to check some things out. My instincts are telling me that he'll take her to some place familiar. Someplace where he's known and have help keeping her isolated. He must know how dangerous she is."

"Good luck getting it past Simon. I can't see him agreeing to this," Blair remarked.

Jim wore his stubborn look. He had to find her. She needed to be incarcerated. Only then could he be sure that his guide would be safe.

After leaving the loft, they went directly to the station. Blair's job was to find an address for Adam Pierson. Jim had to tackle Simon.

"Captain, can I speak with you?" Jim asked, poking his head inside the office's door.

"What do you need, Jim?"

"Barnes escaped from Woodbridge last night. With help, I might add."

"What?!" Simon exploded off his chair.

"A new doctor helped her escape. He had come originally from Paris and I want to check it out. We have to find them."

"Can this doctor keep her contained?"

"I don't think so, sir. I think he's infatuated with her and not thinking straight. Why else would he help a cold-blooded killer escape?"

Simon let out a sigh and sank back into his chair. "I'll reassign your cases. You've got one week. No longer, understood?"

"Yes, I do."

"And I'm recording this as vacation. You have no jurisdiction in a foreign country. I assume the asylum has reported this to the Feds?"

"I would imagine so."

"I'll be sure to keep the coffee warm for them. No doubt they'll be pounding on my door before long."

"Just don't tell them we're in Paris. I'll let you know if we need help."

"Which should take about two days, by my calculations." Simon stood once more. "Go! The sooner you leave the sooner you get back--with the Barnes woman."

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

Alex slammed the cabin door behind her then paced back and forth across the clearing. The grass was knee high, but it was better than trudging through the woods. Even as strung out as she was, the warmth of the sun was preferable to the coolness under the tree's canopy.

Another false guide. She was doomed for all eternity. Was this Dr. Adams punishment from the great sentinel spirits? How was she going to escape from a man who couldn't die? There was no way she could fight her way out. It was a no-win situation--at least from her perspective. No wonder he didn't have a problem with her carrying a gun, she thought wryly.

She fumed and continued pacing. Why didn't she deserve her own guide? As a sentinel, she was entitled to her own guide--not somebody else's sloppy seconds. Now twice it had happened. Maybe she didn't *need* a guide. If she learned from this Dr. Adams, then when he left, or she left him, she would be able to function just fine on her own. Even at the hospital she had done okay. There had been only one sensory spike and the doctors caused it with their damned drugs. She'd show the stupid spirits. Dr. Adams wanted a willing student--well she'd give him the appearance of one. She'd soak up everything he was willing to teach her while still looking for a way to escape.

Alex sunk to her knees and knelt in the tall grass. Her long hair whipped around her face as the wind swept past her. His sentinel died over a thousand years ago. The fact registered and tossed out everything else. Just how old was this man? He said he couldn't die, which must mean that he didn't grow old either. Was he born in the usual way? Or did he appear on earth all grown up? Curiosity once more overcame self-righteous pity and she went back inside the cabin.

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

Jim parked his truck along the street of a high-rise apartment building. This was Pierson's last known address. The DMV had him listed here until 1996.

"What's our story going to be?" Blair asked as they entered the building.

"We need to find him because you have one of his old books." The inspired idea caused a smug smile to spread across his face.

"I like it," Blair agreed. "Let me do the talking."

"Right. I'm just the side-kick along for the ride."

"As it should be," Blair joked.

They came to the main office. Blair carefully opened the door. "Excuse me. Anyone here?" he asked.

A woman with glasses much too big for her face was standing by a filing cabinet. "Can I help you?" Her short gray hair and easy smile made them feel comfortable at once. Jim thought she reminded him of the stereotypical grandmother. Not that he had one, just seen them on TV.

"My name is Blair Sandburg. I work at the university. A former tenant of yours, Adam Pierson, loaned me an old book a few years ago and I'd like to return it. Unfortunately, I just found it on my bookshelves. I guess I forgot all about it," Blair admitted sheepishly. "By any chance do you have a forwarding address for him?"

Jim mentally gave his partner points for believability.

"He did leave rather suddenly. His friend Joe Dawson came and packed away the things he left behind. I think they live in France now. Let me look it up." She went over to the desk and began rifling through the Rolodex. As she searched, she kept up a running monologue. "He was such a sweet man. Very studious, too. I'd see him come in late at night carrying a load of heavy books." She laughed, conspiratorially. "He was rather fond of beer. I believe his friend Joe owned a bar here in town. He spent many evenings there listening to the music and drinking his beer. He invited me along once. Said I needed to get out more. Here it is!" She pulled a card out and set it on her desk. Withdrawing a pen and a notepad, she copied down the address, then handed it to Blair.

"Thank you, very much. I know he'll be happy to get this book back. It's a first edition and quite valuable." Blair glanced at the paper before stuffing it back in his pocket. "Did he have other friends here in Seacouver?"

"The tall dark-haired man. Let me see if I can remember his name. He wasn't at Joe's when Adam took me. But I overheard Joe tell Adam that he had business out of town and would be back. Duncan MacLeod was his name. He did something with antiques and I think he was into martial arts or something. I can't remember exactly."

"That's okay. I don't suppose Mr. MacLeod is in Seacouver?"

"Oh no. He's moved to France, too. In fact, I think he came from France. I heard Joe mention that he had a barge moored on the Seine."

"You've been very helpful."

"I'm glad I got to meet a friend of Adam's. Tell him I said hi."

"I will," Blair promised as Jim propelled him to the door. At this rate, the two of them would be saying pleasantries for the next year. "I'm coming, Blair whispered softly.

They made it back to the truck. "We need to find a phonebook," Blair suggested as Jim started the car. "I bet Joe's is--"

"We've got three names," Jim interrupted. "Joe Dawson, Duncan MacLeod and Adam Pierson. And an address. We don't need to visit Joe's."

"But maybe we can find out where the other two men live. It would give us a place to start looking after we land in Paris. You actually think he's at that apartment she gave us the address for?"

"No, I don't," Jim admitted, reluctantly.

"You just want to get moving."

Jim pulled into a restaurant. "We might as well grab some lunch. I'm getting hungry."

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

Methos watched through the window as Alex warred with herself. There was a long road ahead of them. Giving-in was not in her vocabulary. Even if she learned the lessons he wanted to teach, her stubbornness might prevent her from utilizing them. Eventually, Alex gave up her inner struggles and came back into the cabin.

"So, what's on the agenda for today? Bake some bread? Make some soap?" she asked facetiously.

Methos ignored her sarcasm. "How about we go fishing."

Her face made a grimace. "That sounds like fun."

The old immortal shook his head, sadly. "Fishing is one of life's many pleasures. Nothing on earth beats sitting back, holding a fishing pole in one hand and a beer in the other."

Her mockery disappeared and a real smile animated her face. "You have beer?"

"Not much. Only one 12 pack. I have it tied in one of the streams near here. One beer for every fish you or I catch."

"It's my reward for getting dinner?"

"Something like that." Methos was pleased to see her competitiveness. With her guard down, maybe they could get to know one another better. If he confided in her, about Rezi, she might relax and realize that he wasn't such a bad guy after all-- despite the fact he was keeping her a prisoner.

He grabbed the two fishing poles leaning against the wall. "Let's go, partner," Methos called as he strode out the door. Leaning against the outside wall was a net and a tackle box. "You take those," he told her as he headed directly to a path leading up the mountain.

"Do you think the fish will be biting?" Alex asked as she trudged along behind him.

"Don't know. It's not that hot out and it's still morning. We should get enough for lunch."

Methos walked for thirty minutes, 'til he found the right stream. He had found it by accident during one of his previous trips. The objective had been to find out if there was a way out heading up instead of down. What he found was a stream teeming with trout. He had caught several that trip, and had cooked them by an open fire on the stream's bank. It kind of reminded him of the old days. "Here it is," he said, as he veered off the path, cut through some brush and found himself in a clearing with the flowing stream cutting through the middle.

As Alex came through the trees and cast her eyes upon the vista, her body froze. "This place is beautiful," she murmured softly.

"Yes, it is," Methos agreed. He took the net and tackle box from her stationary hands and began getting the poles ready.

She slowly came closer to the stream's bank, her eyes darting everywhere. "There's a mother deer and a fawn on the other side looking at us through the trees."

"Does she seem scared or curious?"

"Wary. She wants to come to the water, but doesn't know what we're going to do."

Methos smiled. "What else do you see?"

"A hawk or eagle sitting high up in that sycamore tree. That tree must be a hundred years old."

"Or older."

She finally focused her attention on him. "How old are you?"

"Older than that tree," Methos replied. He handed her a pole. "Do you know how to cast?"

She blinked. "You fling the pole and the string goes into the water." She did the flinging. The hook and fly went behind her and caught hold of a tree branch. She let out several expletives as she yanked, trying to free her line.

Methos cast his own line and handed her the pole. "Watch the line. Feel the tension in the pole. When a fish bites, you'll know."

"Can't I just look in the water and see the fish?"

"If you can see them, they can see you." Methos untangled her line and baited it with another fly. He cast it out onto the water, making the fly dance across the surface.

"I can see one," Alex shouted out.

The fish nibbled at the fly and with a sound yank, Methos hooked the small bass and reeled it in.

"Does this mean you get the first beer?" Alex pouted, showing her disappointment.

"Nope. This one's too small to keep." He unhooked it and tossed it back into the water. "It wasn't even big enough to clean."

Alex turned her attention back to her own line. Trying to mimic Methos' method, she jerked and swiveled, making her line move in the water. He tried not to laugh. Keeping one eye on her line, he retied his fly and cast it out once more.

The sun peeked above the treetops, telling Methos that it was getting closer to noon. In the last hour Alex had caught one fish, and he had just landed his first. It was enough for a snack, but not lunch.

Alex set her empty can of beer down on the ground. "I guess this means you can get one now."

Methos smiled with appreciation. "Yes, I can." He walked over to a place where the stream jutted into the bank, thus leaving a quiet area of water. The beer was tied on a long rope to a dead branch hanging over the water. He pulled the rope and one of the sixes emerged. Selecting a can, he opened the top and drank thirstily from it. There was no better taste in the world than a cold beer when you were parched. Reluctantly, he let the rest fall back into the water and came back over to their fishing spot. Instead of recasting his line, he reclined back and enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the beer.

"You seem to be really enjoying yourself. It's only a beer."

"Only a beer?!" Methos exclaimed in mock anger.

"We're not talking about a million dollars or a bag of diamonds."

"This is ambrosia-- a work of art--something that makes me feel wonderful. Isn't there anything that makes you feel--other than material possessions?"

