Highlander Shattered 2: Genocide Avenged

**Genocide Avenged**

_Shattered: Part Two_

Bright sunshine soaked the pavement reflecting back painfully. Wincing Richie Ryan stepped onto the sidewalk. Unaccustomed to the glaring Arizona sun he slipped on a set of sunglasses and all but sighed in relief. He couldn't imagine anyone spending the summer in such an overheated hellhole. Still the constant good weather was a nice change from a Seacouver winter.

He checked his watch; he still had a half hour before he had to meet Mac and Methos. He grimaced and hefted his heavy package; he didn't know what it was. He didn't really care. Methos had asked him to fetch it so he fetched. The man wasn't to be crossed, not when he was in one of his moods, which were becoming more frequent. Methos had never really recovered from his imprisonment and torture and the information revealed by i;. that the game was an elaborate lie designed to aid in the genocidal destruction of all immortals by their willing, even eager hands, racial suicide spurred on by an elite group of extremely powerful and paranoid mortals so long ago that even Methos was a mortal when it was conceived.

Richie set off for their rendezvous at a leisurely stroll absorbing the desert sun on his winter-starved skin. They were supposed to meet at the food court of a local shopping mall. It was about a ten-minute walk but Richie figured he could stretch it to twenty-five.

* * *

"Garcon!" Methos snapped. He'd always wanted to use that line. He smirked to himself. An irritated bar tender slid over to him and refilled his scotch. Methos whipped out one of his more charming smiles.

"Why thank you my kind sir, much obliged." The bartender glared and dismissed him.

"Bit early for a binge isn't it?" A voice cut through the cheesy western music oozing through the smoky atmosphere.

"What do you care?" Methos asked turning around. A slim sexy wet dream met his surprised stare.

"You're Adam?" She purred.

"Only if you're Eve." He grimaced.

"Gee, that's just so darn original, you get a gold star." She said coldly.

Miffed Methos scowled and gestured to the barstool next to him. He turned back to his drink and glared at it.

"The shipment is on time, it's at a warehouse on North Howe Street. The building number and contact are in here." She said and handed Methos an envelope. As she turned to go, his eyes followed her.

"Only if you're Eve, I'm going to kill MacLeod." He muttered and downed his drink.

* * *

Richie strolled into the food court leaving the searing sunlight and bustle behind him. The food court was practically deserted. After all, he thought there couldn't be too many mall shoppers at 10:30 on a Tuesday morning. He selected a table against a wall facing the exit and sat down.

Methos strolled in a few minutes later and walked over to an A&W and began to place an order. Mac followed a few minutes later carrying a shopping bag, he strolled into the men's room. Richie waited until Methos received his order then, leaving the package on the table he too went to the men's room.

As he walked in he cleared the stalls ignoring Mac standing in front of the sinks, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wooden doorstop. He stood to the side of the door and waited. A few seconds later Methos breezed in carrying the package. Richie slid behind him closing the door and wedging the wood under it.

Methos arched an eyebrow at the immortal youth then turned to Mac.

"You are a bastard."

Mac grinned, "What, her name wasn't Eve?"

"I should have your head for that you arrogant Scot." There was an undercurrent of menace to Methos's bantering tone.

"Uh, what are you talking about?" Richie asked taking the package from Methos. His voice was pleasantly burred; a large scar circled his throat just above his collar bone.

Accepting the package Methos enlightened Richie regarding Mac's latest volley in their unending insult war. Methos ignored their laughter and began to unwrap the package revealing three disassembled high-powered assault rifles with several magazines each.

"Ammo?" Methos asked beginning to assemble one. They were fashioned from some high tech polymer, as strong as steel but far lighter. They contained an internal recoild dampener to compensate for the lack of weight to absorb the powerful recoil. Designed for special assault teams the weapons were unbelievably expensive.

"Should be included in the magazines." Mac said. Methos picked one up and double-checked. He grunted acknowledgement.

"Damn those suckers are light." Richie said.

"That's the idea. Light, accurate, powerful, deadly." Mac said beginning to load them into a duffel bag.

"Cool, what now?"

"We need to pick up the rest of our gear at the warehouse and meet Joe's contact back in Seacouver." Methos said disassembling his rifle and putting it with the others.

"So this guy is supposed to know where the rest of these bastards are?" Richie asked.

"Or know someone who does, Joe wasn't real clear." Mac said

"So we're going to meet someone we don't know, to find out if he knows anything which he might not, and we're going unarmed?" Richie asked

"No, I'm going unarmed, you two are going to hang back, but you _are _going to be armed, heavily." Mac said picking up the duffle bag.

* * *

Methos shadowed Mac to the entrance of the warehouse. The warehouse was a massive and dilapidated structure. There were two personnel entrances and one cargo door at the front. The other doors on each side of the rickety structure were securely locked. Richie was positioned on a nearby rooftop equipped with a starlight scope. He watched their movements in the weird green of the scope ready to fire on any threat.

Mac paused at the threshold and exchanged words with someone. Methos vanished into the shadows. Richie suspected he was finding another way in. Mac vanished into the warehouse.

Richie waited for ten minutes. Bored he started to scan the surrounding area. To his surprise he spotted several men approaching the warehouse. Reaching for his radio he watched them take up stations around the two exits.

"Come in Hawk, this is Owl."

"Go Owl."

"We have suspicious activity outside the entrance and exit, two unknowns are waiting outside the main personnel exit."

"Acknowledge Owl, has Albatross made landfall?"

"That's a negative Hawk, repeat Albatross has not made landfall."

Richie set the radio aside and reexamined the scene below him. He watched as another faint figure –Methos- descended like a nightmare and incapacitated the figures. Killing wasn't an option since they hadn't clearly threatened the immortals. Richie continued to watch as Methos moved the prone bodies away from the doorways.

Finally Mac exited the warehouse followed by several men carrying packages. The men set the packages down and vanished back inside. Methos waited a few seconds before revealing himself and helping Mac with the goods. Richie stayed hyper alert, now would be the perfect time to jump the immortals, if word had gotten out that the team that took out Baal's operation a few months ago comprised only three guys and two were distracted Richie and the rest of his race were in deep trouble.

Finally the packages were loaded. Swiftly Richie packed his gear and headed for the fire escape. He smiled to himself as he walked another flawless op.

"Any trouble?" Mac asked as Richie slid into the rented SUV.

"Ask Adam, he met a couple of characters who may have been waiting to jump you." Richie and Mac always referred to Methos as Adam in case someone overheard them, considering Methos's history and notoriety such caution was more than justified..

"They were definite unfriendlies, they were armed and ready for Mac and they had tattoos." Methos said.

"That's too close, and why didn't they have more backup? Surely they know what we're capable of by now?" Richie asked.

"Who knows, maybe there are factions within factions, maybe they're at war with each other or they haven't figured out who took out Baal. We don't have enough information we're blind." Mac said frustrated.

"Fine, does that mean we're still going to meet this guy Joe set up for us?"

"We don't have much choice, we don't have anywhere else to start unless we start taking out every Watcher we see. That would mean killing people like Joe, who really don't know the real agenda."

"Duh, we realize that too Mac but I don't want to walk into a death trap okay? Even if I am immortal."

Mac fell silent, what could he say? Richie was right. If it came down to it they might have to renew the war that Mac had fought so hard to stop after Jacob was murdered. At least now they would know why Horton's band had been so widespread.

"There is another way." Methos said. "We could go for the higher ups, interrogate them, if they're guilty kill 'em and move on. We'd be in control, they might know who we are and what we're doing but there's no way they could stop us. Joe is as safe as humanly possible and we're as good as an army." Richie and Mac considered the idea, it was fairly sound.

"Why don't we proceed like we're going to meet Joe's contact, if we get there and get a bad vibe we'll try to implement Methos's plan, that leaves us an out. We can always use whatever this guy has to say to help us with it." Richie said.

* * *

He turned out to be a she, Joe's daughter, Amy; she'd taken to using Dawson instead of her adopted father's name. The meeting was perfectly safe without so much as a hint of a threat to the immortal trio. Nonetheless they were all armed and on high alert.

"Amy, no wonder Joe was mum on the who and why." Methos muttered to himself.

"Adam, it's so good to see you again." Amy said with genuine warmth, Mac and Richie decided to let Methos do the talking.

"You too, Amy, did Joe tell you what we need?" Methos asked uncomfortable with her warm greeting, he knew what they would use the information she was giving them for and he also knew she would be hurt by it.

"Well, he didn't really tell me why, he just said he needed a list of addresses and territories for all the high ranking watchers and anyone who had close contact with Horton. He had to sweet talk me and he hinted that some of Horton's people might still be active but he didn't tell me anything else. To be honest I'm really uncomfortable doing this."

"Then why do it?" Methos asked intrigued.

"There was something in Joe's voice when he mentioned Horton's group. It scared me, it sounded like he was afraid, I've never known Joe to ever be afraid, even when Walker. . . . Well, ever."

"Amy, you're doing an important thing, but I can't tell you why."

"I didn't think you could, but it was worth a shot. Anyway, here's the list, I'll try to help any way I can, I just, don't feel very comfortable exposing Watchers, or classified information." She slid a fat manila envelope over to Methos and stood to leave. Methos watched her go feeling de ja vu from his meeting in Arizona. She looked back at him briefly. Meeting her eye Methos had an urge to explain everything to her. She was too intelligent not to realize what she'd done when people on the lists started to die. Fighting the urge he stayed seated.

* * *

"I don't recognize any of these names from the Galati affair." Richie said to Methos. They were in Mac's apartment cleaning and inspecting their gear and weapons.

"Well, that's not too surprising everyone who was blatantly involved was probably 'retired'."

"Killed?" Richie asked

"Maybe, I doubt it though, too messy. Likely they were literally retired or possibly repositioned and made into sleeper operatives." Methos said strapping handguns and extra clips under his coat. Richie idly fingered one of the myriad weapons spread over the apartment.

"Who was Arctus?"

"Arctus?"

"You said he was an immortal involved with the Watchers."

"You just answered your own question, he was an immortal involved with the original Watchers."

"That's all?"

"Yep."

Richie considered this for a moment; Methos was definitely keeping something back.

"Be that way."

"'Kay." Methos said, finally satisfied with his armament he slinked over to MacLeod's bed and sprawled bonelessly. He was asleep instantly. Light snores drifted through the loft. Annoyed Richie stomped off to wait for Mac by the elevator.

* * *

Methos dreamed he hated dreaming, if he remembered them they weren't at all pleasant. Alexa dying, his time with Baal, his history with the Horsemen, the centuries before that spent running and hiding between executions at the hands of superstitious barbarians. The worst were the ones he couldn't remember. He would always wake violently from those. The only detail he ever remembered was a man with green eyes and long blonde hair laughing. It was not a kind laugh.

* * *

Mac watched Richie sleep. The young man appeared to be in his late teens and always would, while that could prove to be an advantage later in his life it was nothing but a burden now, unable to walk into most bars and order a drink, never treated as an equal by men he would soon be twice as old as. Mac shook his head and reproached himself for the thousandth time, for not protecting Richie and Tessa, Tessa the only woman he'd loved in so very long.

In sleep Richie looked his physical age, innocent and gentle, only the pale scar encircling his neck marring the façade. The scar was a souvenir from the beginning of their war A madman had implanted a collar preprogrammed with explosives around the young immortals neck as well as a mind control device designed to turn the young man into a Judas. The same man had tortured Methos into madness. He had used all the tried and true methods of torture including several designed just for an immortal, in the end sensory deprivation, a cocktail of exotic drugs and the ancients man's own memories had driven him completely mad. His sanity was still a fragile thing. As though it were ever terribly stable Duncan mused.

The oldest immortal was also sleeping. Though not nearly as soundly as Richie. Duncan had no doubts that his friend was wracked with nightly terrors and memories too terrible to share. Watching as the older man thrashed and groaned in his sleep Macleod reached down to shake Methos awake.

Without warning Methos snatched the Highlander's forearm and pinned the Scot to the floor. Methos bared his teeth inches from Mac's face and increased the pressure on his arm. Throttling Mac with his other hand.

"Me . . . .Methos . . . sto . . .stop!" Mac managed at last. The words broke into Methos's consciousness like a fist.

Jerking the older immortal seemed to awaken. Staring at Mac with horror he released him so quickly the Scot didn't have time to catch himself and crashed to the floor. Coughing and gasping he fought to regain his breath. Methos simply stared. Richie woke with a start at the sound of Mac's struggle for air.

"What the . . ? " The immortal teenager muttered taking in the sight of Mac's spluttering form and Methos's blank face.

"I . . . I'm sorry . . ." Methos whispered avoiding Mac's frightened eyes.

"Dreams . . . it's these damn dreams . . . I . . . . I can't sleep. . . ." Methos trailed off.

* * *

Joe sat back from the computer screen and stretched his tired shoulders. The blue flicker of the screen was beginning to give him a major headache. He'd spent ten hours a day on the damn thing since 'Clan MacLeod' had decided to smuggle him into hiding, leave it to Methos to know of the most secure and digitally hooked up hideouts on the planet. Joe sighed and rubbed his burning eyes.

Since he'd been squirreled away up here he'd used all his old contacts and called in a considerable number of favors and applied some judicious pressure to get information about the higher ups in the Watchers and any possible dirt regarding Watcher involvement in the creation of the Game. Joe's rage at that knowledge was only surpassed by Methos' and Richie's even Mac's ire didn't compare. The broody Scot had taken a surprisingly enlightened view on the exposure of the game. Mac's rigid moral code had served him well, barring a few gray characters Mac's kills were either forced on him or perpetrated for the higher good.

"For once the mule headed bastard isn't brooding." Joe muttered as he reached for his cane to help lever himself out of his chair. Perhaps some fresh air and hot coffee would give him some inspiration. Moving stiffly he wandered into the kitchen and began making coffee.

No it wasn't Mac the old Watcher was concerned about, nor was it even Richie who's comparative youth should have made him more vulnerable, but the kid was tough and Mac would never let anything harm the young man. No, the only one of the trio worrying Joe was Methos. The ancient man had never really been the same since his near miraculous recovery. Methos had struck Joe as highly-strung, too tense by far, and his healthy paranoia had tripled. His usual lackadaisical banter and good humor had all but vanished. His sybaritic tendencies replaced by a violent, dark, and restless energy. Joe didn't think Methos was in any shape to take this war to the source, but he had to be the one, he knew more than Mac or Richie.

"Besides, you'd have kill him to keep him from going after those evil sons of bitches.." Joe muttered as he filled the coffeepot with water.

* * *

Methos stood in the early morning light filtering into the dojo. His Ivanhoe balanced effortlessly. He was wearing jeans, boots, a sweater and his coat he liked to make his practice sessions as real as possible. Breathing evenly and meditating he slipped into a set of kata and warm up movements. His usual workout took about two and a half hours. He practiced for twice that length before Richie lifted the elevator gate shattering his concentration. Methos leaned too far forward and lost his momentum. Staggering he caught himself and wandered over to a weight bench, he sat heavily and balanced the Ivanhoe on his knees. He began toweling his sweaty face.

"Adam, what's wrong?"

Methos didn't meet the boy's eye he stared ahead for a moment before sighing and moving his gaze to the sharp beauty of his weapon. He picked up an oil impregnated cloth and began meticulously cleaning his blade.

"Can we help you?" Richie persisted. Despite a dubious first impression and subsequent rocky history Richie had grown to feel a sort of big brother affection for the other immortal.

"No Ryan I don't think you can maybe Sean Burns could have . . . ." Methos finally answered colorlessly. Neither he nor Richie needed to mention that MacLeod had killed the gentle immortal psychologist while in the grip of a dark quickening. Methos had risked his head to save Mac from the dark quickening, only to watch the highlander turn on him over Methos's past with the Horsemen.

So much pain, so much betrayal and loneliness, Richie thought. Has he ever been really happy? Richie had been so very happy living with Tess and Mac, even as a small boy with his foster mother he'd been happy and there were times and friends during his life on the street that he would always cherish, but what about Methos? So old he didn't remember the people he'd been adopted by, didn't remember taking his first head . . . .how much happiness had his past and his memory swallowed while his future morphed into one long journey into a lonely blood soaked darkness? How Richie wondered had the ancient man kept madness at bay for so long?

"Methos . . ." Richie started and then trailed off.

"No, Ryan I don't know what we're going to do." Methos said softly.

* * *

Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was angry. The object of his wrath was occupying his usual workout area so he had decided to take a walk. He knew it wasn't fair to be angry with Methos, the ancient wasn't himself and his immediate apology had worried Mac almost more than the nocturnal attack. He shook his head and picked up his pace. The old man was really beginning to fray. What could they do? For the thousandth time since Methos's dramatic reappearance Mac mourned the loss of Sean Burns. Who else was there that could help Methos? A wild impossible plan began to form in his head. It was extremely dangerous, Methos may loose his head, or she might loose hers, but what choice did he have?

Richie met Mac as he came in from his walk.

"Mac, he's not getting any better, he's becoming a liability and he knows it, if we don't do something he might take off again or worse."

"I know, I think I know someone who might be able to help, it'll be tricky though, where is he?"

"Upstairs taking a shower."

"Good."

Methos let the hot shower beat his exhausted muscles into numb relaxation, he closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, sweat tainted water flowed over his tongue. As the salt tang faded he crouched and leaned his forehead against the warm tile of the shower wall. Lips slightly parted he let the hot water rinse his mouth. Time slowed and then stopped as he willed the world away. Unbidden salt stung his tongue again; no longer sweat, but tears.

What was he going to do? He couldn't sleep, he couldn't concentrate, he had no control over his emotions, and he couldn't even defend himself. It was ridiculous why fall apart now? He'd survived five thousand years of cruelty and abuse at the hands of humanity, **_five thousand years_**, and then he snaps because of a little torture?

* * *

"Well, the thing is he's really paranoid and suspicious and well, he doesn't know I called you, and we're kind of wanted by a small private army with a grudge against all immortals and us in particular."

"Well, that's a good idea but where?"

"Of course I remember . . ."

"As soon as I can get him there"

Mac hung up the phone and heaved a sigh, halfway there he thought tiredly.

"What are you doing?" A cold voice demanded cutting through Mac's reverie.

"Methos? I thought you were still in the shower." Mac said causually but he was unable to hide the guilt in his voice.

"What are you planning?" Methos demanded suspiciously.

"Well unless you were planning on getting well and truly killed on our next mission I thought I'd get you some help."

"From whom?" Methos asked tightly fingering his empty scabbard.

"Cierdwyn."

"Who?"

"Sean Burns' last student." Methos's angry features softened slightly.

"Are you willing to give her a shot?" Mac asked.

"I don't appreciate how you've gone about this, sneaking behind me, don't you think I've realized there's something wrong with me? I'm a mess Mac and I know we don't have the time I'd need to sort this out for myself so it's fine that you talked your old pal into this but you should have talked to me first, okay?" Methos growled still unconsciously fingering his scabbard and not meeting Macleod's eyes.

* * *

Richie stretched his stride breathing evenly and rhythmically he continued his route through the near empty suburban landscape. He enjoyed running, before he met Mac the only running he'd done had been from the authorities and neighborhood thugs, running for recreation was utterly foreign to him. He smirked and focused on his movement and the joy of his ability. Houses and neighborhoods flashed by, children, dogs, perfect suburban life. A truly strange existence to the former street waif, he studied the passing tableau with a jaded scorn. He knew somewhere that he had longed for such a life with all his being for years. Now with his immortality and the declaration of vendetta against him and his companions such a life was beyond his wildest dreams. Mac had told him and other immortals as well, he had learned the lesson for himself, painfully; immortals could never have real families, even a facsimile. Too much danger was inherent; an immortal could never protect the innocent mortals of an adopted family and keep his head. It was impossible.

