This is yet another in my Maeve Kiernan series. She and Mac have survived quite a lot together and I expect that she has a few more stories to tell me before it's all over with. At any rate, the things that you recognize from Highlander: The Series aren't mine, much as I'd like them to be, especially a certain Scotsman. However, Maeve Kiernan is mine, as are Jim Curtis, Carol Curtis, Loki the (wonder) dog and a few other assorted characters.

Song lyrics are credited as they appear but are quoted without permission. Please don't sue me over the free promotion; I'm a part time student and have no money. Any questions on the lyrics or information wanted about a particular recording, ask me and I'll direct you to a source.

Permission is granted to archive this story in the Seventh Dimension Archive; all others please ask permission before archiving or borrowing my own characters. They are part of my family and I feel responsible for them. Don't want them getting into any trouble without me!

Many thanks to the following people for their help and support: Mary Galasso, who helped me nursemaid this thing along, suggesting plot alterations and helping me make Maeve look less a wuss and more noble: Kat Troth, who read and re-read this, making many valid points and made some valuable suggestions: Maroussia Biancheri who stroked my ego and still managed to find things that needed fixing.

for disclaimers and credits, see part 1

"Every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man…"

"Sharp Dressed Man" -- ZZ Top

"Ladies, we'll be late!"

Duncan stood alone in the center of the living room, arms crossed impatiently over his chest, drumming his fingers on his upper arms. Glancing into a mirror on the living room wall, he adjusted the antique silver and onyx stud at the throat of his Francesco Smalto tuxedo, and glanced at his pocket watch again.

Waiting was not something Duncan did well. The reception at the wildlife park was set to begin in an hour, the drive was at least thirty minutes and Maeve was the hostess. For quite a long time he had been hearing mysterious sounds coming from Amanda's room. Various rustlings and murmured conversation had intrigued him and once he was startled by a muffled curse from Maeve; something involving a curling iron. But this was getting ridiculous.

He started to open his mouth to shout through the closed door again, when, miraculously, there came the sound of the bedroom door being opened and he turned expectantly.

"Close your eyes," he heard Amanda say.

"We don't have time --"

"The longer you resist, the longer it takes," she told him.

Reluctantly, but knowing Amanda would keep them waiting all night if necessary, he complied. He heard Maeve's voice next.

"Wow, it worked. How'd you do that? He always ignores me when I tell him not to peek."

"Just takes a little practice," Amanda replied. "You'll get the hang of it, under my expert tutelage."

Duncan shook his head, exasperation nearly getting the better of him. He heard them approach and waited as patiently as he could, though his fingers still drummed restlessly. There was a rustle of silk and a low whistle from Maeve.

"You sure know how to pack a tux, MacLeod."

His eyes opened and he beheld a vision before him. Both women were decked out, in a manner that he didn't see either one of them in very often. Amanda moved closer, deliberately blocking his view of Maeve; not that Amanda's appearance was anything to sneeze at.

Amanda's cap of short, dark curls wisped around her head like a halo, an image that made Duncan snicker to himself. She wore a red beaded dress in a way that only Amanda could pull off. Its neckline was low and its hem was short, festooned with long strands of bead fringe that made a gentle clicking sound as she moved. Her eyes narrowed disapprovingly at him. "You peeked," she accused.

"You look great," he grinned, meaning it sincerely.

"Now don't go making her jealous again," Amanda scolded him. "You know how she gets." She rocked forward slightly, no doubt propelled by a blow from Maeve. "Oh, yeah," she said negligently and moved aside to give Duncan his first look at Maeve's ensemble. His jaw dropped noticeably.

Maeve wore a navy blue column dress, its dark silk hanging to her ankles from two thin straps, the fabric clinging to her like a live thing. At the low, scooped neckline, ivory braid made a triangular Celtic interlace design. She turned to give him the whole view: the side was slit high and the back plunged deep, just past her waist. A long lariat of freshwater pearls and gems was knotted around her throat and hung down her back. She wore some makeup on this rare occasion, and it enhanced her already attractive features. The new haircut had responded well to Amanda's fussing; it curved around Maeve's face in a thick mass that set off her eyes beautifully.

"You're a real girl!" he grinned, taking her hand and pulling her close.

"And you weren't aware of this before?" she murmured archly. "If that's the case, just wait till we get home tonight. I'll show you what a real girl can do." Maeve squeezed his hand and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "We told you it was dangerous for us to be together. We just never told you why." She punctuated her remark by nipping his earlobe.

Titillated but vaguely alarmed, he glanced over to Amanda, who had clearly heard the comment. She was gazing innocently at the ceiling, buffing her nails on the front of her dress.

"Remind me to leave you two together more often, then," he teased. Motioning to the door, he said, "Shall we?"

----------------------------

The party was a great success, despite the threat of rain. The park had been set up like a series of camps in the wilderness, with tables and bars scattered throughout. There were backup indoor areas, just in case, and the crowd flowed easily from one spot to another. At the main plaza, just inside the gates, a live band played virtually every form of music anyone could want. Maeve, not typically a social animal, worked the crowd like a pro. She knew all of the sponsors by name and led a few tours of the facilities, giving a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the inner workings of the hospital and the animals' daily care.

Amanda stood to one side with Duncan, watching Maeve. She smiled and shook her head.

"What?" he asked Amanda.

"I just never would have thought she'd have it in her." Amanda laughed. "She seemed so shy and quiet when we were in England, she rarely ever spoke up to anyone. Now look at her." Amanda shook her head again. "She's definitely not the same Maeve I knew back then."

The night wore on, Duncan finally spiriting Maeve away from her responsibilities as hostess. He danced with her, Amanda, and Carol, who blushed prettily and surprised him by being a wonderful dancer. By the time their song was finished, everyone had stepped aside to watch, and they were heartily applauded. Maeve gratefully conceded most of the dancing to Carol and retired to a seat.

Later, Maeve still sat to one side, her shoes off, rubbing absently at one big toe. Jim sat beside her, Amanda on the far side of him. It was early in the morning -- things were winding down.

"This came off very nicely, I thought," Amanda said.

Maeve slouched back in her chair, dropping the shoes to the side. "Except for the idiot that braved the moat and got into the elephant's enclosure. I thought we were going to have to call the fire department to get him out of that tree, once he realized how big they were up close."

Jim snorted. "Just goes to show that education and wealth do not equal good sense. In case you didn't know," he leaned in close to Maeve, "that guy is an attorney with the State Supreme Court."

A snort erupted from Amanda, and all of them started laughing. Amanda caught her breath and gasped, "The more respectable they try to be when sober, the bigger the idiot when they're drunk."

"Amen," Maeve agreed, still chuckling. They watched the die-hards still dancing in the plaza, and Jim glanced over at Maeve.

"Do you think Mac'll ever let me have my wife back?"

Maeve shook her head. "I don't know. I dance like a foundered pony, so the question may be, will your wife ever let me have Duncan back?"

"I could get their attention," Amanda offered.

"No!" Maeve interjected quickly, much to Jim's amusement.

Amanda looked hurt. "I wasn't going to do anything, um, unacceptable," she pouted. "Really."

"Sorry, Amanda," Maeve apologized. "Just a reflex." Then her eyes narrowed and she sat forward to look over at Amanda. "Unacceptable to whom?"

Amanda just smiled.

Karen, one of the zoo's veterinary technicians, came hurrying over to them. "Dr. Kiernan?"

Maeve looked up, noting the look of concern on the young woman's face. "What's wrong?"

"It's Brindi. I think he got excited, jumped down out of the tree and landed wrong. His leg may be broken."

"Damn." Maeve stood and headed toward the enclosure with Karen. Curious, Jim trailed close behind.

The animal was already darted and lying quietly when they arrived. Maeve knelt by his side, carefully pulling the dress's hem aside. She examined him quickly and swore softly again.

"What?" Jim asked. She gestured for him to check for himself.

"Femoral, mid-shaft, probably some fragments." She stood, gesturing Karen closer.

"Get x-ray fired up, and surgery. Might as well get this over with." Maeve shook her head ruefully and Karen patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"Something had to happen. This is what they call a reality check, isn't it?"

"Something like that," Maeve grumbled unenthusiastically.

Jim told her, "I'll help you. It's been awhile; I'd like to get into a surgery again, remember all that stuff they taught me in school."

Maeve smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks." As he hurried away to tell Carol, she called after him, "Let Duncan and Amanda know what's going on, would you please?" Jim nodded and continued on his way.