She paused, thinking. "When I was at the temple of the sentinels and submerged in the water. Becoming one with nature and everything around me was better than anything I've ever experienced before. There were no headaches, nothing that I needed to extract from the sensations, just the glory of flying. No drug or alcoholic high can equal it."

"Now you're addicted to this high." Methos shook his head sadly. "You didn't have adequate preparation for what you experienced. It was the Sentinel test. You were required to leave off worldly concerns and find your inner self."

"My inner self?"

"It can be used to cleanse the evil in your soul so that you can dedicate your life to your tribe or clan."

"I saw the eye of God."

"The spirit's were trying to communicate with you by showing what you could become. But, you didn't listen. A sentinel unwilling to accept their guidance is a threat to the natural order of things."

"I don't understand," her soul cried out.

"The power they gave you to see inside yourself, you used for selfish reasons--it made you feel good. It was obviously a high like nothing you've ever experienced, which isn't its purpose. You're not supposed to experience the waters like a drug, but as a holy excursion. You walk through your dreams--"

"I did that," Alex interrupted.

Methos felt somewhat relieved. Maybe it hadn't been a total disaster. "What did you see? What was your true self?"

"I was home. I wanted to be there."

"What did you see of yourself? Methos repeated, enunciating each word slowly.

"I don't remember," was wrenched out of her. "I was only interested in what I was feeling."

"That's why you failed. Self-absorption. Did Ellison fail? He took the waters and came out sane. Why? Because he's weak?"

Alex remained quiet. Tears dripped down her face. "He's not weak," she admitted, finally.

"He has a strength of character you wish you had, but because you don't, you feel the need to destroy him."

Alex threw her pole on the ground and curled up in a fetal position. Her hair covered her face so Methos was unable to read her expression. The birds sang in the background, blanketing the area in a soothing melody. Methos recast his line out and continued fishing. He let her have the quiet time to reflect and hopefully learn.

After taking a fish off his line, Alex got up and began walking quietly around. Methos tossed his line back in the water, keeping his eye on his guest. She bent over, picked something up and slid it into her pocket. Ambling over to a different spot, she bent over and picked up a new object.

"What are you doing?" Methos asked, interrupting the quiet moment.

"I'm picking up stones that have interesting textures. See this one is smooth, its edges probably worn away in this little lake. Yet, this one is rough--" her voice trailing off as she looked closely at it.

Methos smiled in satisfaction. It was good to see her use her sentinel senses with uninhibited wonder. "Maybe its volcanic rock from eons ago when this mountain range was formed." He watched as she picked up another specimen.

"This one has very tiny bumps." She slid them in her pocket. "Did you know that I am an artist?" she asked self-consciously, as she walked back and sat down next to him again. "I'm finding that my creative juices are flowing. Maybe I'll make a collage of things that I find."

"I didn't know about this side of you. I would have brought up canvas and paints. Maybe we can make our own."

"Make our own canvas?"

"Two thousand years ago, we used sheep or calf skin. If we tan some deer hide, and mix some dyes that are native to this region, I can get you painting again."

Alex smiled at him with what looked like gratitude.

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

Jim pulled into the parking lot of Joe's. The place was open, but doing a minimum of lunch business.

"Let me do the talking," Blair instructed. "We want them to think of us as friends, not cops. You always give the impression it's an interrogation."

"I do not," Jim replied, pretending to be affronted. He knew Blair was speaking the truth. "I can ask them about Joe without even," he opened the door, "raising their suspicions." His voice lowered.

"Hello, detectives," the man behind the bar greeted them. "What can I do for you?"

Both men halted, shock clearly on their faces. "How did you--"

"I'm Mike Barrett," the bartender said, interrupting Blair's whisper. "You're looking for Adam."

Jim's training took over. "We understand that he's friend's with the owner. Can we talk to Joe Dawson?"

"He's not the owner anymore. I bought this place off of him a couple of years ago. He bought a new bar in Paris called Le Blues Club."

"I see," Jim said, not seeing at all. "Is Adam Pierson also in Paris?"

"Adam makes a point of disappearing quite frequently. We never know where he is, unless he wants us to know," Barrett added.

"Can you give us the address for this club?" Blair interjected.

"And Joe Dawson's home address," Jim added.

"Sure." The bartender took a pen from his pocket and wrote down both addresses on a napkin then handed it to Jim. "Anything else Detective's?"

"Do you happen to know where Duncan MacLeod lives?"

Jim could detect Barrett's heartbeat increase. "No. I'm not sure where he is."

"Thank you very much for your time. If you find out, let me know. Here's my card."

Jim and Blair walked out of the bar. Jim held up his hand forestalling any speech from his partner. He could hear Barrett picking up a phone and punching in some numbers.

"Hi Joe. They just left. I gave them your addresses like you asked, but then they asked for MacLeod's and I didn't know what to say."

The conversation was barely discernable on the other end. "That's okay, Mike. I can't wait for them to get here. What's that reprobate up to, now?'"

"I don't know. But when I got the call from the apartment complex's office where Pierson used to live, they said that these men were pretending to be friends. It can't be official business. I mean, you'd think if Pierson wanted to break the law he'd know enough not to leave any clues behind and that book was one huge clue."

"What was the book?" Dawson asked.

"A Mary Shelley first edition. God, I'd love to see that book. Bet she wrote something personal in it, like 'to Doc Adams the most infuriating man I've ever met.'"

Jim could hear the laughter in the bartender's voice.

"I don't know what it says. In fact, I have no idea what *name* he even used back then." Joe continued the dialogue. "He did mention that Mary Shelley was a close and person friend, if you know what I mean."

"He slept with her?"

"Back in his hedonistic days," Dawson answered.

"You found out during that Byron incident?"

"Yep. I think Lord Byron, Mary Shelley and our own Doc were close personal friends."

Jim had to shake his head. "I swear Barrett and Dawson are," he said to Blair, "making references to Pierson being alive--no, I must have heard them wrong." There was no way Doctor Pierce Adams or Adam Pierson could have been a contemporary of Lord Byron or Mary Shelley. This conversation was too weird for him.

"What?" his partner looked at him oddly.

"Never mind. Barrett called Dawson in Paris and let him know that he gave us the address. Pierson's apartment people called and told Barrett about us being there."

"I can't believe that that nice lady--"

"I don't think it was her, Chief. She didn't act nervous. Someone must have overheard us and then reported it to Barrett. I think Pierson's whereabouts is as big a mystery to them as to us."

"So, why are we going to Paris?"

"Cause I know he's hiding there." Every instinct in him said that Pierson took Barnes as far away from them as possible.

"I don't think Pierson took Alex to France." Blair tried to explain. "He didn't have a passport for her. We don't have an--"

"Any man who can fake his credentials to get him into Woodbridge, can fake passports, too."

"Okay, we'll go to Paris, but I think they're still right here in Washington. Maybe not Cascade, but--"

Jim directed one of his stares at his partner. He had to see Dawson. The instincts didn't have anything to do with the Sentinel thing; it was totally a cop thing. His cat hadn't visited him since the dreams where the spotted jaguar killed the lion.

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

While Alex was collecting her things of nature, Methos went and shot a deer. He dragged the beast back to the cabin, gutted it and began slicing the meat. Adding large amounts of salt, he preserved the meat in the old fashion way of numerous tribes. It was done from memory, for his thoughts were fixed on his captive. She hadn't interrogated him any more, but he knew she couldn't be quiet for long. Her inquisitive nature would win out over reticence. Most mortals, after they came to terms with immortality, had lots of questions.

"Dr. Adams," she had come up behind him.

He turned his head. "Yes?"

"Am I still supposed to call you doctor?"

"You can call me Adams."

"Is Pierson Adams, your real name?"

"No. Most people call me Adam Pierson."

"What are some of your other names?"

"I was Dr. Benjamin Adams in the nineteenth century. Remus back in the days of Rome. There was Haribu and Caratarix Et Maru. I can't remember them all."

"What about the name you were born with?"

"I don't remember." He turned his head back to the salting.

She sat down and watched what he was doing. "Why did you kill the deer today? I thought we had enough meat?"

"For its skin, although we'll eat the meat, too. You did want to paint, right?"

She stiffened in surprise. "Yes," she said slowly, then added, "My art isn't always pretty."

"Art shouldn't be pretty. Art represents feelings and emotions, which can't be wrapped up in a nice package. Good art shouts something to the viewer and moves them, for good or bad. You can't use bland words to describe something momentous.

"Art for me is like a purging. I have all the stuff locked up inside and I can't really see it until I can get it down on paper or sculpt it into clay."

Methos smiled as he stood. "I'm happy that you have that outlet. Want to help me carry this stuff inside? Then I need to cleanup this mess before it draws the predators to our humble little home."

They worked in companionable silence. The day ended without any further disagreements. She worked without complaints and didn't play any of her power games. Methos considered the day well spent. The owls were hooting and the wolves began their howling. Methos drifted off to sleep contented. A fragment of a memory haunted him for a few minutes and was then forgotten.

An illusion of the Damocleon sword swung gracefully above his head, but Methos was oblivious to the danger.


Day 17-Wednesday, June--

Methos woke early and spent some time mixing up some bread. Luckily he found boxed mixes that required that you add water, nothing else. Eggs were of short supply. He let the dough rise and went out to continued tanning the deer hide.

Alex joined him, munching on an apple. Fruit trees were abundant around them. He worked in silence, letting the morning sun beat upon his head. The cool air made the sensation very pleasant.

"What's it like--the dying part. You must have done it a thousand times." Alex gazed at him with contemplation.

"It's painful. A gunshot or stabbing hurts no matter where it strikes on the body. If it's a mortal wound, the pain is followed by oblivion. You take a gasp of air, which hurts your lungs and makes your chest feels like it's going to explode. Soon you feel the pain in the wound of whatever killed you. It burns as the body slowly heals itself. Then I feel like my usual self."

"So when you're dead, there's no bright light or pearly gates?"

Methos laughed. "No, nothing like that. There's just a big nothingness. I've never dreamed while dead. It's definitely not like being asleep."

"Are there others like you?"

"A few, not many," Methos lied.

"Are they your friends?" Alex continued her questions.

"Some. Mostly we stay away from each other. People who don't age have a tendency to draw attention. If we congregate, it might draw unwanted attention."

"Have you fought in wars?" Her large eyes were round with interest.

"Too many to count." He stopped to think. "The last war I felt passionately about was when Sparta attacked Athens. I didn't want the great works of masters like Socrates or Plato lost."

Alex wore a derisive look. She clearly thought he was putting her on. He didn't care. It was the truth. From then on he was too jaded to care--too worried about his own survival to care.

"What about you, Alex. Tell me about yourself--before you became a career criminal."

