THE YOU'RE IN MY HEART SERIES SHE'S GONE By Susan and JoLayne RATING: PG CHARACTERS: Methos, Amanda, Joe, Alexa, Rebecca, Jack, Anika SUMMARY: Methos and Amanda have both endured the deaths of mortal lovers. 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. GENEVA 1996  Why? WHY?! The word had become a mantra. Methos knew there was no answer to his question, at least not one that made any kind of sense. He laid his head on the pillow beside her's. Almost from the moment he had met her he knew that this time would come, but he wasn't prepared for to end so suddenly. Dr. Purcell had pulled him aside after his evenings rounds and told him that they would be lucky if Alexa held on until the morning. A knife in the heart would be less painful than the news whispered in a sterile hospital corridor. Methos' head told him that she wouldn't be in any more pain, but his heart cried out against the unfairness of her dying. His hand softly caressed her cheek, offering what comfort his touch might bring, knowing in a few short hours this beautiful woman would never tease him about his awful taste in music or snuggle close to him at night. Her shallow breath tickled his cheek as he leaned in to whisper all things she had meant to him. How he wished she would open her eyes and smile at him one more time. The last two weeks had been endless after she'd slipped into the coma. The door slowly opened as a nurse walked into the room. She silently recorded the information from the various machines hooked to Alexa's fragile body. "Is there anything I can get for you, Monsieur Pierson?" Methos shook his head as he sat back in the chair. "No, I am fine." "I could stay with mademoiselle while you get some fresh air," the woman offered kindly. "Thank you, but, no. I need to be here if&ldots;when&ldots;" Methos words trailed off.  "I understand, sir. Let me bring you some coffee, then."  "Really I'm fine, Anika. I'll call you if we need anything, I promise." He gave her a halfhearted smile. Anika closed the door behind her as she left the room. She and the other nurses had taken the young couple under their wing. Several of the nurses had brought in meals for him, trying to coax Adam to eat. He would eat a bite or two to pacify their concerns, but that was all he could manage. They had whispered amongst themselves about his devotion to dying young woman; they had been truly surprised when he had suddenly left for a short period of time with determination blazing in his eyes. He had not left Alexa's room since his return from his secretive trip two weeks ago. He'd come back from that trip with a resigned look in his eyes. Now, he sat beside her bed talking and reading to her for hours on end, hoping against hope that she would respond to his voice. How could it be that just a month ago they had been watching the sunrise over the coast of Santorini and now they'd likely never share another sunrise? Am I a fool? Did I forget how badly this hurts? He railed to whatever deity was listening. Gods! Why do I let myself love these fragile mortals? Methos knew the answer. He didn't like the person he became when he cut himself off from that very human emotion. A thousand years spent as Death was testimony to that. He remembered a conversation he'd had with Rebecca centuries ago. She had wondered why he only committed to mortals knowing that it would end some time. He had told her that it was life and all things ended. He had given her a jaded answer because she had a way of cutting straight to the heart of the matter. Ah, Rebecca, how you would have loved Alexa. She's so very much like you. Kind and forgiving almost to a fault. He walked over to the window and watched the snowfall silently over the bustling town of Geneva. Alexa would be worthy of your magical crystals, dear friend, but it was not to be. The cool glass against his forehead did nothing to ease the stinging of the tears that burned behind his closed eyes. A soft voice whispered to him. "Adam?" "Right here, Lex," he answered as he sat on the edge of her narrow bed. "It's about time you woke up. I've been bored talking to myself." He took her hand his. "Can I get you anything?" Alexa weakly shook her head. "Lay with me, please." Methos stretched out beside her and gently pulled her close. "Are you in any pain? I can call the nurse." "No, the medicine just makes me groggy. I have so many things I want to say to you, but I don't have the time." "Alexa, don't say that&ldots;" He protested. She took a deep breath. "I need to say that. We promised we'd be realistic when it came to this, Adam." "I know. I just hoped it wouldn't, that's all." Alexa gathered her waning strength as she looked into his beautiful hazel eyes. The sight of them still caused her heart to race. How she loved this man who dropped everything to show her the world, who willingly stayed by her side when things had gotten ugly. What she wouldn't give to stay by his side for fifty or sixty more years, but this last year had been more than she had ever dreamed possible. She knew death was near; she didn't fear it. Her only concern was that Adam would be all right after she was gone. "Thank you," she told him simply. "Thank you for your love and your patience. Thank you for showing me the pyramids, and the Grand Canyon, and how to dance in the rain." He started to interrupt her, but she gave him a shadow of a glare. "Let me finish, Adam." He smiled at her feistiness. "A year ago, if someone would've told me I'd be this happy, I would've laughed in their face." Methos tried to blink back the tears that rolled down his face. "Lex, I'm the one that should be thanking you." "Promise me something, Adam," she asked, her voice ever weaker. "Anything." His hand caressed her cheek. "Anything."  "Be happy, find someone to share yourself with," she told him earnestly. "Promise me." "I'll try, Lex."  She smiled. "I don't want to say goodbye." "Then don't," Methos choked back a sob. "It's not really." At least he hoped it wasn't. "I have loved you, Adam, know that." "I do, Lex." He kissed the tip of her nose. "And I have loved you from the moment I saw you." "I know," she smiled as her eyes closed. The slowing bleep of the heart monitor signaled what he already knew. He closed his eyes as he felt her grip on his hand loosen. Soon the droning beep and his sobs were the only sounds to be heard in the still hospital room. Anika crept into the room and silenced the monitor. Her own eyes teared at the young man's grief. She rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment, then she left him to grieve in solitude. ~~~~~~ Amanda bolted upright from her bed with the ringing of the cordless phone on the pillow next to her. She had been prepared, knowing that the call could come at any time. "Yes, of course I'll accept the charges," Amanda said in French to the operator. The Swiss nurse, Anika, who had taken such tender care of both Alexa and Methos during their stay at the hospital cleared her throat to say, "Mademoiselle Montrose? This is Anika, Alexa Bond's nurse." Amanda had talked with Anika many times, and smiled that she had to introduce herself the eight times they had talked on the phone that day already. Amanda had kept calling to find out the latest. Now that the end was here, she sighed and bowed her head. "It happened?" "Yes. I am sorry." "How is he?" "He will not leave her side." "Thank you for calling, Anika. Tell him... well...," Amanda paused. Whatever she had to tell him wouldn't do with a third party over the phone. "Tell him that I'll see him soon." The rest of the morning went like a blur. Amanda hurriedly packed up her things at the hotel in Moscow and called Mario to tell him that the circus would just have to do without the Amazing Amanda. Performing in a circus once again had been a