THE YOU'RE IN MY HEART SERIES HELTER SKELTER Part Six By Susan and JoLayne RATING: PG-15 CHARACTERS: Methos, Amanda, Duncan, Kate, Joe, Cassandra, various Watchers SUMMARY: A month after Won't Get Fooled Again, Geoffrey's watcher figures out that Methos is not a myth, and very much alive. Methos is kidnapped; his mind and body are studied. NOTE: Thanks MnD, you rock, girl! DISCLAIMER: The characters you've heard of are the property of Panzer/Davis and/or Greg Widen. We're deeply in their debt for creating this universe, characters and the concept of immortality. However, the muses are in overdrive so we're using them with no hope of profit, only to entertain Methos and Amanda fans. Part Five DUNCAN'S CABIN No matter how much Methos cried out for his teacher, she didn't answer his calls for help. Where is she? She would never abandon him to this mindless torture. Methos collected strength to struggle free of the invisible bonds that held him and crawled over to the bed, pulling himself up on it. His teacher had promised that she wouldn't leave him until he was ready. No matter what she told him, he wasn't ready to be on his own. "Vashti, please come back," Methos whispered. "I need you."  Someone was watching him, but he didn't want to look.  "Methos, it is time that you made your own path is this world," Vashti's voice chided her student. "You have learned all that I can teach you." Ecstatic to hear her as if through a mist, Methos reached out for her. "There must be more for me to learn." Vashti appeared before him and smiled fondly, as he remembered she always had. Even though she was 4900 years in the past, Methos saw her as clearly as he ever had. She told him, "Yes, you have much more to learn, Methos. To learn, you must search out new experiences and new teachers, you realize that, do you not?" "I like things the way they are now, now that you are here." Methos jumped up and tried to reach for her again but she moved out of his reach. "I must go," Vashti's voice trailed off as she faded from his sight. "Carry my lessons with you and remember what you have learned." "No!" Methos cried out. "Do not leave me, please!" He metaphorically threw the sword she'd given him down on the ground in disgust and childish defiance. "I do not want your sword anymore!!" Vashti's words sounded from a distance. "You must use it to survive. Now pick it up." Methos stood tall over a kneeling woman.. "Pick it up," his softly spoken words were dripping with contempt. Kristin haughty until the end asked, "Who the hell are you?" "A man born long before the age of chivalry," Methos stated louder. "Pick. It. Up." Methos deflected her awkward swing and waited for his opportunity to whack the bitch. MacLeod will never learn, will he? He had to be the one to kill her. Even after all she had done, MacLeod didn't have the heart to solve the problem. Sure it's hard to kill someone you've made love to, but you did what you had to and never looked back. That would be the hardest lesson to teach the Highlander. His arm swept back and over his head, matching the move that Mac had used earlier at the dojo to bring the katana along his neck. Unlike MacLeod, he didn't stop the swing. The force of his blow separated the head from the shoulders. Methos stood and waited for the Quickening to flow into him. He never looked at the head of his opponent after he defeated them, however he wanted to see the surprised look on Kristin's face when someone finally took her head. So he fought against the pull of the Quickening and stumbled the few feet to where the head had completed its flight. He collapsed to his knees in shock when the head he found belonged to Amanda instead of Kristin. "AMANDA!!" How did that happen?! He was sure he'd just fought Kristin, but Amanda lay dead by his own sword. This was wrong!! Gods, what have I done? "AMANDA!!' Methos knew that his mind was a whirl and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He knew that Amanda was alive and in the same room with him. What he had seen was a corruption of the truth. The truth... he couldn't remember what that truth was. He tried to reach out for Amanda, but he couldn't. When he looked at her, it seemed to him that she was standing at the end of a hallway that grew longer each time he blinked. Each time he looked at her again, she was farther and farther away. Methos just hoped that his sanity wasn't disappearing along with her. He turned over on the bed to see that he was alone in a room. He sat up and peered through the darkness as Kate and Cassandra must have turned out the light when they left him. He couldn't see any silhouettes. The curve of the logs that compromised the wall of Duncan's cabin reflected in the moonlight shining through the window. Log walls. What kind of wood is that? Suddenly Methos' sole purpose in life was to figure that out. He hesitantly crawled to the end of the bed, then took a step off onto the floor. He ran his hand against the shiny, shellacked wood. "MOVE IT ALONG!" Methos called out to the minions at his command. The power and well-being that comes with directing thousands of men towards one goal. Of the 20,000 workers erecting the pyramid, Methos had control over a fifth of them, and he would make sure that they were productive. The goal for his last five years had been building the resting place of the son of the son of the leader of the first great civilization on earth, Egypt. He looked over the plain at the largest pyramid that he was a worker for, the Khufu pyramid, who's limestone and red granite gleamed brightly against the midday sun. Menkaure would have such a palace for his body after his soul went to the Gods, Methos would make sure of it. The workers placed cypress logs down, pouring oil over them and the ground as untold hundreds moved each block of stone up the earthen ramp to its place on the structure. Suddenly, Methos was one of the men on the ropes, shlepping the granite up the ramp. A whip snapped across his back. "FASTER!" the foreman yelled to Methos and all the men sweating and zapping all their energy to move that stone just a few inches at a time. SNAP! CRACK! Flipping that whip is not helping us move faster! Methos thought, but didn't dare utter. Snap! Crack! The lightening flashed across the sky. The rain pelted down on Methos and Mary Shelley as they watched Byron take Hans Kershner's quickening. Methos' hand was on Mary's shoulder, he was going back and forth about letting her witness it or bring her back to the house. How can he possibly explain what she saw? But, he let her witness it. And the world received a perfectly ghoulish tale in the process. As Methos kept reading the book, he just got angrier and angrier. "This is what they're pawning off to kids as the truth?" Rebecca only shushed him deep in a volume of Moliere. That didn't help his demeanor. "Alexander