She looked affronted.

"You aren't going to tell me that you've been like this all your life."

"Growing up in foster care isn't the easiest," she retorted.

"Many immortals have the same experiences. My friend's student, Richard Ryan, went through a similar thing and he turned into an upstanding citizen. He had been beaten and starved, but he crawled out of the gutter." Methos didn't add that it was because MacLeod hauled him up and wouldn't let go. "You make what you want out of life. Crime is the coward's way out. Living straight takes effort, sacrifice and moral character. Do you have any?"

"I don't know."

"Richie was given the gift of immortality. You're given the gift of enhanced senses and what you do with them is very important, not only to you, but to those around you. From what I understand, Ellison was in the armed forces. When he left, why did he join the police instead of becoming a mercenary? He could have made a lot of money that way. Do you have any idea?"

"No," she answered.

"Probably because he feels the need to protect. A sentinel's job is to protect his clan or tribe. In your case, you protect only yourself. You are a one man tribe." Methos stood and stretched his legs. "Let's go for a walk. I haven't gone up the mountain yet."

Alex nodded absently.

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

Blair sat in front of the computer and looked at the options. No matter how he plugged in the numbers, it appeared that they would have to fly out early the next morning, getting into New York City and taking a red-eye to Paris. Almost twenty-four hours in the air. He was not looking forward to it. The jet lag would be discomfiting, to say the least.

He didn't want to go, period. Was it because he believed Jim was right and they were heading right for Alex? Or was it because he thought Jim was wrong and Alex was still somewhere near Cascade? All he knew was that *his* instincts were telling him to stay put. Jim wasn't listening to him.
Blair looked up from the screen as Jim walked over to the couch, munching on a bagel loaded with cream cheese. "The earliest we can get out is tomorrow at five-thirty in the morning. We fly to L.A., on to Chicago, then straight to Kennedy. We have a three hour layover and then board for
Paris."

"Book it," Jim commanded. "We can sleep on the planes."

"What about accommodations? You want me to find a hotel? I think we're gonna need to sleep before we begin scouting. Besides, Dawson owns a bar; they don't open until night anyway. I bet he'll be sleeping in the morning."

"Good point. Find someplace near the club's address. That way we won't have to travel far. You speak French?"

"Enough to get by on. How about you?"

"I took it in high school, but I don't remember much now."

Blair went back to plugging in numbers and clicking. After cross-referencing several maps, he found a nice hotel, about a kilometer from Le Blues Bar. Now he had to figure out what clothes to pack and how light. Knowing Jim, he'd move fast once he found out something.

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

Methos took the rifle and packed a box of shells in a pack alongside some snacks for the hike. Both wore jeans and Methos made Alex carry a sweatshirt. The air was crisp and Methos shivered as they started up a trail shrouded with foliage. Alex seemed disinclined to talk, so they walked in
silence. The old immortal glanced back at her, and found her attention fixed on something high in the air.

"What do you see?" Methos asked quietly.

"A bird of prey. I can hear the air flutter through his wings as he glides up there."

Methos couldn't see anything, not that he expected to. "Tell me about the prison where they kept you in solitary confinement. It must have been hell."

"It was. They kept it dark. I had no idea of what time of day it was or how many days had passed. When the guards came to feed me, they weren't allowed to talk to me. I tried to make them break the rules, first because of the challenge, then because I was desperate to talk to anyone. I hated the silence. I hated the dark even more because after they left, the door was closed and no light would get in."

Methos let some time pass before he commented. "It's classic conditioning. They were trying to break your will and--"

"They didn't succeed," she interrupted. "Right when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, the door stopped blocking all the light. Rays came through the bottom, enough for me to see the outline of my body. After the excitement died down, I happened to notice that I could hear voices. They weren't clear. It was muffled, like they were whispering. I strained to hear, but couldn't."

"Did you think you were going crazy?" Methos asked, curious.

"No, I just thought the conditions were changing. I had no idea that the change came from me. At least not until I was released from prison. After the solitary confinement, I was better behaved, just biding my time. But after I got out, small things started happening to me. First I couldn't sleep because there was always too much light. Then I couldn't eat because everything tasted too strong. I didn't let it stop me though. At least not until the day I drove my car into the pole because my clothes became too scratchy and the oncoming car's headlights blinded me. The next thing I knew, Blair Sandburg was giving me a name for what was happening to me."

"And for his help, you repaid him by drowning him in a fountain?" slipped out of Methos' mouth before he could stop it.

"Jim was too strong. I couldn't take the chance that he'd defeat me. It would mean the end of my life. Without Blair, Jim was powerless."

Methos had no response to that.

"Tell me about your sentinel. What was he like?"

"Rezi had a gentle soul."

"You mean he was a coward," Alex remarked snidely.

"No! He was not afraid, but--but--things easily overwhelmed him." Methos fought for the correct words to express himself. "He needed both guidance--"

"So you did his thinking for him and fought his battles. You got a raw deal with that one."

The images of Mira, Rezi's sister, filled his mind. First as a desirable woman, one he had to have at any cost, to the Mira he had been wed to for ten years. The woman he abandoned because her shrewish jealous nature irritated him so much he thought he would kill her too. "I murdered his first guide--"

"We have something in common," Alex remarked triumphantly.

"No, I killed a man who was trying to prevent me from raping his wife. I was not intentionally trying to kill a guide in order to render his sentinel powerless."

"There's a difference?"

Methos grunted. "The tribe insisted that I take the place of the dead guide," Methos lied. In actual fact, he had still wanted Mira bad enough to promise anything to keep her. "I became Mira's husband and Rezi's guide. After a decade or so, I preferred Rezi and moved in with him."
Alex raised her eyebrow over that statement. "No wonder you haven't taken advantage of me, you're gay."

"That has such a vile connotation. I enjoy both men and women."

"Oh yeah, you raped your wife when you first met her. You're just a bundle of morality."

Methos gave up trying to talk to her. His good mood had vanished and with it any interest in continuing the hike.

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

Alex sat back on the ground and watched her jailer working on the hide. She didn't understand the method of tanning and, more importantly, why he was doing it. It had been several hours since their disagreement during their walk. In truth, she didn't understand why he had gotten upset. They both were guilty of killing guides, why was hers so morally wrong and his justified? Everything she had learned of his past seemed to be at odds with the man she knew now. Did someone kidnap him and teach him the same way he was teaching her?

The sun beat down on his bare torso and she stared at the droplets of sweat that slowly ran down, caught every-so-often by chest hairs. He was such an enigma. One minute he was gentle then next his eyes would radiate power and intimidate her without mercy. If she was honest with herself, she was frightened of him, or rather his unpredictability. She had always prided herself on her uncanny ability to guess what people around her would say or do to any given situation. Now that was gone and she was floundering.

Dr. Adams murdered a man because he had lusted after the wife. He freely admitted to it. When had he changed from the man he was to his present self? A memory flashed in her mind. "I don't need your help to kill." What an understatement. She wondered how many men he had killed in his lifetime. His head was bent over his project. Would he answer if she asked?

"I'm going to get some water," Dr. Adams broke into her thoughts. "Do you want anything?"

"I'll come with you." She laughed inside at his surprised look. They walked a ways and she sprung her question.

His eyes grew dark. "I have killed thousands. I have ridden into villages and killed everyone in them. I took pleasure in the death." His eyes softened, slightly. "But it was a long time ago. I learned my lesson the hard way."

"Did someone teach you not to murder?"

"No. I've had excellent teachers in the past, but this was one lesson I learned on my own." He placed the cup under the pump faucet and filled it. Drinking deeply, he kept his eyes on her. "Why are you so interested in my dark past?"

Alex considered the question and answered it honestly. "I think because, um, in the beginning I didn't believe you knew what you were talking about. Reforming me?" She gave a brittle laugh. "I didn't believe it could be done or that you, a shrink, could do it."

"Now do you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know." It was getting too much for her to handle. Turning abruptly, she wandered back to the deer hide. He was preparing something for her because he knew she's find pleasure in it. A few tears gathered in her eyes, but before the doctor had a chance to see them, she rushed into the small cabin and sat in front of the unlit fireplace. With unseeing eyes, she stared at the dead embers, trying to gain control of her emotions.


Day 18-Thursday, July--

The phone rang jarring both Jim and Blair out of a sound sleep. "Must be the wake up call," Jim mumbled as he picked up the receiver.

Blair glanced at the clock, which read eight o'clock. "I bet the club is beginning to fill up with patrons," he commented as he walked over to his duffel and selected something to wear. "Think this is appropriate for listening to blues? I'd never wear it to a classical concert or a rock concert, but to--"

"It's fine, Chief. I'll grab my shower first."

Before Blair could blink, Jim was in the bathroom with the water running. "Thief," Blair mumbled as he turned on the television to see if he could find an English speaking channel.

It took the men a little over an hour to get fully dressed and ready to tackle Joe Dawson. They walked the short distance to the establishment. The street was already lined with parked cars. The front door was propped open beckoning them inside. Blair's stomach grumbled its dissatisfaction at being without food for so long.

"Don't worry, they serve dinners," Jim whispered to him as they entered.

Blair admired the way it was decorated. Wooden tables and chairs varnished to a shine dotted the room. Waiters and waitresses bounced from table to bar and to another door he presumed led to a kitchen. A hostess directed them to a table. Jim's eyes were fixated on an elderly man with gray hair who was using a cane to walk with. The man's back was to them as he talked to several people seated at a table. As he turned, his eyes glanced in their direction and he stiffened.

"Is that Joe Dawson," Blair whispered to his partner.

"Yep, and he seems to recognize us," Jim answered back.

Blair watched as the older man made his way to their table. Suddenly he was stopped by one of the waiters, and Blair saw him mumble something.

"What did he say," Blair asked.

"He ordered that our drinks be on the house and asked for them to bring out a whiskey for him."

"Hello Detectives Ellison and Sandburg. Joseph Dawson, at your service."

"How did you know us?" Blair asked, curious.

"They faxed me your pictures. So tell me what Pierson's done now?" Dawson asked as he pulled out a chair and sat.

"We don't know if he's been kidnapped or if he's kidnapped someone else," Jim told him bluntly.

Blair laughed inside. Jim was using his intimidating stare, yet Dawson didn't look alarmed in the slightest. In fact, he was acting like a kid wanting to learn a secret.

"Who is this other person; maybe I know him."

"It's a woman and her name is Alex Barnes," Blair said before Jim could open his mouth.

"A woman?" Dawson gave a hearty chuckle. "I can't believe he was kidnapped by a woman." Then he sobered. "What does this woman look like? Long dark hair?"