Maeve sighed, looking down on the big cat. "I sure hope you appreciate this, Brindi," she told him. She recruited a couple of volunteers to gently roll the big cat onto a stretcher, and they carried him into the hospital area.

-----------------------------

"Offer up your best defense

But this is the end of the innocence"

"The End Of The Innocence " – Don Henley

1:15 a.m.

Any resemblance to her fancy state from earlier in the evening was gone. Maeve's hair was bunched into a bundle on top of her head, her makeup was hidden behind a surgical mask, and she had changed from her formal dress to a set of multicolored scrubs. She waited, gloved hands held up in front of her, while the techs finished prepping the leopard's injured leg. Duncan tied her surgical gown around her, and kissed her on the neck.

"I'll see you later. Be careful driving home."

"I will," she assured him, leaning back into the embrace briefly.

Jim came around the corner, similarly garbed.

"I'll take care of her," he assured Duncan.

"Thanks," he told Jim. He picked up her bag, enduring yet another admonition to be sure and hang the dress up as soon as he got home. Fiona trotted into the ward on Jim's heels. Duncan scooped the cat up before she could go into surgery and investigate the late night activity.

"Take her home, will you?" Maeve requested. "She gets so lonely here by herself. Give Loki someone to chase-- I mean, keep him company."

"Okay," he nodded, trying with moderate success to juggle the cat and her bag.

Amanda waited for him by the door. He handed her the bag of clothing, not sure how she would react to having a squirming cat thrust into her arms. "That sure ruined the party for her," she said.

"I don't know," Duncan replied. "I think she'd rather be taking care of the animals than schmoozing with the patrons anyway. I just hope she's not too tired to drive home."

-----------------------------

4 a.m.

Maeve sat in the recovery cage next to the leopard, looking down at her handiwork with weary satisfaction. He was waking up nicely-- she just didn't want him thrashing around and destroying the Kirschner exterior device she had set his broken leg with. It had taken several bone pins, two plates, several screws, and a length of surgical steel wire to repair the fracture. Now there was little evidence of any injury, except for the incision area clipped of hair and the pins that were rooted in the bone itself, then clamped to a rigid bar, set close to the leg. It allowed the break to heal, and still gave the animal a great deal of mobility, without covering the wound and increasing the risk of infection.

The rain that had threatened all night finally delivered, drumming down on the roof overhead. The quiet rhythm was soothing, making her suddenly very sleepy, now that the adrenaline rush had worn off. Only she and Jim were still here; she had sent Karen home already. All Maeve had to do was wait for Brindi to become alert enough that he wouldn't thrash around and injure himself further. Then she could take her exhausted body home and put it to bed. Leaning her head back against the wall of the recovery cage, Maeve closed her burning eyes briefly. She was almost instantly asleep.

A scuffle of motion beside her woke her, and she opened her eyes to stare directly into the dilated gaze of the drug-hazed leopard. His head wobbled pack and forth as if on pulleys, almost like he was watching an erratic, high-speed tennis match. She froze, motionless, not wanting to draw his attention. She hoped he would stagger around and turn his line of sight elsewhere. While negotiating the varying planes of anesthesia on their way back to consciousness, animals got jumpy and occasionally aggressive coming up from the drug Ketamine. Hallucinations were thought to be a factor, and she didn't want the leopard to mistake her for an oversized Technicolor spider that had ventured too close. Fortunately, the drug was also a dissociative, and Maeve really hoped that the amnesia would be complete. Since she had to treat this big cat on a regular basis, she would prefer that he didn't associate her with the memory of the pain of his broken leg.

He lurched in a circle, staggering and bumping into the walls, not unlike a toy train that bumps around until it finds a clear path. He finally turned his back to her. She eased toward the cage door, trying to be as quiet as possible so she would not overload his hypersensitive reflexes. She did fine until it came time to push the door open. The hinge creaked.

-----------------------------

Jim Curtis heard thrashing and a bloodcurdling human shriek from the surgery recovery cages, and bolted into the ward. What he saw horrified him beyond belief.

The leopard gripped Maeve by the neck, and she flailed weakly, her face already becoming dusky as the great cat's jaws crushed her larynx and trachea. Jim was frozen for a moment in disbelief-- this could not be happening, no way, ohmygodohmygodohmygodohm---

He snatched up the rabies pole and smacked the beast alongside the head with it. He started in shock when he hard the distinct pop of snapping bone. Maeve now went totally limp, hanging like a drape in the animal's grasp. The leopard was reluctant to relinquish his prize, but, encouraged by the timely application of the end of the rabies pole again, he finally backed away and retired to the cage.

Jim summoned the courage to drag Maeve's body free of the doorway and slam the panel shut. He knelt by her, reluctant to touch her throat to check for vitals, but doing so anyway, running on autopilot for the moment. Gingerly, he probed the blackened mass of flesh and couldn't even locate the jugular furrow, let alone find her pulse. Checking it at her wrist, he found nothing. He tried CPR, realizing it was futile when he tried to breathe for her and the air would not pass the ruined mess of her trachea. Chest compressions only hastened the flow of blood from her wounds. He checked her again, hoping, praying that she would suddenly take a breath, move, anything. Her eyes were open, staring sadly upward, a faint look of surprise still in them. Four large punctures, two on either side of her neck, showed the entrance wounds of the great cat's fangs. A slowly congealing pool of blood haloed her head, matting her hair and soaking into the wildly patterned scrub shirt that she had adopted as her uniform. Shaking his head in denial, his entire body threatening to betray him, Jim sat back, leaning against the cages, and buried his face in his hands.

Several minutes passed before Jim finally roused from his shock, realizing that he should call someone -- the police, an ambulance, anybody. His first thought was of MacLeod, and how devastated he would be. Having to tell him would be the hardest thing that Jim would ever have to do, but he wasn't about to let anyone else do it.

He got to his feet, unsure of just how long he had sat there. Stumbling out of the ward, he headed back to the main office just in time to hear thunder crack overhead and the lights to go out. When the electricity went out, so did the phones. Now Jim was getting a little anxious about being alone with her corpse in the dark, primordial instincts taking over. He began fumbling for his keys, so he could access his personal office to get his cell phone.

He had to pass the ward again to reach his office, and, as he did, he swore he heard a gasp. Freezing in his tracks, he listened, every fiber of him poised to flee in primal terror. He heard the sound again. The very thing he had prayed for just a few moments before was now threatening to terrify him beyond all reason. Listening, he waited, and heard the sound again. It was most definitely a gasp, a human gasp.

This sound was followed by a low moan, and a raspy, grating, almost inaudible, "Oh God, that hurts."

Jim was rooted to the spot and couldn't have moved if someone had pushed him. He stared into the open doorway of the ward and saw a staggering, bloody figure trip and catch the doorframe for support.

"You were dead," he heard himself whisper. The apparition heard too -- slowly looking up to meet his eyes. A slow nod was his answer.

"This isn't happening. This cannot be happening." No matter how hard he tried to will himself awake, to will the specter before him to go away, it still stood, regarding him with deep sympathy. He was frozen in his tracks, trying to reconcile this creature with the woman who had, just a week ago, held his daughter and sang to her.

Maeve lost her grip on the door and fell forward. Jim exchanged his fear for concern, reflexively rushing forward to catch her, to break her fall. He was surprised to realize that her skin was warm. There was a pulse in her wrist, even though there was at least a gallon of blood all over her, the floor, and her clothing. The blood on her face made her green eyes glow like jade. Maeve met his gaze and held it, offering no explanation as of yet.

Jim hurried back into the hospital area and brought her a sterile towel, wrapping it gently around her neck. His mind was simultaneously trying to rationalize the whole incident, figure out what had happened and decide what to do next. It was obvious she needed medical attention so Jim made up his mind to take care of that first; the rest he would deal with later.

"C'mon," he urged, trying to get her to her feet. "Let's get you to the emergency room."

Her reaction was unexpected and immediate.

"No!" If she had her normal voice, it would have come out as a shout. Instead, the best she could manage was a harsh, whispering bark. Jim looked down at her. There was genuine fear in her eyes, an emotion he had never seen in her before. At his questing look, she shook her head again, emphatically. 'No.'

"Call Duncan." When he hesitated, she gripped his arm tightly, in a mute plea. "Please." The sound trailed off into a sibilant hiss.