He turned a corner and headed back toward Mac's place. Where hopefully Methos and Cierdwyn were meeting and Mac was mediating. He bared his teeth into the wind created by his pounding legs and surging muscles. They had to find the light at the end of the tunnel. There had to be a way to end this with minimal loss of life.

Besides, were the mortal watchers wrong? What would the world be like without the game? Just how many immortals were there in the world? If the killings ceased what would become of the political stability in the world, would mortals be enslaved by immortals? Turning his mind from difficult questions he focused on his pace and blanked the world away.

* * *

Methos studied Cierdwyn from a distance. She had been pleasant enough, not confronting him right off behaving exactly as though they were meeting through Macleod, one old friend being introduced to another. He scowled and ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth. She had been a battle queen, rode beside Boadicea, and chased her enemies into the grave. Her hands were red, no doubt, but none could compare to the blood debt of Methos oldest of immortals formerly known as death to countless hordes of victims. He turned away from Mac and Cierdwyn's friendly catching up. The sound of their bright voices reminded him of nails on a chalkboard. He hated these mood swings and urges that forced him into impulsive actions and movements. Impulsive decisions were dangerous, erratic moods, wild actions, all dangerous. He frowned and forced himself to face their chatter and join it.

"Uh, so how uh, that is how did you meet Burns?" He asked awkwardly. He hated the stutter and hesitation in his voice. Glancing down he noticed she wore military boots.

"Well, it was a long time ago . . . he was a fine man, a great mind." She said gently. She moved over to the sink and reached for a glass. Mac grabbed one from a cupboard and handed it to her. Their fingertips brushed. Methos's stomach churned at the gesture.

What's wrong? He demanded of himself. He had never reacted like that before. There was something wrong. His instincts were screaming danger. Where was Richie? He stared around painfully aware his Ivanhoe was out of his reach hanging with his coat over a chair ten feet away.

Cierdwyn filled the glass with tap water. Moving effortlessly Methos retrieved his coat and held it over his arm, the top of the scabbard exposed. Cierdwyn exchanged a look with Mac. Walking deliberately and slowly she approached Methos.

"What's wrong Adam?" She asked softly hands in a non-threatening stance body at ease she continued to approach.

"I. . . I don't know, where's Ryan?" He snapped to Mac moving his sharp watchful eyes from Cierdwyn for a fraction of a moment. In that moment they moved. The windows shattered and imploded and Cierdwyn was on Methos like glue. Shrieking she gripped his throat and drove her knee into his belly. Or tried, her grip on his throat was firm but her second blow never landed. He slithered out of the way and drove his now freed Ivanhoe through her chest. She gargled and her grip slackened. Her breathing was labored and frothy. Drawing her own sword she aimed a clumsy strike at Methos' legs, hoping to slow him down. She missed slipped on her own blood and hit the floor dying.

Mac had drawn his own weapon and was facing three men with automatic rifles. Two opened fire as the other dropped dead, Mac's sword through his throat. Mac dropped and rolled avoiding the fire and knocked a second gunman's legs from under him. In a smooth motion Mac snapped his neck. As he rose the other stopped firing. Methos had him half out the window hanging on by his fingertips Methos gripped his lapels. The man's weapon lay abandoned on the floor in a pool of blood.

"What?" Mac gasped.

"She was a double." Methos snarled letting his prey slip further out the window.

"Wait, they weren't trying to kill us." Mac snapped climbing to his feet and retrieving his blade.

"It's a distraction." Methos said softly horror dawning on his face.

"Richie." Mac gasped and head out the door at a sprint.

* * *

Methos studied the masked terrified man in front of him. Let him drop? Kill him immediately? Let him live? Hmmm decisions. . . .

* * *

Mac floored the t-bird and tore out into the street; he made a sharp turn and began following Richie's usual jogging route. In a few minutes he spied his friend moving toward the apartment at a good pace. He goosed the accelerator and slammed on the brakes, sliding to a stop mere feet from Richie he snatched open the passenger's door and snarled for Richie to get in. As soon as Richie moved toward the car a shot rang out. Richie cried out and dropped to one knee his shoulder bleeding. Moving in an awkward crab crawl he made it to the car and got in. Mac tore out and headed back to the apartment more shots ringing out.

"Fuck." Richie said simply examining his all ready healed wound. Mac concentrated on driving.

* * *

Methos wanted very badly to kill the remaining gunman but he hadn't the time. He frowned at the squealing man and pulled him inside.

"Round two and you miserable fucks failed again. Round three is our turn." He snarled and deftly knocked the survivor unconscious. Methos tore the apartment apart and gathered their weapons; no identifying items were left, generic clothes and groceries. He sneered at the corpses, the cooling body of the almost Cierdwyn caught his attention, how had they imitated the immortal buzz? He frowned at the problem but the sound of approaching sirens distracted him. He headed downstairs.

Mac left the car running and ran up to the building, he snatched the lobby door open and headed toward the stairs when Methos appeared at a sprint carrying two bags and an automatic. Mac snatched one of the bags and led the way to the car. They pulled out and headed to a pre-planned safe house. In all less than 20 minutes had elapsed since the windows were broken.

* * *

Hours later and nearly five hundred miles away they sat in wooded seclusion preparing to head for the hills literally. They weren't yet ready to make a move on the real bad boys and their safest hide away was in the hills and wilderness of the eastern area of the state. A completely different climate greeted them across the mountains. Four seasons, high summer meant soaring heat. They hefted their packs and checked their weapons. Hiding their vehicle they set out Richie taking point.

"Mac when you met Cierdwyn, did you get a buzz from her?" Methos asked as they hiked.

"I was thinking about that myself. There was a buzz but I don't know if it was from her, it felt strange but in all honesty it's been so long since I've seen the real Cierdwyn that I don't know for sure it wasn't her." Mac said puzzled.

"The woman at the apartment wasn't her unless she's very slow to recover from death. I didn't feel her buzz when you came up but then I wasn't very alert at the time, I assumed yours had masked hers. Which I would never do ordinarily, lesson one assumptions get us killed. So the question is what happened to Cierdwyn? Did you ever actually speak with her or was it a plant the whole time?" Methos mused.

"We have to find her, find out, if I did talk to Cierdwyn that day then it would take a great deal to keep her from coming to us. Unless she were intercepted or misdirected I wonder . . . if they doubled her, who else could they have doubled?" Mac muttered. His concern for Cierdwyn was acute. It had taken Richie and Methos's combined efforts to force the loyal Scot to admit that running and planning were better ideas than a heedless possibly unnecessary rescue mission to an unknown place, with unknown man power lying in wait.

"We have to re-establish safety protocol. If a familiar immortal approaches and you don't feel a buzz when you should kill him or her. If it really is an immortal they'll come to pissed I'm sure but for the time being better safe than sorry. If they don't wake up assume it was another double." Methos said. Mac nodded and Richie glanced back. He too nodded in agreement it made sense. It was slightly risky and bordering on psychotic but necessary, besides anyone who could or would chase them all the way out there would have to have some idea of the ultimate score.

"Maybe we should use pass codes and questions for added security. In case they can fake a buzz." Richie suggested.

Methos grinned, "Not bad Ryan, you're beginning to think." Richie smiled at the compliment and forged ahead. The sky was a painful blue clear and desert hot. Their skin glistened with sweat, and thier faces were stippled with beads of sweat from the effort of thier pace, as they continued heading higher the air grew cold.. In spite of the time of year, mountains were cold especially during a pre-dawn trek. Despite the chill all three were soon sweating Richie led them at a considerable pace. They all wanted to reach their hideaway before dark.

"Hey Rich, stop for a second." Mac puffed as they approached the crest of a hill. They had two maybe three hours of daylight left and another four until they reached safety.

"We won't make it today not during daylight, we can keep going anyway and get there in the dark or stop here and settle in for the night." Mac continued dropping his pack and squatting. Methos stood guard his automatic still in hand. Richie squatted next to Mac grateful for the impromptu break.

"We should keep moving, if we wait they could surround us." Richie grunted settling into a more comfortable position.

"Adam?" Mac asked.

"We stop for now; we'll only make easier targets and possibly lead them to our shelter if we stumble around in the dark. We'll set up watch and perimeter traps and camp here."

"Acid tears and raindrop memories." Methos murmured to himself. He dropped his pack and moved into the woods. Mac and Richie exchanged brief exhausted looks. Methos reappeared a few moments later.

"This is as good a place as any, we should move a few yards over there and down, there's a small hollow that will be perfect." Mac nodded and followed, uneasily Richie trailed behind.

They quickly made camp and laid traps. Methos took the first watch unwilling to relax. His eyes darted around the perimeter his fingers clenching at every slight noise. They made a small smokeless fire with sterno as a base and cooked a quick meal, hurriedly putting out the fire.

Richie studied the sky through the treetops. Bright white stars, sharp and jagged in the crisp air sprinkled the midnight sky. He could barely remember ever seeing so many stars shine so brightly. The city boy in him stared in awe and wonder. He took a deep breath and admired the chill clean air. So stark, flavored with pines and wind, he smiled. If it wasn't so damn cold he could be happy out here. He rolled into his sleeping bag and sought sleep. Moments later Mac too lay down to catch a few hours before his shift.

Methos stood unmoving leaning against a tree just past his companions, blending in. His breath steamed softly the only evidence of life. Impatiently he wrapped a scarf around his lower face obscuring the clouds of breath. His eyes were fever bright as he studied the forest around them for the hundredth time. Something was wrong. The same instincts that had warned him about Cierdwyn were screaming again. He frowned and moving with catlike skill and patience silently sought a new position. He perched in a small copse over looking his companions and the hollow they lay in. He stretched his senses wide. There was a great deal of life in the woods around him. Small creatures hiding from nocturnal predators, the silent pad of a cat's pads on mulch, the hiss of an owl's wings in flight, distantly the death squeal of a rodent-there- a footstep. How far away?

His eyes snapped open. With the same economy of movement and stealth he slipped away toward the errant step. Creeping through the woods he moved quieter than the hunting cat, swifter than the owl. In seconds he had reached his prey. A young man nervous and tense watched an opening in the trees leading to the trio's impromptu camp. Baring his teeth in a corpse grin Methos slipped behind the younger man and waited.

The young man smelled of gun oil and fear. His features were pale and sickly in the moonlight. He stank of terror. His eyes wide and desperate he craned his head to look further into the darkness a small revolver was in his left hand, a short stabbing sword in his right a tattoo was just visible on his wrist. Satisfied Methos stepped forward and disarmed him. Before the young watcher knew what was happening he was unarmed and face down in the moist earth of the forest. Breathing leaf mulch he realized was rather difficult. Methos rapidly bound the boy's wrists and slipped the revolver into his pocket, he slung the sword from his belt. Slipping his forearm underneath the boy's elbows he hefted the boy's moderate weight and carried him back to the camp. 

With a hollow thump the prisoner hit the ground. Still struggling to catch his breath from the impromptu dirt bath this new assault hit him hard. Blinking dirt and muck from his eyes he struggled to focus on his surroundings. Methos removed his scarf and wrapped the watcher's eyes.

"Not so fast little one." Methos said not unkindly. This one wasn't a killer, his fear and desperation were evidence enough of that. Who would send a child-man against the three of them with six shots and a stabbing sword? He frowned at this new burden and watched as Mac and Richie woke and took in the scene. Smiling Mac stood and stretched.

"So soon?" He asked. His Katana's pale handle shone dully in the bright moonlight. Methos arched an eyebrow and smirked.

"He's not a professional."

"Do we kill him?" Richie asked gathering wood to rekindle the fire. No point being coy if their pursuer had been caught.

"Let's find out what he has to say first." Methos said pulling the revolver out of his pocket, he emptied it onto the soft forest floor and dropped the empty weapon and the sword next to it. Richie and Mac moved to cover the perimeter briefly in a last moment check while Methos situated their prisoner.

"What is your name?" Mac asked.

"I can't tell you." The watcher quavered.

"You weren't assigned to the field until recently, were you?" Adam interrupted.

"What does it matter? You've declared war on all of us, just kill me or let me go, I won't tell you anything." He cried hoarsely.

"Declared war?" Richie asked confused.

"Interesting." Methos mused. 

"_We_ declared war on _you_?" He continued.

"You killed one of our region commanders, you slaughtered nearly thirty of us in Seacouver, three more a day ago, I would call that a declaration of war!" The watcher snapped.

"Hmmm I would call it clever manipulation and excellent PR." Methos murmured.

"What would you say if I told you that you had it backward? We haven't declared war on you, merely uncovered an ancient undeclared war waged against our race by _you_." Methos hissed.

"Impossible, we observe and record, we _never _interfere." The boy said stolidly.

"Oh? Since when? Since Horton? Since the Galati affair? Since now? Since when have you ever really simply watched?" Methos snapped.

The boy sat silent for a moment. "I don't believe you." He said finally.

"I don't care." Methos said coldly.

"What you do or do not believe is immaterial to your predicament at this moment. I have questions. You have answers, we will talk, you will tell us what we wish to know and in return you will live, unharmed.Well, mostly." Methos said settling himself in front of the watcher he untied the scarf and exposed his eyes at the same moment Richie's fire flared into life momentarily dazing the watcher's all ready abused vision.

"You're Adam Pierson, and, and you're Richie Ryan and MacLeod." The Watcher stammered as his eyes stopped watering and began to focus.

"Are we the sort of men who would arbitrarily slaughter innocent men and women?" Mac asked coldly.

"You? No, you're not. But him, he's a street punk and him . . . he is – was a watcher, what are you doing with immortals?" The watcher babbled. Methos remembered him, Clark Pierce, also in research.

"I am with them you ninny because _I _am immortal." Methos snapped annoyed.

"Wha?!" Clark choked. Methos shook his head and sighed. The Watchers disgusted him. Sending such a boy against the three of them, and underarming the kid as well it was overkill.

"Clark, stop gibbering, I'm going to explain a few things to you. Richie would never do something so dishonorable as 'slaughter' watchers because he is MacLeod's student and surrogate son. And MacLeod would never permit him to behave in such a manner. Now, I am certainly capable of such actions but I was quite comfortable hiding from the rest of my race as a Watcher quietly studying away. Do you think I would reveal myself for what I am unless my life depended on it?" Methos snarled at the confused youth.

Clark blinked at him in the firelight. His mind reeled, why? Why would these three be after watchers? MacLeod was notorious for his own close relationship with his watcher. Why? Perhaps . . .no-it was unthinkable, Galati, Horton, the original war, it was a fluke . . . then why did they send me out here to kill them?

"I . . . I don't know what to think . . ." he whimpered.

"Let me ask you something Clark-yes I remember you- why did they send you of all people out here? You're a researcher, not even a field agent and they asked you to kill three immortals who in your words declared war on the watchers and killed over thirty armed and trained watchers in the last year, or so you were told. Why you?"

"I . . . you killed my sister . . . they said, they said she accidentally let you know she was a watcher and you killed her. They just said three immortals did it, that I could find you here." He sobbed.

"What did your sister look like?" Richie asked gently. Slowly, tearfully, Clark began to describe Cierdwyn's double.

"And you monsters killed her!" Clark cried in an agony of released grief.

"No, not monsters, monster, only one Clark, I killed her. I took you sister's life. Me, no one else." Methos said gently. While the boy sobbed he untied him. Clark snarled and snatched up his short stabbing sword and leaped onto Methos. He managed to stab him in the chest before Mac and Richie ripped him off.

"A DEATH FOR A DEATH YOU SON OF A BITCH!!" He cried as Mac and Richie gagged and bound him.

* * *

"Feel better?" Methos asked rhetorically between coughs as he struggled to sit up. Clark was bound and gagged lying near the fire. His face was blank and wet with tears.

"Remember how you feel now Clark, that hollow impotence, that's the only feeling vengeance ever leaves you with, emptiness. Vengeance is a dead man's game, ask the Scot he knows. Remember this and consider yourself satisfied." Methos hissed. Mac gazed at Methos levelly his expression was blank.

"Now what?" Richie asked.

"Manage to get anything else out of him?" Methos asked reaching for his pack to change shirts.

"Yeah he was a sort of suicide last ditch attempt. They know where we headed in so they sent him after us hoping to slow us down or maybe get lucky while they try to figure out the next step. Apparently we took out a large portion of their leadership and funding when we wiped out Baal's little army." Mac said.

He was making a quick breakfast, dawn would break in a couple hours. No one was going to get any sleep and they would make slower progress now that they had Clark to deal with so getting a jumpmstart on the day seemed wise.. Methos dressed silently. Clark stared into the fire morosely. He refused breakfast when it was offered. Methos took the lead while Richie and Mac took turns carrying Clark; their packs had been evenly divided to make up for the new burden.

* * *

Joe was at a stand still; all his contacts were tapped out. He was nowhere near the wiz Methos was with computers. Scowling he studied the E- mail he had received from Watcher central HQ for the third time.

TO: ALL WATCHERS ACT/NON  
FROM: WATCHERS CENTRAL COMMAND  
SUBJECT: RENEGADE IMMORTALS

It has come to our attention that several immortals are claiming that  
the Watchers have started a destructive war against all immortals.  
They believe the war is designed to prevent them from reaching a  
stable population capable of ruling our world.

Fed by this delusion they have killed over thirty Watchers in the last  
year. They are claiming that we created the game as a population  
control measure.

THIS IS PATENTLY FALSE

As any first year academy student could tell you NO ONE knows how the  
game was created or why or what the Prize really is.

As a protective measure teams of Watchers known as Guardians are being  
formed and trained in urban combat and security as a means of  
protection all but the most essential field operatives are to be  
recalled and re-assigned to these squads. We must protect  
ourselves until this madness ends. We will survive and continue our  
mission.

TO OBSERVE AND RECORD BUT NEVER INTERFERE

All Watchers are ordered to IMMEDIATELY report any sightings or  
information related to immortals Richard Ryan, Duncan MacLeod, and  
Amanda Darieux, and former Watcher Adam Pierson they are to be  
considered armed and EXTREMELY dangerous. Under no circumstances  
are any Watchers or personnel to approach these individuals unless  
directly ordered to do so or as a member of a Guardian squad.

Joe felt physically ill the Watchers were beyond redemption. He mourned his own idealism and the passion and energy of the true Watchers the others like Amy and he who had no idea of the true agenda. Who genuinely loved their work and the history they preserved. He shook his head and reached for the phone. He had to call the guys.

* * *

The little band of immortals were safe they had reached the entrance of their last hideaway. Hidden deep in the rocky Cascades it was nearly impossible to reach by any means but foot and even then it was difficult to find at best. Deep inside the belly of a mountain no satellite, no radio wave, no hunters could find them without the trio knowing. No surprise attacks. Mac smiled as he watched Methos and Richie retreat into the cleverly hidden entrance. At first glance it looked like a narrow seam in the hillside. He shifted his burden and began to follow. Then his hip buzzed. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Joe?" He asked surprised.

Joe rapidly explained the content of the email to Mac.

"I don't know why they included Amanda, probably because of your close association, I don't know if they know about Adam either okay? I know as much as you tell me."

"Yeah well I'm beginning to think I should move on, I've made too many calls from here, talked to too many people, there are a lot of Watchers who don't know what's going on and are probably going to report me. And there's Amy, I don't want her involved in this we need to get her to safety."

"I realize you're worried about Ceirdwyn and Amanda Mac, but this is my daughter my MORTAL daughter, she only gets one life and she isn't even thirty. I can't lose her Mac."

"We won't lose her Joe, or Amanda. We're going to stop this I need you to find Amy, contact her and tell her to get to one of our safe houses. Try to get in touch with Amanda and any other immortals you can, we'll have to go underground until we can move. Contact us online, the cells won't work where we're going." Mac said brusquely  
and snapped the phone closed. He hurried after Methos and Richie.