"No. Light blonde." Blair could tell that Jim had all his senses on alert. Poor Joe Dawson was taking a lie detector test whether he knew it or not.

"I've never really met any of his lady friends. At least not recently. How did they meet?"

Blair looked at Jim who subsequently nodded so he related some of the story. "We know that Pierson was living in Paris when he changed his identity and flew to Cascade where he took a job as a psychologist at a prison for the mentally insane."

"You're kidding?" Dawson looked at them in disbelief. "Adam as a shrink. What did he want there?"

"We don't know. He worked several weeks, then one of the patients he was treating broke out and the two have disappeared. Do you know where he might be?"

Jim had his eyes glued to Dawson as Blair had talked.

"No. I didn't know he'd left Paris."

"Has he contacted you?" Jim asked.

"Last time I saw him," Dawson smiled, "or talked to him, was back in May. He never mentioned traveling back to the States."

"Don't you find it a strange coincidence that he used to live not more than thirty minutes from where the institution is located?"

"A coincidence? I don't find it strange. Believe me there are a lot of weirder things in this world. Besides, I lived in Seacouver, too. As for this Alex Barnes, he's never mentioned her before; either here in Paris, or when we were living in the States."

Blair looked at Jim. Judging by his body language, Joe Dawson must be telling the truth. Blair decided to take a stab in the dark. "Has Pierson ever mentioned anything related to lions or spotted jaguars?"

Dawson looked puzzled. "You think they're at some zoo? I'm sure Adam has never owned pet, let alone anything dangerous. He prefers not to call attention to himself."

"I don't mean a real animal, but maybe a dream or nightmare about them," Blair added.

"He would never tell me his dreams or nightmares for that matter. Adam is very private person."

"Is he in Paris?" Jim asked pointedly.

Joe looked puzzled. "I just told you I hadn't seen him."

Jim sat back in his chair and sighed deeply. Blair interpreted that to mean Dawson had told the truth and Jim was disappointed. "Does Pierson like to camp?" Blair asked on another whim.

"Camp?"

"You know, go camping--tents, sleeping bags, open fires."

"Adam likes his creature comforts. I can't imagine him voluntarily sleeping in the wilderness. But, if he had to, he'd survive. He would know how--but what does this have to do with this kidnapping? You think he went to the trouble to kidnap a woman and then took her camping? That does not sound like the Adam I know."

Blair related how his apartment manager mentioned that Adam had camping gear in his truck.

"I wouldn't know about that. Roughing-it and Adam Pierson is an oxymoron."

Jim picked up his beer and took a swallow.

"Does this mean the third-degree is over?" Dawson asked, hints of humor coloring his voice.

"Yes," Jim responded.

"So why did you move to Paris, if you don't mind me asking," Blair asked

"No, I don't mind. My friend needed help. It's as simple as that."

"What friend? Adam Pierson?" Jim seemed to be back in interrogation mode.

"Adam never needs help. He gives it, but doesn't need it. I was referring to Duncan MacLeod."

Jim nodded. "Well, we have Pierson's book. When he resurfaces, tell him to come and retrieve it. Come on, Chief, our business here is done."

Blair took a gulp of his beer and stood up. "It's been nice meeting you, Mr. Dawson." Blair used his best manners.

"Nice meeting you, too, Mr. Sandburg."

"If Adam Pierson does contact you, please call me." Jim handed him a card. "Sorry for taking up your time."

"No problem. I love hearing what mischief Adam's gotten himself into."

Just as Blair stood up, a dark-haired man came over to their table and spoke. "Hi, Joe"

"Hey, Mac. What's up?"

Blair waited for Jim to continue to the door, but he was staring at the newcomer.

"Not much. Went down to the Sorbonne and loaned them some of Tessa's sculptures for a big art exhibit that features their alumni. A couple of works they even asked for by name, so how could I refuse?" He paused and looked at the two men standing up. "Am I interrupting something?"

Dawson glanced at them, but when they didn't respond, he went on to introduce them. "This is Detective Jim Ellison and his partner Blair Sandburg. This is Duncan MacLeod."

Blair started at the name, but Jim didn't show any reaction. Blair realized that Jim must have recognized him or at least had an idea who it was.

"You're not going to believe this, but they're here to ask me questions about Adam Pierson?" Joe's smile was tinged with irony that piqued Blair's interest.

"What's Adam done now?" MacLeod asked.

Blair noticed that Dawson didn't even consider the fact that Pierson could have been kidnapped, but that he must be the kidnapper.

"It seems he took a fancy to a patient in an institute for the criminally insane and kidnapped her. These nice detectives are trying to find them."

Jim was staring at MacLeod, who looked incredulous at the announcement.

MacLeod stared right back. "He told me that he was leaving. I didn't ask where he was going, but he did say that he'd be gone for some time."

"He didn't say anything about taking a new identity?" Blair asked.

Dawson and MacLeod exchanged looks then Dawson asked, "What name did he use?"

"Pierce Adams," Jim responded.

Both men smiled widely. "Not much different from his current name," Joe said while laughing. "What was the name of the institute where he was working?"

Blair caught the stern look MacLeod flashed at Dawson.

"Woodbridge," Jim replied. "Is there anything you can tell me about this man that might aid us in trying to locate him and the woman?"

Again Dawson and MacLeod exchanged glances. "I can't think of anything." Dawson's eyebrows were pinched, as if he was in deep thought. Blair didn't buy that for a minute.

"He didn't come back here, especially after saying he'd be gone for awhile. He does like the warmth. You should look into someplace tropical, like Bora-Bora. He's always mentioning that he'd like to go there. Sorry I can't be more help." MacLeod's smile actually looked contrite. Blair didn't buy his response either.

"Thank you gentlemen. We'll just be on our way." Jim nodded and started for the door.

Blair gave them his own good-bye smile and followed his partner. As soon as they were outside, Jim shoved him over to the side. "Shhhh," he instructed.

Blair restlessly shifted from foot to foot as Jim's attention was inside listening to the two friends talk. Finally, Jim pulled his arm, said "let's go," and pulled him down the walk.

"What did you hear?"

"They really don't know where he is. MacLeod wants to follow us home and, 'keep and eye', on us. Dawson said that he'd assign others to do it.
MacLeod didn't like that idea."

"Is someone following behind, now?" Blair looked behind him, scanning the crowd for anyone that looked suspicious.

"No. We seem to be on our own--at least for now."

Blair lapsed into silence going over what Dawson and MacLeod had said. Could anything help them locate Pierson?

They walked on a few steps when Jim stopped. "When we first told MacLeod what we think Pierson has done, he whispered to himself, 'again?'. Then Dawson said that springing Caspian is not in the same league. Sounds like Pierson is in the habit of breaking people out of jail."

"Caspian sounds like a code name." Blair kept reviewing what he had heard. They continued their way to the hotel in silence.

After getting to their room, Jim pulled out some stationary from a drawer and found his pen. "Here, take notes on what we know."

Blair sat down with the pen and paper and began jotting things down. "Pierson's not in France."

"I agree."

"Finally. We need to concentrate closer to home. Dawson says that Pierson doesn't like to camp, yet he had camping equipment in his truck. Why?"

"He was renovating something? It wasn't livable--"

"Yeah," Blair interrupted, excited by the idea. "What if he found an abandoned home or warehouse. He used the few weeks he was working there to fix it up?"

Jim nodded. "What if he bought such a place? He'd probably use another alias. It seems that changing his identity is old hat."

"Going from Adam Pierson to Pierce Adams isn't old hat," Blair corrected, "But I get the drift."

"When we get home we should also check real-estate offices to see if any mountain retreats have been rented or sold in the last month. Pierson may have gone that route."

"Remember, Dawson said that Pierson doesn't like roughing-it. I bet maybe it's a nice cabin; one used for rich people on hunting parties."

What they learned from Dawson at least gave them a place to start when they got home, Blair thought, as they continued their thought sharing process. This trip to Paris wasn't a mistake after all.

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

"You want to try another walk?" Dr. Adams yelled into the cabin.

Alex was done feeling sorry for herself. It was better that she spend time outdoors, than brooding in here. "I'd like that," she said as she walked out of the cabin. For the first time, she was looking forward to spending time with him. He could teach her a lot, if she could remember to listen. "Where are we going today?"

"You pick a path. I'll follow you."

Alex brightened even more at the idea. She would be in charge. First she headed down. Adams stayed next to her and really let her choose which direction. Randomly, she turned left and he kept pace with her, with no questions asked. Empowered, she began to truly investigate her surroundings. First she heard the way the wind picked up, so she headed that way and found a meadow. The trees surrounded the grassy area, but didn't encroach upon it. Cutting across the field, she headed downhill once more. "Do you know where we are?" Alex asked after almost an hour of silence.

"Not in the slightest. I'm leaving this expedition up to you. Although, I am getting hungry. Can you smell any fruit growing nearby?"

She stopped and sniffed the air. "I smell water. I can hear it, too. If we head in that direction, we can get something to drink and if we're lucky, find some cherries. I swear I can detect their faint odor."

Adams smiled at her. "Sounds like a plan."

Taking a deep breath, more to fortify herself than to smell the air, she chose the direction closest to where she heard the water. It sounded like a river that ran quickly with the mountain snow's runoff. She was feeling so good. Her eyes caught the yellow finches chasing each other amid the treetops. A caterpillar was slowly eating his way through a thick luscious leaf. If she slowed her pace, so did Adams. If something caught her interest and she sped up, so did he. Nothing was too trivial for his understanding.

A deer jumped in front of them, leaving a spotted fawn quivering in the grass. Casually, both humans walked past, trying not to alarm the mother doe too much. "Look, over there." Alex pointed to where a fox was walking along a felled tree.

Another hour went by as Alex reveled in both the freedom and the companionship of Adams. For the first time, she was having fun and she didn't want it to end.

"I can see the cherries," Adams said as he loped toward a tree with rings coloring its trunk. The tree was loaded with dark red fruit, small but sweet. They sat down and devoured handfulls.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Adams asked her.

"I am, thank you. I didn't know--"

"I understand. You don't have to explain. In the cities, the bustle of people all trying to get ahead, to make a name for themselves, makes one forget about the simple things. This is what I was trying to tell you before, when I was drinking the beer."

She didn't answer; she didn't need to. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Let's find the water. I'm getting very thirsty."

The river was definitely closer now. She pushed some branches out of the way and found a deer path to follow. Not heeding her steps, she navigated with her ears, not her eyes. Suddenly, Adams grabbed her waist as her feet almost slid out from under her. They had come to a cliff. Several hundred feet below them ran a stream, impossible to get to without a parachute. Alex heard Adams heart stop and great gasps of air fill his lungs. He had been scared for her. A satisfied smile lit her face. At once she began scanning the river and what was across it. Her hand clutched his arm, steadying
herself at the edge.