the Great did not love Roxana. She was wife in name only. Everyone knows that." Rebecca. Her lips were always so soft and inviting. For all appearances, she could be the most chaste woman you'd ever come across, but once she was set her mind on seduction... In Rebecca's arms, Methos felt as if he had wrangled a little bit of the sun. The sun. It beat down on him as he rode with his brothers from another violated village. Ah! The blessed power. Kronos was right. There was nothing like it. Methos didn't know if it was the heat or the thrill of the kill that was making him feel lightheaded, but whatever it was, he needed more! "What more is there to talk about, Methos?" Darius asked in his usual concerned manner. One wouldn't think the man had spent over half his life killing with the best of them. "Oh, I don't know, Darius," Methos said, angrily. "Maybe that you're the biggest hypocrite of all? How dare you accuse me of being 'what I wasn't mean to be'?" "You could be so much more," Darius calmly said. Methos slid back from the dining table and stood. He had the desire to show Darius just how he was meant to be, but instead paced off his energy. That old man did get under Methos' skin, he always had. Even 300 years before when they had first met, before Darius had received his light quickening. Darius' sword was one of the most formidable that Methos had come across since leaving his brothers behind. Methos fell to the floor as his head brushed against the wall of Duncan's cabin. There was a droplet of blood that fell to the floor in front of him as he was on all fours. Methos felt his forehead. The gash didn't seem that bad, or even hurt. Where is that blood coming from? Why aren't I healing? Joe's voice broke through Methos' panic. "I didn't know they were going to kill him." "You just keep telling yourself that, Joe. Maybe you'll start to believe it," Methos recited. "I'm 5000 years old and I don't know who I am anymore!" "You are Methos," the soft, soothing voice called to him.  Methos let Vashti's voice flow through him once more, relieved. "You haven't left me." "I never would have, you know that." "I couldn't stop it." Methos cried out and reached for her. "I tried, but I couldn't stop it." "I know," Vashti gently said, holding her arms out to him, her long blond hair forming a halo effect, as she slowly slipped away from his vision once again. "You have found me in others, Methos. Let them in." After the room was pitch black once again, Methos heard her say, "Do not stand alone, Methos. You have a chance at happiness if you do not stand alone. Do not continue pushing them aside." "Your Watcher oath? Oh yeah, heaven forbid that you'd get involved with an immortal." Methos cringed as he remembered those words to Joe so long ago. He didn't want to continue, but the words flew out of him, "That would compromise your precious ethics, wouldn't it? Oh providing, of course, its possible to do that with a hypocrite!" "Stop," Methos moaned. "I haven't shut you out, Joe. You're wrong Vashti. I haven't shut him out." "Sweet Methos, you shut everyone out." "It's kept me alive this long," Methos reminded her. "I can only rely on myself." "That is not true and I suspect you know that," Vashti knelt beside him in his dream. "Let them help you." "NO!!" "You must." "Leave! I don't need you anymore," Methos yelled. "I have been alone all my life. I like it that way." "How very sad for you," Vashti whispered as she faded away in the darkness. "You have changed." Methos closed his eyes. Letting people into his life had contributed to his present situation. Amanda he didn't regret. She was his own particular drug, but the Highlander and Joe had thrust him back into the bloody Game. Hiding out had been his saving grace. That luxury was no longer his. But, he had friends now, friends who knew who he was. More people knew about his true identity now than had in the last few centuries. If he ever got clear of this mess, no one, not even Amanda, would be able to find him. He wanted, needed to be alone. Alone. Darkness. Darkness crashed in around him crushing him to the floor. He hands reflexively reached out for solidness. His fingers scrapped along the wall of the tomb he was buried in. Light was unable to penetrate the oppressive dark that enveloped him. Memories of jeers and taunts hurled at him in anger rushed to the forefront of his mind. "Demon!" "Abomination!!" A rock landed heavily against his cheek, spilling blood down his cheek and into his mouth. His hands rose to deflect the stones that rained down on him. One-time friends stood above him, rocks in hand, disgust and loathing etched on their faces. Methos cursed his immortality bitterly. Again, he was found out and was now paying the consequences for a gift he neither desired nor treasured. "Kill him!!" "We must appease the gods!!" The people bowed reverently before him as he rode through their village. Words of respect were murmured as he raised his hand in greeting. He swung down from his horse and handed the reins to a small boy. The village chieftain came forward a smile cracked his age lined face. "Welcome back, Old One. I trust your journey was uneventful?" Methos clasped the man in his embrace. "Mica, my old friend, safe as can be expected in these times." "Many seasons have passed since your last visit," Mica said as he and Methos walked to his dwelling. "I was unsure I would see you again before I made my trek to the afterlife." A hearty laugh bubbled up from his throat. "Ah, Mica, I suspect you have many years before you take that trip." Mica returned Methos laugh. "And I am not one to argue with the gods." "I am no god," Methos informed his old friend. "I am just a man." "Then why does your face not age," Mica argued. "You remain unchanged. My memories do not lie." Mica pointed to a boy of about six summers. "The first time I saw you I was his age." Mica tenderly touched his own pasty, wrinkled face, but which still held twinkly eyes, and said, "And look what I am now. You have not aged. The gods have blessed you as one of their own." Methos shrugged as stopped to admire a lovely girl tending to a small fire. "Blessed or cursed?" Mica smiled, "I think a blessing. One I envy." "Amanda, envy is one of the seven deadly sins," Methos warned her as they stood atop the building that housed Amanda's latest mark. "Although, I must admit you do inspire me to commit one or two of them myself." "This coming from the man who has taken sloth to a whole new dimension," Amanda sneered at him then poured over the map she'd brought with her. "Now come over and let's go over my plan again." She smiled when he neared, leaning his body against hers. He made sure his warm breath tickled her bare neck. "Stop that and listen to me, Methos," she said. Methos gave up his seduction and listened to Amanda detail their movements. Somehow, she had convinced him that helping her steal this silly painting was a good idea. Of course it wasn't so much what she'd said that convinced him, but more what she did. He grinned despite himself. Amanda had a wonderfully clever way of making him think with his groin and not his brain. Once they were safely back to her hideout, he'd shag her silly. Then they would be even. "What's so damn hilarious?" Amanda asked as she folded up the map.  "Oh, nothing, really," Methos kissed her pert nose before he pulled the mask over her face. "Just can't wait to get this job done." Methos crept silently across sloped roof and heard her loudly whisper, "Wait for me, damn it!" "Wait for me, John!" Amanda cried out. "Hurry, we must hurry!" Methos turned as he reached for his wife.  The flames licked up the walls of the house. Methos had smelled the smoke and jumped from their bed. He pulled on his pants and pulled Abigail along with him. He carefully opened the door and looked into the hall. So far the hallway was clear of flames. He urged his frightened wife in front of him. "The children," she cried. "We must get the children." "Go outside, Abby," Methos instructed. "I will get the children." "NO! They're my children, I will go. Please, I must," Abby begged.  "Go outside and wake the neighbors," Methos shoved her gently towards the stairs. "Go!" Abby kissed him and ran down the stairs and out into the night. Methos hurried down the hall to the two bedrooms that housed his stepchildren. He banged on the door to Jimmy's room and yelled for him to get up. His pace quickened as he reached Danielle's room. "What's wrong, Dad?" Jimmy asked sleepily. "It's still night." "Fire! Go outside," Methos told the boy. "I'll be right behind you with your sister." Jimmy started to run for the stairs only to find it to be blocked by flames. Methos turned and shouted for the boy to follow him into Danielle's room. The little girl was still asleep despite the commotion going on around her. Methos picked up the girl and hurried to the window. "Jimmy, you're going to have to climb out the window," Methos urged. "Don't look at me like that, you can do it." "Daddy?" Danielle was awake.  "Sh," Methos soothed her. "We're just having a little adventure." Jimmy climbed out the window and climbed down the trellis. Methos could feel the heat of the flames at his back. The old farmhouse was going up like a tinderbox. The fires had already started into the bedroom. Flames leaped from the walls and ceiling dropping onto the bed where Danielle had been sleeping. Finally Jimmy made it to the ground and stared up at the house in shock. Methos knew he couldn't risk climbing out the window with Danielle in his arms. A fall from this height could kill her. Thinking quickly, he sat her down and yanked a discarded blanket from the floor. Abby was always joking about having to constantly cover her up when she kicked off the blankets. That habit might have just saved his stepdaughter's life. He ripped the material in long strips and knotted them together and looped one end around the scared little girl. He carefully eased her out the window and began to lower her to the ground. Once she was safely on the ground, he made ready to make his own speedy departure out the flaming inferno that engulfed the home he had made with Abby and her children. His first leg was through the window when he heard and felt a tremendous shudder under his feet. The motion knocked him back. He scrambled to his feet again and made it almost back to the window. Fresh air was just out of reach when another louder jerk sat him back again. The heat from the fire caused sweat to bead and drip from his skin. Floor shifted under him and he felt himself falling down into the intense flames. In the distance, he heard Abby and the children shouting in terror. He hoped his death would be swift. Burning to death was a slow and agonizing process. Hopefully smoke inhalation would get him first. As he landed, Methos cried out in pain and gulped all the black, choking smoke his lungs could take in. Methos coughed harder than he ever had in his long life. It wasn't as if he had never smoked a joint, for Gods' sake. He covered his red face and turned away from the two Brits sitting across from him. Keith slapped him across the back and regarded his band mate, "I think the tosser's had enough." He giggled in Methos' ear. Mick answered, "Nah, man. I've seen him out toke Moon. You just took a bad hit, right?" Mick's attention suddenly turned to the lithe blond whose legs didn't end and suddenly had disappeared with her. "What were those pills you gave me, anyway," Methos asked, knowing that the tabletop that he was holding onto for dear life shouldn't be rippling. "Angel baby," Keith said, still hunched over Methos' side. "HAD ENOUGH MATE?" "Had enough?" Another kick to the side. "Are you sure you've had enough?" Methos couldn't get to his feet. Another kick, this time, right in the face. "I don't think he's had enough," the gun toting teenager told his buddies. "Enough!" Methos yelled, grabbing hold of the one who had the gun. The teen fell straight down on his ass, hit his head on the concrete. The gun went off. The bullet brought down one of the young partner in crime. Methos rolled over and expertly kicked up just as the last teen rushed him. He had to push the kid off as he was a limp noodle clutching his groin. Methos continued the roll and got to his feet and surveyed his attackers. One was dead, one was moaning like a baby and the last was knocked out cold. Methos brought himself to his feet and brushed his hands. "Brats. Mortal brats." He reached into the pocket of the knocked out one and retrieved his wallet, and three others. Better for them to be in his hands than their's... He also bent down to get his Barney's sack. Imagine. Going out to buy a last minute birthday gift can get one mugged. They have to clean up this damn town, Methos said, deciding that he was going to LaGuardia and was not going to look back. He'd mail the bracelet to Annette from Paris, if she deserved to get a gift at all. She opened the large package slowly, saying all the while, "What did you get me? A piano? I have never seen such a large box, Methos." "Just open it," Methos said, sitting alongside her, nuzzling her ear. Amanda turned to him and said, "Do you want me to open the box, or do you want my mind to be elsewhere?" Methos sat straight and excitedly rubbed his hands together. "Open the box." She opened the large box and looked inside. He knew that it contained shredded newspaper and another wrapped box. She tilted her head and smiled to him when she took that box out and unwrapped it on the floor. Her long, unbraided hair shimmered and he couldn't help himself from grasping a tendril as she opened that next box, to see shredded newsprint and another wrapped box. "Everything's an adventure with you, Methos. Is this the last one?" "Maybe." "I take that as a no." She took that smaller box out and sat between his legs as she opened it. Sure enough, there was a small wrapped gift inside. From the size of it, Methos knew that she could only think one thing, hence his attempt at confusing her with the other boxes. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head and stood up. He indicated that she should take his seat on the chair and then took his place on his knees before her. Since her hands were shaking as she held the small package with gold paper wrapping, he smiled and kissed her fingers. He grasped the ribbon and pulled, the gold paper fell away to reveal a felt box. He had done this 68 times in his life, and it never became easier. He sensed that his uneasiness was because this was the absolute first time in 5000 years that he was on his knees with a ring in a box before an immortal. He took a deep breath and opened the box, took in the sight of the five carat ring, then said, "Amanda. It is time. I want to marry you." He needed to see her face, her expression. But he couldn't look at her. What if his grand gesture wasn't what she wanted. Ever since the turn of the twentieth century he had been thinking that he was ready to settle into a life with Amanda, but it had taken eleven years for him to actually make the purchase. Finally, he looked up to see her expression. To see Cassandra. Methos fell back on the floor and moaned. "You! I can't do anything that doesn't have to do with you!" Kate appeared above his head. "Is he talking coherently?" "That's a tough question to answer," Cassandra watched Methos from her perch on the bed. Kate said, "We should have been taking notes. Do you have any idea what he's been ranting about?" "Not one clue."  "He's acting like he's on fire again," Kate said, sitting next to Cassandra at the end of the bed. It was almost daybreak and Methos had been moaning and jabbering all night, but nothing he said made any sort of sense. "What about that voice you have? Have you tried that yet?" "Many times. He is older than I, so I doubt very much it would work," Cassandra said dejectedly. The door opened and they looked to see Duncan standing in the doorway. "There you are. I woke up and you were gone." "I got up about an hour ago and saw Cassandra in here." "I was just listening, Duncan," Cassandra said, smiling. "I haven't killed him or anything, although I did have to talk myself out of it a couple of times." Duncan walked in and regarded Methos. "How is he?" Methos suddenly sat up and leaned back against the wall, staring straight ahead. When Duncan knelt down and flashed his hand across Methos' face, Methos didn't even blink. "I didn't take him, Mac," Methos finally said. "So don't give me that look. I stopped. Remember?" "Sure," Duncan agreed, but didn't know what he was agreeing to. "You're such a pain in the ass." "So I've heard." Duncan stood up and said, "Coffee would be good. I have a feeling it's going to be another long day." "You're a head that needs to be saved." When Methos said that, Duncan turned around. Methos was staring at him. He continued, "You're a good friend. I'm glad to have you as a friend. But you're still a pain in the ass. I didn't take Keane." "I know. I thank you for that." "I wanted to, I could have, but I didn't." "I know." "You're such a pain in the ass," Methos repeated shaking his head.  Duncan smiled to the others. "I've been called I worse I guess. I'm going to make some coffee." Kate followed him to the door. "I'll help you." When they kissed at the doorway, Cassandra said, "Kate. Please stay." Kate and Duncan exchanged a look of surprise, and Duncan said, "I'll stay too." "No," Cassandra said, chuckling. "You're a pain, remember? Maybe you should leave. And if Amanda's up... can you keep for occupied for a little while?" "What are you going to do?" Duncan asked, standing between Cassandra and Methos. "He's actually starting to realize who he's with, so we're going to have another little talk. I'd like Kate to be here." "Sure," Kate said, moving Duncan toward the door. "I know when I'm not wanted. If fact, I never should have gotten up. Except for the kiss, nothing good has come from it." After Duncan left and the women were sitting on the bed looking at Methos staring off into space, Kate asked, "So, what now?" "Methos?" Cassandra asked soothingly, but loud enough for him to hear. When he didn't answer she spoke a bit louder. "Methos?" "That is I," he said. He didn't take his eyes off whatever had caught his attention.  "What were you thinking about before Duncan came in?" Cassandra remained on the bed. Maybe he'd feel less pressure if he didn't see her. "Amanda," he answered.  Kate and Cassandra exchanged glances. Amanda was the only person Methos recognized consistently. She was also the one person who could calm him a great deal of the time. "Where is she?" Methos kept staring straight ahead. "I miss her." "She's asleep right now." Kate explained. "She's very tired." Amanda had collapsed in exhaustion on the couch late last night. Kate had covered her sleeping body up before she and the others had retired to their own bedrooms after Methos had settled in for the night. Hopefully, she would be able to get a couple more hours of uninterrupted sleep before the maddening cycle started again. "Poor little vixen," Methos murmured. "Always running around, getting in to trouble. She'll never learn, but I suppose that's part of her charm." "I take it you care for Amanda a great deal," Cassandra asked from her perch on the bed. "She seems to care about you." Methos stood up and paced the length of the room. He didn't seem ready to pounce on them at the moment, so they let him pace. He had a thoughtful expression on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but shook his head and continued his stride. These people are terribly nosy, he thought. "Amanda said she's know you all her immortal life," Kate pulled a pillow over into her lap. "That's a long time." "Yes it is," Methos answered. "Sometimes it seems like yesterday, other times it seems like forever." "Does she mean a lot to you, Methos?" Cassandra questioned. "Oh, yes," Methos replied. "Probably more than I should let her, but," he shrugged his shoulders in resignation, "she's Amanda." It was just like Methos to answer a question and not really give an answer. Cassandra sat quietly for a while. Kate watched Methos' pace like a caged lion. It was if he had some driving force egging him on making him expend pent up energy. Occasionally he muttered a word or two and looked in their direction, but for the most part he was secluded in his own world. Both women jumped when he spoke again. "She never knew," Methos stated. "Never even suspected." "Suspected what?" Cassandra and Kate asked in unison. Methos looked at them as if they should know what he was talking about. "That Rebecca and I were lovers." Methos stopped his pacing and stood in front of the window, basking in the warmth of the winter sunlight. "It would shock her to no end, I wager." "Amanda hardly seems the sort of woman who is easily shocked," Cassandra noted. "You might be surprised." "Rebecca was a saint in Amanda's eyes," Methos stretched his arms above his head and yawned. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why he was so tired. No matter how much he slept he couldn't shake the overwhelming weariness that had crept into his bones. "We couldn't tell her." "Why not?" Methos rested his forehead against the window. The chill of the glass didn't have any effect on him. "Because." He didn't offer any more information. "I am tired, though I'm not sure why." Cassandra asked, "Would you like some breakfast?" Methos nodded in response. He heard the door open and close behind him and imagined that he was alone. He was so tired, but sleep brought him no peace. Pacing didn't help much either, at least it gave him something to do. The cold of the glass felt really good against his forehead. At least, it was the only part of his body feeling anything at the moment. He heard the soft springs of the bed and whipped around to see Kate again sitting on it with a pillow on her lap. "I thought you left with her." As soon as Methos said it, he realized that he still felt her buzz. He should have known, but being cooped up in a cabin with so many immortals, it was hard to gauge how far away they were. "Do you mind that I'm here?" "I just wonder why you are here. What do you want from me? What do you all want from me?" "To see you well." Methos turned away. "I'm well." "Yeah, right." "How would you even know the difference? You don't know me. In fact, what do you know about me?" "I know that you're one of my husband's best friends." "What do you know about me?" he rushed to her, grabbed Kate's arms, pulling her up from the bed. "What did the boy scout tell you about me?" "Nothing." "Don't lie to me! I know you've all been talking behind my back! What did he tell you?" Methos shouted, shaking her with each word. "Methos!" Kate cried out, her arms hurting.  "You know my true name?! Bastard! I can't let everyone know who the hell I am! Do you want my head?" "I want you to let me go!" "I can see it in your eyes. You want my quickening." "I'm warning you! Let me go!" "Five thousand years of intellect. Five thousand years of fighting, strength, power! You want it, don't you?" Kate lifted her knee and connected it with Methos' groan. He fell in a heap. Kate circled him, angry. "I'm not scare of you, was that your intention? I don't think you're dangerous. I don't even think you want to harm someone. You have to find your point of reality, Methos. You have to listen to us, talk to us, and calm down." The best part of immortality was that if you're kicked in the nuts, the pain goes away faster than passing a bullet. Methos lifted himself to all fours and found himself crying. "I'm sorry, Kate. I know you know that I didn't mean that." Kate knelt down to him and said, "Yes, you did. But you went a little overboard. I don't want your head, Methos. I just want your sanity so Duncan and I can go to the Bahamas. I hate the winter." "Me too!" Methos said, still not looking at her. Soon, they were laughing at their shared hatred of winter. "I'd better collect all my marbles rather quickly then. MacLeod doesn't like to be kept waiting," Methos said, smiling for the first time in he didn't know how long. To have friends who would give up their vacation on the beach. Those are friends he could count on. Amanda's also here, isn't she? Methos asked Kate, "Have you done something with Amanda?" "I covered her with an afghan after she fell asleep on the couch, if that's what you mean," Kate said, again on guard. There was no telling what his mind was formulating now. "She's all right?" Methos asked incredulously. "That's great! Where is she?" As he went to open the door, he had the clear thought that she was in a French prison, bemoaning the day she had ever met him. He ran down the hall as he took in the aroma of perking coffee. When he hit the living room, Amanda wasn't there. Kate had said that she had fallen asleep on the couch. "Where is she?" Methos yelled at the top of his lungs. Cassandra appeared at the doorway leading to the dining area and Methos grabbed her hair. "What have you done with her?" "Methos!" Amanda yelled, appearing out of nowhere and trying to release his grip from Cassandra's hair. "What are you babbling about now?" "Amanda!" Methos stared blankly at her, and let go of Cassandra. The slap she gave him didn't even phase him as he looked upon Amanda like she was a mirage in the desert. He enveloped her in his arms and wearily laid his head on her shoulder. "Methos?" He didn't answer. He was just so relieved that she was there. The last time he had a vision of her, she had turned into that snake Cassandra. He had been convinced that Amanda was in trouble. "Sweetie?" Amanda uttered, as she felt him tightly. "How are you feeling?" "It was a long night," Methos said with all the weight of the world in his voice. He stepped back and took her face gently in his hands. "But it's morning now." He kissed her tenderly and held her cheek to his as he smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. Amanda smiled to Kate. "Whatever you did, I like it." "Are you hungry, Methos?" Joe asked, standing with a spatula in his hand. "I got bacon and eggs here." "Joe," Methos intoned, as if he was looking at a long lost friend. "You aren't mad at me?" Joe looked to the others and shrugged. "Not at the moment. But I'm sure that you'll give me a few minutes and I could be." Joe smiled, and walked forward to pat Methos on the back. "Good morning, buddy. Sit down. Breakfast will be ready soon." "It's so cold in here," Methos said, rubbing his arms. He stole a glance at Cassandra and said, "And I don't think it's just because of you." "Why am I even here?" Cassandra asked the room. Amanda touched her arm and said, "Because you're a good person. Methos. Say you're sorry." "Yeah," Methos said, still rubbing his arms, walking back into the living room. He put another log on the fire, and knelt close to it. When Amanda joined him, she commented, "You've got gooseflesh, Methos." She rubbed his shoulders, then went to get that afghan from the couch and draped it over him. She cuddled up next to him and said, "You still owe Cassandra an apology." Methos let his head fall. He looked back over his shoulder to see that Cassandra wasn't in the room and said, "I owe her my life. She knows that." "I don't think she does, luv. Why don't you tell her that? She doesn't need to be here. We brought her here under the