Jim nodded. He didn't understand why she was afraid, but, against his better judgment, he decided to comply with her request.

"Could you drive me home?" The voice was rough and painful, barely more than a whisper. "I don't think I could manage it right now."

Wordlessly he nodded and helped her back to her feet, guiding her to the couch in his office. Warm to the touch, she was trembling weakly, breathing in and out -- all things that, by rights, she should not be doing right now. She was also shivering convulsively and her face was screwed into a pained expression. He checked his makeshift bandage, seeing that her neck was still blackened, but the structures underneath were arranged more or less correctly again. Marveling at the miracle, but still very apprehensive about exactly why such a thing was happening, he wrapped an afghan around Maeve's body and told her, "I'll be right back to take you home. I have to call Duncan and clean up that mess, or you'll be doing a lot of explaining to the housekeeping staff too."

She caught his hand in her clammy one and squeezed it gratitude. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to be doing this. I just feel so weak..." Her raspy voice trailed off and her eyes clamped shut, returning her gaze to its inward focus.

'I can't imagine why,' he thought to himself. He hurried into the ward and his eyes flickered briefly between the mop and the hose.

"Don't bring a knife to a gunfight," he chided himself and pulled the hose free from its mooring, washing the evidence of the night's grisly strangeness down the drain in the center of the floor.

-----------------------------

" I know it's hard sometimes and things seem larger than they are.

But if you need someone, that's what I'm here for."

"Cry On My Shoulder" – Bonnie Raitt

Duncan met the car as it pulled up to the house. The eastern sky was just beginning to grow lighter. He had been roused from his bed thirty minutes earlier by Jim's call saying Maeve had been hurt. This worried Duncan-- for her to have an injury that would have impressed itself on Jim, it must have been very serious.

Maeve leaned against the passenger door, eyes closed, skin clammy and almost grey, her breathing rapid and shallow. Her throat was still badly bruised. Duncan had treated enough battlefield wounds to recognize shock when he saw it. Why he was seeing its symptoms manifested in Maeve, he didn't know. The knowledge that she had taken a severe injury to the neck scared him badly.

He lifted her inert form from the seat and carried her inside. She shifted in his grasp and cried out weakly in fear, her eyes open, but unseeing. He hugged her tight to his chest and soothed her until she settled, Jim walking ahead, opening the doors for him. Duncan took her straight to their bedroom. Amanda stood by, having awakened at the same time he had, and just as worried. Duncan started to lay Maeve on the bed, then noticed the blood soaked into her hair and clothes.

Amanda told him, "I'll fill the tub," and darted ahead into the bathroom.

"Blood heat," he called after her, "she's cold."

Jim waited outside the door while they stripped her and placed her in the steaming tub, submerging her up to her chin. Duncan and Amanda both began to bathe away the caked and sticky blood. It was Amanda who discovered the first puncture on the side of her neck.

"My God, MacLeod -- what the hell happened to her?" she breathed.

"I don't know," he answered, "but I'll bet this is why she's so weak and he's so spooked."

Amanda handed him a towel. "Go talk to him," she urged. "I'll do this and call you when she's ready to be moved." He nodded and stood, drying his hands.

Duncan found Jim Curtis wandering aimlessly about the living room, holding a magazine and flipping through its pages, not seeing a thing. He was holding it upside down. The cat wove between his feet, oblivious to the turmoil around her, glancing up occasionally and miaowing, hoping for a bit of affection from a familiar face.

Jim looked up when Duncan entered the room and followed him into the kitchen, to the table. They both sat down, Duncan waiting for Jim to acknowledge his presence. After a few moments, a subdued voice reached Duncan's ears.

"The leopard had her by the neck. Her neck was broken-- she was dead." The volume rose a bit on the last sentence, but Jim got a grip on himself and took a deep breath. Pulling an orange from the bowl in the center of the table, he rolled it absently back and forth, remotely amazed that he had the inclination to do anything besides run screaming from all the weirdness that had happened in the past couple of hours. He looked up into Duncan's gaze and asked him, "Am I crazy?"

"No more than the rest of us," Duncan told him.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Not really, sorry." Duncan leaned forward. "Tell me everything that happened," he urged.

Jim leaned back in his chair, abandoning the orange, and closed his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose wearily. He heaved a deep sigh and sat back up.

"I was writing on a chart when I heard Maeve scream, then the sound stopped abruptly. I assume this was when he got the grip on her neck." Duncan nodded, and he continued.

"I ran into the ward, and he was standing over her, holding her by the throat. She was still struggling, but she was weakening by the second." Jim's voice rose again as the shocking memory overwhelmed him. Duncan reached out and gripped the man's forearm in silent support. Jim took a deep breath and continued his story.

"I smacked him with the pole. When I did, I --" He stopped again, trying to collect his racing thoughts and reconcile what had happened with the fact that Maeve was somehow still alive. "When I did, I heard her --her neck snap." He drew a long shuddering sigh. "It sounds awful but, in a way, I was kinda glad, because that meant that, if she were still conscious, at least -- at least -- she wouldn't be suffering anymore." With that confession made, Jim looked up beseechingly into Duncan's eyes. Duncan renewed his grip on Jim's arm, letting his presence and relative calm flow into the exhausted, shocked man beside him. Jim gathered his scattered composure again and kept going.

"It took about three or four minutes for him to let her go. She was cyanotic and her trachea was crushed. I couldn't even find where her jugular pulse was supposed to be. Except for the punctures, the skin was intact, but everything underneath was crushed, as effectively as if she'd been hanged. After that, I froze. I guess I was in shock. I'd never seen anything like that before." He glanced over at the bedroom door. "I know I've never seen anything like THAT before." He looked back over to Duncan. "So, am I still no crazier than the rest of you? Is there some reasonable explanation for this?" His eyes locked with the Scot's.

"I don't know how reasonable it will sound, but I swear it's the truth." Duncan paused, wondering how to do this, finally settling on the blunt, direct approach. "Maeve is immortal."

A derisive snort answered him. "And I'm the Tooth Fairy."

"Can you think of another way she could have survived that kind of injury, let alone recovered?" Duncan didn't say that he was worried beyond words about Maeve. For her to be this debilitated after surviving an injury like that was not a good sign.

Jim opened his mouth to shoot back a quick reply, but his mouth worked soundlessly.

"The only way she can die is to be decapitated." Duncan wasn't sure why he hadn't yet mentioned that he and Amanda were the same as Maeve. Maybe he didn't want to frighten the man anymore than he already was. "Healing is usually much faster, but since it was a neck injury, that could be why she's so sick now."

"You mean to tell me she has died before?"

"Yes, many times. Injuries, even serious ones, usually heal completely in a matter of minutes. If an Immortal is exhausted or suffers a near beheading, it takes longer. I think a combination of both is working against her tonight."

" 'An Immortal'," Jim echoed. "You're saying there are more?"

Now came the time of revelation. "Yes. Amanda and I are, as well. There are others."

To Jim's credit, he didn't panic or even react that strongly. He simply closed his eyes and slouched deeper into the chair. "I'm glad it's me hearing this, instead of my mother-in-law. We'd all be on the front of every supermarket tabloid paper within twenty-four hours."

Duncan smiled wearily. "That's come close to happening before. Most of the world has no idea we exist, and we'd like to keep it that way."

Jim's head came up. "Why?" he asked warily.

"Relax," Duncan told him. "It's only because most of us just want to live as normal a life as possible." He sighed deeply, remembering Tessa. "Sometimes we can, for a time, live our lives like everyone else. We don't age, and we can't be killed, so we can only stay in one place for so long before we have to move on." He trailed off, looking at the closed bedroom door. "If anyone else finds out about this, Maeve will have to go too. You can't resurrect suddenly and expect people to forget about it. Our kind has been burned as witches, cast out as demons, banished from our homes by superstition."

It was Jim's turn to try and offer some comfort. With a rare insight, he told Duncan, "You must be so incredibly lonely." He met Duncan's eyes. "How do you deal with it?"

"You just do," the Scotsman sighed. "If you're lucky, you find someone who can love you, and accept who and what you are, and just live day to day. Some of us can't cope with the weight of all those years behind us." Duncan remembered his friend, Brian Cullen, who had plunged himself into a drug hazed stupor for centuries before finally goading Duncan into taking his head. He turned to Jim again.