"I think we need to back up. We are much too close."

Adams broke into her thoughts, but she ignored him. This was her day. She was in control. Her eyes darted from the other side of the ravine down the slope when something caught her attention. Using the control both Sandburg and Adams had taught her, she concentrated on what looked like rungs to a ladder. As the object became clearer in focus, she identified it as a bridge, attached by only one side. She followed it down to the end. It didn't reach the water. Focusing more closely, she detected not frayed ends, but neatly cut ends. Someone had purposely destroyed the bridge.

An upwelling of betrayal filled her soul. She knew exactly who had cut it. Realization that he had gone to such extremes to keep them stranded left her immobile. Her one way of escape was gone. All the good feelings that she had experienced that day vanished in an instant. Adams was the enemy once more.

"You need to back up, Alex," Adams' voice penetrated through her haze of anger.

Turning slightly, keeping her eyes pointed to the ground, she took a strong hold of Dr. Adams' shirt. Stepping back, his body was now between her and the edge of the cliff. As he picked up a foot to step closer to her, she pushed with all her strength, all her rage and watched as he toppled off into the depths below. She saw a flash of resignation in his eyes before his face turned towards the ground as he fell.

The Damocleon sword dropped and took the life of the man beneath.

Alex closed her eyes and sat on the ground, her legs giving out beneath her. As he fell, she heard his body hit the rocks, rolling a bit and then bouncing off. His heart had stopped by the time he hit the bottom. Tears filled her eyes--tears of betrayal. She had been beginning to trust him. It was lucky that she found this bridge before she had lost her sense of self. Standing, she peered over the top. His body lay in unnatural angles, twisted, bleeding and still. It wouldn't take long before the wild predators came to pick the meat off his bones.

Without thinking, she started walking in the direction of the cabin. Her mind had shut down in an effort to stop the pain.

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

Methos groaned as he regained life. He wanted to die--everything hurt. If he could just pick up his sword and thrust it through his heart, he could stop this terrible torture. Memory returned slowly and with it, the knowledge that he had no sword. He moved his arm; pain made him black out.

When consciousness returned once more, he found he was able to move at least his arms. They had healed and were functional. His legs were a different story. The left one was twisted at the hip forming an angle that made him shudder. The right was broken at the ankle. He needed to straighten both of them before he would ever be able to walk on them. Using his arms, he propped himself up. With both hands, he pulled himself along the ground so he was resting against a tree in a more sheltered area. With a few deep breaths to prepare himself, he twisted his left leg so that it ran parallel with his body. He screamed, but this time remained awake. He felt the bones break and then re-heal in the correct alignment. The ankle would be a snap.

With his body now connected correctly, he used the tree to bring himself into a standing position. It hurt, but the pain was manageable. Was Alex above listening to see if he was alive or had she run? At this point he didn't care and realized that she was a lost cause. He should have left her in the institution or killed her when he had the chance. She was an abomination--even by his standards--and should be destroyed.

"Do you know the story of the Damocleon sword?" echoed in his mind. Millie, the crazy lady at Woodbridge had uttered it to him as he had left her room. It had been a warning. Was it meant for him? The sword had fallen and nearly cut his head off. Whether he would keep it before he attained his Ivanhoe again, would remain to be seen. He was tired from all the exertion of healing. His body wanted sleep. Giving in, he lowered himself back to the ground and curled up, his back to the rising cliff. He was asleep even before his eyes were fully closed.

Bad dreams haunted his rest. First the spotted jaguar was standing on the sprawled body of the lion. The lion was defeated. The jaguar was victorious. Next the scene was set in ancient Greece. Dionysius was having a feast and Methos found himself on a couch with a sword hanging over his head. He was so hungry, yet he dared not move in case the sword fell and killed him. Alex was just tying the knot on the sword, but let it slip. "Oops," slipped from her mouth as the sword began its decent. He woke at it penetrated his heart.

"The nature of happiness is indeed perilous," Methos muttered to himself. His hopes for rehabilitating Alex had been crushed. Millie had known he'd meet defeat before he had even started. Anger and the need to teach her a lesson she would never forget filled him with purpose. No more fun. No more trying to coax her to learn. She was the one under the sword now. If she didn't learn--she would die. He had always known that it might come to this, but he took the chance anyway.

With new resolve, he walked over to the water and drank his fill, then began the long hike to the top.


Day 19-Friday, July--

Alex spent the night still numb. She didn't bother to eat. Even lighting the fire was beyond her capabilities. She was alone and she was getting scared. Using her senses was unthinkable, what if she lost control?

The next morning she woke and stayed in bed thinking. Adams was still alive. He told her that he couldn't die. Nothing worked, not stabbing, shooting, burning, drowning or suffocating. He didn't say anything about falling off cliffs, but she bet he couldn't die from that either. If he were alive, would he come back? If he didn't, she would be alone here for the rest of her life. If he did--the thought terrified her. What would he do to her?

Probably kill her. She shuddered.

Her stomach made a large grumbling noise--twenty-four hours without food was a long time. She looked through the cupboards and found some canned soup. Even though it was early morning, soup sounded good. It didn't take long to open it and pour it in a saucepan. However, the fire had gone out. It took longer to find matches.

After cleaning up and putting things away, she wandered around the cabin looking for something to do. She pulled out drawers and looked into the trunk. Surprise held her immobile as she gazed at the assortment of medical supplies. Slowly she closed the lid and went on with her snooping. A duffel bag was propped in a corner. This was Adams' personal property. She dragged the heavy bag into the center of the floor and reached inside.

Clothes were the first things she encountered; jeans, boxers, socks, and shirts. Next, she found books. Some were classics. She recognized them from when she went to school. They were all first editions and some were signed. Charles Dickens wrote that he had never met anyone else better at talking around a subject yet never approaching it. Alex had forgotten anything she had read by him, if she ever had. One book didn't have anything written on the cover. She opened it--and found a journal. Picking it up, she headed outside to read. Maybe she'd learn something about the enigma that had taken her prisoner.

She opened to the first page, but found it written in a different language. The second and third the same. In a fit of anger she shook the book and was surprised to find small pieces of paper falling out. She picked them up and noticed that they were in English. She immediately began reading the one on top.

I had been with the tribe now for ten years. Mira had now officially taken another husband. She was happy in this new arrangement, as was I. She had become a thorn in my side and I was glad to have the responsibility lifted from me. I thought that this would ease my sentinel's mind. But it did not. He was still troubled, both by bad dreams and times where he would be lost within. I talked with the elders and they suggested a pilgrimage to the well of cleansing waters. Maybe his soul needed purification. With three others we walked two weeks westward, towards Paris. How I longed to go all the way there and see Darius, but knew that it wouldn't be possible.

The journey was long. We avoided wandering armies. The Romans were very active in their quest for domination. I wasn't afraid of meeting up with them, but didn't want to hear Rikodius or Coreolus's chiding if I had to explain the reason for the journey. Rezi did not sense any of my trepidations.
At last we arrived. Rezi confided to me that he wasn't afraid of entering the dream state, but was nervous of what would be revealed to him. Would it change him? I assured him that the gods have decreed that we stay together, but it did little to ease his mind. I made an oath to him and myself that we were bonded--sentinel and guide-- in this lifetime and for all time. I would never desert him. Our spirits, the lion and the red wolf, were linked. Nothing could break it.

The temple was a large monument with marble pillars like the ones I had seen in Greece, a thousand years ago. Guards were set up, and several priests of an unknown religion were hovering nearby. Druids also were plentiful. Bitak conversed with a man at the door, who then told us to come back the next day after our mid day meal. Rezi would be admitted then.

Alex let her head fall back. It was about *his* sentinel. She wasn't sure if she wanted to read it. Obviously he intended her to, or else he wouldn't have brought it, nor translated it for her. With trembling hands, she read some more.

Rezi was quiet. I tried to engage him in conversation, but he only answered with one word. Later that night I asked him more of what we would experience the next day. He said that when he first became a sentinel, he had to come here to cleanse his soul of evil. It was a ritual that all holy men had to partake. One had to enter the water and then all the evil was pulled out of the body and thrust into the netherworld. Rezi admitted that he hadn't seen or felt anything happen, put the priests assured him that all evil had been eliminated. Armed with that knowledge, he went back to his village and his position as its Sentinel and guard.

The elders had decided that the reason Rezi was discontented was because evil had taken hold of him and that it had to be taken out. They had also said that perhaps I might have to experience the waters also. Rezi would tell me after he was cleansed. The thought made me very nervous. I knew just how much evil resided in my soul and became afraid that the waters would take away everything that was me. Was there any goodness left in my three thousand year old body? I didn't think so.

Alex stared at the last line. He had been three thousand years old back when the Romans were conquering Europe and druids were alive. It seemed impossible. No one could be that old. She closed her eyes and pictured Dr. Adams. Adam, what an appropriate name, she thought. The name was unassuming, almost bookish. Yet, when she had tried to jump him back at the asylum, he was quick and had her pinned before she knew what was happening. He had been strong. Also, he said that he didn't need her help to kill. In this journal, he referred to the amount of evil in his soul. One time he mentioned that fact to her, too. He must have laughed at her, she thought with desolation. He also must know a lot of ways to torture a person. She squirmed in her seat and read some more.

The next day, Rezi was allowed in the temple. I waited outside for him, very impatient to see how the experience would change him. There was an anxiousness about me that communicated itself to those also waiting. They all misinterpreted it to mean that I was afraid for his welfare, when in reality I was afraid for myself. What if Rezi now was able to recognize the evil within me? What if I was the evil contaminating him? Would the waters kill me? The thought began to terrify me. When Rezi returned, he looked and sounded the same. Then he beckoned me go in, alone. He assured me that it would be all right.

With shaking knees, I descended the many steep stairs. At the bottom, a large room held a few tables, no chairs, and a small round pool of water. The walls were decorated with pictures depicting the gods and mother earth. I can recognize some of them, yet others were a mystery. This place was used by people of many different beliefs. Did the Romans come here, too? I hoped not. Anything not Roman usually had to be converted or destroyed.

In my entire life I have never understood or trusted magic, and a magic pool, designed to rid the body of ill humors, was the most fearsome of all. I would surely die. I slowly went to the edge. I was alone with my demons and all the evil that was such an integral part of me. Kronos laughed at my superstition. He would have broken in, killed the guards and taken the relics. Cassandra probably knew exactly where I was and was demanding that the gods take my life. It was what I deserved. I could almost detect her face staring out at me from the water.