* * *

"Okay, so we're stuck with this idiot Clark. Who just to make things easier has a big hate on for Adam, and oh hey while we're at it why don't we just throw Amanda, Amy and anyone else we care even a little bit about to the dogs." Richie snapped.

They were settled into their 'fortress of solitude' as Methos insisted on calling it. A complex system of interconnecting chambers and rooms designed to baffle anyone who had not had the luxury of a map to memorize. Colors, architecture, heating and cooling, even the lighting was designed to be disorienting. It also helped hide several nasty surprises sequestered throughout the complex. Methos had revealed the hideaway to Mac and Richie shortly after Baal's death. The old man had been working at it for nearly thirty years, his ultimate retreat. Originally designed as a last bastion against Kronos he had decided to keep and expand it after Kronos's death in light of the Galati affair and the Ahriman incident. An immortal could always use a last resort.

They were attempting to plan a course of action in a chamber deep in the mountain. The room had been designed for just such a purpose. Computers lined the wall, a digital display screen occupied one wall and a rack of weapons took up another wall. Rifles similar to the ones they had picked up in Phoenix as well as other nasty implements glittered behind the safety glass case. A steel conference table occupied the center of the room. The three immortals were sitting or standing around it.

"Don't be stupid." Methos said mildly.

Mac opened his mouth to add something but Methos held up a hand to stop him. The ancient was leaning back in a straight back chair with his feet balanced on the tabletop. A tepid cup of coffee held lazily on his chest. He gazed at the ceiling as he spoke.

"Joe has located Amy, Amanda, and everyone else he could, they have all been warned and many have fled to our safe houses or other refuges of their own making. Do you think I'm the only one to have ever thought of building my own little fortress?" He asked mildly, and leveled his gaze at Mac and Richie. He smirked at their confused expressions.

"Fine, but that still leaves us with a problem." Richie continued still feeling fired up.

"Which is?" Methos asked in the same condescending tone.

"What the hell do we do now?" Richie snapped and booted his chair hard. It skittered across the rock floor and crashed into the front of the weapon case. Mac sighed and moving slowly picked it up and dusted the seat off in a halfhearted gesture.

"He's right." Mac said sitting down on the rescued chair.

"I know." Methos said setting his cup down. He stood slowly and stretched like a cat. Grunting softly he rolled his head on his shoulders and yawned.

"However, we've been at this for several hours and I for one could use a meal and some exercise." He continued.

They drifted slowly out of the room. Methos watched them move. Mac like an old man Richie erratic and still angry. Methos followed them feeling distracted and irritated by their bickering and lack of progress. The lukewarm coffee sat abandoned on the table. Stacks of papers were also scattered on the table. Maps, timetables, addresses, dossiers, names, lists upon lists, possible targets, people to interrogate, places to hide, arms dumps. Endless piles. Methos turned off the light as they left.

He went to his own quarters. They were surprisingly bare but then he wasn't putting on a show for whoever might be interested in his current identity. A small brushed steel bookshelf and desk complete with dull steel reading lamp took one corner. A steel framed futon and a rosewood chest took another. A full-length mirror stood next to the futon. It had been shattered, the broken shards left in the frame a small pile of shattered glass was heaped desolately against the base. Across from the desk was a doorway. It led to a small bathroom. It was here Methos went. The mirror on the medicine cabinet was also broken. Avoiding the fragmented mirror's reflection he opened the cabinet. A small pharmacy of little orange bottles stared back at him. Selecting several he carefully checked the labels and measured out several pills.

* * *

Mac and Richie had gone to lunch. The kitchen was small but extremely well appointed and stocked. Mac set about making sandwiches.

"How has your training been going?" Mac asked. Since their arrival Richie had continued his training with Methos and Mac as well as on his own.

"Not too bad, you know for a skinny guy Methos is incredibly strong." Richie said with a smile in his voice. Mac looked up from slicing lettuce.

"Yeah, just one of the things he likes to hide." Mac said and smiled slightly.

"Well, he seems to be doing better now that we're out of Seacouver and not actively picking a fight." Richie said and smiled. He began laying out bread and spreading mustard.

"Yeah I guess." Mac said as he watched Richie, although there was a shadow in his voice.

* * *

Methos rested the pills in the palm of his calloused hand. He stared at their shiny, brilliantly colored gel coatings. Crushing his free hand into a fist he struck the wall and closed his eyes. Leaning his forehead on the broken glass of the cabinet door he waited for a few soundless moments before slowly opening his eyes. He looked again at the pills. With a sudden gesture of disgust he jammed them in his mouth and grim faced, dry swallowed them.

He left the bathroom and his quarters. Moving at a fast walk he loosened his sword in its scabbard. He wore the sword openly; no coat, no 'magic pocket', Mac and Richie still wore theirs circumspectly if at all in the complex. Finally he reached a dull gray door. Opening it he entered their workout area, an open mat, several basic weight sets and padded benches. He slammed the door behind him and stepped onto the mat. Pulling his sword free he took up a fighting stance.

* * *

Mac and Richie finished the sandwiches, Richie piled them on a platter while Mac set the table and grabbed juice from the fridge. When everything was set Richie thumbed an intercom button next to the door. A three-toned chime rang out through the complex followed by Richie's voice.

"Hey Methos lunch is ready in the main kitchen." He said and joined Mac at the table.

Methos snorted when he heard the announcement. Annoyed he halted his kata and stepped off the mat. He slipped the sword into its scabbard and wiped his sweaty face with a towel. Frowning he left and headed toward the kitchen.

Laughter met Methos as he approached the kitchen. Mac was telling Richie about some minor exploits he and Fitz had been involved in, in Italy. He hesitated at the threshold. He loved these men like brothers. Richie's determination to survive and generous nature had entered a chink in Methos's rigid self-control. He would kill and possibly die for the boy, despite his crimes. And Mac? The world's oldest clan chieftain. They had had their moment of hate. All was in the past, although the Scot's world had been shaken and Methos's place in it forever changed. Could he keep risking these men? Keep sending them into danger; keep himself in critical roles knowing his own weaknesses and the liability he posed. Could he count on the drugs not failing, not reacting to his immortal body, or his body not suddenly rejecting them at the exact wrong time, could he keep taking the chance?

"Come in dude don't just stand there." Richie said. Shaken from his reverie Methos smiled cat like and took a seat.

"Baloney?" Methos asked sniffing one of the sandwiches.

"Ahem, that's Bologna to you mister vomitorium." Mac said archly.

"Joe talks too much." Methos said smiling and took a bite.

"So, Mac, you wanna train some more after lunch?" Richie asked reaching for the jug of juice.

"Sure, that is as long as the illustrious Methos wasn't planning on taking you on?" Mac half asked.

"Leave me out of your spats children, Daddy's busy." Methos said and stood to make some coffee.

"How much of that do you drink a day?" Richie asked.

"As much as possible young Master Ryan." Methos said grandly as he poured grounds into a filter.

"None of your lectures on the evils of stimulants highlander." Methos pre-empted as Mac opened his mouth. Richie laughed at Mac's irritated expression.

"When do we want to get back to the war council?" Richie asked half jesting.

"Why not wait until Joe's update tonight?" Methos said flipping the coffee machine on.

"After lunch one of you two imps needs to check on our favorite little watcher." Methos said sitting down again.

"Don't even look at me Mac I had babysitting duty yesterday, and the day before." Richie said quickly. Mac rolled his eyes and grunted.

"Why don't we just ditch him?" Richie grumbled.

"Because, silly boy they think he's dead, that we killed him, he can be a little diversion when the time is right, besides how would we ditch him?" Richie grumbled and complained good-naturedly until Methos stood and poured a fresh cup of coffee. Smiling kindly Methos watched his friends leave and cleaned up the ruins of lunch.

* * *

Mac and Richie were sparring when Methos made it back to the exercise room. He spent some time re-warming his muscles and began his kata again. Occasionally Mac or Richie would exchange words, Mac correcting or teasing, Richie tossing friendly insults or asking questions. After a few hours Richie and Mac took a break and sat watching Methos.

"So he said he couldn't beat Kalas?" Richie asked sotto voce as Methos executed a spectacular move against his invisible attackers.

Mac nodded, "Yes, this was after he tried to get me to kill him though." Mac said and continued watching Methos's graceful moves.

"That's incredible, I mean look at him." Richie said. Mac smiled.

"Yeah, but he hadn't been in a fight for two hundred years when he met Kalas, besides maybe he just didn't want to go on, we all have dark times, look at Connor." Mac said softly.

"Yeah, Connor." Richie said gently. Connor had been dead for a while but the pain of his passing and Duncan's hand in it still hung on the immortal's thoughts. Finally Methos ended his dance. Breathing evenly but soaked with sweat he joined his friends on the bench.

"You know Mac, my shoulder's been bothering me. I think there are some tight muscles or something." Richie said as Methos settled himself and began toweling down.

While immortals healed from any injury, could revive from death itself and would never succumb to any illness, they were still susceptible to natural non-damaging or unnatural injuries, such as tight muscles and fatigue.

"I've got some cream that might help." Methos said setting aside the damp towel.

"Cool." Richie said and yawned. He stood and offered a hand to help Methos up. Methos smiled and accepted. Occasionally when Richie and Mac were feeling frisky they would tease Methos by pretending he was physically 5,000 years old. As Methos stood he neatly tripped Richie knocking him to the ground. Grinning Richie laughed and climbed to his feet. Mac joined them as they left.

* * *

Methos returned to his Spartan quarters. He cleaned up and sat at his desk scribbling in his journal.

I_ can feel the walls closing in. I don't know how long I can keep this up. I don't know if the medication will fail, I don't know anything anymore. I can remember how simple things were when I was just Adam Pierson, just a kid, just a bookworm, hiding in my library. Damn Kalas, damn his crooked soul to hell.  
_

_I sometimes wonder, when the darkness seems forever if perhaps Baal was right. Do I deserve this? Do I deserve to defend myself, to kill mortals, humans? What would happen if we did grow as a population, stop lurking in the shadows and come into the open? Somehow I doubt peace would reign. But I can't stand and watch as our own hands wipe us out, perhaps with a little help from the Watchers._

_How long will the medication hold out? How long before I reject it? What then? Cierdwyn is probably dead or imprisoned and Burns is lost. I have to get reinforcements before all I can see is the darkness. I have to bring the others here, as many as I can before its too late._

_I **will** survive, I will not give up after all these years, but its so dark. I'll live through this bloody war, I won't lose Mac, or Richie, I won't. I lost my brothers before but not this time.  
_

He leaned back and switched off the light. Picking up his current journal he walked to a small wall safe and opened it. Inside were a small stack of documents, several passports and half a dozen stacks of cash. He slipped the journal in and closed the door, turning the dial with a viscous twist he turned to the door.

Richie stood watching him.

"Can I help you?" Methos asked shortly.

"Oh, uh sorry if I'm bugging you, I just thought maybe I could get that cream from you?" Richie said somewhat embarrassed to be caught blatantly staring.

"Oh yeah, no problem. Just gimme a second I'm not sure where I put it." Methos said and smiled.

"Come on in, have a seat." He said distractedly and gestured at the desk.

"I've never been in here before; it's not really what I would have expected." Richie said.

"Well, I have other places I live too, this is just for the bare essentials, besides most of the time I'm living a pretend life, so I surround myself with things people would expect me to have." Methos said as he dug through his chest. He swore under his breath as he moved neatly folded clothes, stacks of papers, and books. Giving up he piled it all back into the chest and moved to the desk.

"So, what do you think our next step should be?" Richie asked.

"Well, we need to choose a target, that's obvious, but we also need to bring in some help, other immortals, maybe even mercenaries." Methos said as he shuffled through desk drawers.

"Mercenaries? Aren't they expensive?"

"Well, yeah, but we can afford it. You have no idea how nice even low interest is when you live forever, try it sometime, set up an account with like a thousand dollars and come back in ten years. Besides, I haven't lived this long without learning something about finance and the stock market." Methos said cheerfully. He continued pawing through his desk as Richie stood and walked toward the bathroom. He was beginning to get a tension headache, forcing himself to appear calm and well, normal was a bit of a strain at times.

Richie peered in to the bathroom and spotted the medicine cabinet. He had all ready seen the broken mirror in the bedroom, but the second broken mirror was a little creepy. He reached to open the cabinet door.

"Have you checked in here?" He asked over his shoulder. Methos looked up from the drawers and spotted Richie opening the cabinet. He then did something he had firmly squashed and driven from himself millennia before, he froze.

Richie opened the cabinet and revealed the small armada of pill bottles. "What the-" Richie started.

Suddenly Methos was at his elbow. He closed the door with such force and speed that shards of the broken mirror broke loose and fell. Cutting the two immortals and landing in the sink.

"Methos-"Richie said his voice full of concern.

"Don't." Methos snarled acidly. He turned away from Richie and put a hand to his face. Cautiously Richie rested his hand on Methos's shoulder. Methos flinched and drew away.

"What are they for?" Richie asked kindly.

Methos sat heavily on the futon. He stared blankly at the wall.

"They're anti-psychotics and tranquilizers." He said in a dead voice.

"But, why? I mean I know drugs have an effect, Mac's friend Brian was hopped up on heroin and god knows what else but . . ." Richie asked crouching in front of Methos.

"Because. Because I don't sleep, I don't think I just react. Because I almost killed Mac, because I have to fight, I have to defend myself, defend us, because Sean Burns is dead, because there's no time and no other way, beecause I don't want . . . I can't be an animal again." Methos said in the same cracked monotone.

"Why so many?" Richie asked

Methos half laughed half gasped, "Did you know that our bodies will adjust to and become immune from drugs? That's why Brian Cullen sought out harder drugs in greater quantities; he couldn't get the same fix after awhile. Neither can I, I have to keep changing the cocktail. Every few months something fails."

"Shit, what the hell do we do now? Mac isn't going to like this and I can't lie to him."

"Tell him if you like." Methos said dully. Richie scowled and stood. He looked at his reflection in the shattered mirror. Finally with heavy steps he left. Methos leaned back on his bed and stretched his arms out. He stared at the ceiling and focused on breathing and blanking out the world for a moment.

Mac took the news pretty well. He had suspected that Methos's turn for the better was a little too speedy. He swore and hurried to Methos's room. When they arrived half the bottles were gone, as well as Methos. He had left the wall safe open. Inside all that was left were the journal the documents and two passports, one was in the name Adam Pierson,  
the other Brian Adams.

Mac swore and hurried to the intercom. "METHOS! DON'T LEAVE DON'T RUN OUT ON US! NOT LIKE THIS!" He cried into the microphone.  
Silence greeted the echoes of his message.

"Oh shit" Richie said softly at a sudden revelation.

The two immortals turned to one another.

"Clark." They raced down the hall towards Clark's quarters. When they arrived the door was ajar. The place was a mess. Furniture scattered and broken, it looked like Methos had barged in, fought Clark and taken the young watcher with him. There was no evidence of blood so they could only hope the young man hadn't been killed.  
Running they arrived in the war room and armed themselves. Stopping by the kitchen they gathered some supplies before heading after the ancient.

"Idiot." Mac muttered.

"It's a waste of time Mac, we have to tell Joe what's going on, Methos has been around long enough to learn how to out juke us and loose us if he wants to Mac. He knows the entire world better than us." Richie growled as he jogged behind Mac.

"I know Richie but we have to try, besides since we're out of the complex we'll be able to talk to Joe directly." Mac said.  
Pulling out his cell as he ran Richie hit the speed dial for Joe's number.

"Joe, have you heard from Adam?" He asked breathlessly.

Joe leaned back from his computer. He had received another email from the watchers, claiming that the three 'renegade' immortals had killed a researcher named Clark Pierce. Fully trained Guardian squads were now being deployed all over the world; several were stationed in New York with the new heads of the tribunal. More were being moved into place at key points around the globe; the few Watchers who hadn't been involved in the original recall were now being replaced by Watchers trained as guardians. Joe swore loudly and sent a thankful prayer heavenward as he thought of his precious Amy safe with Amanda at one of Mac and Methos's safe houses in Europe. The phone began ringing.

"Yeah?"

"Adam? Yeah I can tell you that, if you want to risk it . . . ."

* * *

"The lines busy." Richie said frustrated. Mac increased their pace.

"He's probably calling in." Mac said. Richie frowned and hit dial again.

* * *

"Richie? Adam just called, aren't you with him?" Joe asked staring at his computer. He had no sooner put down his phone than it started ringing again.

"What? No he didn't say anything about having someone with him, He sounded like he was hurrying, running or something. Well, I think he's going to Europe to try to find our friend's. Richie tell Mac not to try to have it out with him, I don't want to loose either of them, especially over something like this- Richie? Hello? Richie?" Joe scowled at the phone in frustration before slamming the receiver down. He stared at it for a moment then picked it up and began dialing an international number.

* * *

"We got cut off Mac, Joe says he's probably going to head to Europe, maybe try to get to Amanda and company." Richie said.

"Well at least we know where he's going, but what will he do with Clark?" Mac asked worriedly. The two exchanged looks and increased their pace further.

* * *

Methos was also running. Weighed down by a pack and an unconscious Clark he hurried through an underground labyrinth of his own design. He had never told Mac or Richie about the volcanic cave system under the complex. Partly out of habit and just in case either was ever captured or interrogated about their hideaway. Tucked into one of the pockets of his pack was the packet of information Amy had given them weeks ago in Seacouver. The tunnels stretched for miles, he had only ever explored the first two or three miles but he had passed that boundary ages ago. Pausing to listen he shifted Clark's weight on his shoulders. He had knocked the young man unconscious before tying and gagging him.

He was trying to find an underground river hoping it would lead to one of the larger rivers running near the hideaway. A half assed plan at best he knew but he had to get Clark out and get to Amanda and the others before it was too late, before his last mixture was rejected.

Hours later Methos finally spotted stars. He had found the river he was looking for and without too much trouble or getting wet had managed to follow it to a break in the caves. Heaving a relieved sigh he gently set Clark's still unconscious bulk on the cool ground. He removed the gag and tied it around the boy's eyes. He studied the stars and the lie of the river. Behind him he heard a soft noise.

"How long have you been awake?" He asked turning to Clark.

"Not long." Clark croaked and erupted into coughs. Despite himself Methos admired Clark, stupid, over eager, and desperately naive, but still gutsy.

"I deeply regret your sister's death, Clark." Methos said. He knelt and moved the boy to a more comfortable position.

"I'm sorry I killed you." Clark said softly. Methos laughed softly.

"Why?"

"Because, I think, maybe, that you were right." He said grudgingly.

"Really? Why?"

"I'm not sure, instincts I think, and it just makes so much sense. It's so logical."

"Yeah, logical." Methos said sourly.

"Can you blame them? They think your race will try to dominate and rule us."

"I know." Methos growled.

"Who are you really?" Clark asked suspiciously.

"Who do you think I am?" Methos asked amused.

"Well, I don't think you're nearly as young as you look. So you're not new, I think you're probably older than MacLeod just from the way you treated him. I thought I figured out who you were once but, I don't know it's too far fetched." Clark said dismissively.

"Hmm well, you're close, I'm not new, and I am older than MacLeod." Methos said to his surprise. Why was he telling this watcher, this mortal, this enemy so much?

"So Clark, who did you think I was, what was too farfetched?" Methos asked impulsively.

"Methos." Clark growled and began coughing again.

"Really? I think I'm flattered, what brought you to that conclusion?" Methos asked through his laughter.

"You were on his chronicles, what better place to hide, making sure no one ever finds you. Finding out exactly what the Watchers know about you, what their motives are. It's perfect."

Methos felt a stone settle in his stomach. He broke into a cold sweat and his hair stood on end. If he could find him, then who else could?