"I've got a friend that would be better able to explain all this to you, so that it makes more sense." He shook his head. "We're both exhausted and worried. I'll call Joe and see if he can send someone to explain everything to you more clearly."

Jim shook his head. "That's not necessary. I've got the gist of it." He looked up at Duncan. "And I won't tell anyone about what happened tonight." He smiled to himself. "Though I'll keep quiet more out of selfishness than anything. Maeve's the best damn exotic vet I've ever seen. She'd be hard as hell to replace."

The bedroom door opened and Amanda stood there.

"I think we can put her to bed now." To Duncan, more quietly, she said, "She's in a lot of pain."

"Need some help?" Jim offered.

Duncan started to refuse, to tell Jim to go home and get some sleep, but instead he said, "Yes, we just might." He motioned for the man to follow.

Amanda had drained the tub, and dried Maeve off as best she could, covering her with a robe. A small towel was folded and taped around her neck, small spots of blood still staining it. Duncan saw this and met Amanda's eyes. She shrugged and went to turn back the bed. Duncan knelt by the tub and got his hands under Maeve's shoulders and chest, while Jim lifted her legs. They carried her into the bedroom, and laid her down on the bed. She was shivering, twisting weakly in agony. Duncan drew the covers up close around her neck, covering the makeshift bandage. He knelt at the bedside, stroking Maeve's hair from her face, trying to calm her. Amanda stood behind him, hands resting lightly on his shoulders, her face giving away her own worry.

Jim stood, watching them for a few minutes. That Duncan was devoted to Maeve was obvious. The pain of her near death might as well have been his own. He wasn't entirely sure where Amanda fit into all this, sister, perhaps? Close friend? He decided that maybe he was better off not knowing, considering everything else he had learned this night. He patted Duncan on the shoulder.

"I've got a kit in the car with emergency drugs. Would that help?"

Duncan re-tucked the comforter around Maeve more securely and asked, "Any morphine?"

Jim nodded, glad to be of some use. He hurried out to the car and returned with a bottle, tape, bandaging supplies and a handful of syringes. He put the bottle down on the bedside table and handed a syringe to Duncan.

"I have no idea what the human dose is. My formulary only covers exotic species, though that may be closer to the truth with her than I previously thought." He watched as Duncan read the label quickly, drew up a dose and freed Maeve's arm from the covers. Jim moved forward to grip her tightly about the upper arm to raise a vein. Duncan competently slipped the needle in, and slowly injected about a quarter of the syringe's contents. Maeve sighed deeply, relaxing a little. Duncan tucked a folded piece of gauze under the syringe to keep the needle properly aligned within the vein and secured it with a piece of tape, leaving it in place for the time being.

Jim stood, stretching long and hard. "I'll make her excuses at the park. Let me know how she is?"

Duncan nodded, tearing his worried gaze from Maeve long enough to look up at Jim gratefully. "I will," he told him quietly. "Thank you." The two men shook hands.

Amanda walked Jim to the door. They said goodnight, or morning, as it were. Jim got into his car and went home, positive that, despite his exhaustion, sleep would elude him for a long time, if it ever came.

Duncan had unwrapped the towel and was examining the wounds when Amanda came back into the bedroom.

"Well?" she asked impatiently, when he remained quiet too long for her liking.

Duncan pulled the towel free from around Maeve's neck and tossed it into the bathroom with a small smile. "Look for yourself," he told her, then entered the bathroom himself, stripping off his shirt.

Amanda knelt beside the bed and turned Maeve's head gently. The wounds were almost completely closed now. With any luck, if they scarred, her hair would hide them.

Maeve stirred at the motion and opened her eyes. They were unfocused for a minute, then Amanda saw Maeve's gaze lock onto her.

"Welcome back," Amanda said quietly. She heard Duncan scramble from the bathroom. He practically materialized at her shoulder.

"Hi," Maeve croaked, wincing at the sound of her own voice. "I hope it comes back better than that." She swallowed, shivering, her fevered eyes roaming the room. "Still hurts," she said and closed her eyes for a moment against the whirling scenery.

"Shut up then," Duncan advised her with a gentle growl. He reached out and touched her face tenderly.

"What did you give me?" She turned her head gingerly, eyes narrowing against the undoubtedly whirling scenery.

"Morphine," he told her, showing her the syringe. "Does it still hurt?" She nodded, so he depressed the plunger on the syringe again. Maeve's eyes sought his -- she gave him and Amanda a weak smile. "Thank you," she managed, swallowing reflexively again, wincing and groaning. Then the painkiller hit her solidly and her eyes closed again.

"Go to sleep," Amanda said quietly and covered her up again.

Maeve sighed deeply, relaxing completely as the pain left her and the drug took total effect. Amanda stood and pulled Duncan into the bathroom, closing the door behind them.

"What did he mean about that exotic species crack? Did you tell him about us?" Amanda confronted him, her hands on her hips and her face inches from his, a challenging look on her face.

"I had no choice," he told her wearily, turning away. "He saw her die, and come back." Duncan turned the shower on, twisting the knob all the way to the left for maximum hot water. He was too exhausted and emotionally drained to care if Amanda stood there to watch him strip or not. He dropped his clothes in the corner, and stepped into the shower. Turning quickly when he heard the stall door open, he watched in surprise as Amanda joined him.

"Amanda," he began awkwardly, "I though we had this all worked out."

"Relax, MacLeod," she told him, "all I'm asking for is company and comfort. Maeve getting hurt like that really has me spooked."

She shivered, and he drew her to him, holding her to comfort himself as much as her.

"That could happen to any of us." She paused, looking up into his eyes. "Though I don't think I've ever gotten close enough to a leopard for that *exact* thing to happen." Amanda dropped her head forward, resting her forehead on his chest.

He felt her shake-- with tears, laughter, exhaustion, or fear, he wasn't sure. They simply stood together in the shower for a long time, hot water pouring down, taking comfort in one another's presence.

-----------------------------

"There is no pain, you are receding,

a distant ship, smoke on the horizon.

You're only coming through in waves;

your lips move but I can't hear what you say."

"Comfortably Numb" -- Pink Floyd

Maeve felt a palpable warmth surrounding her. She tested the edges of consciousness and found that they would support her, if she was very careful. Venturing further, awareness and memory began to trickle into her thoughts. The party-- all the people: her friends, co-workers and patrons of the park. Suddenly, the leopard gripped her by the throat once again. Her heart thudded quickly, and she moved restlessly, trying to break free from the big cat's grip. Then Jim was beside her, walking her to the car. A long ride made even longer by the pain she was in. She felt herself lifted, and she struggled, every movement a jolt to her overloaded senses.

Maeve opened her eyes, the visions and memories fading into obscurity as she blinked muzzily. Her eyes cooperated with great reluctance but finally focused enough for her to make out her surroundings. Sunlight beat vainly against the blinds that some kind soul had thoughtfully drawn closed. She could feel someone nestled close behind her. Trying to lift her head to look around, she barely twitched in the attempt. She was so incredibly weak

Maeve relaxed her attempt to move, and rolled her shoulders a little, trying to relieve some of the stiffness. Her mouth was dry and she still felt like she was wrapped in cotton, but she was becoming aware of her surroundings. The morphine was wearing off.

There was movement behind her, and she felt a familiar, callused hand touch her face, brushing the hair off her neck. So, Duncan was the source of the heat. Maeve had been sure that she would never be warm again after last night. It was one thing to get cold from the weather and the elements; it was quite another to have your body's ability to heat itself drained out on the floor like so much used motor oil. Maeve rolled her head back to look and had to close her eyes quickly; the motion set the room to whirling again.

"Be still -- you're fine," MacLeod's voice whispered in her ear. She nodded slightly to acknowledge she'd heard him and settled back down. Sighing, she shrugged mentally and sank back down into slumber. They drifted away again.

-----------------------------

Maeve stirred, and Duncan opened his eyes to see her looking up at him, blinking sleepily. They could hear someone puttering in the kitchen.

"Hi," he said softly and kissed the top of her head. She moved and stretched, joints popping, then laid her head back down on his shoulder.

" 'morning," she replied, her voice almost back to normal.

"Aftenoon, actually," he informed her, stroking her back.

"Did you hang my dress up?" she asked, full consciousness and total recall not quite available to her yet.

Duncan smiled, rolling his eyes. She *would* remember that. "Yes, dear," he replied with gentle sarcasm.

It took a few minutes but Duncan could tell when she remembered more details. "I was supposed to go in," she groaned.