pleasant diversion after the close call with Methos over the Methuselah Stone. She had to admit that she was angry and scared enough that she would have taken his head at the railroad yard. She wouldn't be afraid anymore, and mortals coming after her with swords made her jumpy. Thankfully, she was shown the truth in Methos' special way, by yelling and whipping his sword at her, that he didn't have anything to do with her near beheading by mortals. He didn't have to be so blatant, but then again, she hadn't been listening. Duncan had left Moscow not long after he garroted her during their first performance of the Wheel of Fortune, telling her that his aim was just off. It was Amanda's thought that he hadn't wanted to do it in the first place. She didn't blame him for making her want him to leave. Duncan had left for New York to seek out his cousin, Connor, having not heard from him for ages. They had just talked on the phone right before Amanda had finally fallen asleep, waiting for word from Methos about Alexa's condition. Duncan said that Methos had been quiet when he had talked to him. When she had last called the hospital, Methos hadn't even wanted to come to the phone. Amanda was sure to give Anika her phone number and asked her to call collect when the inevitable happened. The flight to Geneva was long. As Amanda sat in first class with a glass of wine, looking alternately at the clouds outside the window and her watch, wondering when they would finally land, she realized once again that the world was a large place. As an immortal the thought of flying off to Rio or Seacouver at a moment's notice was nothing. Money wasn't an issue. Time was all immortals had, unless there was a need to be in another country, now. Amanda fumbled through her purse and brought out the last letter that Methos had written her. There was a picture included that had to have been taken by a fellow tourist. Methos and Alexa were standing at the Leaning Tower of Pisa, Alexa perfectly aligned so that it looked as if she was holding it up with her hand. From the look on Methos' face, she was holding him up emotionally. Methos wasn't looking at the camera as Alexa was with a big smile. Methos was focused only on her. He looked so caring, so much in love. Amanda knew that it wasn't just an act. Methos had fallen completely and totally in love with Alexa Bond. She wished that she could have met Alexa, having only heard about her from Joe and Methos. From both accounts, the waitress was a delicate flower, who could show her thorns if she was pushed around or riled. Just the kind of woman who was perfect for Methos. Amanda leaned back on the seat and sighed, sniffling back a tear. She knew exactly how Methos was feeling now. Sadly, she knew that feeling well. He was going to be silent, withdrawn, depressed. Amanda wouldn't let him do that. She would make him talk, think, feel, live. Most important, she would make him live on. After Jack's passing, that was what Methos had told her. "Live, grow stronger." With Methos' words from three decades past came back to her, she said to anyone within listening range, "Let's see how he takes his own advice." ~~~~~ Either Methos knew she would be coming from Anika, or knew that she would be giving his advice back to him, Amanda didn't know. All she did know was that when she showed up at the hospital, Methos was gone. She had the feeling he would do that, but was disappointed all the same. Anika came to her at the nurse's station, just before Amanda was going to dial the phone to call Duncan to say that she was going back to Paris. "Mademoiselle Montrose?" "Yes?" Anika introduced herself and it was nice for Amanda to put the pleasant voice to a face. "Thank you for keeping Adam and Alexa's friends posted on her condition." "It was my pleasure, Mademoiselle. Alexa was a special patient. I have a note for you from Adam," she said as she took a number 10 envelope with the hospital's printed return address on it from her clipboard and handed it over. Methos had addressed the envelope to her, using the hospital's stationary. That wasn't a good sign. He was making a clean getaway and used whatever stationary at his disposal to take a flying leap making it impossible to follow him while he disappeared for what could be decades. Anika said, "He was terribly sorry for not staying at the hospital, but he said he needed to get some fresh air." Amanda just nodded, trying to focus on not crying.  Anika said when a light over a patient's door down the hall illuminated. "I have another patient." "It was nice meeting you and thank you again," Amanda said with a heavy smile. She rubbed the envelope in her hands, then put it in her pocket. In the privacy of her rental car, Amanda finally opened the note from Methos. Having expected a list of reasons why he was leaving and why no one should worry about him and why they shouldn't look for him, Amanda was surprised to see on the hospital's letterhead stationary, an address, and directions. "You always did have a flair for drama, Methos," Amanda said to the empty car. She turned the key in the ignition and pulled the gearshift into drive. She was pretty sure where his address was, but she would double-check his directions when she stopped for some groceries. If past experiences were any indication, he wasn't eating like he should. ~~~~ Amanda ignored the scenic views of Lake Geneva as she drove through the winding roads that led to Methos' lakeside house. She wondered if it was the same house he had owned during his jaunts with Lord Byron. She was so high on opium she didn't remember much of those years. She slowed the car as she read the house numbers and pulled to the curb when she found the correct home. She opened the car door and shivered as the cold evening air greeted her. She hurried around to the passenger side door to retrieve the bag of groceries. The throbbing bass of his buzz and the parting of a curtain assured her that her trip had not been in vain. Methos was here, but she knew he would be; his note was his promise. The biting wind at her heels propelled her to the front door of the dwelling. The door swung open as her hand reached for the knocker. He moved aside as she swept into the room. The solitary bag was swiftly deposited on cherry side table. Not waiting to take her coat off, Amanda pulled the silent man into her embrace. His head rested on her shoulder as her hand stroked his hair in a comforting motion. How long they stood like that Amanda wasn't sure, only the heavy sigh that escaped Methos broke the stillness of the room. She reluctantly let him go when he pulled away from her hug. He stood with his hand shoved in the pockets of his jeans. A baggy black sweatshirt proudly touting Greece Is For Lovers hung from his lean frame. It was just as she suspected, he had dropped more pounds then he could comfortably lose. "Oh, sweetie. You're a mess," she informed him. The high cheekbones stood out in sharp contrast against his unusually pale skin and awful dark circles dulled his hazel eyes. "You've decided to became a vampire, I see." She teased gently as she pointed to the drawn curtains and barely lit rooms. "We need to get you some sunlight tomorrow, darling." Methos shook his head. He tried to spare Amanda a smile, but he knew he didn't have to pretend around her. "I'm glad you're here." "Where else would I be?" Amanda assured him. She surveyed her surroundings. An ample supply of firewood was stacked next to the stone fireplace and from what she could tell the house was well stocked for anything the two of them might need. "Methos, start us a nice fire, while I unpack these goodies and make us some tea, alright?" The only response she received was a nod as he padded into the living room across the gleaming wood floors in his sock