"I'm right aren't I? You're Methos, the oldest immortal." Clark said softly. Methos didn't know what to say, he didn't want to kill the boy but his glib tongue was failing him. He froze his mind locked up, he screamed at his body to do something to move to act.

"Let me help you, let me fight for you." Clark said

"Why? I killed your sister." Methos growled.

"I lied, she was just another watcher, I had a one night stand with her when we were in the academy, she was a bitch. But she was our bitch, and for awhile, I thought maybe there was a chance for something more." Clark said.

"I'm going to cut your ropes, but, I'm going to leave you blindfolded, do not remove the blindfold." Methos growled. He pulled a roll of tape from his pack and taped the blindfold so it was flush with Clark's nose and cheeks. Then pulling a knife from a wrist sheath he used it to cut Clark's ropes. The boy sat rubbing his hands and feet back to life.

"You never said if I was right." Clark said again. Methos turned to him moving impatiently. He gripped the boy's shirt and lifted him off his feet.

"Never ask me that again." He hissed and dropped the boy. Clark landed heavily. Methos knelt and began fashioning a harness with rope. He put his pack on Clark and looped the rope around Clark's waist and wrists. He led the way pulling Clark behind him.

By one that afternoon they had reached a highway. Methos removed his pack and the harness from Clark. He looked around studying the highway while Clark waited patiently. Finally distantly he heard a vehicle. He turned to Clark.

"I'm going to give you a chance to prove yourself. I'm going to let you go. If anyone comes here looking for us I'm going to find you and kill you." Methos said coldly. He picked up his pack and reached for Clark. He pulled away the blindfold and kicked him down an embankment to the road as the vehicle moved into sight. He watched as dazed and dazzled Clark crawled to his feet and waved down the approaching truck. He and the driver exchanged some words and Clark climbed into the cab. Methos watched them as they passed out of sight. Smiling he headed in the opposite direction.

* * *

Mac and Richie finally reached civilization. Mac rented a car under an assumed name and they headed to the airport.

"Why didn't you to try to cut him off in the woods?" Richie asked as they drove.

"You said it Rich, that's his place, always has been. We could spend years up there looking for him and not find him. If we can beat him to the safe house we might have a chance to I don't know, reason with him." Mac said.

Richie nodded and turned back to his reading. He was leafing through Methos's journal. They had agonized over that decision. Methos was intensely private and secretive but he was risking his life possibly going mad and heading into a suicide mission. They needed every advantage, if reading the journal could help in any possible way they had to do it, to save him from himself. Nonetheless it was a painful choice.

"Listen to this." Richie said and began reading a passage.

_ "The dreams are growing worse. I don't sleep anymore, I doze and then the dreams come. I tried sleeping pills. They just make them worse, or else I won't wake up. I will tell myself it's a dream, it's not real, I have to wake up. But nothing happens the nightmare goes on. I know Richie dreams, I have heard him, and we all know about MacLeod's dreams. But they're innocent compared to mine. Do they dream of the rotting corpses of their countless victims wailing for retribution and justice? Do they see slaughtered babies screaming and reaching out, children burned beyond recognition crying out for relief? All the deaths are on me."_

"Mac, what is he talking about?" Richie asked tentatively.

"You know that he's old Richie, he has a past."

"Duh Mac he's 5,000 years old. That's like saying the earth is kind of old."

"He hasn't always been a good man Richie."

"You wanna define that?"

"He was once one of the most evil men in history." Mac said heavily.

"Well, wasn't Darius a general, that led his armies across the world?" Richie asked defensively.

"Do you remember Cassandra?" Mac asked suddenly.

"Yeah, are you changing the subject?"

"No, Methos is responsible for her first death; he rode with a group of immortals. They called themselves the four horsemen of the apocalypse."

"You're kidding right?"

"No Richie, he was Death, he left them after running with them for over a thousand years. The leader of the band a man named Kronos came after him in France, they rebuilt the group. I killed Kronos and another immortal named Caspian. Methos killed an immortal named Silas. It's over now."

"Mac, why didn't you kill him when you found out?"

"I thought about it, I almost did, but in the end I kept Cassandra from killing him. He is what he is Richie, that was over a thousand years ago. I learned to accept and forgive, please don't make my mistake and try to judge him Richie, he is above all a survivor. To say he's a special case is an understatement."

"How could I judge him Mac? He's saved my life countless times. He even trusted me after I sold him out. Do you know how hard that is?"

Mac didn't reply, he had never questioned Richie's decision to continue trusting him after at least three attempts on his life. He had simply been grateful, now Richie's generosity of spirit threw a shadow over his own choices with Methos.

* * *

Methos studied the building before him. It was night; the streets were deserted, well almost. A small man was hiding in the shadows of an alley watching the main entrance. Methos smiled again and walked to the entrance. It was a five-story brick apartment building. Methos pressed a buzzer and waited. Nothing, frowning he pressed it again. Finally he turned and began walking away. As he passed the lurker in the alley he took a quick glance at him a smallish man weasely but strong looking. Methos kept walking another half block before crossing the street and hiding in his own alley.

The little man emerged from his hidey-hole and walked to the doors. He examined the button Methos had pushed and wrote something down. He then walked away and down the street in the opposite direction. Methos began following him. Slinking along, sticking to shadows, occasionally creeping along a rooftop he managed to make good time and stay unseen. Occasionally his quarry would pause and listen but he always moved on. Finally towards dawn the man entered a building.

It was similar to the apartment building Methos had stopped at. Slightly larger and maybe a decade older it was run down and appeared abandoned. Methos smiled and turned to head back to the original apartment. The little man had had a tattoo.

He arrived at the apartment half an hour later, for although the chase had taken hours the little man had only taken him a few miles from the apartment. He approached the panel again only rang a different apartment. A female voice answered.

"Yes, hello?"

"I'm looking for a lady with a passion for jewels and messes involving Scotsmen." Methos crooned.

"You old dog, come up, you know the way." The voice answered, he could hear giggles in the background. He smiled and opened the lobby door. The elevator was broken; a hand made out of order sign was taped to the doors. Shrugging he loosened his sword in the scabbard and headed for the stairs.

Rickety didn't do them justice. At every step they creaked and moaned ominously. Halfway up the first flight a loose board slipped out from under him. He caught the equally treacherous handrail to keep from spilling down the stairs, only to have the handrail snap off. He cried out once before rolling down the battered staircase the chunk of rail still in hand. He landed heavily at the bottom; the jagged piece of rail had managed to stab him in the stomach.

"Bloody perfect." He groaned.

"AMANDA!" He hollered as he struggled through waves of agony to gain his feet and lean on the wall.

A pert little head appeared at the top of the first flight of stairs.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, I thought you would take the elevator!" Amanda cried and hurried down the stairs, she pointedly avoided several steps along the way.

She put his arm around her shoulder and led him to the elevator.

"I would have taken the elevator only it's out of order." Methos gritted angrily. 

"No it's not, we just put the sign out to you know, limit entry."

"I could strangle you." Methos gasped as they staggered in to the elevator. Although Amanda was far stronger than she seemed Methos was no light burden. He was taller and much heavier than he seemed. She leaned him against the wall and pushed two. He placed a hand on the chunk of wood still impaling him and tugged gingerly. He went pale and sagged against the wall.

"Don't be a baby; it's like taking a band aid off, just rip." Amanda said helpfully.

"I have never used a band aid, I'm _immortal_." He growled.

"Yeah, right, well, have you ever waxed?" Amanda asked sweetly as the doors slid open. Again she took his arm and half dragged half led him out. They walked a few doors down the hall. Amanda stopped in front of a battered door and knocked three times. The door opened revealing the rest of Amanda's posse, to his shock as well as Robert and Gina de Valicourt, Cierdwyn was also present. He did a double take before gratefully accepting Robert's arm and sitting down on a ratty couch.

"Amanda what did you do to this poor man?" Robert chided. Gina clucked and knelt next to Methos.

"You do end up in the strangest situations Adam." She said kindly. He grunted and gestured at the makeshift spear.

"Would you mind?" He gritted. Robert gripped the shattered wood and yanked. Methos cried out and slumped forward.

"Baby." Amanda said helpfully.

"Bitch." He hissed and promptly died.

"He's always in such a good mood after a long trip." She said pertly and smiling at the de Valicourts and Cierdwyn helped arrange Methos comfortably and exchanged his wrecked clothing with some of Robert's. He woke up about an hour later.

"Your booby traps suck." He said and sat up. He spotted Cierdwyn standing near a window.

"You're supposed to be dead." He said and reached for a glass of water Amanda had left for him.

"Things are not always what they seem." Cierdwyn said kindly and sat in an easy chair across from him.

"We've gotten some interesting phone calls about you." Cierdwyn said slyly.

"Ah yes, Clan MacLeod, always ready and alert." He said sourly and downed the glass.

"They're worried about you. They told me what happened in Seacouver, the attack." She said gently.

"Did they? Did they happen to tell you who was the diversion?" He snapped.

"Yes, they did. She wasn't me Adam. I would never hurt you."

"Bull shit, you don't know me."

"I know of you. I know you're carrying a great deal of pain and guilt, I know that you were tortured."

"Mac has a big mouth and an even bigger nose. I can take care of myself; I've been around for a long time. I'm not going to go to pieces now, over a little torture. I've been through worse countless times."

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?"

"Just get off it would you? I'm not here about me; I'm here about you, and the others. We need help; all of you are skilled in the arts of sneaky battle. We have to take down the Watchers that are out for us. We have to kill them before they kill us. And while we've been doing astonishingly well for three men thus far we won't be able to hold out much longer."

Amanda wandered in looking dazzling and birdlike settled gently on one end of Methos's couch.

"Don't be mad Adam, it was an accident." She said sweetly and leaned her perfectly coiffed head on his shoulder.

"Don't let it happen again." He growled with mock sternness.

"You know I've ruined more clothes and died more often since I met MacLeod and you than in the two or three hundred years before that?"

"Poor baby had a hard day." Amanda crooned.

"Amanda, I'm not going to sleep with you as long as Mac has a head, got it?"

"Hey, a girl can try can't she?"

Cierdwyn started laughing.

"Amanda, why don't you see if Gina and Robert need a hand?" Cierdwyn said kindly.

"Adam, I will come with you and I will help you, but you have to let me help you too that's the deal."

"Define help." Methos asked suspiciously.

"I want you to try to open up, to talk about what's happening with you. Mac tells me you've been having dreams. Tell me about them let me try to help you sort it out. I can make the light come back, if you let me guide you."

"So that's the deal, we get you, an ancient Celtic warrior, who rode with Boadicea and can kill in an instant, if I have little chats with you about my dreams?"

"Yes, and your past, I need to know who you are Adam, if I'm going to stand a chance of helping you."

"Fine, call Amanda, Robert, and Gina in here. I'll tell you all about my past." The other three came in almost at once, apparently they'd been eavesdropping. He studied their faces.

None of them knew anything about his past. They knew he was a friend of McLeod's, they knew he had gone out on a ledge, risked his life for them. But, they didn't know what he was. He took a deep breath and walked to the window. He stared out for a moment before beginning.

"My name is not Adam Pierson. I am not nearly as young as I look. This doesn't surprise you does it? I'm immortal, fake names and age differences are a way of life. But this revelation will I think be something of a surprise. The truth then, I am over five thousand years old, I am Methos. Over a thousand years ago I had a different name, death. I had three companions; they were called Kronos, Caspian, and Silas Or more accurately, pestilence, famine, and war. We rode across the world for thirteen hundred years, killing, maiming, slaughtering, thieving, raping, pillaging . . . for thirteen hundred years. The others are dead now; I'm the only one left. So now you know, I'm not Adam Pierson, I'm Methos and I am-was-a monster." His voice had grown leaden as he spoke.

"Well, you look good for your age." Amanda said and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He stiffened and flinched at her touch.

"I was a brutal pirate." Robert said.

"I was with him." Gina said

"I killed hundreds for decades trying to avenge my dead queen." Cierdwyn said softly.

Methos remained silent. Finally all except Cierdwyn left the room.

"Why did you do that?" She asked gently.

"Do what?" He snapped turning to face her.

"You've been hiding for centuries; most people don't think you even exist. I'm sure you've worked hard to maintain that myth. So, why did you do that?" She demanded gesturing at the room.

"I wanted to make a scene."

"I don't think so."

"Fine, think what you like, I've got airline reservations to make." He snapped and headed toward the kitchen where the others had run for refuge.

"Adam, don't forget about our deal." She said softly. He stopped at the door and looked back at her.

"Do you seriously expect me to sit down and have little heart to hearts with you? Do you have deep soulful discussions with ten year olds?"

"Adam-"She started but he shoved through the door cutting off her words.

* * *

Long flights Richie had soon realized after the second or third such trip were a drag. Uncomfortable seats, poor food, crappy movies, squealing children, it almost made it too much.

"So they know he's coming, they know what condition he's in, but do they know who he is?" Richie asked Mac.

"No, that's not ours to reveal."

"True, so who all is there?"

"Uh, well, Robert and Gina, Amanda, Cierdwyn, and last I heard Amy Dawson."

"Really? Cierdwyn? That should go over well."

"Tell me about it."

"So, are we there yet?" Richie asked sweetly.

"Don't start that." Mac groaned.

* * *

As he entered the kitchen Methos was startled to see Amy Dawson.

"What. . . I mean hi, uh, what are you doing here?" Methos stammered, and to his surprise, blushed. She turned slowly her bright eyes filled with happiness.

"Oh Adam I'm so glad to see you, Amanda said you had arrived."

"You're glad to see me?"

"Of course, I sort of thought we were friends, I mean not every guy I've ever met happens to be immortal and helps save my life." She said kindly.

"Yeah I guess. But, uh, well, what are you doing here?"

"Joe told me what's going on, he was worried about me."

"I see, what exactly did Joe tell you?" He asked and sat at a rickety table. She smiled and poured coffee.

"Well, you and Richie were taken. I don't know the details; he said you found out that the Watchers were really trying to wipe out immortals, that Horton wasn't a renegade. I  
didn't believe him at first, I uh, hung up on him. But I did some checking; I guess they got on to me from that. Anyway Joe called me in the middle of the night and told me to come here, the next day my house burned down and my access codes to the database were erased."

"So, you know why we wanted that information? You know that people died . . . . that more will die." Methos asked. "

"Yes, I can't blame you Adam. I wanted to, I even did for awhile but I've learned a few things since coming here. I know what happened to you, and I know that these are good people that the council would have dead." She spoke with great tenderness and rested her small hand on top of his. He looked down at it, so pale and delicate.

"I was so afraid you would hate us." He whispered.

"I could never hate you Adam." She said and gripped his hand. He looked into her gentle eyes and felt solace from them. He smiled and squeezed her hand back. She leaned forward and gently kissed his cheek. He was dumbfounded. She leaned back and sipped her coffee. He looked down at the mug for a moment.

"Did uh, did you hear my little speech in the living room?" He asked tensely.

"Yes." She whispered. He looked up, so afraid that her sweet eyes would be stony, cold, and wrathful, just like Cassandra's. They weren't if anything they held more sorrow and compassion. A soft noise escaped his lips. He gripped her hand and leaned his forehead against their clasped fists.

"I know Adam, but it doesn't matter. It's the past, in the here, the now, you're Adam, Joe's friend who risked his life to save mine, for friendship. You're a kind intelligent man, compassionate, wise, a little self-serving, but good. You're a good man Adam." She whispered. She gently raised his head. Tears glistened in his green eyes. Tenderly she kissed his cheek and brushed away a tear.

"You're a man I think I could love." She said gently.

"Joe would kill me." He said softly. She laughed a light happy laugh.

* * *

"You know Mac, I'm convinced airports are a sneak peak at hell. I know it sounds crazy but it's got to be true. Look, see all the like negativity? All the anger? The theft? The incredibly long waits for absolutely no reason. The skyrocketing stress? The massive heart attacks? It's a sign."

"Richie?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

* * *

"So are we gonna wait for Mac and Richie?" Amanda asked Robert as she finished packing.

"Yeah, Adam's a good guy but it's pretty obvious he took off without consulting them. Besides we need a destination don't you think?" He asked and smiled.

"Touché my good man." She said sitting on her suitcase and struggling to close the catch.

* * *

Methos was sacked out on the couch catching a snooze. He had warned the group about the man he'd seen watching the building and where he had fled. They had a watch set up to warn if any goons were incoming. He slept easily, breathing lightly.

Amy sat reading in the easy chair occasionally glancing over at Methos. He had taken her statement of affection if fairly well. It had been nearly a day and a half since then. The others had packed and were waiting for Mac and Richie. She smiled as he twitched in sleep and rolled onto his side.

* * *

His dreams so ugly and viscous lately were now blank and empty. He no longer saw Baal's glaring eyes or ugly hands. He didn't see the gibbering dead, or the desperate survivors. He saw Alexa, smiling as he begged her to date him. He saw her joy at the beauty of the world. He saw himself with Mac and Joe, with Richie and finally with Amy.

* * *

Amy set the book aside and studied Adam. He seemed so youthful and at peace. Sleeping deeply, his face unlined, his expression innocent. He jerked again and turned face first into the couch. He curled in to a ball. She knelt next to him and rested her hand on his shoulder.

* * *

His dreams changed. He saw Alexa shrieking at him in rage, her beautiful features twisted. Kronos loomed up out of the darkness. Kronos pulled Alexa to him. She wrapped her arms around him and began kissing him lustily like a camp whore. He screamed at her to stop to come to him. She smiled at him and drove a blade through his chest. Kronos stood over his dying body with a sword at his throat, Alexa on his arm and Baal watching. He screamed and woke.

He lashed out suddenly and cried out. His fierce movements knocked him off the couch. He landed violently and was on his feet and reaching for his sword as the last of the sleep dropped away. With horror he took in Amy's shocked face and the unfamiliar room.

"Where?" He babbled.

"Shhh, calm down Adam you're safe, it was just a dream." Amy crooned and stepped toward him.

"Oh god-." He mumbled and lowered his hands.

"It's okay Adam." She said laughing slightly. She wrapped her tiny hand in his wide callused hand.

"You've been asleep for a day and a half."

"Really? I can't remember when I've slept that long." He murmured relaxing further and allowing her to help him up.

"You know, when I'm with you, I feel safe. I feel so warm and comfortable. I don't ever want to leave you." She whispered and looked him firmly in the eyes. He smiled and breathed deeply, she smelled so sweet, like apples in autumn. He stared into her kind eyes and felt the dichotomy of his being rail at him he studied her gentle visage and beautiful face and even more attractive spirit and decided not to love her. He felt a burr of sorrow settle into his gut but knew in his deepest being that loving him would destroy Amy and he would not have that.

The door buzzer went off and seconds later Amanda breezed into the room. She tactfully ignored Methos and Amy and answered the intercom.

"Yes?"

"Hey Amanda, you wanna let us up?" Richie's voice boomed.

"No problem." She said sweetly.

"USE THE ELEVATOR!" Methos shouted helpfully.

"Is that Adam?" Richie asked.

"Yeah, it's a long story." Amanda said and flipped off the intercom.

Methos smiled innocently at Amanda as she stomped past and shot him a pointed look. Amy giggled as the irritated thief disappeared into the kitchen. Amy followed after Amanda. Methos wandered off to the restroom. He took a quick shower and changed into another borrowed set of Robert's clothes. Staring into the mirror he was surprised to recognize the face before him. He stared down at the pills he had set aside from his sizable stash. He stood there for what felt like ages.

"Adam?!" He heard Amy call. Staring back into the mirror he dry swallowed the pills and went in search of her.

Everyone was gathered in the living room. Mac and Richie were sort of collapsed on to the couch. Kitchen chairs had been brought in, Amanda, being delicate took the armchair. Methos entered avoiding Mac and Richie's eyes and feeling somewhat guilty.