"It's okay -- Jim made your excuses for you."

"Mmmm." Then she remembered the leopard and the early morning surgery and what had gone on. Her eyes snapped open yet again and she looked up at Duncan.

"Jim -- he saw everything --"

"It's okay," Duncan soothed. "I told him enough and Joe's sending someone to fill him in on the rest."

"Recruiting?"

"Maybe, if that's what Jim wants." He drew her close and hugged her tight, hoping to subdue her fears. She held onto him, finally breaking the embrace to stretch again, then slide over to sit on the edge of the bed. She leaned forward, resting her head on her knees, recovering her equilibrium, finally straightening to risk an attempt at standing. That completed successfully, Maeve tottered into the bathroom, Duncan watching her carefully, just in case she faltered. But the more she moved around, the steadier she became, so he soon rose himself, leaving her to shower in peace.

------------------------

It had been a bad morning. Duncan's revelations about Maeve and himself had Jim rattled, he was trying to catch up on a backlog of things that had to be done, and now some idiot was trying to tell him that certain documents on an animal coming in for a breeder loan were not in the correct-filed-signed-and-sealed-in-triplicate order. Jim wanted a beer and it was only 10:30. He really needed to get off the phone with this guy.

"Okay, Martin, I'll look into that. Yes. Yes. Yes. I said I'll take care of it! Fine, fine. Okay already!" Jim smashed the phone down onto its cradle and closed his eyes, leaning his head down onto his desk.

"This a bad time?"

Maeve stood in the doorway to his office, leaning against the frame. Jim stared for a moment. Less than forty-eight hours before, she had been near death. 'No,' he corrected himself, 'she *was* dead.' Now she looked a bit pale, but otherwise seemed perfectly healthy. "Come in," he invited. She came in and closed the door behind her.

"How are you?" he asked quietly.

"Better." There was silence for a few minutes, then Maeve and Jim both tried to talk at once. He motioned for her to go first.

"I just wanted to thank you. And apologize."

"Apologize? What for?" Jim was genuinely surprised. There was no reason in the world that he could think of that she would need to apologize to him.

"Because I never wanted to cause any problems between us. You never should have had to deal with that aspect of my life. It doesn't change who I am, it's just a part of my life that I try to ignore most of the time. Knowing about us can change everything for you and I never meant for that to happen."

"What do you mean, it can change things for me?" Jim was suddenly very wary.

Maeve gestured helplessly. "I'm really bad at explaining this stuff. There are Watchers, people who record our activities. Most are good people, like Joe and my friend Gail," She looked around, seeming unsure of where she was going with this. "But some are called Hunters. They think we're an abomination, here to take over the mortal world. They hunt us down and kill us."

"For being nothing more than being extremely long-lived?" Jim was aghast. He had no idea that things went any further than that. That some people would take it upon themselves to exterminate others for no better reason than some minor difference…. Flashes of Hitler and the Third Reich made him pause. "That's barbaric."

"Tell me about it. Don't get me wrong; we're not all of us saints." She grinned at Jim quickly and he began to laugh, the air between them a little less strained. "Some of us are just as sick and twisted as any mortal, and we've had more time to get good at it." Jim's giggles trailed off and he sobered again, looking at Maeve intently. "All I'm saying is, be careful. You can get as involved or uninvolved as you want; it's entirely up to you. But I don't want my friends to get hurt because of me. It's happened too many times in the past and I won't let it happen again."

Jim leaned across the desk toward her, intent. "Is my family in danger?"

"Not now," she replied. At his beseeching look, she felt helpless. "I really wish I could tell you, absolutely no danger whatsoever, but I can't swear to it. My personal nemesis won't be hurting any more of my friends, but I can't promise that another one won't come along."

Jim's mind tried to fathom exactly what she meant and he was coming up blank. "How does that involve me?"

Maeve sighed. "There are some who have no qualms about using our friends, mortals especially, against us. Your lives are so much more fragile than ours." An oddly sad expression crossed her face.

Jim noticed her emotions scrolling across her face. "You've lost someone." It was a quiet statement.

"Yes," she breathed, "my husband. He was mortal. But the man who did that won't be hurting any more of my friends." The air of determined finality was not lost on Jim. The information that Duncan had given him and what she was telling him now began to mix and evolve in his brain. Then suddenly, this mixture produced a thought that had to be addressed now.

"Wait a minute," he said. "I thought Duncan said you guys couldn't die permanently except by being decapitated." The idea that this woman, his friend, had killed was deeply disturbing to him.

Maeve sighed. "I really didn't want to get into this, but you deserve the truth. Yes, I killed DeGuerre, permanently. I don't seek out fights, but I will defend myself if challenged." She left it at that. Jim sat back. This meant that she had killed, that she had deliberately set out to destroy another life. His thought must have been mirrored on his face because Maeve shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I should have left it alone. Now I've just made things worse." She stood as if to go. "I'll get my stuff packed up."

Her last statement made it through the whirling fog of his mind and he stopped her. "Wait. You don't have to go. It's just that this is just a lot to take in, all at once. Trying to reconcile what I know of you and Mac with what you've just told me, well, it takes a little getting used to." He reached out to her; she took his hand. "I want you to stay. I'll settle into this, I promise."

Maeve smiled her thanks and nodded. "Okay. But you let me know if anything happens; if you ever feel threatened, tell me." The handclasp became a handshake.

"Deal."

-----------------------------

That evening, as he walked to his car in the parking lot, Jim noticed a large man leaning against the back of a red sportscar on the far side of the lot. He was dark of hair and inconspicuously dressed in jeans and denim jacket, like so much of the population of northeast Florida. He stared at Jim openly, without any actual hostility, but with an intentness that disturbed him. Jim watched him as he drove by. The man nodded to him in a neutral manner, then straightened up from his slouch against the car, grinding a cigarette relentlessly beneath a worn bootheel. Jim wondered for a brief moment if this was the man that Maeve's friend had sent to talk to him. If so, Jim wanted nothing to do with this shady character.

-----------------------------

Maeve waited impatiently for the flight from Seacouver to land. She sat, fidgeting, wondering who it would be. Joe had mysteriously assured Duncan it would be someone they knew, but was no more specific than that. Maeve hated being kept in the dark.

The flight she was expecting was announced, and passengers began streaming off the airplane, dispersing into the arrival lounge. Maeve suddenly felt Recognition, and scanned the crowd quickly, trying to determine who it might be. A tall, slender figure loomed in the opening of the jetway, looking cautiously around. Maeve relaxed, smiling, and went forward to greet him.

"Adam!"

He dropped his bag to accept and return the hug Maeve flung upon him. Releasing her to hold her at arms length, he looked her over quickly.

"Are you all right?" he asked, unable to hide the note of concern in his voice.

She grabbed his bag and shouldered it, a casual arm around his waist. "I wish everyone would stop asking me that," she complained. "I'm fine." She indicated the bag. "Is this all you brought?"

"I travel light, and stop changing the subject. I'll be the judge of how 'fine' you are." Adam stopped her by the windows and turned her to face him, tilting her head back so he could look at her neck.

"Adam, really --" Maeve protested, trying to ignore the curious glances of passersby.

"Hush," he growled softly, and she submitted, rolling her eyes, feeling a little like a child whose mother insisted upon washing her face in public.

He turned her head, brushing the hair off her neck. There were two faint, circular scars on each side, the top one just below each ear, the other about three inches below that. They were barely noticeable, unless they were being specifically sought.

"How did this happen?" He released her, and they continued their journey to the car.

"Leopard," she replied succinctly. Adam didn't ask for any elaboration. His imagination was doing enough of that for him.

"The gods were smiling upon you," he told her. She nodded her agreement. "Any further ill effects?"

"I thought you were here to talk to Jim, not produce a physiological profile on me," Maeve protested.

"All right, I'm still basically a researcher by nature; besides, I was worried about you. Still am."

Maeve smiled up at him warmly. "Do I have a helpless sort of look that produces the need in others to be concerned? Am I wearing a sign?"

Adam laughed as they exited the terminal and headed for the parking garage. When no answer was forthcoming, he prompted her response, ignoring her delaying tactics.

"Well?" Adam asked impatiently.

"All right," she laughed, "changing the subject doesn't work with you. I'm still a little weak, not quite a hundred percent. Otherwise, no problems. I lost almost all of my blood volume, so it may take a bit longer than the average wound to heal." They reached the Suburban and she opened the back to deposit his bag inside.