feet. Amanda set a kettle of water boiling for their tea even as she put away the sack of groceries. She had raided the small grocery for any of Methos favorite junk foods she could find. She tucked a six-pack of his preferred brew in the fridge and was glad to see that it was well stocked despite his lack of appetite. There would be time for the junk food and beer later, right now stronger spirits were called for and the fine old bottle of whiskey she'd brought along was just the thing. The teakettle whistled its merry tune. Amanda poured the boiling water into the ceramic mugs and dunked the teabags in rapid succession until the water turned just the right shade of brown. She uncorked the whiskey and added a liberal splash to his mug. He need to sleep and clear his head; if this helped him, then so be it. A mug in each hand, she wandered into the living room. A fire blazed in the fireplace filling the large room with a soft glow. Methos sat stiffly on the overstuffed leather sofa and packet of photographs in his lap. A small shrine to Alexa's memory had been erected on the large wooden coffee table. A sundry of items littered the table: a handful of seashells, shiny beads, colorful postcards, a pinecone or two, and dozens of pictures. All testaments to the whirlwind tour the two of them had experienced this last year. She handed him one of the mugs and sat on the sofa next to him. "Drink this, it will make you feel better." Methos took a sip of the steaming liquid. "Trying to get me drunk, Amanda?" "Yes." "Bless you."  Methos took another sip. The whiskey warmed him from the inside out. He didn't realize how cold he felt until Amanda had suggested the fire and the spiked tea. Amanda felt his body tremble. Liberating a heavy throw from the back of the sofa, she covered them with it and snuggled close to him. She smiled as she felt his tense posture relax into something similar to his usual sprawl. "Want to talk about it?" she ventured. "Where do I begin?" Methos leaned his back against the cushion. "How do I handle this?" "Yell, scream, curse, cry, throw things," Amanda encouraged. "Or all of the above, if you feel like it." Methos swallowed the last of his doctored tea. He contemplated the nearly empty mug in his hand. The ceramic was still warm in his hand, like Alexa's hand had been just days before. Without a moments hesitation he hurled the mug across the room where it smashed with a gratifying noise against the stone fireplace. Amanda jumped by the suddenness of his action. "Feel better?" "Not particularly," Methos said as he sighed and relaxed again. "I'm out a lovely mug." "That's ok, I'll get you another one." "This time use a lot more whiskey and a lot less tea." As Amanda walked into the kitchen, Methos could only sit and watch her. Like a watcher, Methos chuckled grimly. As he looked at the fireplace, a picture in a five by seven cheap wooden frame on the mantle called his attention. Methos walked over to pick it up. It was of Alexa, eating a barbequed rib at a dive near the Grand Canyon, just after they set out on their journey. Methos had thought it was a joke at the time, barbeque sauce was smeared around her mouth and dripping down her chin. He had pulled out a disposal camera that was in his pocket and snapped the picture. Alexa had been put out. "Adam!" she had yelled at him, slapping his arm as he slipped the camera back in his coat pocket. "Give me that camera so I can throw it away!" She had been concerned about how she looked. She hadn't put on makeup that morning because she had woken up sick to her stomach and spent time praying to the porcelain goddess. Methos had tried to help her, at least hold her hair back for her, but she wouldn't even let him in the bathroom. She wanted that picture destroyed, saying, "Landscapes, the wonders of the world, fine. No pictures of me, thank you, especially when I look like hell." Methos wondered if she truly felt that way or if she was just scared of how the picture would turn out. Eventually she had given in when he took her picture or had some passerby take one of the both of them. There were many pictures of Alexa in a boot box in the bedroom closet, but this one, the first one he had taken of her on their adventure, was special. Even though the camera was of exceptionally bad quality and the lighting in the diner was awful, the picture was beautiful, because it was of Alexa. During their brief time together, there wasn't one day when Methos thought she 'looked like hell'. She looked sick at times, pale, weak or tired at times, but never 'like hell'. He wondered what she would have thought if she knew he had framed that picture with a cheap frame he picked up at a corner store. He had purchased the house because he knew that it was the end of the road for them and wanted to make her as comfortable as possible. Alexa was too weak to travel; hotels were out of the question. They were only able to spend three days together in the house before Methos woke up one night, knowing something was wrong, looking over at Alexa sleep, and realizing that she wasn't sleeping naturally. Try as he might, he couldn't rouse her. He hurriedly called an ambulance. She never again saw their house. He had brought some of the myriad of things that they had collected during their travels to her at the hospital to make her comfortable. He had purchased oil paintings to replace the cheap lithographs that the hospital room was decorated with so she had something pleasing to look at. He had brought in 300 count sheets, a wool comforter, fluffy down pillows, nightgowns, robes and pajamas. The last thing he wanted to see what Alexa in a hospital gown. Every day, even while she was in her coma, he would change her nightgown, asking which one she would like to wear, then picking out one himself when she couldn't answer. There was only one demand Methos had for the staff of nurses, change Alexa's clothes each day while he was in Paris. Methos placed the framed picture back on the mantle and adjusted its placement. When he stepped to the side, he heard a crunch under his foot. The mug. He bent down to pick up the pieces of it. He set the larger ones on the hearth and collected the smaller ones in his hand. He'd need a towel to wipe away the tea before it would stain the white stones of the fireplace and the teak wood of the floor and wall, but he couldn't move. It was then that he realized he was numb, and had been since Alexa slipped away from him. A violent shiver went through his body, but then it was over, he remained dazed, in the crouched position in front of the fireplace, little shards of ceramic still in his hand. The fire was roaring in the fireplace and he watched the flames lick the back stones and rise up and ebb, in a trance. Slowly, he squeezed his hand. He could hardly feel anything, but could hear the shards break into tinier pieces and mash against each other. "Methos," he heard Amanda say behind him. It sounded like she was in a tunnel, she could have been outside, for how far away she seemed. Suddenly she was at his side, trying to pry open his hand. It was only when he looked down that he saw blood flowing from his hand onto his denim clad knee. He hadn't felt that either. As Amanda cleaned off his hand with a towel and put all the pieces of the broken mug in a wastebasket she had taken from the kitchen, Methos sat cross-legged on the hard wood floor and stared again at the flames. "Why do we do it?" Amanda asked. "Hm?" "We know mortality is fragile. We know that mortals don't live long even if they're healthy. As you said in Paris, they have no time to do anything," Amanda said. "We know that. We aren't dumb. So why do we do it?" "I love her," Methos said softly. "From the first time I laid eyes on her, I knew that she needed me." "You