pretense of a lie. The least you can do is tell-" "I don't have to do anything," he said as he nudged her away. "None of you need to be here. In fact, all of you can leave. In fact, I could leave and you'll all be in peace." "You slept on the floor last night, didn't you?" Amanda knowingly asked. Methos looked at her, as if she were speaking Greek, and she didn't get the accent correct. That came out of left field. But she was right. "How did you know?" "You're always cranking when you sleep on the floor. I bet you were a joy to behold before beds were invented." Amanda smiled at him and nudged her shoulder against his. Methos couldn't help but smile. "We didn't know any better then. We were all in a bad mood. I'm still cold." "Well, just sit there and keep covered up, I'll get you a cup of coffee." Amanda kissed his cheek and then went to the kitchen, leaving Methos alone with his chill and the sight of only six logs on the grate. Those logs weren't going to last forever. They needed more heat in there. Methos went to the kitchen to ask Duncan, "Where's an axe?" Duncan about dropped his orange as he gaped at Methos. "A what?" "An axe. You know, a sharp piece of metal on the end of a long stick? Is that all the wood we have left?" Methos asked, indicating the wood stack by the fireplace. "Yeah. But, I do have a furnace." "Are you paying the bill?" "Yes," Duncan said, chuckling. "Well, someone has to chop more wood so it can dry a little before being burned. It's too damn cold. I'll do it." "You're not getting an axe, Methos." "You don't trust me?" Methos stood defiant against him, and all the rest of them who were watching the proceedings. The question was goading him to do respond with testosterone. Duncan shrugged. "Hey, if you want to chop some wood, you go right ahead and chop to your heart's content. It's in the shed." "Wait until after breakfast, Methos. I'll go with you then," Amanda said she gave him a mug of coffee. "I'm starving." All through breakfast, the only thing on Methos' mind was wood. Logs. Fire. Flames. Heat. The gates of hell. Well, sitting at a table with Cassandra was close to meeting Hades, Lord of the Infernal Regions. If you believed in that sort of thing. Methos wiped his mouth with a napkin after polishing off the entire plate that Joe had filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and fried potatoes. "Stick to the ribs food, Joe. It was good." "The chef accepts the compliment," Joe replied. Methos stood up. "The shed, you said?" Amanda laughed. "Mind like a steel trap." Methos knelt down to kiss her neck. "You love my mind." "And other things." Amanda put her arm around his neck, but before long, he was gone. A man on a mission. After putting on his coat and opening the door, Methos looked back at Kate. "You. Kate. Do you want to help me?" "Why do you want her to come with you?" Duncan asked accusingly. "She's the only one here that I don't know well. I know I should have looked her up, but I figured it could wait another day." Methos pulled on some gloves that were on a shelf by the door. "Good fit," he commented, then looked at Kate. "You coming?" "Sure." Kate stood up, patting Duncan's shoulder. "A little fresh air would do me good." Duncan stood and blocked her way around him. "I thought you wanted to take a nap, you were up almost all night with him." "Are you saying, in your cute little way, that you don't want me to go?" Kate asked Methos, "Are you going to kill me or something?" "All I have on my agenda is to chop some wood and talk," Methos said, antsy to get outside. ~~~~~ To say that Kate was confused by everything that had happened since she arrived at the cabin was an understatement. She had seen, and even followed, messed up in the head immortals, but none of them had such strong friendships to three reputable people. She had been lucky that Duncan kept giving her second chances. It didn't take long to find out that Joe was an amazingly loyal friend. Amanda was smart and funny, very accessible. Cassandra was another puzzle. If she hated Methos so much, and from what little Kate had gathered from Methos' rants, Cassandra had every reason to take his head without a second thought, why was she there? There was certainly something about the oldest immortal that either made you hate him or want to protect him or just want to be called a friend by him. She got the feeling from talking with Joe, Amanda and Duncan that Methos was one that they could always rely on. If he wanted to help out. It took a little bit of arm twisting, and the laying on the guilt usually didn't help, but if you could touch that area in Methos' soul that made him see your point of view without pessimism or worry of danger, Methos was right there to see you through something. Five thousand years. To be alive, look and feel the same for five thousand years. For Kate, it was a miracle that one man could last so long. As she watched Methos expertly chop that wood, she could see that there were so many facets to the man. He looked like a book worm on the surface. A geek even. But then during one of his flashes during the night, his shirt had lifted up and she saw the perfectly toned body he had. That was not a body that came from just luck and genes. Methos worked out. Even though he had cut down two trees and had chopped one into five logs already, he still had stamina to start on the next one. He obviously knew what he was doing. She wondered if he had built his own homes, killed his own food. Of course he had. And all the while, he looked like he belonged in a library and only ate deli food as he sat in front of a computer. Even though she or any other person not in Methos' physical shape would have collapsed long ago from the vim and vigor Methos used to chop that wood, he was still raising that axe high above his head, and bringing it down to hack a line in that tree. When he had the tree chopped into foot and a half long sections, he then set one upright on the stump and started chopping it into four sections. It was only then that he took notice that she was even there, leaning up against a tree, with her hands protectively around her waist, freezing. Methos smiled at her. "In just a few minutes, we'll be back in front of a roaring fire." "Sounds like heaven." Methos placed the axe head down and rested the handle between his knees and wiped the back of his neck with one glove. He brushed the gloves together as if to warm his hands and looked up at the bright morning sky. "This is a beautiful area, but I would bet all I have that it's nicer in the summertime." "It is. The trees are green and full. The water of the bay is clear and green. The birds sing. It's truly lovely. Reminds me of home." "Enough of the small talk," Methos abruptly said. "What are you doing with MacLeod?" "Huh?" "Not that I mind. You see, with MacLeod busy, Amanda's