Adam nodded. "That's a definite possibility. Let's not test that theory again too soon, though, hmm?"

Maeve started the truck and entered the line waiting to reach the exit. "Agreed."

-----------------------------

"How many times must we tell the tale?
How many times must we fall?

Living in lost memory

You just recalled."

"Pretending" – Eric Clapton

They made small talk on the drive back. Adam deliberately avoided asking questions about Jim; he wanted to have no preconceived notions about the man when he met him. He admired the scenery and the fact that it was relatively warm in Florida, compared to Seacouver. Impressed by the natural beauty, he grimaced to see signs of so-called progress: road construction, housing developments full of identical, cookie-cutter houses, and heavy traffic. Maeve noticed his expression and mirrored it.

"I hate it too. This place doesn't even faintly resemble the Florida I remember." She waved her hands restlessly at the piles of dirt and the heavy equipment. "And I thought the Romans were bad."

They parked in the garage. Loki bounded up to them happily, then stopped short when he noticed the stranger. Maeve noticed Adam's corresponding halt. She beckoned the dog to her and gestured toward Adam.

"Adam, Loki. Loki, Adam."

The dog regarded him gravely for a moment, then offered Adam his paw. Adam shook it formally, slightly mystified. When he was released, Loki gave him a swift lick on the hand, then darted away after a squirrel.

"Not a dog person?" Maeve asked.

"Never have been," Adam admitted, glancing back over his shoulder at Loki. "But that one has style."

They went inside the house. Both of them felt the presence of another and reflexively tensed. Their wariness was unfounded; Amanda sat in the living room.

"M --," she began, rising from her chair.

"Amanda," he cut her off smoothly, sending her a warning glance toward Maeve. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," she finished, hoping Maeve didn't catch the slip. "You?"

"Not bad," he returned laconically, his gaze on the other woman.

Maeve hadn't noticed. She sighed wearily and dropped her coat and bag on a chair.

"You all right?" Amanda asked quickly, a worried frown faintly staining her features.

"Yeah, just tired. I'm gonna go lay down for awhile." Maeve wandered to the bedroom and closed the door.

Adam glanced at Amanda, concern etching his features. "Has she been like this since the leopard thing?" A nod was his answer.

"She's better, but still gets tired easily. Mac didn't want her to go to the airport to get you, but she dug her heels in. Wouldn't even let me go with her." Amanda smiled, rolling her eyes. "She must get it from him."

-----------------------------

Methos was slouched deep in a wing chair, feet on an ottoman, the litter of a late lunch scattered beside him on the console table. He was also desperately fighting the fact that his body was still three hours behind, and sleep was threatening to rob him of consciousness. A comfortable seat and a full belly were not conducive to staying awake. The contentedly purring cat in his lap wasn't helping any, either. Amanda had gone out, errands of her own to do, procuring Maeve's car as transportation.

Suddenly, he felt another of his kind approach. The adrenaline that swept through him was an absolute cure for jet lag. He exited the chair, ejecting the indignant cat, grabbed his sword, and had his back to a wall in seconds, watching the doors.

A key rattled in the front door, and Duncan walked in, wearing a suit, and carrying a briefcase. He scanned the interior, one hand hidden in his coat.

"Honey, I'm home," he called quietly.

Methos stepped out and showed himself. "Welcome back, sweetheart," he drawled sarcastically.

"Joe sent *you*?"

Methos put away his sword and rolled his eyes at MacLeod. "Lovely to see you too. I volunteered. Am I that much of a disappointment?"

Duncan closed the door and hung up his coat, dropping the briefcase alongside it, before stepping over to Adam. He clasped the older Immortal's hand. "Of course not," he smiled. "I just hadn't expected you. Joe didn't say who he was sending, just that we'd know him." He saw the remains of the meal, then asked, "Finding everything okay?"

"Fine, thanks. Some hotel you people run! My chauffeur takes a nap, my hostess abandons me to my own devices; what do you expect?"

Mac smiled, then noticed the closed bedroom door with Fiona waiting impatiently before it, glancing up at the doorknob and miaowing. "Is she all right?"

Methos saw the concern on Duncan's face and hurried to reassure him. "Just tired. I checked on her about an hour ago. Still sleeping." He fell into step beside the Scot as they headed toward the bedroom.

Maeve was curled in the center of the bed, almost buried beneath the blanket. The covers rose and fell steadily, and there was an occasional soft snore. The cat leaped up and settled herself on Maeve's discarded sweater, kneading for moment before curling up herself. Methos pulled the blanket away from Maeve's face far enough to rest a long finger on the pulse at her throat.

"Strong and steady."

She stirred briefly at his touch and he touched her face reassuringly before pulling the blanket back up. She shifted without waking and soon her breathing had become even and regular again.

Mac curiously watched the tenderness with which Methos treated Maeve. He rarely glimpsed this side of Methos; this reminded Duncan of how his friend had behaved when Alexa was alive. He preferred this aspect of Methos' personality to the cool and indifferent side that he chose to present to the world. It served to remind Mac that, for all his posturing and denial, Methos was still compassionate.

-----------------------------

Jim and Adam sat across from one another at the kitchen table, the same table where Jim had first begun to learn this incredible story. The atmosphere was quite a bit more relaxed this time, however. His wife and daughter were outside at the pool with Maeve, Amanda and Duncan. Carol knew nothing of what had happened; he had explained his long absence by claiming that the leopard had nearly died. It was close enough to the truth that his honest face hadn't balked at the deception.

Every once in awhile, he could hear the ear-shattering shriek of his daughter or the laughter of the adults. Kim was so excited about being allowed to swim in the 'big pool' that she hadn't given the adults a moment's peace until they filed out to watch her and participate.

Jim sat holding a cold beer and only the memory of Maeve's blood staining his hands. Jim liked Adam and was relieved that he bore no resemblance whatsoever to the man he'd seen lurking in the parking lot. The Englishman was the epitome of calm and unconcerned. He had greeted Jim by pressing a bottle of beer into one hand and reaching out to shake the other.

Jim was on pins and needles at first, waiting for the discussion that he knew would come. He didn't know why this made him so nervous. It reminded him of college and when he began to learn things that changed the fundamental way he looked at himself and the world. Jim had fancied himself a potential novelist at one point and signed up for a creative writing course. On the first evening of class, a woman sat near him and began a conversation during the break. She had an air of quiet confidence that had intrigued him. Usually moved by his hormones, after all, he was a twenty-two year old college student, he was amazed to realize that, for the first time he could remember, he was attracted to a woman's ideas and thoughts, rather than her appearance. She was not unattractive, but it was her soul that made her truly beautiful. They were in the same group that worked together and he became familiar with her writing. She was wonderful, possessing the rare ability to paint with words. People stood real and fully fleshed on her pages, speaking to him with their own voices and doing whatever they pleased, unconstrained by the plot and story. Her characters lived and Jim understood that this skill was not his. He could write well enough and be entertaining, but he couldn't breathe life into the words. He had been in awe of this woman's ability and still was. Jim often wondered why Carol had decided not to seriously pursue her writing career.

He and Adam had retired inside, leaving the entertainment of his daughter to the rest of the adults. Now he sat, listening to Adam talking about something unimportant and wondering why he had been so apprehensive about this whole thing. After all, it wasn't as though Adam was wearing armor and carrying a sword.

"Tell me what happened." Involuntarily, Jim tensed up. The memory was still very fresh and he sometimes forgot that Maeve had survived. His mind and voice spent a few seconds frantically coordinating themselves.

Adam noticed Jim's faint flinch. "You don't have to go into a lot of detail if you don't want to, but tell me what you saw."

"I saw her die." A simple enough statement; why did it almost hurt to be said? "He grabbed her by the throat and held her. Leopards kill by suffocation, squeezing on the trachea and cutting off the air supply." Slipping into teaching mode seemed to help. Jim could distance himself from the incident if he put a scholarly bent on it. He looked up at Adam's face. There was sympathy there, an understanding. Relief flooded through Jim. He felt liberated from the worry that had hovered over him for a week. Here was someone like him, a normal man that had apparently been an inadvertent witness to something extraordinary. He was just a guy, just like Jim. Adam nodded encouragingly with a slight air of expectancy.