knew it would end, Methos, so why--," Amanda began. "I didn't know that I'd fall in love with her. I never expected that," Methos said in a painfully sad soft voice. "I knew that she was beautiful, funny, smart, I knew that I could make her life, whatever was left of it, better." Methos pulled his hand away from Amanda and folded his arms around his stomach. "I took her away because I could. I had the thought that time spent with Alexa would teach me things. I would find out what it's really like to be mortal and sick, doomed. I thought I could be a comfort to her, a friend, a big brother, a protector." Methos smiled brightly, then darkened. As he leaned forward, defeated, he moaned, "I never expected to fall in love with her. That I need her." Amanda protectively covered Methos with her arms and kissed the back of his neck. When he straightened up, he took the towel from her and licked the blood from his hand, then wiped it off, which didn't work. Blood was still flowing from the speckles of embedded glass shards. Knowing that the bloodied and tea stained towel was a lost cause, he got onto his knees and opened the fireplace door and tossed the towel inside. He watched as the white towel slowly turned black at the edges, curling and melting in the heat. Then the flames erupted through the middle of the towel and soon it was lumps of hardened ash. Amanda shut the door of the fireplace and took Methos' arm, lifting him to his feet. "March," she said, steering him to the kitchen. "Let's get your hand cleaned up." Methos watched the remaining blood from his hand spiral down the drain of the kitchen sink. Why? It seemed to be the question of the day. One little question was the hardest to answer. In all of his many years, he had never found the answer. Yet time and again he subjected himself to this pain, never learning the answer so desperately sought. "Now, you're all clean," Amanda rubbed his hand after it healed with a clean dishtowel. Her eyes darted up to see if he was even listening to her. "How about some more tea?" "Sure. But remember to add the whiskey. In fact, hold the tea." He snagged the still nearly full bottle off the counter. Amanda reached in the cabinet to hand him a glass. He smiled darkly and waved her away. "I won't be needing that." He turned and headed up the stairs to his bedroom. "Goodnight, Amanda." "Night, darling," she told him as she watched him tiredly climb the flight of stairs. Once she was sure he'd make it under his own power, she rifled through her purse and found her address book. Duncan and Joe needed to know what had happened. She walked into the living room and found the cordless phone. She sank gratefully onto the sofa and dialed Duncan's cell. While she waited for the international call to go through, she flipped through some of the photos on the coffee table. Knowing Methos as well as she did, she could easily track the progress of the trip by the increasingly haunted look in his eyes. He may try to hide from others behind his devil may care attitude, but she knew what a passionate and caring man he truly was. She knew that it was how he had survived so long in this brutal world. They all had their defenses. His was to keep people at arm's length; every once in a while one would slip through, like Alexa, and his heart would break. Once he decided he cared about someone, he couldn't turn back. A Scottish warrior and gravelly voiced Watcher had slipped under his guard in recent years. Amanda smiled to herself. Duncan and Joe would be shocked to find out the true nature of their relationship. She and Methos hadn't intended to lie about their friendship, but with all the craziness of the Kalas incident, they decided it would be best to let sleeping dogs lie. The beeping sound of Duncan's voice mail came across the line. "Hey, Duncan, it's me," she paused to collect her thoughts. "I just wanted to let you know that Alexa passed away yesterday. I'm here in Geneva with Adam, so everything is taken care of on that end. I'll call Joe and let him know. Once I hear about funeral arrangements I'll let you know. Love you." Next, she dialed the number to Joe's apartment. She dreaded this call the most. Methos had written in his letters how close Joe and Alexa had been during her employment at his Seacouver bar. She could spare Methos the heartache of telling Joe, it was the least she could do after all he'd done for after Jack had died. After several rings, Joe's bluesy voice came over the line. "Dawson here." "Joe, it's me. Amanda." "Hey, Amanda. It's sure good to hear your voice. How's my favorite thief?"  "Joe," she began. "I have some bad news." "Alexa?" Joe asked already knowing the answer. He sat down in his chair. "How's Adam?" "She passed away late last night. I'm here in Geneva with Adam. He's crushed, but he's not alone." Joe sat quietly for a moment. "I'm sure he's beside himself. I can be on the next flight out of Paris, if you think that it'll help." "I don't think that's necessary, Joe," Amanda said. She and Methos needed this time alone. He wouldn't properly grieve in front of just anyone. "I don't know anything about arrangements yet, but as soon I find out something I'll let you know." "Can I talk to him?" "He's not ready to talk, yet. He's been extremely quiet. He headed upstairs with a bottle of whiskey a little while ago." Joe swallowed hard. He knew too well, that sometimes that was the only thing you could do to numb the pain. "Well, tell him I'm thinking about him. Take good care of him." "I will. I promise." "Bye." "Goodbye, Joe." Amanda laid the phone back in its cradle. She heard the dulled spraying of water from the upstairs. Nice long hot showers had a way of making things look not so bleak. Making sure the fire was banked for the night, she grabbed her bag and double checked the locks before heading upstairs. The master suite door stood wide open. She heard the shower running in the bathroom. Knowing he wouldn't be making an exit until the water grew cold, she bustled around the room. First, she turned down the covers of the king sized bed, then she slipped into her nightgown. Even though making love was the last thing they'd do, she was sure they would share the bed. Human touch held great comforts of its own; they had shared a bed whenever they were together. She walked over to the night stand and picked up the empty whiskey bottle. Well, I hope you can still walk. The shower door creaked and closed again. Five minutes later, Methos emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of sweat pants and carrying a t-shirt. Amanda tried to hide her shock at how thin he looked. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She hated seeing him like this. "Come lay down, before you fall down." She patted the bed beside her. "What you need is some sleep." Methos stretched out on the bed and allowed her to pull the covers over them. "What I need is Alexa." "I know. If there were anyway I could make that happen, you know I would." She pulled him over in her arms. Methos rested his head on her chest. "I know." Amanda's chin rested on the top of his head. She began to hum a lullaby she'd learned centuries before. Soon she could feel his tense body relax into a deep sleep. She continued to hold him after he slept. It was amazing how often they had been there for each other. They had seen their share of sadness and laughter. Words could not explain the complexity of their friendship; they had quit trying to define it years ago. She smiled when she felt his arms snake around her waist as he snuggled in close. Hold on to me, Methos. You'll get through this, just like I did after Jack. ~~##BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA 1966##~~ Amanda was the lone passenger on the fishing boat that she had hired to take her three