free to date. Ever since she hooked up with the Highlander some years ago, she had been off limits. So, I thank you for taking him off our hands and I got the-" "The what?" "I just wonder what you want. Where is home?" "Scotland." "You don't have an accent." "I hadn't lived in Scotland for 120 years. I'm American now. All I want is to be happy. Duncan makes me very happy." "You didn't care that he was seeing Amanda when you swooped in?" "I cared. I just couldn't help it." "Sure you could." Methos picked up the axe again and slammed the head down, breaking the wood into two chunks. He set it back on the stump and broke it in half again. "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? Why I broke up Duncan and Amanda? I really didn't." "You just keep telling yourself that. I'm sure we'll all start to believe it if we hear it enough times." Methos set another block of wood on the stump and chopped. This time, the head of the axe completely missed the block and stump, and embedded into Methos' leg. He silently stared at it, then slumped back on his butt in the snow as Kate screamed. "Methos! Are you... no, of course, you're not all right. How? What did you--?" Methos grabbed her hand and pulled her down and pointed at the axe embedded in his leg. He seemed as if he didn't even feel the pain as he wondrously said, "You know, I haven't seen that since Silas buried his axe in the back of the head of a chieftain." "Great," Kate said, trying not to throw up. She couldn't look at the wound and Methos' awestruck reaction to it wasn't making her feel any better being out there with him alone. "I'll go get help while you walk down memory lane, okay?" "Look at that!" he demanded of her, moving her closer to his leg. "Do you see how it's bleeding? How the blood is flowing down the pant leg?" "That's your pant leg and your blood. Don't you feel it?" Kate was astounded by his lack of concern. "Of course. It hurts like hell," Methos said as if he was talking about a boring movie. "But, hey, I've had worse things done to me. Recently, as a matter of fact." Even though Methos was still calm and collected, Kate wasted no time getting free of him. "Stay right here, ok? I'll get Duncan." Kate ran back to the cabin as fast as she could in the snow. Methos shrugged. It was just a little blood. Blood was an interesting fluid. It flowed, it puddled, and it was oozing down his leg and all he could do was watch it. The sight of blood rarely fazed him now; in his life he'd seen an ocean of blood. The warm liquid oozed down his sock and into the boot he wore. A nice pair of boots they were, too. Methos' attention now shifted to his boots. Whose boots were they? Hopefully they were MacLeod's. What a shame it would be to ruin a pair of his own boots; good boots were hard to find these days. He twisted his leg to get a better look at the craftsmanship of the footwear. The bright sunlight reflected off the head of the ax. Methos leaned in closer. How did that get there? Suddenly Methos was screaming in pain from the wound on his leg. It started to subside when sounds of people crunching fast over the snow came towards him. Duncan, Kate and Amanda slid to a halt a few feet from where he had sprawled on the ground. No one was risking getting very close until they knew which Methos they were approaching. Confusion and shock clouded his hazel eyes. His friends looking at him like he was a cobra coiled and ready to strike. He tried to stand but the imbedded ax hampered his efforts. He fell back onto the ground. Amanda had started forward to help him when Duncan's arm halted her progress. Amanda waited and looked to Methos with a little wariness. What did I do to deserve this reaction? He tried to remember specific events of the last few days, but the harder he tried to think the more confused he became. Just help me! His hands grasped the handle of the ax and he gingerly removed it from his leg. Automatically, he probed the wound and watched in fascination, as his ripped skin mended leaving no sign of a scar. The sticky presence of his blood clung to his hand. One by one, he raised his hands and stared at them and the blood that coated them. Absently he rubbed them together trying to get rid of the ghastly sight. Instead of disappearing, it seemed to cover more of his hands. He looked at his bloodstained hands and then looked at the onlookers and then back at his hands. So much blood. Blood spilt in anger. Blood spilt for entertainment. Blood spilt in self-defense. He vigorously wiped his hands on his pants. It was still there. Again he tried to rub it off on his clothes. His bottom lip quivered as he looked up at Amanda. He held his hands out to her. "No matter what I do it won't go away, Amanda." Methos started to breath faster. "Nothing I do makes it go away." Amanda pushed past Duncan and knelt in the snow beside him. "Do something, Amanda. Make it go away!" "Sh," Amanda soothed. She picked up some snow and rubbed it over his hands. Repeatedly, she did this until the blood was gone. "There now. It's gone." "It'll never go away," Methos mourned. "So much blood. I've spilled so much blood in so many years..." "Methos, look at me." Amanda found herself staring into his eyes. "The blood is gone. The blood you've spilled has been gone for years." "Are you sure?"  "Yes, Methos." That pacified him, but he said, "I'm so cold." Methos' teeth chattered as he stated, "I hate the winter." "Yes, I recall hearing you say that a few hundred times," Amanda stood and helped him stand. His wound had long healed. "It's nice and warm inside." "I'm cold, Amanda," Methos said as he wrapped his arms around himself. "Let's go inside and warm up, alright?" Amanda asked. "Joe probably has some hot coffee left and I know where there's some nice scotch." "Of course there's scotch, look who owns the place." Methos nodded toward Duncan and let her lead him back to the cabin. Methos walked into the living room and crouched next to the fireplace. He crept closer and closer trying to get warm. Amanda cleared her throat and handed him the coffee mug. The warm ceramic mug was held tightly in his cold hands. "You're still cold?" Amanda asked. He nodded. "Why don't you take a hot shower? You always feel better afterwards. Go on and I'll get you some clean clothes." Methos disappeared into the bathroom and soon the water was running. Amanda gathered up some clothes and left them in the bathroom for him. She went into the kitchen and got herself a cup of coffee. The strain of the last few days was clearly visible on Amanda's face. Joe followed her back into the living room. "You ok, Amanda?" Joe asked as she sank heavily on the couch and rested her feet on the coffee table. Amanda was honest, "Ask me when this is over, Joe." Joe nodded. He was at a loss as to what to say. No matter what he said it sounded trite. Would things