Yet, I continued. It was what Rezi needed, and I would do anything for him. The water in that shallow pool was still. It beckoned me in, but my body would not move. I could hear both Kronos and Cassandra laughing at my fear. The pull on my senses was almost overwhelming, but my fear of death was more so. Evil was not something that could be discarded by a bath. It had to be worn away through good deeds and compassion, which would take time. That was something I had a lot of. I consider my life in the last thousand years and the progress I had already made. I had evil tendencies in me, but I no longer succumbed. I sat on the edge, dangling my feet in the water, but felt nothing. My hands gripped the edge--knuckles white. I closed my eyes, but left my mind open. I saw nothing. The lion and red wolf did not talk. My ordeal must be over.

I returned to the stairs leading up and saw the blinding sunlight. To my surprise, I had been in there all night. Rezi did not ask me what I had experienced, nor did I confess anything that had happened to me. Whether the sanctity touched my soul or not, I cannot say. I did not feel different from before. If anything can turn me into a good man from an evil one, it would be the purity of my sentinel's soul.

Alex could feel the tears falling down her cheeks. The phrase, "purity of my sentinel's soul" filled her with a longing she could hardly comprehend. But, it was too late for her. Maybe it was different in the olden days. Maybe it was easier to be good. Life had to have been better back then.
She inserted the sheets into the book and put it back in the duffel with everything else. After replacing it into the corner where Adams had stored it, she went back outside. On automatic pilot, she retraced her steps down the mountain to the spot where she had pushed the guide off the cliff. For all intents and purposes, she had killed another guide. The fact that he might come back to life was irrelevant. She had killed without thought.

With a deep breath, she peered over the side. The body was gone. She could see blood on the rocks and scratches where the body had been dragged, but Adams wasn't there. She focused her ears, hoping for a heartbeat, or the sound of a voice, but was met with absolute silence. Even the birds weren't singing. She walked back to the cabin--mourning her lack of self-worth.


Day 20-Saturday, July--

Blair sat at his desk, still blurry-eyed from jetlag. The only one smiling was Simon, happy to have them back so soon and unharmed. Jim couldn't wait to look into the real-estate agencies and left the precinct as soon as many of the offices opened. Blair said he'd stay, citing paperwork as an excuse. The real reason was Millie. He intended to drive up to Woodbridge and talk to her.

Blair pressed print and wandered over to the machine to collect the hard copy. He signed his name and deposited it into Simon's in-box. "I'm heading out for lunch," he called and left the bullpen before anyone could request that he bring them back something. As the elevator door closed, he congratulated himself on a smooth departure.

The drive itself was long and boring. He had the radio turned up as loud as he could stand it in an effort to stay alert. What he needed was another eight hours of sleep, but both curiosity and Jim kept him going. He had purposefully neglected to call Woodbridge ahead of time in order to have the element of surprise on his side. Millie couldn't have time to prepare any answers. The truth came out better unrehearsed.

He parked his car in the assigned lot and strode up the walkway to the front door. The receptionist made him wait while she called Dr. Madlen.

"Detective Sandburg. Have you found something?" the doctor asked.

"We're getting close," he evaded. "What I would like to do is interview Millie, one of your patients."

"What for? It's not like the two women know each other. Alex Barnes was never mixed in with our other patients."

"May I talk to her, please?" Blair wore one of his most charming and yet ingratiating smiles.

"I see no purpose to it, but I'll arrange it. Follow me."

Dr. Madlen led him through the entryway door, past security, and to a small conference room. "I'll see if Millie is willing to see you."

Blair sat alone. The room had a few framed photographs on the wall depicting rainbows and flowing meadows. None were inspiring, but bordered on cheesy. "Must have been bought at a garage sale," Blair muttered to himself.

The door opened and the doctor walked in wearing a bemused expression. "It seems that she was expecting you."

An involuntary shiver ran up Blair's spine. Madlen took Blair down a different hall and unlocked a door leading into a bedroom/jail cell. Millie was dressed, sitting on a chair next to a desk.

Blair exchanged looks with Millie, but neither spoke. Dr. Madlen cleared his throat, shifted from one foot to another, then resigned, told them he'd be back in a few minutes. As soon as the door closed, Millie winked.

"I didn't think it would take you this long to come back," she uttered, standing up and turning her chair so that it faced Blair.

"We were in Paris."

"They're not there."

"We know," Blair answered. "We were checking out his friends."

"He has a few friends and many enemies. Our horseman knows how to hide."

"And remain inconspicuous--in plain sight," Blair added.

"You are beginning to know him."

"Do you know where he is?"

"The lion has died for the second time. She doesn't learn. I can feel her confusion and fear. What will he do to her now?" Millie had a far-away look in her eyes as if she wasn't in the room at all.

"Can you see the place where she sleeps?"

"He'll come back to her, but now he's angry. She has turned the teacher into a horseman. He'll punish her like a misbehaved slave, for he knows no other way. She can't be reached by example."

It was obvious that Millie wasn't going to give any concrete clues, but talk in riddles. Blair took out a notebook and jotted down some of the cryptic things she was saying.

"It's going to come to a crisis. Inside she wants to change, but there is too much for her to unlearn." Millie turned to Blair with troubled eyes. "One of you will die."

"What?!" Blair's eyes widened with shock. "Who's gonna die?"

"Either you or her. Only one can live. You should stay away, but your partner won't let you. Because of your interference, one will die."

Blair shuddered.

Millie stood up from her chair and went back to her bed, holding her head in her hands. "Goodbye," she said, and it sounded both final and sad.

Blair made his feet move to the door. It took tremendous effort to bring his hand to the doorknob.

"She's all alone--has always been all alone," Millie spoke into her pillow. "The cabin is so cold and empty."

Blair was motionless, waiting for her to add more. Silence. Then a key sounded in the lock and the door opened.

"I see you're done," Dr. Madlen announced. "Ready to leave? I told you that talking with her was useless. She can never even give *me* a coherent sentence."

Blair refrained from commenting. He offered his thanks and returned to his car. As he tried to insert the key into the ignition, he found that his hands were shaking. Millie said that he was going to die if they kept up their search for Alex, or rather if they found her. She was a crazy lady--could he believe her? The trouble was that he did believe.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Blair started his car and left the institution. His head swam with everything Millie had said. One of them would die. Blair shivered.

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

Methos pulled himself to the top of the ridge and rested on his back, looking up at the sky. It had taken him more than a day to reach the top, resting overnight in an indentation pretending to be a small cave in the rocks that made up the cliff. He was exhausted and very hungry. His clothes were in tatters--torn on the jagged edges of the rocks. The sight of clouds moving across the sky relaxed him and he dozed.

A blue jay screamed, tearing him from slumber. His rage had dissipated, but the underlying anger remained. Alex would find that her jailer had changed personalities as a result of this latest murder. He stood and with resolve he returned to the cabin.

Alex was standing at the cabin door as he broke through the trees. She knew he was out there. He said not a word to her, but roughly pushed her aside as he entered. First, he went to his duffel and removed a clean set of clothes. His books were not in the same order as he had left them. He flashed her a quick look and noticed that she blushed.

Next came a sponge bath of sorts in front of the spigot, not caring if she saw him naked. Once clean, his next stop was food. Rifling though a cupboard, he took out a bag of pretzels and began inhaling them. He longed for a beer. Alex was still standing at the door, watching his every move.

"I want some real food," he told her as he sat down at the table. "First bring me some water and then get some of the salted venison and you can cook that for me with some potatoes and carrots."

Alex didn't budge.

"Move it woman! I have spent the last two days climbing, falling and then climbing again, without food or water."

"I don't know how--"

"I'll talk you through it, but I'm not moving from this table. Get me my water, first!"

Alex scurried into the kitchen, got a glass and went back outside to fill it. After handing it to him gingerly, she went to their little root cellar and brought out the meat and vegetables. He barked orders and she followed them, glancing at him warily as she worked.

When the preparation part had finished, she stiffened her shoulders and joined him at the table. "I'm sorry for--"

"I have no interests in apologies. What's done is done--there is no going back."

"What happens now?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure as hell not going to baby you any longer."

He watched her stiffen her spine as she took offence at his words. In spite of himself, he was proud of her backbone, but none of what he was thinking showed on his face. He continued to shovel pretzels in his mouth and drink the water. "Were you bored as I was making my way back?"

"Bored?"

"You were reading my books. Which one did you like best?"

She shifted in her seat and didn't look at him.

"You read the journal. Did you learn anything?"

"What did you do that you considered yourself evil?"

Methos despaired of her ever learning anything. No matter what she experienced, she always read the wrong thing into it. "I really can't explain. You don't have an accurate frame of reference."

"Try me," she asked eagerly.

"I was a warrior," he responded wearily. "As such we would ride into villages and kill everyone. Hundreds every day. Women. Children. Even old people, if there happened to be any. Back then, thirty was considered old."

She didn't speak.

"Were you glad that I was gone?"

"For a little while," her voice rang with truth. "Then I became afraid."

"Did you have any sentinel dreams?"

"No. The spirits abandoned me."

"You are an abomination. Your self-centeredness has ruled your life for so long that you are incapable of seeing anyone else's view. You don't know how to listen."

"I'm never leaving this mountain, am I?"

"I seriously doubt it. You are not fit to be with others."

"Does this mean you'll stay here with me?"

"I don't know. If you kill me again, I won't return. You'll live for awhile and then starve."

"Or zone and never come out of it."

Methos nodded. "I don't feel like talking anymore. I'm going to take a nap. Go outside or something. Just be quiet. Wake me when the food is cooked."

"When will that be," she asked in a tight voice.

'Two hours, or so."

Methos got up and went over to his bunk. He closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

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

Blair didn't feel like returning to the station. His emotions were churning. The loft was quiet. After closing the drapes on the patio door, and turning out the lights, he lit some incense and put on some soft music. Slowing he sank to the floor, sitting Indian-style, he closed his eyes and let his mind clear. Unknowingly, tears dripped down his face. His hands were still shaking, but as time passed, they stilled.

Every time thoughts of Alex intruded, he deliberately shoved them aside. She was not wanted. Blair was a guide. Jim was his sentinel. Jim's protective instincts were driving him to find Alex and deal with her. Yet this same action would put his guide in danger. How could Blair prevent this? He could refuse to go with Jim. That would put Jim in danger. The sentinel spirits would know that Blair would never do this. It was a no-win situation.

Blair opened his eyes to see Jim sitting on a kitchen chair facing him.

"What happened, Chief?"

Blair took a deep breath. Then he bounced to his feet. "So what did you find out? Did Pierson or Adams' or whoever buy a cabin?"

Jim continued to look at him.