miles out on the Pacific. Damn government and their rules. When a hospital administrator got word that Jack's last wish was to be buried at sea, all of a sudden Amanda was getting calls from agencies telling her why that was not possible. Having found a sympathetic ear at the marina that offered his boat to the sad lady, Amanda took Jack's ashes and disappeared after his funeral. Three years before, Amanda and Rebecca had met in San Francisco. After tiring of shopping, eating in Chinatown, gossiping about Methos, which neither had seen for years, and taking a pit stop along the Pacific Coast Highway to wade in the ocean, they saw a sign that read "Helicopter tours". Never one to pass up an opportunity to do something new and even unimaginable, Amanda urged Rebecca to find out what there was to tour. Since no one was in the office, they walked out the back door of it, onto the beach. A man was sprawled on a lawn chair facing the surf. A cowboy hat covered his face as his head leaned back and a bottle of beer was clamped in his hand when the two free-spirited women interrupted his midday nap. As soon as they saw him, they were both instantly reminded of a certain old guy they both knew and loved. When Amanda tapped his shoulder to ask if the helicopters were running, Jack instantly stood up straight and said, "I wasn't sleeping." "I didn't think you were," Amanda lied. "I wouldn't have disturbed you, but there's a sign out front and it sounds like a blast." When he lowered his sunglasses and Amanda caught a glimpse of his Paul Newman baby blues, she was in a trance. He smiled slyly at her, more than likely knowing the effect that his eye color had on the ladies, and introduced himself. "Jack Murphy at your service, ma'am." He nodded to Rebecca and said, "Madams." Tall, dark and handsome was Amanda's favorite package and Jack Murphy certainly fit the bill. When he showed them his helicopter, Amanda immediately asked Rebecca to go in first, thereby having to sit in the back. Rebecca argued, "But you can't see anything in the back." Amanda pulled her to the side and said, "Remember Thomas? You have a man, Rebecca. Please, do this for me. The man's dreamy. I've been lonely. Come on, help me here." "Amanda," Rebecca murmured as she shook her head. "You're paying the fee because I'm not sure I'm going to be able to see a thing in the back." The fly over Alcatraz and alongside the Golden Gate Bridge was one thing, but when they spotted whales from the air, Amanda gasped with glee and pointed at the glass for Rebecca, in the back, to make sure to see. Try as Rebecca might, she couldn't see them from the tiny windows on each side of the back. She said, "Amanda, you have nothing but glass up there. Sure you can see. Describe them to me. I cannot see anything but sky." Jack smiled and said, "Are your seatbelts fastened?" The women both said, "Yes." "Good." All at once, the helicopter rolled to the side and Amanda and Rebecca were each flattened against the right side. Rebecca squealed, not only because she was frightened, but because at that very moment, the two humpbacks broke the surface of the water as it swam at top speed. "They're beautiful!" When he righted the helicopter, he told Amanda, "Don't tell anyone I did that. No one would believe you anyway." Amanda checked the security of her seatbelt again and said, "You meant to do that, right? Are you sure you know what you're doing?" "Ah, hell yeah," Jack said. "I've flown just about everything. You have nothing to worry about." The rugged pilot winked and smiled at her again and Amanda thought to herself, Oh no. I disagree. I could be in big trouble here. This guy could have me eating out of his hand in no time. He did. From that moment on, Amanda and Jack were inseparable. She found out that he had been flying since his father, also a pilot, trained him when Jack was fifteen years old. He had been in the Air Force, then a commercial pilot, but he wasn't having fun. After years of taking orders from the government and Delta Airlines, Jack decided to go out on his own. He had inherited his father's biplane and used it to crop dust the orange groves. He had bought the helicopter for tours. He took passengers or cargo in his Cessna back and forth to LA or Las Vegas. Even though Jack was a busy man, Amanda was always at his side, his stewardess. When they weren't in the air, they were at his house on his beach. He always said how he loved the ocean, having lived by it all of his life. If he didn't hear the surf, things weren't right in his world. It was just six months before that Jack started feeling sick in the mornings, then most of the day. Amanda finally got him to go in for a physical and he was given in the news. Pancreatic cancer. He worked as long as he could. He needed to. Amanda needed it for him. When it got to the point where chemo treatments were making him too sick to be reliable for his clientele, he had to give up the Cessna. When the doctors told him that the chemotherapy hadn't done the job after the course of treatment and that there was nothing more they could do for him, they asked Jack what he wanted. Did he want to be in the hospital and they would prolong his life as long and as comfortable as possible, or would he like to go home with nursing care? Home was the only option. Amanda had brought in a hospital bed that was set up in the living room because it couldn't be brought up the stairs to the loft bedroom. She did more for him than the nurse. Jack held on as long as he could, trying to make it easier for Amanda. He was that sort of guy. She had turned on the radio one morning so Jack could hear the weather report as always when he uttered, "Turn it off, please." She did and studied his look and demeanor. He was so pale. He seemed to be so weak he couldn't even keep his eyes open. She sat on his bed, smiled, asked if he was hungry. He shook his head, no. Jack lifted his hand to her face and she kissed his fingers. "What is it?" "I love you, Mandy." She smiled. "I know. Thank God. I've done something right in my life to have you." "Are you okay?" "Am I okay? Shouldn't I be asking that?" "But you're too scared to ask me," he said, letting his eyes close. Amanda hadn't been accepting of his condition. It wasn't fair that she had eternal life as long as her head was attached, but he only had a few days at most. Jack opened his eyes again and said, "I've been doing a lot of thinking since last night. I want to be cremated and buried at sea, remember? I don't care what crap you get from g-men. That's what I want. I know you, I know you can make it happen. I want 'Amazing Grace' played. They played it at my mother's funeral and it was comforting." "Jack..." "You've got to hear it, Mandy. My will is in the file cabinet." All along Amanda had hoped that there would be some miracle. That there would be an herbal product, an exercise, a prayer that would make Jack live. The only thing was, after the doctor had told him that the chemo hadn't stopped his cancer, he wouldn't even take painkillers. He lifted his hand and she grasped it. "I'm losing it, Mandy." His eyes teared up. It was the first time that Amanda had ever seen him cry. "You accept it. Tell me you accept it," he said, his voice leaving him because of weakness. She weakly nodded, tears stinging her eyes, and said, "I promise."  