Jim cleared his throat and looked quickly out to the deck. Maeve was seated on a lounge chair in the shade, watching the antics in the pool. She shrieked and leapt to her feet when water was splashed on her from an unseen source. Diving smoothly into the pool, she surfaced out of sight and reappeared towing someone with short dark hair toward the deep end. Amanda vanished under the water; in a second Maeve was snatched under too. Mac went to break up the good-natured battle before it got out of hand, Kim close behind, trying to get in the middle of things. The dog raced around the pool, barking and making a nuisance of himself. How could people who appeared to be so normal have such strange, shocking secret lives?

"I hit the leopard, trying to get him to back off. He held her for a few more minutes but eventually let her go. I tried CPR; there was no way any air was going to pass. Her throat was crushed and her neck was broken. I once saw a dog that had hung himself by his collar trying to jump a fence. His neck was in a little better shape than hers." Jim took a reflexive swallow of his beer. "The dog stayed dead. Maeve didn't. Scared the shit out of me."

Adam chuckled. "Revival tends to have that effect on the uninitiated." He stood, picked up his and Jim's empty and dropped the bottles in the trash. Pulling two more from the fridge, he twisted the caps off and flicked them with practiced ease toward the trash can. The metal discs struck the wall behind and fell in the can in rapid succession. He seated himself at the table again and presented the beer to Jim with a flourish. Jim accepted the beer and continued his narrative.

"I went to use the phone, then the lights went out. It was pouring rain, storming like hell. So I had to go back to my office to get my cell phone. When I passed by the ward again, I heard a voice." A quick shudder went through him. "I thought I was in a horror movie for a minute. But there she stood, weak and bloody, but alive. I cleaned up the mess and took her home. Duncan told me some that night, Maeve told me more a few days later." He leaned forward to Adam and lowered his voice, as if afraid someone might hear. "Do they really decapitate one another?" He knew Maeve wouldn't lie to him about something like that, but needed to hear it from an impartial third party.

Adam confirmed this with a nod. "Sure do."

The silence after this statement was almost deafening. Jim simply could not fathom how people like this could actually exist, virtually undetected. "Where do they come from?" he asked.

Adam sighed. "You, my friend, have just asked the $64,000 Question. No one knows, not even them," he pointed with his chin out at the deck. "That is just one of many unanswerable questions. Right up there with where do they hide their swords? Especially when they dress like Amanda." He and Jim snickered for a moment. "Your guess is as good as mine. Want another beer?"

-----------------------------

They spent most of the evening in conversation, some of it with the rest of the group, but always straying back to the subject of Immortals whenever they were alone. Jim was amazed by the broad scope of their lives. He couldn't imagine outliving his wife and child. Adam assured him that children weren't a problem. That made Jim feel oddly sorry for Maeve. It was obvious that she loved children; she had to in order to put up with his wild child. It was strange to imagine not having Kim around, and even stranger to try and sympathize with Maeve and Duncan and Amanda and imagine the prospect of not having a child, or even the choice.

A child was a form of immortality; since they already had that, perhaps nature denied them reproductive capabilities in order to eliminate the possibility of overpopulation. But then again, if they were actively seeking each other out to kill one another, that sort of took care of the overpopulation thing. His biologist's mind ached to know the answer to this riddle. Racing off on its own tangent, his mind began conjuring the possibilities of a facility devoted to ferreting out the mysteries of immortality: discovering the reason for their sterility, the biological processes involved in rapid healing, the organic basis for their compulsion to kill one another. Then he stopped. These were *people* he was fantasizing about tinkering with. He could no more subject one of them to such invasive procedures than he could his own daughter. Besides, where would he get the money for a project like that and how would he explain it? His self-deprecating smile was not lost on Adam.

"Imagine the possibilities," Adam grinned. He told Jim of a doctor that had set up his own lab and kidnapped Immortals for his experiments. Jim learned that Duncan was his last victim and what the so-called doctor had done to him.

Jim shuddered. "How can someone do that sort of thing to another human being?"

Adam's face grew serious. "Some don't consider Immortals human."

Jim couldn't help but elaborate. Working so closely with animals for so many years, he had always felt the need to try and express what he felt would be the animal's best interests. In an odd way, he felt the Immortals were another form of endangered species, bringing out the advocate in him. "I just don't understand it. I mean, I admit it; as a scientist I'd love the chance to discover the secrets, but I still consider them people. A wild biologist's fantasy might make me imagine some kind of research, but to actually carry it out, or to kill…"

Maeve called out to Adam something about dinner. Adam stated he had no real preference as long as it was hot and there was plenty of it. Jim echoed Adam's sentiments and Maeve smiled and went past them to rummage in the large freezer in the garage. She walked back through a few moments later carrying a basket full of Cornish hens. She trailed one frozen fowl across Adam's unsuspecting neck, then bolted as he shouted an oath and spewed his mouthful of beer across the tabletop. Adam glared balefully at her retreating back and fetched a paper towel to clean up the mess. Maeve's giggling could be heard from the other side of the wall.

Jim laughed at their antics and, when things had settled down, asked Adam, "How did you meet them? You seem to be very good friends."

Adam wiped at his shirt front and face, still fuming quietly. Looking up at Jim's amused face, he said, "I knew Mac first. Joe, a mutual friend, introduced us."

"Did you know?…"

Adam wadded up the paper towel and tossed it into the center of the table. "About Immortals? Yes. I've been a researcher in the Watchers for years now. So I knew what Mac was right away. He and I became friends and then I met Maeve in Joe's bar." He grinned at the memory. "That was only a few months ago. I was there when Maeve called you to accept this job at the park. She and Mac had a big fight and I ended up pouring her out of the bar. She took this job to get away for awhile."

"They fight?" Jim was suspicious. "I've never seen them fight. They always seem so happy."

"They fight," Adam informed him. "It's rare, but when they do, look out. The fur will fly."

-----------------------------

The rain the night of the grand opening was the last seen for months. The temperatures soared to over 100 degrees for over 30 consecutive days. Amanda declared that, for that sort of weather, she could be someplace considerably more exotic, and left. Adam, however, showed no signs of leaving. He seemed to revel in the heat and spent a good deal of time out of doors, seeming to absorb the rays of the sun.

The ground grew drier and drier. This tropical area, usually humid and wet, was unused to such harsh conditions and began to wither. The grass began to die first, then trees, scorching in the unrelenting sun. Mandatory watering restrictions were enforced, so that the aquifer would remain high enough to keep the area supplied with drinking water. Not surprisingly, brushfires began to appear. The first ones were well north of Maeve's house and the wildlife park, but they slowly moved southward. The fires consumed acres of trees, grass, homes, and businesses, leaving only destruction and ashes in its wake.

"Well, if she hadn't left already, I can guarantee that the fires would have had Amanda packing her bags," Maeve commented sourly over the morning paper.

"Amanda doesn't exactly hurl herself into the face of danger," Adam agreed, poring over a copy of Boccacio’s ‘Decameron.’ He gestured with the book at Maeve. "You don't have this in the original Italian?"

She eyed him evenly. "No, I don't. Italian was never a strong language with me, so I prefer the English translation, thank you very much." She folded the paper neatly and turned the television on. Reports of the status of the wildfires were being updated; she leaned forward intently.

" 'As the day progresses and the heat returns, winds pick up and fan the flames that were brought under control last night,' " the reporter was saying.

"Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know," Maeve grumbled.

Duncan emerged from the bedroom, dressed for school. "Any news yet on where the fires are?"

"They'll get to that eventually," Adam said, abandoning his book with a sigh. "After they tell us what the school lunches are for the surrounding counties and who's birthday it is."

A commercial ended and a map came up of the northeast portion of the state. A cluster of fires stretched from I-10 well north of them, down through Clay County and on into Baker County. The entire town of Waldo had been evacuated the night before, not for the first time that week. Another group of fires was new. Two boys had been upset about the fireworks restrictions for the Fourth of July and went into the woods to set off their own, starting a raging wildfire west of Daytona Beach.

"Come on!" Maeve shouted, exasperated. "What about St. Johns County?" She was worried about the wildlife park. She had already had to relocate the parrots to a facility far downstate to protect them from the smoky haze that hung everywhere. As if in answer to her spoken question, a helicopter flew overhead, very low, the racket causing the cat hide under the couch and Loki to start barking. Maeve, Mac and Adam watched through the window as the chopper lowered a huge canvas bucket into the river and scooped up as much water as it could hold. The television was just audible as the din faded away.