"Nice of you to join us." Mac said pointedly. Richie rolled his eyes at Mac.

"So what'd you do with the kid?" Richie asked.

"He's fine, I let him go." Methos said defensively.

"Joe is gonna kill you." Mac said.

"Neither you nor Joe are my keepers Highlander" Methos snapped harshly.

"Right." Mac said wearily.

"Can we please focus?" Amanda asked querulously.

"Right, we're going to hit their HQ in New York." Mac said.

"Okay, how smarty pants?" Robert asked pointedly.

"Easy, Adam here will get us in."

"Come again? I think my ears must be going." Methos snapped.

"Time to start earning your keep boy-o." Mac said evilly.

"No." Methos said simply.

"No?" Mac asked genuinely surprised.

"I . . . I can't. I can't be put into any key positions; I can't . . . be counted on." He finished finally, forcing the words out.

"We know you're damaged goods chum, but its still our best bet, just hear the whole plan." Richie insisted. Methos stared hard at him but finally nodded minutely. The rest of the group wisely kept their lips sealed during this little encounter.

The plan was simple, they were gambling that Clark had kept his mouth shut. Although if he hadn't it shouldn't be too much of a problem. Adam would turn himself in and say he had been forced to aid the 'renegade' immortals. Once he was inside he would do what he could to let the others in. If he were incapacitated they would stage a rescue mission, which would make them the white hats if their motives were questioned. Mac, Robert, and Richie would be the main force. Cierdwyn, Amanda, and Gina would be the stealth force. The first group would concentrate on heavy fire power and involving as many watchers in a direct confrontation as possible while the second group looked for Methos and any high ranking Watchers trying to make a break for it. Although Methos was terribly unimpressed he couldn't come up with a better plan. Amy against her will had been left in another safe house.

"I don't like this Mac, just for the record. If something goes wrong, I'll be left hanging by my private bits. That said, _if _something does go wrong beat feet and get the others well away, I can handle these guys, my cover will hold." Methos hissed to Mac as they crept toward the target.

"I'll take care of it Adam, don't worry." Mac said softly. They paused in front of the gates. Waiting, as the call of a night bird rang out Methos broke cover and ran for the gates staggering and gasping he slammed into them and began shouting for help. In moments several burly guards had the gate open and were frog marching him into the main building. He was led into a reception room where they left him sniveling on the couch. He was playing the kidnapped abused academic to the hilt. He looked dirty and battered, red eyed and sniffling he cringed when a man in a suit walked into the room.

"Please help me!" he wailed.

"Easy son, no one's going to hurt you here." The man said. He was a big man, barrel chested and tall. Methos thought he recognized him.

"My name is Soren O'Reilly. Now just take it easy, we are not going to hurt you. We need to know where you have been." He said gently.

"They took me; they took me off the street. They made me tell them things, I swore an oath, but they hurt me, I'm so sorry." He gasped and whimpered. Someone brought a blanket and draped it over his shoulders. He gripped it tightly and began shaking.

"Adam calm down, tell me how you got here, how did you get here Adam?" Soren asked sharply.

"I-I don't know. I was in a car, it was dark and I was in a car, I couldn't see because it was dark. Then – then – they pushed me out and told me to run. I didn't even recognize where I was."

"Adam we're going to take you to a doctor. Do you understand? We aren't going to hurt you." Soren said in a gruff but kindly voice, he gave the impression that softer kinder emotions were hard for him to do.

"NO! I don't wanna go out there, they'll take me again!" Methos shrieked. Soren reached to hold him down. Methos contemplated faking some kind of seizure but thought that would be a little too much. As Soren gripped him he flinched and pulled the blanket tight.

"It's okay Adam; we'll bring the doctor here." Soren said soothingly. Methos pulled the blanket close and sat shivering. They had to attack soon. The fake bruises and scrapes they had concocted wouldn't fool a real doctor for more than a few seconds. Soren sat next to Adam and continued speaking in a soothing tone. His words were comforting and kind and Methos felt a moment of regret over what they were about to do. Then he wondered if they had to let them know he was a traitor, perhaps he could engineer it so the whole attack looked like he was being retaken. He decided to just play it by ear and let the chips fall where they will.

After a few minutes Soren stood and left. A lone guard stood at the door watching Adam waiting for Soren to return. Methos sat shivering and staring around the room sniffling every now and then and twitching violently whenever the guard moved.

Finally after what felt like an eternity Soren returned, alone. True to form Methos reacted violently when the door opened. Cringing and turning away.

"It's all right Adam; the doctor will be here soon. Then we'll take you somewhere to rest, within the building Adam. We won't let them get you again." Part of Methos wanted those words to be about Baal and the Watchers. He wanted so badly to be safe from them. It was bad enough to be immortal, hunted for your head. But throw in mortals with a grudge and things got seriously crappy.

Soren stood and began talking quietly with the guard. Moments later a harassed little man with a medical bag stormed in. Methos cried out and left the couch in a run as the human tornado entered. To his surprise he recognized the little man. Dr Wilbur Sax, he had given Methos his medical exam when he applied to the academy. He wasn't the worst doctor Methos had ever come across but he certainly wasn't very good.

"Mr. Pierson, do you remember me, we met once many years ago. I administered your medical exam for the academy." He said kindly.

"Yes-yes- I think so." Methos stammered. Crap this was going to be messy. If Mac and the alpha squad didn't hit soon then he'd be a dead duck.

"If you wouldn't mind disrobing Mr. Pierson, I can get started." The doctor said kindly and began removing items from his medical bag. Methos stalled.

"I-I- don't really want to . . . with them-" he gestured towards Soren and the guard.

"Yes it is quite all right young man. They won't hurt you or spread malicious gossip if that's what you're afraid of."

"Oh- okay- I guess." Methos stammered and with great difficulty and clumsiness he removed his torn and stained jacket. The doctor stood patiently to the side while Methos took his time. Although it was a little known fact, some immortals having reached a certain age were capable of preventing or slowing their regeneration. Methos was one of these. Before they moved in, he had told Mac and the others to wail the crap out of him. Then he had forced his body to delay healing. A few judicious additions with costume paint and makeup had left his torso multi colored and his face battered. Thus not all of his tenderness was acting. Still most of the discoloring was theatrical make up, good stuff but far from perfect.

Finally he was down to his pants. The doctor motioned for him to hold off on removing them. Shivering in the warm room he projected an air of battered puppy. The doctor stepped forward and began taking his pulse, blood pressure, checking his breathing, eyes, ears, nose, throat and mouth. Finally he moved onto the physical wounds.

"Well, he has certainly been worked over, some of these bruises are older than others, I'd say he's been beaten pretty severely on and off for some weeks." Dr. Sax told Soren.

"I doubt he was lying about them forcing him to tell them things, if the beatings didn't work they could simply drug him. And feel free to tell your cronies that he is certainly _not _an immortal." He sniffed derisively and returned to examining Methos. He studied his teeth his hands and hairline then stepped back and gestured for him to remove his pants.  
With even more deliberate care and caution Methos removed his pants. The guard and Soren had the compassion to turn away as he stood stark naked and shivering. Again the doctor poked, prodded, squeezed and scraped. Methos limped on his left leg, a souvenir from breaking it a few hours before their arrival. His legs were also peppered with bruises and welts.

"Well, it was strictly physical abuse, nothing sexual. His left leg won't be the same; it looks as though it may have had a hairline crack and then healed badly. In fact I'd say this young man is remarkably lucky to be alive. They must have taken him shortly after he left us." Sax said succinctly and began repacking his bag. Methos slowly dressed as the doctor double-checked his gear.

"Now then youngster, I'm going to give you a few prescriptions, vitamins, painkillers and such. I want you to get them filled tomorrow and don't skip any of them. They can't hurt you." He said kindly and began filling out three or four slips of paper. Handing them to Methos he nodded to Soren and left gingerly Methos sat back on the couch, still hyper alert and shivering. Soren exchanged words with the guard and left. Curious Methos snuck a look at the prescriptions. One was for codeine, another prescription strength multi-vitamin.

The last to his horror was not prescription at all but a note.

_ I know what you are; I have since I first examined you. You're playing a dangerous game but I don't begrudge you. I never approved of this war I'm a doctor and I am supposed to heal, not kill. Nonetheless my first loyalty is to humanity. I will sound the alarm five minutes after I give this to you. Be swift and clever I will keep your secret.  
Sax M.D._

A cold sweat swept over Methos's body. They had to attack, now before the alarm was raised. His mind raced what could he do to start things? The guard- that was it he stood painfully and hobbled over to the guard. When he was within a foot of him he whipped the blanket around his throat and throttled him into unconsciousness. He laid him down gently and searched him. Ah a Beretta nine mill, and a set of keys. He stepped out of the room and searching the key ring locked the door behind him. Moving quickly he entered the main hall and began searching for the doctor.

He spotted him down a hall through a small room. Cursing he turned and followed him. Apparently they had entered a busier part of the building. He was passing people every few seconds. Frustrated he increased his speed and nearly missed the good doctor as he ducked into a small file room and began chatting with a pretty young clerk.

"Doesn't anyone sleep anymore?" He muttered entering the room. He closed the door behind him and locked it. Drawing the gun he leveled it at the girl and the doctor.

"Hi, don't scream." He said charmingly as the woman opened her mouth to scream. Moving rapidly he pistol-whipped her. She slumped on to the desk he paused and checked her pulse while leveling the gun at the doctor.

"What are you doing?! I didn't hurt you. I have always kept your secret!"

"Yes I know, and I'm very grateful which is why I'm not going to kill you or anyone else if I can help it tonight. But, I can't let you set off that alarm. So you can either render yourself unconscious with whatever goodies you have in your little black bag, or I can hit you and tie you up with this nice young lady your call." Methos said sharply. The doctor swore violently and tossed the bag down.

"I have nothing in there but basic first aid items!" He snapped.

"Have it your way." Methos snapped and knocked him cold. He tore some electrical cords from the wall and tied the two together and to a steam pipe conveniently running up one wall. He gagged them with medical gauze and feeling quirky left a small sign written on a prescription slip.

He re-entered the hall unobserved and began blending with traffic A feat that was helped by the doctor's pilfered sports coat and loafers. His own pants and shirt were dark enough to hide the mud stains. He smiled at a few people and generally blended in, every second cursing MacLeod and the others for delaying. He finally made his way to an outside door. It appeared to open into an inner courtyard. He stepped outside leaving the door ajar and made a small owl call. It was repeated back to him.

Good they knew where he was. He stepped back through the door careful to leave it still ajar and began making his way further into the building. They needed information and prisoners. He hurried along passing more and more people. Perhaps they had a night shift or had shift workers for different time zones he pondered. It was only a matter of time before someone found the guard, doctor and clerk. He swore as he kept passing dorm rooms and storage closets. Finally he stopped a young woman passing by.

"Excuse me, I'm new, I'm supposed to meet with the director tomorrow at his office. I was hoping to familiarize myself with the building tonight but I must confess I'm somewhat lost." He said oozing the charming English student on for all it was worth.

"Oh well, let me help you, I can show you the dining hall, the library and the director's office, which would you like to see first?" she asked sweetly.

"Oh well, I should very much like to see the library of course but perhaps you could show me to the director's office first? I wouldn't want to get lost and end up late tomorrow." He said.

"Oh no problem, it's not even out of my way. My name is Anna."

"Oh yes, very pleased to meet you, my name is Ben." He said smiling and followed her.

* * *

"This is Alpha one, initiate attack Alpha, repeat initiate attack Alpha." Mac whispered into his throat microphone. Robert and Richie acknowledged and the three moved into the courtyard.

"Beta one to Beta team assume stand by posture, probe the perimeter for weaknesses." Cierdwyn called softly into her own microphone. Amanda and Gina acknowledged and spread out.

They each probed for open windows, unlocked doors, sleepy guards, and any possible weakness that would allow stealthy entry. Their goal was silent entry, in order to steal information, plant listening devices and possibly rescue Alpha team and Methos if things should go wrong.

* * *

Anna led him up three flights of stairs and down several dank corridors before stopping in front of a formidable oak door.

"This is the way into the reception area. His secretary's name is Janice and she's really nice just don't get on her bad side or she'll stick you on a crap shift." She said and laughed. Methos laughed with her and showered her with his stunning smile.

"Tell me Anna, what is your specialty?" he asked politely.

"Oh, well I'm in signals, I decode intercepted radio, satellite, and cell signals. I also know three languages so I help out with translations sometimes too."

"Oh really?" Working on a hunch he threw in a mild query.

"I used to be in research but I'm not sure what I'll be doing now."

"Oh wow, yeah my friend Diane was in research boy was she mad when you all got transferred and the chronicles were sealed. She's in tracking and apprehension now, you probably will be too, she uses what she learned from the chronicles to help the guardian teams keep tabs on the renegades." Anna bubbled.

"Well it's got to be a little more exciting than ancient Sanskrit" He joked. She laughed pleasantly and began walking down the hall. He slipped up behind her and reached to knock her unconscious when she ducked and tripped him violently. He was caught almost completely off guard but still managed to roll out of range. He slipped behind her and jammed the muzzle of his gun into her kidney.

"Now, now Anna, you're obviously very clever but don't try anything else or I'll empty this into you." He hissed. She went still.

"Now, why did you do that?"

"I recognized you, you and your friends are posted everywhere. How could you do it? How could you betray us?!" She snarled.

"Betray you? I never betrayed you. They betrayed _us_, I swore to observe and record and _never _interfere, but low and behold the powers that be have been using us to fuel a secret war _against _immortals. I swore a sacred oath and they demanded I break it and kill men I consider my friends. So don't lecture me about betrayal."

The girl whimpered and struggled briefly.

"I don't care what you say you betrayed us and helped them kill our fellow watchers!"

"Fellow watchers? The men who were killed in Seacouver were mercenaries, only one was a watcher, and he was the most evil man I have ever known of. So don't try to feed me that party line brainwashed bull shit I know what I saw. Now show me the director's real office.' He snapped shoving the muzzle deeper into her back.

"No, you'll only kill him."

"I'll only hurt him if he doesn't tell me what I need to know or turns out to be in league with the sons of bitches hunting me and my kind." He growled.

"Your kind? You're-"

"An immortal yes, newly immortal thanks to our fearless colleagues. Now show me to his office, you're not a pre-immortal you won't be coming back." He snarled.

"That is his office but he's not there now. He lives on the grounds in a separate building." She snapped.

He led her back to the oak door and handed her the key ring.

"Open it." She sorted through the keys trying them one by one until one fit. The door swung open silently. He pushed her through the door first. She reached for a light switch but he knocked her hand down. He began searching relying on moonlight from several bay windows. A large desk dominated on end of the room. He moved toward it dragging Anna with him.

"Sit down." He snarled and pushed her toward the desk chair. Repeating his performance in the file room he bound her to the chair with electrical cords and gagged her with a handkerchief. He flipped on a small desk light and began searching. He soon had a small stack of files piled on the desk. He pawed through several bookshelves as well, looking for chronicles, loose sheets of paper, hollow books, anything out of the ordinary. Finally he emptied a trashcan and snatched a clean bag neatly folded on the bottom dumping the files into it he waggled his fingers at Anna and winked as he left, locking the door behind him.

* * *

Alpha team moved rapidly darting anyone they saw moving. They had agreed to use the darts until real resistance showed up. They discovered the unconscious guard, clerk and doctor within moments of infiltration. Soon nearly everyone in the building was unconscious. They found Methos with a bulging garbage bag leafing through a Watcher's phone directory. He handed the bag off to Richie and accepted the weapon, tranquilizers, and throat microphone offered to him.

"The director wasn't here; apparently he lives on the grounds though so we're not completely out of luck."

"What's that?" Robert asked gesturing to the bag.

"That is neat little files on immortals in the U.S. including but not limited to their weaknesses, loved ones, habits, brief personal histories and current locations."

"Good one." Richie said sounding genuinely impressed.

"I also managed to hack their local main frame and wreak havoc. All chronicles have been destroyed, most of their information is corrupted or outright wrong now, it will take them months to get back online." He said gleefully.

They had a short whispered conference with Beta team. They agreed to split up and examine the last four outbuildings in the complex. One looked like a dormitory, another a main house the other two looked like storage facilities. Alpha drew the dormitories, Beta would do the storage buildings and they would all take out the main house.

Methos couldn't help a small giggle as he dumped another canister of sleeping gas into the intake vent of the dorm a/c. They donned respirators and crept inside. Ideally Beta would do the same thing to the storage buildings before moving in.Checking his weapon was fully loaded with darts Methos took point. Richie and Robert were next followed by Mac in the back. They moved swiftly leaving no corner unturned. They cautiously opened each door, searched every closet, desk, and footlocker. Luckily they met no conscious residents although they spotted a few who had evidently been conscious when the gas was introduced. One girl had collapsed in the middle of a hall.

Beta made short work of the storage buildings. One held fertilizers, sprinklers, and other lawn care and landscaping equipment while the other was almost empty. They quickly made their way back to the dormitory and set up a perimeter guard while Alpha finished up. It was only a few hours before dawn when Alpha finally emerged empty handed.  
Moving quickly but keeping low to avoid being seen by any early arrivals to the main building they approached the house. They sat watching for several minutes hoping to see none. To their annoyance the house looked like it was just awakening and getting ready for the day.

They moved into position and started circling and closing in on the house. Richie darted a maid with a basket of laundry. Amanda darted several children walking to a car. Gina got the chauffeur and an attractive middle- aged woman who might have been the mother. They waited a few moments to see if there would be a reaction from the house but all was quiet. Again they started moving in.

Mac reached the backdoor as Methos reached the front. They coordinated their entries. Methos carefully opened the door only to come face to face with the director of Western American Watcher Activities. Grinning he pulled him out of the house and slipped a cloth bag over his head, while Richie covered him. He bound his wrists and forced him back into the house. Richie stood guard over him while the rest of the group finished securing the house. It was quiet; the director had been the last person.  
They moved him into an upstairs bedroom while Mac, Gina, Amanda, Richie, and Robert took up posts at windows facing every direction leaving Robert, Cierdwyn, and Methos to interrogate the director.

"Now we want you to understand something. We have killed no one today. Everyone has been rendered unconscious. So if you go out there when we leave and find anyone dead, it was your people, not ours." Methos said kindly. He stepped back and let Cierdwyn remove the gag and loosen his ropes.

"We only have a few questions and we want to make this quick. We don't know when your people will start waking up, besides you don't want your wife and kids to lay unconscious in the dirt ALL day do you?" Methos asked snidely. The director went red and began shouting threats at Methos. He lightly slapped the man to bring him to his senses.

"None of that now, look, I'm the good guy here; I'm just a book worm that's had a real bad year. See, I'm immortal now, I wasn't when I left the Watchers but because you people couldn't leave well enough alone I found myself not only immortal with all the perks that come with that but caught in the middle of a race war bent on the destruction of my race. How do you think that makes me feel? But hey if you don't want to talk to me maybe you'll talk to my pal Robert here ex-pirate and murderer. Or hey maybe Cierdwyn here could teach you the meaning of pain –old school- I'm sure the ancient Celts have some real wowsers when it comes to getting what they want from people they don't much like." He snarled. Robert and Cierdwyn did their best to appear uninterested and brutal. It seemed to work.

"Very well, what is it you wish to know?" The director muttered.

"How many Watchers are aware of your real agenda?"

"Almost none, even I wasn't aware until recently. You see we honestly believed in the oath. But they're using the deaths in Seacouver as an excuse to bring in these guardian squads. Things have been moving too swiftly for this not to have been planned. I think you were all set up. I think they meant for you to kill those people, so they wouldn't have to hide their dirty little secret anymore. You should hear the new recruits, even a lot of the veterans; they've all forgotten their oaths. They're afraid; they want to protect themselves and each other so they're latching onto the new line. They even changed the oath. To Observe and Record and never allow Domination. I think this has been in the works for years maybe even since the Watchers were started." He said mildly.