But it was a lie. She didn't know how she was going to accept the unfairness of it all. He motioned for her. Amanda leaned down, he gestured for her to lean closer. She leaned her head as close as she could without touching him, hurting him. He was in enough pain already. He reached up and kissed her on the cheek. She put her arm under his head and hugged him, pressing her cheek to his. She wanted to scream, "Don't leave me!" Instead, she kissed him softly on the lips said, "I love you, Jack. It's all right. You can go. I love you. You can go now, there'll be no more pain. I love you." Amanda kissed him again and held and talked to him for minutes before she realized he was dead. She hadn't even known when it happened. The boat came to a stop and the captain stood alongside Amanda at the bow. He leaned down and turned on the tape player, he took off his hat and held it over his heart. Amanda looked to him and he nodded. She took the top off the urn and after saying a brief prayer, she held it upside down over the water. The ashes fell out of the urn and fluttered in the wind, as if flying, as Amazing Grace played. ~~~~~ It took six months for Rebecca to find Methos, who had been on a dig in Africa, and another couple of months for them to try and find Amanda. After Jack's funeral, she had taken off, saying she was just going for a walk to clear her head. Methos knew they should have known better. Amanda had Jack's ashes with her. After going back to Jack and Amanda's house on the beach and searching all over San Francisco for her, Methos and Rebecca decided to split up with hopes of finding her sooner rather than later. Methos watched as Rebecca boarded the plan to London. She was hoping that she'd find Amanda at St. Anne's. It always had been a place of solitude for Amanda. Methos headed for the one place he thought she might be, if she still had a key to his house. He settled down his seat and did what he always did on a plane&ldots;sleep. Once they got to Tahiti, he then board an island hopper to Bora Bora. ~~##BORA BORA 1966##~~ After almost two days of traveling, Methos finally stood on the terra firma of his island retreat. This was the one place he usually bolted to when things get tense or he just need an escape from the tediousness of life. Hell, its where he'd spent most of Prohibition. Liquor may have been banned in the States, but the rum flowed freely here. He smiled broadly when he remembered the couple of months Amanda had spent here with him after Interpol had chased her out of Europe in the 1930's. She had mumbled something about a painting and the Louvre as she swept into his modest island home. By the end of her visit, there wasn't a spot on the beautiful island they hadn't explored. He flagged down a jeep and gave the driver directions to his house. The island's beauty hadn't changed much in the years he'd been a part-time resident. The blue sky and turquoise ocean always made him glad he'd found this place. The driver wound up the mountain road and stopped in front of the solitary house. Methos gave him his fare and generous tip before he slung his pack on his shoulder. Methos turned the knob and called out, "Amanda. I know you're here, so come out." "I'm out on the patio." The French doors were opened and the sheer white curtains fluttered in the warm breeze. He kicked off his shoes and sat his bag on the floor. He padded barefooted out on the patio. The afternoon sun reflected off the lagoon in the distance. Amanda was curled up on the chaise lounge that dominated one corner of the stone terrace. He sat on the foot of the lounge and waited for her to say something. "I hope you don't mind my being here," she told him from underneath the large straw hat that shielded her face from the bright sun and his stare. "If I minded you being here, you wouldn't have a key, luv." He lifted the hat off her head. "How are you?" Amanda sighed. "Hanging on, I guess." "That's a start," Methos smiled. "I'm sorry about Jack." "Me, too." Amanda's eyes began to tear. "I'm glad you're here." Amanda made room on the chaise for him and crawled into his lap. He held her in his arms while she cried. The gentle motion of his rocking and soothing words brought her more solace than she'd felt since Jack's death. He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and dried her tears. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when this happened. I was on a dig in Northern Africa." "No need to apologize, Methos. It came about so suddenly; there wasn't anything you could do about it." She took the handkerchief and daintily blew her nose and handed it back to him. "You're here now." Methos made a face when she handed him back the soiled piece of cloth. "Yes, I am." "He made me promise to accept this, but I can't! Why must they always die, Methos? Surely, you have the answer to that." "Just because I'm five thousand years old, it doesn't mean I have all the answers, Amanda." He calmly told her. "We have to go on; we have no other choice. You know that." "We go on and on. Sometimes I think it's a curse not a blessing." "You're right, but perhaps that's the price we pay for all the joys we get to see," he told her. "Jack would want to you to go on and you know that." "I don't want to." "Of course, you don't, but you will and you will remember him. That's how it should be. Jack will always be part of who you are." "So, what do I do until then?" She asked him seriously. He smiled as he kissed the top of her head. "The only thing you can&ldots;live, grow stronger." "Words to live by?" "Yeah, they've served me well." Amanda smiled through her grief. "I hope you're right." "You should know by now, Amanda, I'm always right." ~~~~~ The next several of weeks were a time of healing for Amanda. She yelled at Methos and cried herself to sleep in his arms on occasion. He handed her things to throw when she was angry at Jack for leaving her. Together they once again explored the tiny island: hiking the mountain trails, swimming in the warm ocean, and watching the sunrise over the tropical isle. One morning as the sun began its ascent into the dusky sky, Amanda and Methos sat wrapped in a light blanket. They had spent the night on the patio talking and reminiscing. Silence wrapped them around them comfortably. "Methos?" "Hmm?" he asked sleepily. "I will be alright," she stated matter of fact. "Yes, you will." Methos knew she would. Amanda was made of strong stock.  "Thank you." She kissed him lightly on the lips. "You're welcome." He hugged her close. Methos took her to the airport later that week. It was time for her to get back to her life. She was to spend some time with Rebecca and then she would see where her road would lead her. Before her plane was to take off, she paused at the door and looked back at Methos and her heart was filled with love. She walked back to where he stood. "Promise me something, Methos." "Anything." He grinned. "Well, almost anything." She returned his grin. "Promise me we won't go years without word from each other again. I miss you when I don't hear from you." "I promise. Now go." Amanda kissed his cheek. "Live&ldots;" "Grow stronger," He finished.  "Love another day?"  "Always, luv, always." He whispered in her ear as she hugged him, "Courage." ~~~~~ GENEVA 1996 Amanda smiled when she felt Methos' arms snake around her waist as he snuggled in close. The whiskey must have helped Methos fall asleep as he actually started snoring. He looked more at ease than she had seen him since her arrival that evening. His head was lying on her shoulder and she lightly rubbed her fingers against the stubble that constituted his hair. She had always thought that Methos looked extremely sexy in longer hair and wondered why he felt the need to buzz it all off. She saw that there were no decorations except for various knickknacks and trinkets, obviously tourist items, littered around the room. They had to have been purchased by Alexa, or by Methos because she wanted them. They certainly weren't his taste. A six-inch Eiffel Tower, a Mexican sombrero, a pair of lacquered chopsticks, on the night stand was a snow globe with a miniature Tower of London inside. She slowly reached over to grab it, careful not to wake Methos, and gave it a shake. The little pieces of silver and white flecks that signified snow fell over Big Ben's face. Suddenly, Methos squeezed her waist and took a deep intake of breath. He mumbled something as he situated his face closer to Amanda's neck. "What?" she asked. "It wasn't a dream," he stated happily a little louder, his eyes still closed. He lifted up only to cover her with kisses and tenderly hold her head. "Methos?" Amanda asked, taken by surprise by his abrupt change of demeanor. Methos snapped his eyes open and stared at Amanda, confused. He had been certain it was Alexa that he was holding. The last time he had seen Alexa was in her hospital bed. In his dream, Alexa had opened her eyes and sat up with her own energy. She had told him that she was hungry and was ready for some Chinese. Methos rolled off of Amanda as if she were a snake and crouched down on the floor against the wall. He violently shook his head and then rested it on his knees. Amanda went to him, but he wouldn't have any of her comfort. The dream was too vivid, too real, too welcoming. Amanda touched his cheek and he slapped her hand away, "Leave me alone!" "Fine one you are to take your own advice, my friend," Amanda berated him.  "You don't understand," Methos cried out as he was curled up in a ball.  "Of course I do. I know exactly how you feel. While we were in Bora Bora, you helped me--," Amanda softly began. "This is not like Jack. You don't understand." "I loved Jack with all my heart, just like you loved Alexa. Yes, you'll miss her, but--," Amanda started again. "Will you be quiet?" Methos said, staring at her. "You have no idea what you're talking about." Amanda sat back and wrapped her legs in front of her. "Okay, fine. Explain it to me." Methos only stared at his hands. Those hands of his had done so much, had been eating utensils, had built houses, had held a myriad of swords for millennia, had touched lovers, had killed enemies. The same hands that hacked innocents 3000 years before were the same exact hands that caressed Alexa. They had brushed her hair back from her face as she fell into a pain-filled, or medicated sleep. "You're not talking, Methos," Amanda urged. "Talk to me. If you can't talk to me, who can you?" "She didn't know me," Methos weakly said. "Alexa?" Methos wiped off his eyes and gave a tired, pained nod of his head. "My relationship with Alexa was nothing like yours with Jack. Jack loved you and you showed him everything." "I didn't tell him that I was immortal." "But, you told him your real name. He found out that how you get your money." Methos looked toward Amanda and saw that she was beginning to realize his pain. "No, I never told Alexa that I was immortal, or that I'm five thousand years old. I lied to her. From the first moment, when I shook her hand at Joe's, I began my grand lie to her. Alexa thought I was a thirty-year-old mortal named Adam Pierson who inherited millions from parents that I made up and killed in a car accident, so I had a great deal of money and no reason to work. I would find myself in the middle of a conversation or while standing in front of an ancient ruin remembering not to tell her that I had been in that very same spot 1000 years before. I enjoyed showing the world to her, but I couldn't show her my true self. She never knew me. She said she loved he, but it wasn't me she loved. The man she loved was a ruse that I made up and have never been." Amanda cleared her throat and sat closer to Methos. She lifted his head and told him, "Did you make love to Alexa?" "Of course I did." Amanda smiled. "Then she knew the real you. Woman can fake it, but men...," she shrugged. "Sorry, honey, but men can't. Alexa knew you loved her. The real you showed her how much you loved her. All the extras... names, dates, people... if you had had the time with her, she would have found out more." "And how would that have blown over with her? 'Say, Alexa, by the way, for over a thousand years I burned villages with my mates. Oh, and the people who lived in them? Well, they didn't live long after our arrival. Would you like to know how we killed some of them, after we raped them?'" "Stop it," Amanda softly said. "You stop it! You have no idea what you're talking about!" "You have to come to terms with it all." "I have. It's the people who find out that I have problems with." "I took it pretty well," Amanda said. Methos balked. "Yeah, right! You didn't talk to me for thirteen years." "I was with Antonio at the time. And, do I have to remind you that for five of those years I was in prison? Did you come and get me out? No. Thanks so much for that by the way." "You know what I mean." Methos again laid his head on his knees. "You're the only person I told outright who I was. What I was. What I did. I never told Rebecca. I'll certainly never tell MacLeod or Joe." "Why not? They care about you and will understand." Methos snapped his head up. "Joe, there's a very slim chance that maybe he would, but Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod will understand what I was?" He chuckled bitterly. "You always did make me laugh, Amanda. I know exactly how he'd react to it. We would be through." "You'll have to give him time, that's a given." "I shouldn't have to," Methos said, pissed. It could be because he was distraught over losing Alexa, or he was pissed about knowing that MacLeod would probably go after Methos' head. "The moral cop of the immortal world would understand. Right. Do you know how many thousands of innocent mortals I killed?" "More than five?" "Don't do that! Don't joke about it, it's not a laughing matter. If Alexa had found out what I am, it would have..." Methos was ready to say the old cliche, 'It would have killed her." Methos let his head fall back and it knocked heavily against the wall. He didn't even react to the pain. Amanda pulled his chin in her hand and made him look at her. She told him, "The real you, who you are in your soul, was what Alexa saw and she loved you. You haven't burned any villages for over half your long life, but let's not even go there anymore, ok? What's important is that you know that Alexa loved the man who stopped everything in his life to take care of a stranger who needed help. By the way, Methos, if you were still that horrid excuse for a person that you were back then, you never would have done such a giving, selfless, thoughtful thing such as showing Alexa how marvelous life can be. How spectacular and grand this world is. Don't beat yourself up about the past that doesn't indicate who you are anymore, Methos. Love Alexa, remember Alexa, but you have to live." Amanda kissed Methos' forehead and smiled. "And eat. You are really thin. I'm going to make some breakfast and you're going to eat it." "Yes, ma'am," Methos weakly said, but smiled his gratitude to her. He held her hand as Amanda stood up and only let it go when she walked slowly to the door. It was so easy to be here with her. There was no other person left in this world he could show his grief. Rebecca was dead by her student's hand, Mac and Joe would feel uncomfortable by his display of emotion; they were raised in a world where it was unmanly to cry, let alone wail and gnash your teeth. No, there was no other person he wanted to do this with, just Amanda. He levered himself upright. This pain wasn't likely to ease anytime in the near future, but it would be bearable. It had to be; there was no other choice. The smell of frying bacon wafted up the stairs from the kitchen. He wasn't hungry, however he didn't want to have face Amanda's wrath if he didn't at least make an attempt. "Hungry?" Amanda asked when he finally made an appearance. "Yes," he lied for her benefit. "Good, now be a good boy and have a seat." She gestured to the stool pulled up to the center island. "We