ever seem normal again? "Where are the others?" "Probably finishing up with the wood," Amanda clarified. "Methos chopped enough wood to keep us warm all winter, that is until he buried the axe in his leg." "I was wondering where all the blood came from," Joe grimaced, "but I was afraid to ask." "I keep getting glimpses of Methos," Amanda said. "Joe, he's in there somewhere. We just have to get him back." Methos appeared in the doorway of the bathroom wearing the jeans, a sweater and another long sleeved shirt and socks that Amanda had set out for him. He looked around the cabin not sure of where to go. "Hey why don't you come in here with us," Joe invited. "I've missed you, buddy." Methos seemed unsure of Joe's invitation so Amanda gestured to him. "Yeah, don't go sit in that bedroom by yourself. Come over here by me." Methos sat stiffly on the sofa until Amanda scooted over and sat behind him. Her hands kneaded his shoulder and neck. The muscles there were tight with tension. One by one, Amanda's fingers loosened the knots in his muscles. The more she massaged the closer his posture settled into his usual sprawl. Amanda smiled when he began to yawn and relax against her. "You didn't sleep anymore than I did last night, did you, Methos?" Amanda asked softly. His heavy eyelids and yawns answered her question. "Go back to bed and take a little nap." "Care to join me?" he asked sleepily. Amanda didn't have to be asked twice. She lifted him up; his weight was heavy against her, but she walked him to the hallway. Joe followed her into the bedroom. "I'll stand watch." When Methos entered the room on his own, Amanda kissed the cheek of the Watcher and said, "Thanks, Joe. Human contact can do wonders sometimes. He'll come back to me. I just know it." "Be careful. You remember what happened last time." She watched Methos crawl under the covers of the bed still in his clothes. "I've missed touching him, I'm pretty sure he needs to be touched." "The old guy doesn't seem like the touchy-feely type," Joe grinned. "But then again when you're the one doing the touching." Amanda laughed as she poked the man beside her. "Watch it, Joe." "What?" Joe shrugged his shoulders. "Like it's not the truth." By the time Joe decided to leave them in peace and Amanda had shut the door, Methos had fallen asleep. Amanda crawled in next to him and covered them, smoothing out the sheet and blankets. Immediately, his arms and leg went around her and pulled her close. "So tired," Methos mumbled.  Amanda kissed his delectable nose and then his lips as she lay facing him. "Then go to sleep." Methos murmured and snuggled in closer to her. Amanda closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of him beside her. She didn't know how long this was going to last; she didn't care at this point. This was the Methos she knew and loved so dearly. His deep breathing and boneless sprawl indicated he was out for the count. She didn't feel nervous being this close to him now. Her hands smoothed his hair and stroked his cheek. Dark circles under his eyes stood out in stark relief against his normally pale skin. None of them had slept well since the ordeal began, especially him. Amanda suspected he hadn't had any decent sleep since before the Watchers had captured him. Right then and there, Amanda promised herself they'd spend sometime in Bora Bora when this was over. Sun and good loving would do wonders for him. Hell, for both of them. If one thing was certain, she needed a vacation too. As long as it was with Methos. Their combined heat along with the heavy quilt was like a sedative to Amanda. The steady bass of Methos' presence next to her lulled her into sleep. By the time she'd fallen asleep the only thing separating them was their clothes. ~~~~~ Joe heard the laughter and stomping of the trio of immortals. He hurried as best he could to the door. He hoped Methos was so asleep that their buzzes wouldn't register and he was going to make sure their noise didn't wake him, either. "Keep it down," Joe warned. He pointed to the hallway leading to the bedrooms behind him. "They're sleeping." Duncan nodded and he quietly walked into the living room and deposited his armful of wood. The women discarded their coats and gloves while Joe saw their chill and served coffee all around. Kate and Cassandra smiled in gratitude. The cold had been deceptive and were outside longer than any of them had expected. Duncan joined them at the table and sipped the hot coffee with gratitude. "They've been asleep long?" "Methos took a shower and they've been sacked out since," Joe informed them. Cassandra shook her head in wonder. "What kind of hold does he have over people?" "Judging by the smile on Amanda's face," Joe grinned. "A pretty good one." Duncan and Kate laughed at his observation but Cassandra failed to find the humor in the situation. "How can you laugh?" "At this point its either laugh or cry," Joe eased into the chair next to her, "and I don't feel much like crying." "Crying? Why?" Cassandra asked. There was silence at the table as they stared at her. She shrugged. "Okay, okay. I know. Methos has flipped his lid, and by the way you all tell it, that's not normal. Excuse me. I just can't get past the first impression I got of him 2500 years ago." Duncan pointed said, "And you're still here. It's cold, but you could have asked us to take you to the airport. We would have obliged and thanked you for making the trek out here." "Would you like me to leave?" "Of course not." Duncan covered her hand with his on the table. "I'm really glad you're here. The more that can help put that man back together again, the better. I know you're a special person and you can help us find a way to do that." "I have a confession to make," Cassandra cautiously said. She certainly had everyone's attention. She gathered her thoughts and lightly smiled. "I don't hate him anymore, or blame him for what happened, for what he did. I used him as a crutch for millennia, but last night, I came to a realization. Methos and the others were embodiments of evil. An evil force that fit that time. Each time has its own evil, good, indifference. As I watched Methos handle all that his mind was telling him or showing him or making him remember, in some disjointed manner, I realized that he was, above all, human." When she saw the serious but confused faces around her at the table, she chuckled. "I hadn't thought of him as that. I thought of him as bane of my existence, an instrument of torture, a force to be reckoned with and overcome, but I never once thought of him as a man. It never entered my mind that he was weak. To answer your question, Duncan, I'm still here because deep down I know that if I'm truly going to be happy and free from my past, I have to forgive him. Last night I realized that it might be a possibility." Continued in Part Seven