Methos digested this for a few minutes. It could be true Anna had certainly seemed convinced.

"If you were me Mr. Director, what would you do?"

"Lay low, stop these little raids. Protect my nearest and dearest and weather the storm. Hope the madness fades into the background again." Methos studied his words something wasn't right.

"Hang on, how do you know this isn't our first raid? And what do you mean let the madness fade _again_? You've been in on this from the beginning haven't you? You're one of the men behind it."

The mortal studied Methos coldly then sighed "Yes I am. I discovered our true agenda when I was still quite young. But I wasn't disillusioned. We observed and recorded to protect ourselves in case the balance went sour; we never ever interfered in the game at least until Horton. But we weren't going to be dominated by you."

"What about Kalas? He would have dominated you."

"No, he would have exposed you. We would have been exposed as well but as bookworms and history freaks, not an international threat. No he would have destroyed you, not us."

"So that's it? Do you realize that _you _created the game? Sanctuary was never necessary; there is no prize, no ultimate winner. Didn't it strike you as odd that there are pre-immortals born every year that our population has not been decreasing, spiraling down to a final showdown but actually increasing? There will be no final battle between two immortals to decide the fate of the world. We'll just roam the world gratuitously hacking one another's heads off to suit your bloodlust, believing all along that we're striving to reach some ultimate goal. Does that make you happy?"

The director smiled humorlessly and shook his head.

"No, Mr. Pierson it does not. But it works; as long as you are killing one another you are not killing us, ruling us, owning us. I wish there could be another way, but I with my limited years and wisdom do not see one. However, I will do what I can to control the Guardian Squads and protect the innocent immortals in our little play."

"No, you'll die." Methos snarled and pressed the muzzle of the Beretta against the side of his head. Almost instantly Cierdwyn was next to him, prying the weapon from his fingers.

"NO ADAM!" She cried as she finally wrenched it loose.

"He's not worth the blood debt, take over for Richie. I will handle him." She crooned. Reluctantly Methos obeyed, it had been ages since such bloodlust had filled him. This was different from his rage at Baal. That killing had been justice. This was shear thirst; he simply wanted the director's blood. Shaking slightly he left the room.  
Cierdwyn walked to her pack and began laying out several bottles and vials. She unwrapped a syringe and watched the director grow pale as she began mixing fluids.  
Finally satisfied she filled a syringe and approached him.

"What I have in this syringe is a cocktail. It contains various experimental substances used by shadow groups and the government for chemical interrogation; it also contains several chemicals, which effect memory. I am going to inject this into your arm, I will then ask you some questions which whether you want to or not, you will answer. When I am satisfied I will inject you with this syringe." She held up a second syringe filled with a dark murky substance.

"This syringe will activate the chemicals in the first syringe which effect memory. I will then give you instructions which again you will obey, you will then forget everything you know about the war and the history associated with it, you will forget about us, you will forget about your colleagues and superiors who involved you in the war and alerted you to its existence. You will in effect become what you appear to be. The director for Western America Watcher activities, the watchers as far as you know are an ancient group of men and women dedicated to observing and recording the lives of immortals but never interfering. I am telling you this so that you know exactly what is happening to you while it is happening. I am doing this so we won't have to kill you and you can have a second chance to become a decent human being." She said coldly. He stared back unafraid, a sneer curling his lip. She smiled and leaned forward to inject the fluid.

* * *

By noon that day they had scattered and moved to a new country. Traveling separately and in small irregular groups, flying, driving, going by boat, and even hiking they arrived in a new location to debrief. All key information had been exchanged via radio as soon as they had all left the house. Their new home for the moment was a semi-abandoned manor house in Belgium.

"I hate French." Richie groused to Methos as they trudged through an open air market.

"It's not French, its Flemish." Methos said.

"It still sucks." Richie grumbled.

They were on a supply trip. They were always careful about where they shopped and how much they bought. They had no doubts that the Watchers had at least a rough knowledge of their whereabouts. In order to throw them off the scent in regards to their numbers, strength, and plans they divided all shopping and other regular activities among the group. They never bought more supplies than one person could need and never returned to the same shop twice.

"Whatever, it's a pain in the ass, isn't English supposed to be the international language?"

"Do you have any idea how many languages I speak?"

"No."

"More than you, you speak bad English and bad French, that's not even a whole language, expand your horizons, learn something." Methos chided.

"Whatever." Richie murmured distracted by the vision of a blonde beauty at a fruit stand.

"Children." Methos grumbled as Richie excused himself and wandered over to the girl.

* * *

Mac stood in the basement of their current hideaway, he was working out.

Moving fluidly with strong slightly stiff armed movements he danced through several katas. Amanda wandered down holding her own sword and watched him for a moment.

"Ah, a sweaty man, just what the morning needed." She crooned and stepped onto the mat. She began her own workout. Mac smiled at her comment but otherwise ignored it and continued his movements. He focused on his movements neatly avoiding hers until he was directly behind her. Grinning he slipped his arms around her; she allowed him to disarm her and kissed him strongly.

"Mmmm took you long enough." She moaned and pulled him closer. Their sweat mingling. He ran his hands down her back and pulled her close. Laughing as she squirmed in his grip.

"Barbarian." She chided pulling away slightly. She led him off the mat and up the stairs toward her room.

* * *

Robert and Gina were also out shopping, leaving Cierdwyn and Amy alternating communications monitoring and guard duty. They had a sophisticated alarm system protecting their perimeter. Amanda had set it up and attempted to breach it herself, with a few pointers from Methos along the way. Nonetheless they all agreed an independent guard was necessary. Amy sat at a small desk. Perched on it were a Ham radio and an expensive P.C. She sat wearing headphones and singing softly to herself as she scanned current and incoming Watcher's records and emails. Thanks to Methos they had several god-like backdoors into the Watcher system. No doubt the Watchers were aware at least to some extent of their access with that in mind they triple checked all information and didn't rely solely on the files when planning ops. They also had an extensive network of informants and unaligned immortals and mortals alike. Several independent cells had been created with the goal of ending the war either through the destruction of the Watchers or the removal of those interested in perpetuating the war.

Preferably the latter. In the months since the revelation of the war several Watchers had defected joining Amy, Joe, and Adam in the fight against the Game and the genocide it represented. More Watchers had died as well. Standard Operating Procedure dictated bloodless ops whenever possible, killing avoided unless absolutely necessary. Even wounding a mortal had to be given great consideration. Much of Methos's time was taken up reviewing missions completed by the other cells and making judgment calls about actions taken. That said he strove to foster an 'act now regret later' attitude among his 'troops'. Immediate if wrong action often saved more lives than hesitating and deciding on the more correct action. Hesitation kills. Methos was fond of telling his friends. He had become by default a sort of commander for the anti-Watcher's forces. None of the other cells knew his real name, or even knew Adam Pierson was leading them. On Communications he was known as Raven. Each cell's members were given codenames; each cell's leader was kept anonymous.

So far ten immortals had fallen to the 'Guardian Squads' only one of the ten had actually been fighting the Watchers the other nine had been set up and slaughtered under false pretenses. Fortunately, or unfortunately word had spread among immortals, more were seeking out the safe houses, everyday new cells were made. Communications were made possible through a complex system of electronics, dead drops, radio, and messengers. No one knew everything but everyone knew something. Of all of them only Methos had any kind of 'complete' picture.

"Anything new come through?" Cierdwyn asked.

Amy smiled and replied through her head set. Cierdwyn was patrolling the grounds; she was linked to Amy through a throat mic.

"Nothing earth shattering, things are pretty quiet." Amy said scrolling through recent emails from the European headquarters to HQ in Geneva.

"It looks like Robert and Gina are heading back." Cierdwyn radioed.

The approach to the house was highly visible. It was part of the reason they had chosen the building.

"I hope one of them remembered to get milk." Amy said scowling at her mug of steaming black coffee. She hated cream but loved a little skim milk.

"I wouldn't worry about it." Cierdwyn replied. She was crouched in a hummock of field grass near the main drive. She glanced at her watch and returned her gaze to the perimeter.

"Adam has ten minutes to get his skinny butt back here." She grumbled to her friend.

"I don't know how you manage to pin him down as much as you do, but its working Cierdwyn, he's been much happier lately, even with the extra stress he's been under." Amy said kindly.

"Thanks, it's hard to tell if we're making any progress sometimes. He's so secretive."

"Ah, the prodigal returns." She said as Methos's land rover turned onto the drive. She watched as Gina and Robert parked their little car in a shed and headed into the house. Methos parked in the front of the house and got out. He began unloading groceries as Richie headed into the house. It was his turn to take over guard duty in a few minutes, he had to change and get a turnover from Cierdwyn. She began making one last circuit of the perimeter, angling it so she would end up at the back door when it was finished.

* * *

"How's the stress level affecting you?" Cierdwyn asked.

"How do you think? It's not too bad; I can handle it for now anyway." Methos drawled. He insisted on holding their little 'talks' as he snidely called them in the spare sitting room, complete with couch. Cierdwyn humored him.

"What will you do if it gets to be too much?"

"Ah I'll think of something. Break the cells down further, get region commanders maybe."

"How are the dreams?"

"What dreams? I haven't dreamed in weeks." Methos said softly.

"Really? That's not what I've heard." Cierdwyn said archly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He snapped.

"We're a closed society Methos; we live elbow to elbow, eating the same food, seeing the same things, the same routines. We also gossip." Cierdwyn pointed out.

"What did she say?" Methos asked not making it clear if he was referring to Amy or Amanda.

"You've been screaming in your sleep again." He studied the Celt for a moment.

"The dreams are still bad, you know that, apparently everyone does, I just don't remember them anymore." He growled.

"Fair enough, do you want to try the drugs again?" Cierdwyn had slowly weaned Methos from the cocktail he'd been taking to enable him to function. Now he only took something if it was absolutely necessary.

"No, I won't go back to that." He said emphatically.

"Okay. Why don't you try meditating again?"

"Okay." He said abruptlty.

"Don't fight me Methos." Cierdwyn said sharply.

"I'm sorry, you're right, you're always right. I'll try meditating. Is that enough for today?" He snarled. She nodded and watched him leave; she made some notes in small black book.

* * *

He met Amy on the way out of the room.

"I'd appreciate you not telling her anymore about me." He snapped at her and brushed her hand away when she tried to take his arm. Cierdwyn emerged a moment later.

"What the hell was that?" Amy asked.

"I'm sorry, I had to call him out on his dreams."

"So now he's going to shut me out because I tried to help him." Amy said tiredly.

"He's a complicated angry man Amy."

"I know, he's also an idiot sometimes." Amy said sourly.

She gave him time to calm down before setting out to find him. He was packing groceries away.

"Hey." She said gently. She walked into the store room and began helping him put away some of the groceries.

"Hey." He said blankly. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"It's okay." She said softly picking up a can of tomatoes.

"I would've been mad too." She continued putting it away.

"I shouldn't have snapped at you." He said softly gripping a loaf of bread far too tightly.

She turned away from the shelf of cans and rested her tiny hand on his fist.

"I care about you Methos, in spite of and partly because of your problems, and your past. I understand why you were angry I would have been too, but whatever happens, remember that I do care about you." She said forcing him to look at her. She knew deep in her heart that their present relationship was the closest thing to love Methos was capable of for now and cherished it.

"I don't . . . I can't do this Amy please, just stop." He whispered and pulled away from her.

* * *

Mac dressed slowly watching Amanda sleep. Her short jet black hair scattered across the crisp white pillow cases, her gentle lips curled in a smile. He smiled and leaning over kissed her lightly on the forehead. She stirred briefly and settled back into sleep. A soft snore drifted up.He finished dressing and went in search of Richie; it was his turn to relieve the youth's shift. When he entered the main room Methos was crouched in Amy's former spot reviewing recent communications and monitoring the radio.

"He's here now." Methos murmured to Richie through the headset.

"Junior's getting restless." Methos told Mac over his shoulder.

"I'm coming." Mac griped happily. Methos relayed the message and returned to his reports. Cierdwyn strolled in a few minutes later as Mac was heading out to meet Richie.

She flipped a TV on and ignored it. She wandered over to a well stocked bookshelf and began idly flipping through volumes. After a few minutes that bored her as well she flopped down in an easy chair and picked up a headset, she patched herself into their local radio net and using a handheld device began flipping through local radio traffic. She skipped the music and news stations and focused on police bands and emergency nets. She hummed and drummed her fingers on her thighs as she flipped along.

Gina wandered in and began searching the TV channels for news programs. Often bits of their war ended up in public labeled as terrorist actions or John Doe murders. An air of inaction and restless energy had been infecting the group lately. Methos frowned as he made mental notes about his 'troops' behavior.

When Robert relieved him on communications he went down to the basement to work out. Richie was all ready down there using some of the free weights. He nodded at the younger man and settled into his usual routine. Sometime during his workout he noticed Amy come down the stairs and watch him for a few minutes. He finished at the same time as Richie and followed him upstairs.

He entered the spartan room anddropped his sweaty towel on the floor and began stripping off his sopping clothing. He slipped into the bathroom and took a quick cold shower. He toweled off and wrapped the towel around his torso. He slipped back into his room and began to dress.

"It's too quiet." Amy said.

Startled Methos looked up. Amy was sitting in a far corner of the room.

"Yes I know."

"They're planning something big."

"Probably."

"We should break up the cells and go to ground." Amy said urgently. Dressed now Methos shrugged.

"Why? Maybe this is what we need, maybe this is our chance to end this."

"If its not we could all be killed."

"We live with that everyday. What's really bothering you? What are you doing in here? and why are you sitting in the dark?"

"We'll talk later." She said dismissively and stood to leave. He crossed the room and gripped her arm.

"No, we'll talk now." He said firmly. She put her delicate hand against his chest and shoved. Startled he released her.

"No." She said softly. He watched her go. Tears were in her eyes.

Baffled he pondered following her. No, that definitely wasn't going to work. He opted for a quick meal first. He picked up a handheld radio on his way out of the chow hall. Robert and Mac were arguing about wine. He thumbed the transmit switch.

"Cut the chatter kids big brother is listening." He said sharply. Amy's behavior was setting him on edge. He couldn't find her in the house.

"Adam to Mac." He said keying the radio.

"Go ahead." Mac replied.

"Did you spot anyone leaving the house in the last half hour?"

"Negative, there has been zero traffic outside the house."

"Copy that, sound the alarm." Methos growled breaking into a run. Protocol dictated that when the alarm sounded all personnel in residence armed themselves and prepared for immediate evacuation under hostile conditions. This whole situation was wrong, something wasn't right, there was no way Amy could have gotten past the alarm system and Mac not without help, and she wasn't in the house. He met the others in the main room. Robert had joined Mac on the perimeter. Everyone else was armed and alert.

"Amy's missing, she hasn't left the grounds and she's not in the house, something is seriously wrong. She was behaving extremely strangely an hour ago. Cierdwyn review the records she was examining on her shift, just a quick scan at first flag anything unusual for a second look. Richie, give her a hand. Gina, send out word on the network, raise a low level alarm, tell everyone to begin evacuating key staff and personnel, tell them we have an unconfirmed threat of unknown seriousness, tell them it may be nothing but to prepare anyway. Amanda, come with me." He said brusquely.

He headed for Amy's room stopping briefly to arm himself. He searched Amy's things, looking for anything she may have taken or better yet left as a clue. Nothing.

"Uh Methos, what do you need me for?" Amanda asked.

"No one is going to be alone until we find Amy. Something's rotten here."

"A mole?" Amanda asked incredulous.

"Amy was terrified Amanda, I tried to get her to talk and she hit me. I found her sitting in my room when I got out of the shower. Does that sound like she's all right?" Methos asked in a rougher tone than he meant to.

"Shit." Amanda said softly.

"What?"

"When we tested the system we didn't consider an insider, if something happened to her we could be wide open. If they have her codes . . . ."

"Ah fuck." Methos cursed and reached for his radio.

"Alert consider the perimeter breached prepare for incoming, repeat consider perimeter breached prepare for incoming."

"Copy that base" Mac's voice crackled back.

Mac and Robert should be heading back to the building to take up secure battle positions. They headed back to the main room.

"Any luck?" Methos asked tersely.

"Not much, some unusual supplies were sent to Lisbon, then immediately re-routed to Antwerp." Richie said leaning over a stack of printouts.

"How unusual?"

"Well, it looks like animal tranquilizers and heavy gauge ammunition."

"Cierdwyn?"

"We didn't get Joe's status report today."

"Try to get a message to the local cell for his location, find out what's going on there." Cierdwyn nodded and began navigating to a dead drop bulletin board online.

"Base to Alpha one." Methos growled keying the mic. He accepted a throat Mic Cierdwyn handed him she handed more to the others.

"Go ahead base this is Alpha One" Mac replied.

"Standby Alpha one, Alpha two copy?"

"Alpha two copies base."

"Rog, alpha one what is your status?"

"Armed and alert base, the main approach is clear, switching to night vision." Mac growled. Methos signaled Richie to kill nonessential lighting. Immediately the room dropped into a bluish twilight illuminated only by the computer monitor.

"Copy that alpha one, alpha two status?"

"Armed and alert, rear approach clear, also switching to night vision."

"Copy that alpha two be advised all units, security is severely compromised, consider all approaching individuals and units hostile. Repeat consider ALL approaching individuals and units hostile. Do not hesitate to fire. Copy?"

"Alpha one copies base."

"Alpha two copies base."

Everyone in the room exchanged glances. If Amy was out there somewhere and she tried to approach the house there was a good chance Robert or Mac would shoot her.

"I'm not an idiot and neither is she; she'll see the lights off and make herself known." Methos said addressing the room. Nonetheless Methos sweated and agonized for her.

"Any word on Joe?" He asked changing the subject.

"Not yet." Cierdwyn said.

"In two hours if there is no change I want Amanda and Gina to replace Robert and Macleod. Followed by Cierdwyn and I. Richie I want a complete inventory of all ammunition and weapons, double check the emergency packs and get ready to wipe out our files." Richie nodded and set off. Methos took his place poring over the files and emails flagged by Cierdwyn.

An hour later they received a report from a cell near Joe's safe- house. Joe wasn't there nothing looked disturbed and his personal effects were still present. An alert was sent through the network to look for Amy and Joe Dawson. Another hour ticked by. Gina and Cierdwyn took over for Mac and Robert. Richie returned.

"Everything is good to go Methos." He said sitting down and picking up a stack of papers.

"Good if we don't hear anything by dawn begin evacuating."

"Alpha one and two report." Methos grunted rubbing his eyes.

"Base alpha one all quiet."

"Copy"

"Base alpha two same."

"Methos what's going on?" Richie finally asked.

"Amy's been compromised somehow most likely through Joe. We're going to have to go to ground, divide the cells. Things have been too quiet."

"What about those shipments of tranquilizers and ammunition?"

"They're going to attack somewhere, maybe even us. They want prisoners, but they won't mind killing, have you ever seen what a heavy gauge round in the neck does? It doesn't take a sword to decapitate an immortal." Methos growled. Richie frowned and headed for the armory he returned with experimental body armor.

Loosely based on armor designs it was meant for full body protection without effecting mobility and movement. It also had custom designed throat guards. He handed a set to each immortal and helped those unfamiliar with it. He gently positioned the throat guard over Robert's mic and turned to help Mac.

Another hour ticked by and Cierdwyn and Methos took over for Gina and Amanda. When the women arrived back at the main room Richie helped them suit up as well.  
The night crawled by. Sporadic messages leaked in over the network. Joe and Amy were still missing. A cell in Seattle and another in San Francisco were hit by Guardians the cells fought back, won and vanished. As dawn broke over the horizon the immortals began preparing to flee. Each was issued a pack containing among other things food money, weapons, and I.D.s. Finally they were ready.