Blair, uncomfortable, continued babbling. "I finished the reports on the Phillips case and--"

"You went to Woodbridge," Jim stated calmly. "Madlen left a message on my voice mail saying that he hoped that Millie hadn't upset you. He said you
were agitated as you left."

"I had to talk to her, man. I mean, I knew that she knew something."

"And you were right. What has got you upset?"

"She said that Alex is gonna kill me."

Jim paled. "Exactly, what did she say? Madlen told me that she talks in riddles. I'm sure she didn't state it that way."

Blair thought back. He couldn't remember the exact words. The meaning had been so chilling that everything else was pushed into the background. "I don't think Millie thinks we should try and find them."

"So, saying that Alex is going to kill you could be a scare tactic."

"No," Blair responded, slowly. "I don't think Millie cares. She mumbled something about the lion being dead again and turning into a horseman. Oh! She said one of us is going to die--me or Alex."

Jim rubbed his chin as he thought. "That's a different slant on things." He paused. "I know where they are. Pierson bought a remote cabin up in the mountains back in the beginning of June. There is a long trail that leads up to it, but I'm sure somehow he's blocked it."

"Why?"

"Because Alex would be able to find her way out. He'd need to fix it so that she couldn't."

"That's stupid," Blair commented. "How would Adams get out when it's time?"

"I don't know. I have the map. It's getting late now, but we'll leave early tomorrow morning. It's about a two hour drive from here and then a four hour hike up to the cabin if the trail is passable."

Blair shuddered, knowing that there was no way out of this. "Okay. Let's have a big dinner and I'll cook--"

"A big juicy steak," Jim finished for him. "With baked potatoes slathered in butter--"

"And summer squash coated with olive oil grilled next to the meat." Blair smiled. For a last supper, it wasn't too bad.

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

Joe was sitting in his office in the back of the club. A Watcher, assigned to the Cascade Police Department, had just celled telling him the location of Adam Pierson and the woman Alex Barnes. Fielding didn't have anything nice to say about the woman except that she had nice legs. He hoped that Pierson killed her. While it wasn't common knowledge within the Watcher community that Pierson was Methos, he was surprised that Fielding didn't know about it.

Now Joe had to decide whether to tell Mac. The Highlander had flown to the States as soon as the Cascade detectives had left. He was determined to find the old immortal. Joe was positive that Methos didn't need his help. The problem was that Joe had promised Mac that he'd call if he found out anything. With the feeling that he was betraying Methos, he placed the call.

As Joe hung up, he pondered fate. The last woman Methos had loved was named Alexa. Now he was with a woman named Alex. One personified everything good in the world and according to Fielding, Alex was evil incarnate. Did the old man contemplate the irony?

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

Duncan MacLeod left his cabin on the island loaded with his camping equipment. His backpack was heavy with his supplies and bedroll. Joe had called him with the location of Methos and the woman he had kidnapped. When Duncan had asked Joe where he had gotten his information, the Watcher was evasive. It didn't really matter. Maybe it was better that he didn't know.

Hiking up that damned mountain was not going to be easy. He would have to walk night and day, resting only to eat and drink if he hoped to arrive before the two detectives and warn his friend. It was a good thing that this mountain was no stranger to him. There had been a time, about a hundred and fifty years ago, that he had lived on the southern side. He knew many things would have changed since then, he hoped not too much.


Day 21-Sunday, July--

Alex woke up and looked tentatively over at her companion. There had been little conversation the night before. She was still a little afraid of him and decided to tread carefully around him. As long as he didn't go into a temper tantrum, she figured she'd be safe. After that initial shove he hadn't touched her.

With him back home, she had to admit to herself that she was relieved. There was hope that maybe she could become what he wanted--a good person. If he abandoned her, there was no hope at all. Maybe a good breakfast would help make it up to him. Quietly, she got out of bed and went into the kitchen. The instant he awoke, she was aware of it.

"Good morning." To her surprise, it did feel like a good morning.

"You cooking?" he asked, without any courtesy.

"I thought this muffin mix and coffee?"

"Okay." He got out of bed and went outside.

"So much for being nice," Alex muttered to herself. She followed his progress as he urinated and then took a drink of water. He splashed water on his face and then came in. His whiskers had grown pretty long, she noticed as he sat at the table. Would he shave or let it grow?

She poured the coffee. "Here."

He didn't even look at her. The muffins were golden brown as she took them out of the oven. However, as she tilted the pan, she noticed that the bottoms were burned. He didn't remark about this either, but ate them heartily. Where once there had been conversation, now it was quiet--and not a pleasant one. It was stilted and uncomfortable.

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

Jim pulled off the road onto a dirt driveway. "It says on this map that this is the road that leads up to the cabin."

"Cool. Then we won't have to walk four hours." Blair grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Jim was also feeling uneasy, despite his easy conversation. He dreaded meeting up with Alex and her protector. Something drove him on. There had been no sentinel dreams; no warnings of impending doom.

The truck hit many bumps as Jim went slowly along the road. "We're about six miles from the cabin. I can't believe we've made it this far."

"Do you see any kind of tire tracks in the dirt?" Blair asked. "I mean it hasn't rained in at least a month so the tracks should still be there."

Jim stopped the truck and got out. "I do see remnants of something that could be tracks. But, it's so dusty that the tracks have been erased by blowing sand and dirt."

Jim got back in the truck and they drove some more. He kept his eyes on the road, trying to avoid the many potholes and indentations.

"Hey, Jim. Look over there. Is that something in the bushes?"

Jim stopped the truck again, and both men got out. Jim studies the bushes as they got closer. "You're right. It's an SUV."

"Kinda weird that it's hiding in the bushes, don't cha think?"

Jim nodded as he memorized the plate number and he went back to the truck to call it in. Blair stayed behind and went into the vehicle.
The radio dispatcher confirmed its registry to one Dr. Pierce Adams.

Blair jumped into his passenger seat. "The thing is empty. No registration card or insurance. I can see that it's been used for carting equipment and bags of things. I found a couple of receipts as if they fell out of bags."

"It's Pierson's car. It's registered to Pierce Adams."

"Oh." Blair didn't elaborate further.

"Lets go farther."

"Why did he leave his truck here?" Blair asked, puzzling over finding it in the first place. "Why didn't he take it all the way up?"

Jim couldn't answer until he drove a bit further and came to a break in the road. They got out once more and found the road had come to a stream and the bridge had been hacked away, as if by an ax. "Guess that answers that." Jim looked to the other side and noticed that road kept going, but it was no longer big enough for a truck, it was a footpath. "We walk from here on."

"Wonderful," Blair groused. "We'll have to walk through the water."

"It looks pretty clean. We'll just take out shoes and socks off and wade across. It's not going to hurt us," Jim chided after seeing Blair's disdainful look.
They walked around a mile before they came to another stream where the bridge had been deliberately destroyed. This one wasn't as easy to ford.

"We might have to use the rope."

"Jim, you gotta be crazy. The water is going sixty miles an hour. I'll get washed away."

"It's not running that fast. Bet here's some good fishing here," Jim remarked half to himself, appreciating the clearness of the water. He stared some more and saw flashes of silver. The lights danced off the fish making the water shimmer in a hypnotic--

"Jim, you with me?"

Jim stiffened as he realized that he had momentarily lost it. "Yeah, just lusting over the idea of fresh fish cooked over a wood fire."

"Yeah, man. That would taste good. Wonder how close Alex would have be in order to smell our dinner?"

As a sobering thought, it was a good one. He mustn't loose track of why they were up here. "I'll cross the water first, with the rope around my waist. Then after I reach the other side, you cross. The stream is running fast, but it isn't that wide." He could see Blair reluctantly agree with his plan.
Jim made it across without mishap, but Blair fell, having slipped on the rocks. Jim kept a tight hold and Blair was able to regain his feet and make it the rest of the way. As he reached the other bank, he plopped on the ground, his chest heaving from both fear and relief.

"Damn you, Jim. I don't ever want to do that again."

"We still have to get back," Jim reminded him with a laugh.

Blair didn't reciprocate the humor. "If I make it back."

Jim felt a scowl cross his face. "That is not something I will consider. You are coming back, with Alex Barnes and Pierson in tow."

After Blair regained his breath, they set out again. The path kept taking them up further up the mountain. The incline was greater after they had forded the last stream and even Jim was beginning to get winded. "Let's rest a bit," he suggested.

"Yeah, let's." Blair leaned against a tree.

Jim used the time to search his surrounding both auditorily and visually. He could hear some more water further ahead and, as he analyzed the sound, he realized that it came from below. "Wait here. I want to check something out."

Blair nodded so Jim strode purposefully ahead, afraid of what he was going to encounter. Just past the rise, where it flattened out somewhat, he found himself looking down a large cliff. A suspension bridge had traveled across to the other side, but it hang limply down the side of the cliff where he was standing. Dropping to his stomach, he focused to the ends of the bridge and verified that it had been cut--deliberately sabotaged.

Jim groaned as he realized that he'd have to go back and tell Blair that they weren't going to make it to the cabin this way. They had wasted a day. It
seemed that a helicopter was going to be the only way up.

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

Methos sat on the ground contemplating the world around him. He didn't know what to do. In his mind, Alex could not be saved. For some reason her mind just couldn't grasp what being a sentinel was all about. The slow mentor/student relationship didn't work. When confronted with a problem, she fell back on her old instincts of murder to solve it. That didn't work in this world. He could try the master/slave scenario, but didn't have the heart for it. Violence only begot more violence and she had had enough of that in her short life. What was left? He had to try something.

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

Duncan was bone weary. The going was hard. He had brought rope and needed to climb several gorges. Unfortunately he fell during the last climb. Now his clothes were torn and he was filthy. He didn't have any extras. The only saving grace was that his supplies hadn't been lost. The moon was overhead, illuminating the ground enough for him to walk slowly. One foot in front of the other, he kept going.


Day 22-Monday, July--

Alex woke in a cold sweat. It was late morning, possibly nine o'clock. She kicked off her covers, then realized that she was shaking. The dream had been so real. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she couldn't hear anything else. Could *he* hear it? She turned her head and looked at him. It appeared that he was asleep. The sudden urge to see for herself impelled her out of bed. Her legs would barely support her. Taking a deep breath, she tiptoes over to the other bed.

Adams was sleeping with his back to her in an almost fetal position. His chin was curved towards his chest and his arms were wrapped around his neck. She listened to his breathing, which was rhythmic and shallow. In a fraction of a second, he went from still to sudden movement. His legs whipped around and smacked her behind the knees, which sent her sprawling to the ground on her back. The rest of his body followed the forward momentum and she found him towering over her with a feral look of the predator blazing in his eyes.

"You will *not* kill me again."