have bacon and french toast. I even squeezed some orange juice for you." She handed him a tall glass of the orange liquid. Methos took a large swallow of the juice. "I need to go into town to make the arrangements today." Amanda dipped another slice of bread into the egg mixture. "Yes, we do." The bread sizzled as it hit the hot griddle. Methos made like he was going to protest, but she continued, "There's no reason for you to do this alone." She deftly flipped the finished product on a waiting plate and topped it with powdered sugar and cinnamon. "Geez, Amanda, I can't eat all of this," he complained. "A small army could have breakfast of this plate." "Methos?" He quirked an eyebrow, "Yes?" "Shut up and eat." ~~~~~~ The rest of the day was spent making the arrangements to lay Alexa to rest. Methos wanted her to be buried in Paris where he could visit her often. Amanda had held his hand as picked out all the required trappings. By the end of the afternoon, he was visibly worn out and they had bid the funeral director goodbye. The kind old man had assured them that all the necessary details would be faxed to the cemetery in Paris for their arrival the day after tomorrow. They rode home in silence. Methos stared out the passenger window as Amanda drove them back through the streets of Geneva. Night was just beginning to fall as they pulled in front of the house. Arm in arm they made their way to the door. Methos turned the key in the lock and held the door for her. Coats were hung on the hall tree and Methos went into the living room to stoke up the fire while Amanda made a quick dinner of soup and sandwiches. Amanda cleared some of the souvenirs from the coffee table, so they could eat their dinner on it. One photograph, in particular, caught her attention. It was one Joe had snapped outside of his bar in Seacouver. Methos had just finished loading up his ancient blue and white VW van for their adventure. Methos and Alexa stood smiling back at the camera. The beginning of the end... Amanda said, "Don't tell me you still have that ugly old van." "It still runs." "Miracle of all miracles, I'd say. How did you ever get the smell out of it?" she wondered. "Fresh air and lots of Lysol," he replied with a yawn. "I think I'll turn in." "I'll call the airport and get us flight back to Paris tomorrow. I'll call Duncan and Joe let them know what the plans are and then I'll be up." "Night, Amanda." "Night, Methos." She carried the tray into the kitchen and washed the few dishes from breakfast and dinner. He was going to be all right in time, all that was left for him to do was to get through the funeral. It would give him a sense of closure and help him move on. After relaying the plans to Joe and Duncan, she headed up the stairs to bed. Thankfully, he was already asleep, so she changed into her nightgown and slipped under the covers next to him. His arm and leg automatically covered her as he snuggled close. For all the change in the world, it was nice to know that some things never changed. ~~~~~ The minister was brief. If it was because he didn't personally know Alexa or because it was cold outside, Methos didn't know. All he knew was that he was glad that part was over. Methos had never been a religious man. How can a 5000-year-old man who had seen religions come and go? Alexa had told him on one of the few evenings that she was feeling pretty good, while they were watching the parade down the streets of Madrid, that she had given up on God a long time ago. Methos had been surprised. Alexa didn't seem to be an atheist, and told her that. "Oh, I still believe in God," Alexa stated. "I just don't like what he's done to my life. He took my sister away when I was six. He took my Mom and Dad away when I was eleven. He gave me cancer. He didn't let us meet until I'm too sick...," with those words, Alexa had broken down. "God turned his back on me, so why should I take him seriously?" Alexa had never changed her mind. Not even in the hospital when priests and nuns would come to pray with her, she would tell them, "Why don't you pray for me? God doesn't seem to hear me." Since Alexa was born and raised Catholic, Methos asked a priest to perform her funeral, and she had been given her last rites, just in case. If there was any sort of afterlife, Methos wanted Alexa to have as clear a path as possible. The only ones at Alexa's funeral were Amanda and Joe. Duncan had called his regrets, not having been able to make a flight from New York to Paris on such short notice. Methos wanted the ceremonial aspects of laying a loved one to rest over as quickly as possible. Being there were just the four of them there, the priest had recited his verses and thrown the dirt and water on Alexa's casket and made the motions of a cross across his chest. He stood in the cold wind wondering how long the others were going to just stand there. He finally walked to them and laid his hand on Methos' shoulders. "God be with you, my son," he said, then walked back to his car. The three of them stood with their hands in their pockets, their collars up to protect their necks from the cold wind and the beginnings of snow as a foreman came over to tell them that they had to leave now. They were going to lower the coffin and cover it up. Methos stated, "I'm staying right here." The men with their machinery came and did the task as the three of them stood silently and watched. When the men were finished, they straggled away. The foreman told Methos that the headstone would be erected in the morning. The three stood silent for a while longer. Joe finally put his hand on Methos' shoulder and said, "Thank you, man. You did Alexa proud, my friend." "She was a special lady," Methos said, never taking his eyes from her fresh grave. Joe smiled and nodded. "That she was." Amanda saw that Joe was turning red from the cold and said, "Joe, why don't you go back to the bar and have a hot brandy. You'll catch your death out here." Methos took his eyes off Alexa's grave long enough to tell Joe, "Yes, and bring Amanda with you." "I won't catch pneumonia." "I want to be alone with her one last time," Methos said. "All right?" Amanda finally relented and nodded. She kissed Methos on the cheek and whispered, "Courage." After Amanda and Joe had left, Methos settled on the ground in a swirl of black material. Heedless of the cold ground, he sat in silence for a long while. This seemed so bleak, so final. Of all the things, he'd experienced in this world, death mystified and haunted him the most. Sure, he had died hundreds of times, but never permanently. He hoped for Alexa's sake that there was something more beyond this world; she had fought so hard and she deserved it. His stomach had nearly revolted when he had watched the dirt pour onto her casket. Amanda had squeezed his hand, reminding he was not alone in this. He closed his eyes and let the memories of the last year play like a film in his mind. He smiled when he remembered how Alexa's eyes grew wide as saucers at the vastness of the Egyptian desert, how she had giggled when the waves lapped her toes in Santorini, how she had cried with joy when they visited Paris. As bad as it hurt now, he knew he wouldn't trade the last twelve months for any price. The cold wind whipped around his collar reminding him just how cold a Parisian winter could be. Reluctantly, he stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. He bowed his head against the wind and let his tears flow freely. He would miss her dreadfully, but he had to go on. He would do it for her. "Tu es dans mon coeur, toujours {You are in my heart, always}," he whispered. She would always be in his heart. He wiped his tears with his coat sleeve. "Je t'aime {I love you}." He turned and walked out of the small cemetery. Alone, once again. THE END