"I can't make this choice for you now." Methos said wearily. His throat mic was on so those on duty would not miss this meeting.

"We now have two choices. We have no actual proof that we've been compromised, that Joe and Amy have been taken. We can flee and join our people in hiding, working from the shadows to end this conflict. Or we can take the fight to them. We now have enough information to enable us to assassinate the key leaders of the pro-war Watchers. We may then be able to sue for peace with the survivors. Neither choice is sure or promises permanent or even temporary peace between our races. I will tell you what I am going to do now. I am going to kill the Director. I am going to find Amy and Joe."

"Don't be an ass Methos, we're with you." Richie growled from his post at the front of the house.

Methos ignored Richie's comment and continued. "I am recommending that the surviving cells become completely independent. We cannot afford a central leadership; I am transmitting all the information we have about the leaders and largest threats within the Watchers to each cell. I will then cutoff communications and urge the destruction of our communications network. You are free to leave this place and return to anonymous mortal lives, or pursue the war. It's your choice." Methos said.

"You know Methos, for once, Richie was right." Robert grunted.

"You're being an ass." Amanda continued sweetly.

"Of course we're with you." Mac finished.

"I had to give you the choice." Methos said harshly

* * *

.By the time the sun was full up the house was deserted and a small fire was burning merrily in the basement. Once again on foot, in the air, and by boat the small group of immortals was heading for a new home. Their goal was Geneva, their target no less than the Director of the Watchers. Through blood or diplomacy Methos would reunite his family and end the war.

Methos set out alone on foot from the compound. He moved with his customary stealth and skill. He aimed for the woods bordering the estate. Soft bird cries echoed through the mist shrouded morning. His clothing was soon soaked with mist and dew. He still wore the somewhat bulky armor. He disappeared into the shadowy woodland.

As he traveled further into the mist shrouded woods he focused on the sounds and scents around him. Something was wrong. His infamous instincts were crying for caution. Moving with even more caution he tested the air around him. Fear, and blood, familiar scents drifted on the wind to him. Heart hammering and mouth dry he moved forward. Breaking through a thick patch of black berries he spotted the source.

It was Amy. She was bound and gagged. She lay on the forest floor. She had been bound and beaten. She was unrecognizable, her face and body were so battered, swollen and bruised. With a strangled cry he leapt to her, silent tears streaking his face. Her beautiful clear eyes were clouded.

Tenderly he cut her bonds and straightened her tortured limbs. He opened his pack and removed a first aid kit. Meticulously he wetted a pad and with extreme care began sponging the dried blood and mucous from her battered face. Her nose and one cheekbone were shattered. His tears shed unheeded, unnoticed as he tenderly cleaned and bandaged her wounds. Unnoticed they fell on her sensitive face. Her skin was cool, her expression blank. Still he worked, labored with incredible care to tend her hurts. Softly gingerly she stirred and cried out an inarticulate bare whisper of noise.

He reached for his canteen and filling the cap wetted her shattered mouth. Incredibly a tear found its way from her swollen eyes. He wiped it away. It took him three hours to mend her wounds enough to risk lifting her. She slipped back into oblivion as he worked. He carried her with the gentleness of a new father, the strength of Sampson, and the ferocious protectiveness of a mother grizzly. He walked the nearly three miles back to the house oblivious to any enemy ignorant and careless of any stealth forces. At the moment he cared more for his charge than for anything else in his entire existence, cared more for her than for his guilt and self loathing, cared more for her than his survival, cared more for her than his people or their war. If attacked at that moment he would have laid her down and covered her with his own body. He cared more for her than he had for Alexa, than he had for MacLeod that dark day when he had offered his head to the highlander, cared more for her than Silas, his brother in blood whom he had slaughtered for redemption.

* * *

Mac chugged the shot and slammed the empty glass down. He turned blearily and after a few seconds focused his vision on his companion.

"S'like thisss." He began, punctuating his words with hand movements. Unfortunately he got carried away in his movements and nearly knocked himself off his stool.

"E's ded, s'godda be, er' ee'd be eere." He finished. His companion Richie Ryan shook his head vigorously then groaned and laid it on his folded arms. Muffled noises drifted up.

"Whazzat?" Mac demanded downing another shot.

"S'not true." Richie insisted raising his head.

"Then wheres ee?" Mac demanded.

"Iss Adam, he coood b-bee eny where." Richie insisted. Mac shook his head and offered the younger man another shot.

They were camped out in Joe's bar, or at least his new make-shift, underground, very hush hush bar. Joe had been rescued by a separate cell during an information raid. He had been snatched off the street and held for interrogation and execution. Methos had been MIA for two months with no word from him or Amy. Joe and Richie were the only ones who refused to believe that Methos had finally fallen. They were also the only ones who didn't believe Amy had sold them out. Their faith was based on a partial message received by a cell in Germany before they were crushed by a guardian squad. It had simply said, Dawson not compromised, Raven – and it ended. They received the partial message after Methos was a month overdue. Richie and the rest of the survivor's of that night had relocated to the Netherlands. As far as they knew there were no other cells in-country. They operated low-level focusing on information gathering; they still planned to hit the Director eventually. They had taken out three Guardians that had ventured too close to their operation. Otherwise it had been a tense, emotionally arduous, and ultimately inactive three months since that dark night.

Soft blues drifted through the crowded bar. It was a hot spot for their movement; nonetheless mortal attendance was allowed and encourage the better to hide. Consequently Joe's old friends were required to radically change their appearances and beef up security in order to visit. The security was a step above and beyond the setup at the estate in Belgium. In order for it to be deactivated two separate and simultaneous codes had to be inputted among other double blind super secure procedures, two people were required to disable the system.

Mac's hair had been cropped obscenely short, his scalp plainly visible through the stubble. Alternatively Richie's shaggy locks were below his shoulders.

Richie downed another shot and struggled to his feet. "Think I got alc-alc-alc fuck, poisoning." He confided to Mac and staggered off toward the storeroom. Two shots later Mac staggered after him. Next to the storeroom was an empty room. There was a passage in the room leading to the cell's home base. Halfway down the passage Mac tripped over Richie's prone body. Picking himself up Mac clumsily searched for a pulse. Nothing.

"Aw why'd yeah go and die?" He whined and flipped him over. He appeared untouched.

"Huh, poisoning." Mac murmured. He reached up to his neck and thumbed a medallion hanging from a manly chain.

"S'Mac, Richie's ded in the hall." Mac burbled drunkenly. A tinny voice squalled back at him for a few seconds.

"K." Mac replied and settled back against the wall. He was asleep in seconds. Five minutes later Cierdwyn and Robert appeared carrying a stretcher. Cierdwyn booted Mac cruelly and made him help them get Richie onto the stretcher. They brought him back to their half-assed infirmary.

The infirmary was designed more for recuperation and the treatment of allied mortal's ailments than trauma. They settled Richie on a gurney and began examining him. Cierdwyn drew blood and began analyzing it.

Robert settled Mac on another bed and gave him a stimulant injection.

"NO, I wanna be drunk." Mac whined.

"Yeah but Richie's dead and we need you." Robert hushed him.

"Okay, just how much did you two drink?" Cierdwyn demanded.

"I uh know." Mac murmured lying back to sleep.

A few minutes later Richie stirred and woke.

"Ah did that suck." He muttered and sat up. Mac was snoozing merrily next to him. Feeling cranky Richie laid his hands on Macs hip and shoulder and shoved. An irate squawk and a satisfying thud resulted.

Two hours later they were sober, clean, and ready for duty. Cierdwyn was ripping them apart.

"What the hell are you thinking? You cannot allow this to happen again. You CAN NOT. Do you understand me? We're shorthanded as it is without Amy and Adam, we cannot afford to have two of our best down and out because they're drunk, or dead!" She snarled. Neither man even tried to argue, it was pointless, she was completely right and they were so incredibly wrong. After a half hour of ass chewing she ordered them to duty.

Each of the immortals with the exception of Richie, Amanda, and Gina had had experience in the military and as a result they sort of migrated by default into a quasi military leadership. Mac and Cierdwyn usually made the major decisions. Whoever was designated base during a shift was the de facto commander and whatever other decisions were required during the day were dealt with by the individuals involved or by committee. Thus Cierdwyn's wrath, she was shift leader, de facto commander and over a third of her available forces were drunk, another two were off duty leaving three people available for emergencies.

* * *

"How much longer?"

"Physically, another three months and she will be able to leave us; therapy both physical and mental will still be required of course."

"Of course. Is there any hope for her mind?"

"Possibly, in time, she has progressed a great deal. Within a year maybe less she will be stable."

"Stable?"

"Yes, stable Mr. Adamson. You must understand, she will never be the woman you knew before her ordeal, but she will be a whole functioning person. Stable."

"I see."

* * *

Joe sat working his books at the bar. A CD played softly in the background. The closed sign was up and the door was locked. The only people coming and going were Mac's people, but they mostly stayed out of sight during off hours.

A shadow appeared in front of the smoke glass front door. A man shaped shadow. Frowning Joe put his pencil down and turned off the laptop's screen. He stood and stiffly made his way to the door.

"We're closed." He shouted. The shadow didn't move it knocked lightly instead. Annoyed Joe moved closer.

"Sorry friend, we're closed, come back at six." He grumbled.

"Open the door Joe." The voice was soft commanding and familiar. Joe opened the door a crack. His jaw dropped opening the door wide he snatched the visitor in, slammed the door shut and locked it again.

"Where the HELL have you been?" He demanded.

"Picking up the pieces." Methos said wearily. He peered out the smoky windows studying the street.

"Come on the others need to see you." Joe grumbled and led him to the storeroom.

* * *

"He's dead Rich, if he wasn't he would be here by now, face it." Mac snarled.

"Why are you so certain? Huh? Are you HAPPY he's gone? Who are you trying to convince here?" Richie snapped back. They were sparring in the makeshift dojo they had managed to set up.

"All personnel report to the conference room. Repeat all personnel report to the conference room." Cierdwyn's voice over the intercom blared.

Mac deftly disarmed Richie and handed him his sword.

"You're still too easily distracted." Mac said breathing heavily. Picking up towels they silently headed toward the conference room.

They entered still angry with one another and took seats at the battered table. Robert and Gina were all ready seated. They exchanged small talk while waiting on Cierdwyn and Amanda A few minutes later Joe, followed by Cierdwyn came in.

"Joe." Mac said and nodded at his friend. Joe acknowledged the gesture and gently sat down. Hr looked ashen and grave.

"We have some news about Methos and Amy." Cierdwyn said as she took her seat.

"First they're both alive." The room erupted with noise, laughter, I- told-you-sos, high fives galore. Cierdwyn restored order and continued.

"Secondly, Methos is here, but he's in bad shape. He's malnourished and worn out. He's in Richie's room right now getting some sleep."

"Thirdly, Amy isn't with him, she wont' be joining us for several months. She was . . . beaten. Badly, she's had several surgeries; she will require several more as well as therapy. Methos and Joe feel that once she has recovered we cannot involve her in the war again."

Silence reigned for a moment. Then one by one they began asking questions and offering condolences to Joe.

"That's enough, we don't actually know what happened, we don't know where she is, and we don't know where he's been. He'll be up in a few hours, you can ask him yourself but be delicate, . . .he's had it rough lately, extremely rough in the last few months. He's . . . delicate." Cierdwyn said awkwardly.

Subdued but nonetheless joyful they made their way out of the room and back to their activities.

Richie returned to his room. He opened the door slowly and closed it quietly behind him. Methos was laying on top of the covers on his bed sound asleep. Richie dug through his drawers until he found a towel and hopped in the shower.

Methos woke when the shower came on. He stared around the unfamiliar room for a moment before remembering where he was. The shower ran loud and familiar strangely comforting. Slowly he sat up. Groggy, disoriented, sore he moved gently. He sat with his feet on the floor staring at his loosely cupped hands. Calloused from constant sword practice, stained and chipped from his journey pale and strong the hands of death and a healer. He sobbed and covered his face. His cries wracked his frame. He lay on his side and brought his knees to his chest. He sobbed and cried. Shouting incoherently at himself.

Richie stood naked but for a towel in the doorway to the bathroom. He quickly threw on some underwear and walked to Methos. He put a hand on his shoulder.

"Methos? Hey Methos?" Richie whispered. Methos was oblivious to Richie's presence.

"Methos!" Richie cried shaking the older man. It seemed to jar him momentarily from his pain. Methos's cries softened, his shouting ceased, his sobs continued sharp and broken.

"They hurt her so she would hate me!" He sobbed and gripped Richie painfully tightly by the shoulders.

"It's always because of me!" He gasped in agony and resumed his pained cries. Richie pulled him close and embraced him. He reached up and thumbed a medallion identical to Mac's.

"I need Cierdwyn at my room." He said softly. Ten minutes later Cierdwyn arrived. She took in the scene and nodded at Richie. Gently she sat next to the two men; she rested her hand on Richie's back and leaned next to Methos's ear.

"Let it go Methos, let us in, and let it go." She murmured mercifully. His sobs grew less frantic. Slowly Richie released him and gently laid him back on the bed. Still wracked by agonizing grief his soft cries and sobs continued. Carefully, quietly Richie left.

Cierdwyn waited on him outside the room.

"You did the right thing."

"Should we tranquilize him?"

"No, he's needed to do this for years. Just, don't tell anyone about this. It would destroy your relationship. He may not even remember it in the morning."

"Okay. Should we keep everyone away from him?"

"No, I don't think that will be necessary. I think they'll stay away until he comes to us when he's ready." Richie nodded and wandered off to borrow some clothes from someone.

For the first time in recent memory Methos did not dream exhausted beyond bearing. Pushed to his absolute limits he simply rested. He slept for hours, hours turned into days, three and half days after he arrived at Joe's door he woke.

Richie was sitting next to his bed, asleep in an easy chair, with amazingly enough a book on his chest.Methos couldn't see the title. His whole body felt weak and broken. His limbs felt leaden and distant. Bleary eyed he sat up peering nearsightedly around him.

It felt late, he had arrived around lunchtime; he may have slept until the next day. He rubbed his face and paused. He rubbed his face again he had stubble. He didn't grow stubble in hours it took at least a day, usually two.

"Shit." He groaned and levered himself off the bed. He staggered slightly and caught himself; his balance was out of whack.

"How long was I asleep?" He asked himself leaning on furniture as he moved. He entered the bathroom. He searched for a razor and shaving cream. Nothing, so much for a shave he thought. Ryan had been killed pretty young. He took a shower and combed his hair.

Clothes were a problem moving quietly he riffled through Ryan's drawers. Emerging at last with semi suitable pretty likely to fit clothes. He dressed slowly he still felt off but the feeling was fading as he woke up further. He was putting socks on when Richie woke up.

"Hey." He said standing and yawning.

"Hey." Methos agreed.

"Nice nap?" Richie asked slightly sarcastically.

"How long was I asleep?" Methos asked slipping his boots back on.

"Uh about three and a half days." Richie said checking his watch and yawning again. Methos grunted and stood.

"Where do we eat?"

"Heh, follow me." Richie said opening the door.

"Hey Richie?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you even own a razor?"

* * *

Cierdwyn and Mac were studying the latest local reports in the conference room. The communication network had been killed off on the night Amy had disappeared. Instead local regions had resorted to a series of dead drops. Information summaries of weekly or monthly activities and information were deposited and physical and virtual dead drops where various groups could easily access it. Cierdwyn made daily checks of local dead drops for relevant information.

They were discussing tapping the local police station's phone line when Richie came in.

"What's up Rich?" Mac asked.

"Methos is up. He's getting something to eat. He's going to need some clothes and stuff though, do you want to clear him for a town pass?" Richie asked sitting down.

"Did you explain how we're operating now?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?" Cierdwyn asked.

"Well, he was, you know, real hungry? So I just kind of set him up in the kitchen and well, reported to you guys."

"That's sort of? Where in that little scenario did you actually say anything about our operation?"

"Uh well, you know, I'm not actually in charge . . . . –hey I haven't been to slept in like thirty hours so . . ."

"Its okay Rich, go to bed." Mac said laughing at Cierdwyn's annoyance. Cierdwyn shot him a look as Richie wandered off.

They continued their research for another twenty minutes or so. Cierdwyn called a halt while Mac made a new pot of coffee. Cierdwyn hopped on the intercom.

"Robert will you please show Adam to the conference room? Repeat Robert will you please show Adam to the conference room?"  
Fifteen minutes later Robert and Methos arrived.

"Here you go Adam, I gotta get back to work, but I'll see you later." Robert said kindly and disappeared back the way he had come.

"What the hell is this about a town pass? When did this become the army?" Methos demanded. His patchy stubbled chin didn't suit him.

"We tried it your way and it ended well, badly. We're trying it this way now."

"What is going on?"

"We've worked it into shifts, three shifts. One person leads each shift, that person is in command while on shift. Off shift a committee makes tactical and operational decisions. It  
works Methos."

"What is this crap about a town pass?"

"We try to keep a low profile, in order to go to town you have to have a vital reason. Most of our supplies are tacked onto whatever Joe needs for the bar. We order everything else anonymously over the internet. Our survival depends on being invisible."

"This is ridiculous, how do you operate?"

"Covertly." Cierdwyn said shortly.

"I won't be staying." Methos said coldly.

"Adam . . ." Mac started.

"No Mac. You have as much as said to my face that what happened in Belgium was my fault. I can't say it wasn't I wish to God I could. I won't stay here if that's your attitude. I'll be leaving in the morning."

"Methos-"

"No Cierdwyn. I'll be leaving."

"So you're running again?" Mac snapped.

"Oh you're one to talk, you run whenever your life gets hard, you run whenever you lose anyone, and since when are you second to her?" Methos growled.

"You're a hypocrite Methos." Mac snarled.

"Running is a way of life for me, if you spent the first thousand years of your life running from town to town dying and being killed along the way it would be your life too." Methos snarled and left the room.

"Huh, do you think it worked?" Mac asked.

"I don't know, it certainly got him to react."

"You think he'll take off?"

"No. We're going to have a lockdown tomorrow, besides it'll free up enough people to allow Gina and Amanda to bug the police station."

"You are SO devious." Mac said and laughed.

Methos was sick with rage and the injustice of it. He hadn't caused that night. He had done everything he could to save them all, and he had, at a terrible price. They were all alive, Amy would never be the same, would probably never trust him again, but she was alive, Joe, Mac, Richie, Cierdwyn, Gina, Robert, and Amanda, all alive. But oh had it cost him. He had wanted nothing more that night than to run out there, to find Amy and bring her back. He suspected she was near, knew she would never betray them. But he couldn't risk it. He couldn't lower the system and open them up to attack he couldn't risk them all. So he had sacrificed the only person who gave a damn about him even knowing his past for no good reason. But he had taken the intelligent path, saved the greater number. He still hadn't seen Joe after breaking the terrible news. Would his old friend even be able to look him in the eye, would the remembered warmth be there? He returned to Richie's room. He really didn't have anywhere else to go. He glared around in wrath. Then it hit him.

"Oh you bastards." He growled and started laughing. Richie wandered in a few seconds later as Methos's laughter was fading.

"Hey Richie?"

"What?"

"Do you have any idea how devious Mac can be when he puts his mind to it?"

"Yeah I got a pretty good idea."

"Heh, me too."

Richie watched feeling mystified as Methos left still chuckling.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Richie asked his back.

He caught Mac in the kitchen.

"You are a self righteous meddling bastard, you hear me?" He snarled enjoying Mac's expression.