"I-I wa-was ju-ju-just checking to see if you w-were asleep. I wasn't going to try anything." Fear made her stammer. His demeanor had radically changed from anything she had seen before. Now she could visualize him as the warrior he had described himself. Back in the institution, his aggressive tactic of pinning her to the wall was nothing compared to what she was seeing now. Which of his personalities was real and which was the façade?

Adams stared at her intently with a cold, calculating look. He must have believed her since he rose and then helped her to her feet. "I'm hungry. Go fix us some breakfast."

Alex nodded, grateful to escape the encounter. With trembling hands, she got the fire going in the stove and put a pot on to heat water for coffee. Between the dream's imagery and what had just happened, her nerves were in tatters. Somehow, by the time Adams was dressed, she had the coffee and food on the table. As he dug in, she sat back and picked at the food that she couldn't swallow if her life depended on it.

"Do you hear that?"

Alex listened and heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter. How had she missed it?

Both ran out of the cabin and Alex could make out, in the far distance, the aircraft flying as if searching the area.

"I think someone's out to rescue you," Adams remarked dryly.

"Or incarcerate me."

"That, too."

Both observed the helicopter make a pass at them.

"God damn it, Ellison and Sandburg are in there." Alex couldn't believe it. How had they been found?

"Looks like we're in for a confrontation," Adams remarked, seemingly unfazed.

"A confrontation? It's going to be a war. I'm never going back with them."

"So, do you intend to kill--"

But, Alex didn't hear the rest. She ran into the cabin and retrieved the shotgun. There was no way she was going to be locked inside four walls again--never again. With her ears focused on the path of the helicopter, she filled the chamber with shells and ran back outside.

"I think they've landed in the meadow," Adams told her.

"We better go meet them." She took off running, hoping to catch the interlopers before they came too close to her home. In the periphery of her mind, she knew that Adams was following her, but didn't care.

She could hear the chopper taking off as she broke into the open field. "Stop where you are," she commanded.

Jim and Blair obeyed. She was just about to speak again when Adams interrupted her. "Why don't we invite them to have some tea," he asked.

"Tea?" she answered back, incredulously. "Tea? Are you nuts? They've come to ruin everything. You can't treat them as if--"

"They're friends? Come on Alex. These two are Sentinel and Guide. You can't keep killing your own. It's time to make a fresh start."

"No!"

Adams ignored her and walked over to where the enemies were standing. "Hello, Detective Ellison. How nice of you to drop by."

Alex could see Jim's eyes widen in surprise. She bet he wouldn't know what to make of the doctor either.

"We've come to take Alex Barnes back to Woodbridge."

"Why?" Adams asked.

"Because she's belongs in jail."

"Don't you think that this mountain is enough of a jail? She can't get out. There is no danger to other people. Unless of course," Adams laughed, "they
drop in like you two did."

"This doesn't count."

Alex could hear the bitterness in Jim's voice--and the fear. Well, she was scared, too. "I am sorry that I almost killed you, Blair." She saw Adams turn back to her, thus exposing his back to them. "I thought I had a good reason, but I was wrong. Please go back and forget you saw me here. I'm not gonna leave even if I have to kill everyone who tries to force me," she threatened.

"You know I can't do that, Alex. It's my job. It has nothing to do with you being a sentinel or killing Blair. You stole the nerve gas with the intention of destroying millions of lives. I can't let that go unpunished."

"I guess that puts us at a stand off." Adams said as he shifted from foot to foot but otherwise looked calm.

Alex was furious at the way Adams was refusing to help her. This was Ellison and Sandburg, her greatest foes and he was protecting them. He had practically placed his body between the three of them so that if she shot, the bullet would go through him first. She was the only one with a gun. At least the only one cocked, ready to fire.

Suddenly, before her eyes, everyone began to morph into their spirit animals. It was her dream, suddenly becoming real. In the distance, she could hear more helicopters, but the danger in front of her was what held her attention. The black jaguar leaped at her, but she was too quick and moved out of the way. With a swipe, she raked her nails across his face.

The helicopters landed. She would not be captured. Taking off at a run, she left the meadow and entered the trees. The jaguar was right behind her. He growled, but she refused to look around. As her paws hammered the ground, she morphed once more into a woman with feet. In the dream, he chased her off the cliff. That wouldn't happen again. The spirits had warned her. Smiling, she ran almost to the edge and then veered sharply off.

Ellison came pounding after, but his senses must have warned him of the precipitous. He also turned in time. She stopped and turned to face him. "I'm not leaving here," she warned once more.

Blair Sandburg came barreling up to the cliff. Jim would have to do something to prevent him from falling off, then he'd take his eyes off her and she'd strike. It was so simple; she'd just push them over like she did Adams. It could work again. She carefully measured the distance in her head. One false step and she'd go over too.

Blair skidded to a halt and Jim pulled on his arm to steady him. She placed first one foot and then another silently in front of her and tread slowly toward the other two while they were focused on each other. Thundering feet through the brush interrupted her concentration. Adams, roaring loudly, burst in front of her, grabbed her around the waist and sent them both tumbling over the edge.

"I couldn't let you do it, Alex," was the last thing she heard as the wind whistled past her ears for the last time. Her dream had told her that she'd fall off the cliff, but not for a second did she believe that the lion would be the one to push her. Her vision only showed the fall--and her death.

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

Jim was stupefied. Adams sacrificed himself in order to prevent Alex from killing them.

"'If you confront her, one will die.' That's what Millie told me. I can't believe--" Blair didn't finish the sentence.

"I can see them down there. Both Alex and Adams are dead." Their bodies were on the rocks angled in a grotesque manner. Jim heard more rustling as Simon broke through the trees.

"Where are they?" his captain asked, looking around. Then he noticed the steep drop. "Did they fall off as you chased them?"

"Not really," Jim answered. "Alex was attempting to kill both of us, when Adams grabbed her and jumped off."

There was several seconds of silence as all three tried to make sense out of what had happened. "Listen, I'll take care of retrieving the bodies. Take the kid and go on back," Simon instructed gently.

"Thanks, Captain. Come on, Chief. We don't need to keep looking at this."

Sentinel and guide walked back through the woods to the clearing.

"Jim, I want to take a look at the cabin. We should pack up the effects and somehow mail them to Joe Dawson. He'd want to know about his friend."

"You're probably right. I just feel kind of numb."

"I know what you mean. I just--I don't know--why did he do it? It's not like he really knew us or anything. When we first got off the chopper, he almost seemed pleased."

"It appeared that he did have some control over her." Jim was truly surprised by that fact. Maybe they shouldn't have tried to find her.

The path to the cabin was easy to follow, despite how long it took. As they came to the opening in the woods, Jim heard another person rummaging around in the cabin. He pulled out his gun and angled his body in front of Blair.

He pointed the muzzle at the front door. "Cascade Police! Come out, slowly!"

Much to his surprise, Duncan MacLeod walked to the doorway.

"I'm unarmed, " MacLeod shouted back.

MacLeod's clothes were ripped in several places and it appeared that he'd at least tried to clean off the dirt, although it was still smeared somewhat across one side of his face.

Jim lowered his gun and went closer. "What are you doing here?"

"I've kept track of your progress and when I heard about this cabin, I decided to take a look my self. Where's Adam?"

"Dead." Jim didn't see the need to add any niceties.

"He fell over a cliff, taking Alex with him." Blair added, trying to add more explanation to the brief statement Jim had made.

Jim thought the man seemed relieved to hear that Adam had fallen off the cliff. It didn't make sense unless they weren't really friends. No, he did look upset when he first mentioned that Adam was dead. His first involuntary response was an increased heartbeat and his pupils dilated.

"I see. Well, I'll pack up his stuff, if you don't mind. In fact, I think I'll stay up here a few days." At Jim's upraised eyebrows, Duncan added, "To mourn. He was a very good friend."

"I'll have to check with the captain, but I'm sure it will be okay. Any of effects of Alex Barnes have to be given to the police department."

MacLeod nodded.

Jim didn't like leaving the man alone, but didn't see a way out of it.

"What about funeral arrangement?" Blair asked. Jim kicked himself for not thinking of that.

"When I get back to Seacouver, I'll call you. I probably won't be up here more than a couple of days."

"How are you going to get out?" Jim asked, curiously.

"Same way I got in. I'll walk."


Day 24-Wednesday, July--

Methos walked the last couple of steps to the cabin then stopped in shock as he felt the presence of another immortal. He didn't have his sword and he was exhausted after falling from that damned cliff and having to hike and climb his way back. He looked up and saw Duncan MacLeod leaning against the doorframe. Relief almost made him drop to the ground.

"You look like hell, Methos."

"You're not exactly GQ yourself. Is everyone gone?"

"Yes. I told them I'd pack up your effects, but the captain wanted to make sure there wasn't anything here that could destroy the world. What kind of company are you keeping?"

"Later. I need a bath, food, and sleep." Methos did all three. It felt good to finally be able to relax. Had it only been a month since he had met her? Sleep claimed him as he realized how much this woman had meant to him and how much he regretted her death. She might not have been Rezi, but she had needed him, and he wished he could have done more for her.

When Ellison and Sandburg had first arrived, he'd been glad. It was a way to further Alex's education. She could witness what a true partnership was like. They would have stayed. Methos would have promised to let them take her after a week if they didn't approve of what he was doing. It would have been a lie, he never would have let her go, but it would have served the purpose in letting the four of them get to know one another.

Methos had to admit he was curious about the two detectives. How did a sentinel and guide function in this time period? There were so many sights, sounds and smells that had to drive him crazy. Sandburg must have to be alert twenty-four hours a day.

A shiver racked his body as he remembered seeing Alex, saw her intent face, imagined her calculating eyes, and those stealthful steps toward Ellison and Sandburg as they were standing on the edge of the cliff. In that instant, he knew that he had lost. She would never be the sentinel he had envisioned her to be. Maybe her conditioning was too ingrained. Maybe trust was not something she could comprehend. He, himself, trusted very few, but he did know how. He would never know how her mind had worked, but at least he knew he had given it a shot. She was better off dead than incarcerated in that hell. No sentinel deserved that.

"You okay, Methos?" MacLeod called over to him from across the cabin.

"Yes." And he was okay.

"You're pretty restless over there. Sure you don't want to talk about it?"

'There's nothing to talk about."

"Sometimes it helps. It makes things clearer in your mind."

"I need to assimilate it first. Believe me, it's a long hike back, plenty of time for me to answer all your nosy questions." Methos smiled. Yes, he trusted very few, but MacLeod was definitely one of them. He felt sorry that Alex would never know the warm feeling of having such a friend.

~Fin~


Return To Fiction By Title