"Just exactly how stupid do you think I am? Huh?" Methos snapped. He gripped the Highlander's collar and pinned him to the wall. He had meant to mess with him. But his anger was growing the more he thought about what they'd done to him.

"Methos relax; I was just trying to help you!" Mac growled and gripped Methos's wrist. He twisted and pulled and pain flashed along Methos's forearm. It made him angrier.

He increased his grip and leaned hard against the Scot's throat. Gasping Mac tried to fight free without hurting Methos. Desperate he freed his katana and drove the base of the handle into Methos's solar plexus. The rage faded along with his breath. He dropped to his knees gasping and horrified at the strength of his anger.

Mac joined him on the floor struggling to regain his breath.

"You suck." Mac managed between gasps.

"Yeah." Methos agreed painfully. They helped each other up. Leaning on the kitchen table for support Methos watched Mac dig a couple beers out of the fridge. He wordlessly accepted one.

They sat in companionable silence drinking until Amanda wandered in.

"Good morning boys. Isn't it a little early for beer? At least for Duncan?" Amanda asked opening cupboards and drawers.

"Sometimes its justified." Mac said cryptically and shared a smile with Methos.

"Whatever, listen I have got to get out of here. I'm going stir crazy, so, you boys wanting anything from the outside?" She asked settling down with a couple slices of toast.

"How'd you manage to get a coveted town pass?" Methos asked archly.

"Never you mind Mr. Pierson." She responded playfully.

"Ah ah m'dear its Dr. Pierson to naughty vixens."

Amanda sneered and dug into her toast. Richie wandered in.

"Okay, so has sanity returned to the masses?" Methos gave him a blank look and drank more beer. Mac began digging through the fridge.

"O-kay fine, keep the kid in the dark." He grumbled.

"Oh all right, Cierdwyn and I were trying to pre-empt any guilt Methos might be stewing over by pissing him off enough with false accusations that he would realize his own innocence in the Belgium thing." Mac grumbled. Richie thought about that for awhile.

"Wow, you are sneaky." He agreed in a tone of awe.

* * *

Methos stood at his window. His room was quite comfortable and spacious, complete with attached private bathroom and a laptop with a direct link into the security and communications network. He stared down into the neatly trimmed and mowed gardens and lawns of the estate. He heard the door open behind him.

"Hello Methos." It was Joe's voice, Joe, god he hadn't told him about Amy right away as he had wanted now. . . now he was probably here to denounce Methos and their friendship.

"Joe-" Methos began. Joe held up a hand to silence him.

"I think I understand Methos but, why didn't you tell me, they, they all thought she was the mole!"

"I sent a message-"

"Which was cryptic enough to be denied!"

"Where's my baby Methos?" He demanded.

"Cierdwyn has the address, she's safe, she's no threat to anyone and I have private security with her she's, she's better than she was and her prognosis is good . . ." Methos looked up but his friend had all ready left.

* * *

Amy's features thanks to a half dozen operations were very close to her pre-beating features. Her eyes were glassy and washed out paled by pain and too much knowledge. She turned slowly toward Joe's voice. She studied him closely for a moment before a slow childish smile transformed her. She lit up for him. Joe limped to her and embraced her. Her security guards took the scene in warily. They were well paid by Mr. Adamson who unlike most of their clients knew what he was talking about when it came to security. Joe and Amy began to talk slowly at first. Part of Amy's therapy had been speech focused due to the damage done to some of her facial muscles and nerves.

Methos's thoughts never strayed too far from Amy and Joe but eventually he wouldn't think of her for an hour and then most of a day would pass. Finally he thought about her less and less although he insisted on weekly status reports and updates and calls with Joe. He doubted she wanted to see him and she never indicated otherwise. Joe was distant but friendly with him. Methos was remarkably dispassionate about it all. He took up the reigns of leadership once again much to the joy of the immortal community who had mourned the loss of their unknown raven. The war began to turn in the immortal's favor.

* * *

"This has been an extraordinarily long time coming. But at last the time is more than ripe. We are going to attack Geneva." Methos announced at the weekly planning session. His friends murmured and whispered in excited rills and gasps.

"This has gone on long enough, when we embarked on this journey we never thought the bloodshed would last so long. We have a strategy that will either work or bring both factions of this battle under the scrutiny of the world stage. Either way this war will end."

"Okay, anyone who thinks it's insane to let the mortal world at large know about us raise your hands." Richie said. Every hand at the table was raised. Amanda actually raised both of hers.

"Heh maybe I phrased that wrong. Here are the facts, our little conflict has not gone unnoticed on the world stage as it is. In this brave new world of the patriot act and freshly empowered black ops it would be impossible. We have managed to limit just how many of our activities the mortals have been able to connect but that won't last for long. For instance if we were to win the war tomorrow and cease all active preparations the sudden lack of activity across the board would tend to clue the powers that be in on just how wide our operations are, or were. What I am suggesting is that we convince our contacts in the west to allow us to have a meet and greet with our most powerful potential allies that is the governments of the United States, Canada, and any other nations sympathetic to not exterminating an independent peoples who also harbor large immortal populations. At that point I will then meet these honchos and attempt to negotiate for our autonomous existence under the radar and amongst the herd as much as possible. With these governments on our side we can then use our resources openly to cripple the Watchers and sue for peace." Methos finished breathlessly and sat down.

"Yeah 'cause that's so much saner." Richie grunted.

The immortals erupted in debate, questions, answers, insults, suggestions, and derision filled the room. Twelve hours later Methos retired to his room. He was exhausted but exhilarated, convinced that his idea was the most likely to result in a long lasting peace for his kind but sympathetic to the others he slipped into an uneven rest.

* * *

"No, I don't care how much sense it makes on a grand scale. Fuck the grand scale, the grand scale is what got us into this mess. Honestly I don't care anymore I just want to be left alone, somehow I doubt that will happen if we let big brother in on the biggest secret . . . well, ever!" Amanda shouted.

When Methos had gone to rest the two immortals he had convinced to side with him had been steadily argued into reversing their votes.

"Look, bottom line is this, humanity fears the unknown, so do we. Neither of us are ready to accept us . . . 'coming out'. It just won't work. It guarantees nothing, and while yeah I can see the need for us to take such action in a hundred, or a thousand years from now I don't see it helping us now." Richie agreed.

* * *

Methos woke feeling tired. He knew they would never vote for his decision which was fine, he hadn't thought they would but at least it had gotten them thinking about crazed alternatives to their current situation.

"So you lot come up with some good alternatives?" Methos asked sauntering into the conference room. Bleary eyes and empty coffee cups met his gaze. More debate ensued.

"Okay, so we all agree that exposure while valid at some point in the future would at this point be ridiculous." Robert stated mediating the chaos. Every head nodded.

"Very well then we are also agreed that an all out take no prisoners assault on the Watchers HQ while fun would not end the war?"

More nods.

"So, we can have an all out minimal casualties assault on Watchers HQ and every regional outpost and sector HQ on the face of the planet on the same day as a show of force and determination, which will also neuter the Watchers as any not swearing to peace or swearing and then forsaking their oath will be executed would be a good call?"

Silence.

"Or at least the best we can do to end all this horseshit this century?"

Nods.

"Okay then, Raven?"

"Heh, see that's what I thought too." Methos said grinning as the air filled with cigarette stubs, coffee cups, and paper plates all aimed at him.

"Gina and Amanda would you be so kind as to log onto the mainframe and enter Alas, Babylon into the commands screens and direct the outgoing to all available? Cierdwyn and Richie we'll need a complete inventory of the armory and motor pool. Mac you're with me in the comm room, we have some planning to do, Cierdwyn and Robert please join us there when you are free." Invigorated with a sense of purpose and for the first time in three years _hope _the immortals separated.

* * *

Two months later all the preparations were ready. There were roughly thirty-five viable targets within the immortals scope. There were thirty cells made up of two to ten immortals. With a few of the larger cells doubling up it made the strike feasible, barely. Due to the risk of security breaches there were six attack plans in place. Each was rehearsed and practiced to the final detail by each cell. There was no way the Watchers could defend against them all but it was equally impossible for the immortals to implement all of them. Only Methos knew the real plan and he let absolutely no indication of which he had chosen slip. Only he knew that was because he hadn't chosen which one yet and wouldn't until the day of the attacks. That was the other trick. The attacks were timed to begin just after 0500 pacific time and continue across the globe from there, no sneaky night assaults this time too easy for the Watchers to hide from each other.

The day arrived, Methos's group took Geneva. They moved like masked machines cutting down all resistance snatching up the corrupt Director and his cronies executing the inner circle at once and extracting oaths of peace from each and every surviving Watcher. Methos led the assault. Dr. Sax ironically enough was in the compound.

Each immortal was clad in the new body armor first tested in Belgium. Over it they wore digitized camo focusing on blacks and grays. Their eyes were hidden by light sensitive goggles equipped with Heads Up Displays tracking the progress of their team's assault and the status of each individual. They were armed with the light weight weapons originally purchased in Phoenix and Tranquilizer pistols.

Methos stared at Dr. Sax as he railed against the attacking immortals. He stood over the little man as he clutched his medical bag to his chest surrounded by the rubble of the compound's outer wall. The immortals had been forced to blow a hole through it when every other scenario pointed to a drawn out shoot out. Methos cocked his head and pondered the little man. Shrugging he reached down and gripped him by the collar of his shirt. Lifting him up he set Sax on his feet and dusted him off.

"You can go Sax, with my thanks, after today the war will be over. You have patients waiting."

"You murdering bastard!" Sax shrieked face red and spittle flying.

"On the contrary Dr. Sax you will find that until we capture the Director and his cronies who are responsible for this whole bloody mess that not a soul has been killed, all we want is peace." Methos finished and gestured toward the shattered courtyard. Sax glared and scuttled off.

Methos continued in toward the main structure. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and popped the tranq gun out of its thigh holster. He darted two frantic office worker types and found the kitchen. It was deserted, or seemed to be. Frowning he toggled his goggles to I.R. and spotted two crouched figures hiding just out of sight past the walk in freezer, which was conveniently standing open and doing a decent job of masking the two figures. Smiling Methos clipped the rifle securely into place on his back and studied his approach.

"Alpha one, Beta." Richie's voice crackled in his ear.

"Go Beta." Methos whispered. He watched the two figures shift expectantly.

" We're inside, no casualties proceeding to primary."

"Confirmed." Methos whispered again. One of the figures shifted the soft scrape of a boot on broken glass drifted to Methos. He frowned now everyone knew that everyone else knew where they were. He grunted.

"Okay fellas this can end badly or pretty nicely your call!" Methos shouted. He slipped the tranq gun into its holster and pulled a knife from a wrist sheath. With his typical freakish grace and skill he approached the wall keeping the open door of the walk in freezer and its steamy goodness between himself and his potential prey.

"Fuck you freak!"

"Fine." Methos said and whipped around the corner he snatched up the nearest Watcher and hurled him into his companion with astonishing force. The man he struck crashed into the wall hard enough to crater the sheet rock where his head impacted. The unlucky man he had thrown groaned and attempted to rise. Methos kicked him in the face hard enough to knock him spread-eagle. He held the knife ready should the ornery s.o.b. get up. He paused to check both men's vitals. They were okay all things considered; Sax should be able to patch them up.

"Status?" Methos asked over the radio as he flipped back to I.R. and stepped over the inert men.

"Beta proceeding non-lethal contact with four hostiles, Beta uninjured." Charlie Delta and Echo reported back with similar reports. Methos continued on incapacitating all contacts with darts or physical contact. He checked the time on his HUD. Fifteen minutes since perimeter breach they were running three minutes late.

"All teams pick up the pace we're falling behind."

Methos and Beta were the first ones to breach the inner sanctum. Richie, Gina, and Methos met up and held a whispered conference. Delta and Echo had encountered a large pocket of resistance and would be occupied with containment for at least another five minutes if not longer. While Methos would have preferred to have all hands on deck so to speak the plan would work even if only one of them had been viable. Still, he cautioned Gina and Richie to be wary, while the Director and company could not have literally flown out of the compound due to the sneaky sabotage perpetrated upon their helicopters shortly before the attack they had had plenty of time to set up traps and defenses. Even to just arm themselves.

Methos checked his HUD noting that Charlie and Echo were in the dining hall surround by almost twice their numbers, as he watched the enemy blips began to slow their attack and fall back more and more of their blips stopped moving altogether. He noted the time again.

"Okay, we have ten whole minutes to finish securing the compound and clean up enough of the mess to allay local suspicions. Charlie and Echo are almost done, which leaves them with clean up and us with the last of the containment.

"Charlie, Echo you copy?"

"Roger boss, hide the bodies and make nice to the cops, gas leak took out the wall." Mac grumbled.

Wordlessly Methos gestured for Richie to take point. He neatly sidestepped a noisy booby trap designed to alert their prey of the immortal's approach. Gina and Methos followed. The first door they tried had a triple dead bolt and was inch thick solid oak. Richie shot Methos a look through the goggles, Methos nodded and stepped back to one side of the door Gina took the other. Richie aimed at the door frame around the locks and opened fire. He ended up liberally doused with splinters, most of which bounced off his armor, a few actually embedded themselves. But after a few seconds of unbelievable noise the door gave way. Locks still neatly fastened to a hunk of freestanding wood. Gina and Methos expertly swept the room while Richie swapped mags and stood guard.

They found one man, scared to death and holding a hand gun he gamely attempted to take out Methos but Gina booted him in the head. His stunned body skittered across the remnants of his sanctuary pistol flying into a pile of rubble that may have once been his desk. Methos compared the man's face to his mental dossier and brought up their inner council's dossiers on his HUD. Ah this little gem was Michael Anderson head of the Guardian Program. Methos nodded shortly, Gina stood guard while he secured the terrified man with zip ties and forced him to his feet. They continued down the hall collecting prisoners and avoiding traps. However none of the men or women they herded to the dining hall eight minutes later was the Director.

Altogether nine members of the council were kneeling in the rubble of the dining hall flanked on either side by battered and bruised lower level Watchers when the police arrived. Cierwdyn, Gina, Richie, Mac, and Methos stood guard over the Watchers with truly silence weapons. A cop could be five feet away and not hear a thing. Methos had demonstrated this fact to his captive audience on an unhappy melon shortly before the sirens became audible. Roger and Gina had gone to meet the local constabulary.

Local law enforcement was far from dumb but after repeated firm assurances that all was well and the pointed reminder of lawyers, money, and private property they had grudgingly ceased attempting to force their way into the compound and were content to stand watch. Sax buzzed amongst his charges administering aspirin and anti-nausea meds. There were a few cuts and bloody noses but all in all they had been remarkably willing to surrender especially when it was made clear that mass murder was not the immortal's goal.

With the local cops momentarily appeased the immortals turned back to more important matters. Gina and Robert reappeared and donned their gear once more. They took up posts and Methos moved to the center of the room. He clipped his rifle onto his back and reached up to remove his hood and goggles. There were a few gasps and outraged noises. Methos smiled at them.

"Hello, from the sounds of it I'm guessing more than a few of you know who I am. Or rather who I was. Whether I was or wasn't an immortal when I joined the Watchers is a topic for another day the point today is this. Those of you who knew me did not see a blood thirsty monster, or a person dedicated to domination and control. You saw and knew, a friend, coworker, drinking buddy, even a lover. I am not that man now, not because I can only be killed by a beheading or because I will keep this appearance forever, I am not that man because people I thought I knew, trusted, respected, people who were my friends, have been trying very hard to kill me for three years. Three years ago I was kidnapped, tortured, and killed, because of what I am, three years ago war was declared between us because of that assault. My people, both my peoples have spent the intervening time killing and maiming each other. A young woman I care very much about was abducted, beaten, and raped, simply because she cared about her father and his friends, because she wanted to help save lives not take them. The immortals have taken great pains to limit the deaths inflicted upon your people by us, the exception being the splinter group led by a man we dubbed Baal a splinter group endorsed and empowered by the highest members of the Watchers. It was these people who instigated this war, and these people were exterminated by myself and my people. Ask yourselves those of you who knew me, is that something you could _EVER _fathom me doing? Of course it wasn't but I did it, because we do ugly things when we have to. Now is the time for you to witness a slaughter to end the slaughter. These nine men and women have blood on their hands, the blood of every injured or killed watcher these last three years, the blood of the psychotics I killed in cold vengeful blood, the blood of all thirty immortals beheaded by your kind including at least twelve who were wholly ignorant of our war. That blood is on these people. "

Methos paused in his diatribe and then calmly walked the line of council members and shot each in the head. He could hear Watchers in the reluctant audience getting sick.

"I do not blame your reactions, you are good decent people, but know this every person here who refuses to swear an oath to peace or takes such an oath and forsakes it will face the same or far _far _worse. Join with us today and end this pointless idiotic conflict. Look upon these bodies and look upon me, these are the costs of bigoted actions and fearful choices." As he finished his speech he met Sax's eyes. The Doctor's face was smeared with rubble dust but two pink lines traced by tears crossed his cheeks. He looked into Methos's eyes with such sorrow and regret that Methos almost, almost looked away.

Methos watched as the rest of his team secured the fingerprints and voice prints of every watcher and recorded their somewhat less than eager oaths. Throughout the ordeal he could feel Sax's eyes boring into him, and he wondered where the Director had fled to. He keyed his armor's HUD system into the global comm. system and downloaded an update. He also hailed Amanda to head in for a pickup.

Ten minutes after the beginning of Methos's speech he heard the distant thud-thud of an approaching helicopter. He assisted his team in gathering all nine corpses of the council and binding them together in a grotesque bundle. They didn't have much time to load the chopper and couldn't leave the bodies behind. According to the global update the other raids were coming along nicely. When Amanda arrived there was just enough space to hover her craft while the immortals shimmied aboard on ladders and used a cable and pulley system to hoist the corpses aboard before the cops barreled in demanding to see the owners.

The next morning ninety-nine percent of the Watcher leadership had been extinguished. The remaining Watchers with the exception of the still absent Director were either retiring into true mortal life or focusing on rebuilding their organization. Methos had made it clear that the war was over but as far as the Watcher's mission it was still in the air. Personally Methos could give a mouse's tit about their dedication to observe and record but never interfere. He could slip their surveillance almost effortlessly.

The next few weeks were tense as the immortals fled into hiding to await the fall out from the raids. There was some mention of orchestrated terrorist assaults on a private historical foundations office worldwide but no news outlet really bothered with a follow up. The bodies were cremated mixed with lye and buried. Four months later Methos assumed an identity as a nondescript linguist and reentered academia.

With no Watcher wrath forthcoming or indeed any notice at all really with the exception of a persistent young librarian who was more interested in his phone number and plans for the weekend than his sordid blood soaked history he felt okay to let out a tentative all clear. The unspoken threat of the immortal's ability to invade the Watcher's inner sanctum's worldwide and assassinate their leadership remained, the raids had been largely bloodless and those executed had been directly or implicity involved in the creation of the Game and the war in the first place. While there had been a few collateral deaths, after all not every team was as proficient as Methos's the losses in all had been few.

As the five year anniversary of the beginning of the war came around Methos met Mac and the others at Joe's bar.

"Well its about bloody time." Mac griped happily and folded the leaner man into a rough bear hug when Methos arrived.

"You're a sight for sore eyes Adam." Mac confided.

"Back off whiskey breath!" Methos cried and shoved the bigger man back. Mac laughed and happily returned to his seat. Richie and Joe didn't bother to get up just shouting friendly greetings. Robert was behind the bar fishing around for a bottle. For some reason Cierdwyn, Gina, and Amanda had taken it upon themselves to become ridiculously drunk and attempt karaoke in spite of the fact that Joe did not have a karaoke machine. He couldn't figure out what they were trying to sing.

Methos pulled up a chair and accepted a bottle of beer from Joe.


End file.

Highlander, Angst, Suspense