" '….portions of St. Johns County. While they are not threatening populated areas at present, we will keep you updated on new developments throughout the day.' " The reporter signed off and the news ended.

"That was helpful," Maeve grumbled. "I guess I'll go to work and see if anybody else shows up. Would you please keep an eye on things here for me, Adam? Call me if anything happens. I don't know what I can do about it, but…" She gave MacLeod a quick kiss and waved as she went out the door.

"So, what am I supposed to do if the place does start to burn?" Adam asked him. "I'm not going to stay here and burn with the house. I'm no hero."

"Of that I am well aware," MacLeod teased. "I doubt there will be any problems here; this place is technically an island. But if it does, load up the animals and get the hell out of here." He followed Maeve's lead out the door, leaving Adam to grumble alone.

"I didn't come here to baby-sit a couple of animals. I can't believe I got roped into this."

-----------------------------

Methos had left the television on, listening halfheartedly and concocting various scenarios, trying and rejecting successive courses of action. All of his contingency planning was proving to be unnecessary. Mac was right; the area that Maeve's home was located in was technically an island. A landlocked island, but still surrounded by water. This made the danger much greatly reduced, as long as the fires didn't reach any narrow part of the creeks and jump across. So far, none of the brushfires had come any closer than a couple of miles of the creek to either side, and Methos didn't foresee any sparks surviving the journey across Doctor's Lake or the St. Johns River.

A quick blurb, introducing the next report made him prick up his ears. The wildlife park was mentioned as being in the path. Methos watched as the footage showed the fence being approached by a line of flame. He snatched up the keys to Maeve's ancient Chevy truck and hurtled out the door.

-----------------------------

The television, which was rarely employed in the hospital for much more than training tapes and momentous news events, was on all day. Its audience changed from moment to moment, but it was never unattended.

Maeve was on the phone, calling area zoos and securing spaces for her charges. She had already found places for most of the carnivores and all the birds. Essentially all that was left was hoofstock and babies. She slammed the phone down after one more unsuccessful attempt at finding someplace to put a dozen Grevy's zebras and a pair of onagers.

"Now what?" Jim looked up from his office door to see Maeve seething with frustration.

"Do you think that anybody at the Live Oak Animal Refuge could give us a hand? Hell no!!" She flung herself into a chair by his desk so hard that he feared it might collapse under the impact.

"What did they say?" he asked, wondering if he would regret asking that question.

"They said that they couldn't risk their stock contracting something from our animals, like my critters are seething masses of disease! And of course they cited the well-known fact that their facility specializes in native species, not exotics. The one, perfect place that is well clear of the fires and they won't lift a finger!!" A gusty sigh escaped her and she hurled herself upright again, headed for the treatment area and lounge with a determined look on her face. Jim got up and followed hastily, worried about what would come next.

"Are the trailers back yet from Jax?" She spoke to Karen, who was on the phone.

Karen finished and hung up. "That was them on the cellular. They should be back in 10 minutes. I hope the roads don't close before then."

----------------------------------

The phone rang in Maeve's office again and she snatched it up, hoping for a change of heart from the animal refuge. Instead she heard a long-forgotten male voice.

"Did you miss me?"

"Not at all, Braddock. Up to your usual tricks?" Maeve's tone was bordering on bored.

"Just letting you know that I'll be looking for you."

"You do that. Really, I'm in awe of your intimidation techniques but I don't have time for this right now. If you want to challenge me, then come on. Otherwise, get a hobby or something." Before he could say another word, she hung up the phone.

She stared at it for a long moment, shaking her head. Of all the idiots to decide to dog her heels, it had to be Braddock. She had met him as a young Immortal, thrilled beyond measure that his newly discovered life allowed him to hunt and kill. His enjoyment was nearly childlike and she had taught him a very valuable lesson in their single meeting-- never underestimate a woman, no matter how much smaller she was. He had apparently never forgiven her. She certainly hadn't given him much thought. Maeve spared one final second of contemplation for him and went back to her list.

-----------------------------

Over half of Duncan's students from each class were absent. Some had called ahead and every one had the same story: the fires. MacLeod went through his day with an increasing sense of dread. At midday, he called the house. The answering machine got the call, Methos failing to answer. 'At least if the machine is picking up, the house is still there,' he mused. He joined a small group clustered around the television in the student center. Everyone was glued to the news.

" ' …sweeping through the northern portion of St. John's County. The authorities are asking that, if you have family there, to please refrain from going to the area yourself. Smoke has Highway 16 closed from Orangedale into the city of St. Augustine itself, and I-95 closed from the 2-95 exit south to Daytona Beach.' "

MacLeod's heart sank. The fire was headed straight toward the park. Feeling helpless, he rushed to his office, dumped his briefcase on the desk and called administration to cancel his remaining classes for the day.

-----------------------------

"Who has a spare bedroom and lots of electrical outlets?" Maeve stood over the remaining crew and paced like Patton reviewing his troops.

An older woman raised her hand. "I've got an enclosed garage and gobs of outlets. You need me to take the babies?"

"Bless you, Jan," Maeve smiled at her. "I'm glad it isn't springtime anymore. Take the incubators and go home with the babies. They're yours now." Jan wasted no time; she enlisted some help carrying the few incubators that were occupied and led the way to the parking lot.

Maeve looked down at her makeshift list and sighed. "Okay, guys. Get the trailer loaded with as much hoofstock as will fit without them killing each other. Take 'em to my place and put them in the pasture. Just lock Fortunato up in his stall and turn them loose in the pasture." At Jim's questioning glance, she shrugged. "I can't think of anyplace else to put them." He smiled at her as she flashed him a tired grin and went to supervise the loading of the last of her charges.

-----------------------------

The smoke from the fires made the lurid glow of sunset even more vivid. Maeve stood near the perimeter fence and watched as the flames grew nearer. She had sent everyone home to their families. Only Jim had refused to leave, after calling and having a long talk with Carol and his daughter. Carol had told him that they may have extra help coming. She reported that a very tall man, introducing himself as Dr. Edward Braddock had come by, trying to track Maeve down. He had claimed to be a classmate of hers but hadn't been able to get in touch with her. Carol had told him about how the fires were threatening the park and he had thanked her and left.

Jim didn't foresee putting himself in any actual danger, but he couldn't leave Maeve behind to deal with everything herself. Carol's report of this mysterious stranger made him worried and hopeful all at once. Worried that it might be something to do with all this incredible stuff he had learned so recently, and hopeful that it might indeed be a friend. They could use all the help they could get.

Jim noticed how Maeve watched the fires nervously. It was as if it wasn't the fire itself that worried her, but something it reminded her of. She had already taken the tractor out to cut a makeshift fire gap along the fence line, then cut the wire mesh in several places to assist the firefighters in their movements. Despite water drops and a line of firefighters, the blaze continued toward them, like some starving scarlet creature that had fixated on the park as its next meal.

Dusk fell as Maeve sat on the tractor, watching the red beast stalk her. She felt a sharp sensation run down her spine. Turning in anticipation toward the buildings behind her, she noticed a tall, lean figure ambling toward her. He stopped beside her and looked up to her perch on the tractor seat.

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by."

Maeve smiled at Adam gratefully. "Now, there goes your reputation again. Don't worry," she patted his shoulder as she slid off the tractor seat, "your secret's safe with me. I won't tell anyone you care." They watched the line of firefighters battling with the approaching blaze.

-----------------------------

MacLeod arrived at the house to find no one there. He checked the garage. No vehicles. The air here was clearer than that at the school he had just left and the radio hadn't reported any fires nearby. They were almost all south of this area now. He hurried inside anyway, checking the machine, hearing only his own voice imploring Methos to pick up the phone. Continuing into the bedroom, he replaced his suit with jeans and T-shirt. He was pulling on his boots when he heard an odd sound from the yard. He slicked his hair back and was securing it with a tie as he went to investigate.

Fortunato's enraged whistling could be heard from the barn. A stock trailer was opened and backed up to the paddock gate and Karen was standing on the wheelwell of the trailer, smacking at the reluctant rear ends of her cargo.

"What happened?" he asked her, startling her into almost falling. She would have if he hadn't steadied her.

"Maeve sent us out here. No where else to take them. GO ON!" she shouted at the beasts inside, her searching fingers finally capturing a creature's tail and giving it a quick twist. There was an indignant squeal, a clattering of hooves and several black and white striped equines burst out of their secure haven and into the unknown field ahead of them. One looked back at Karen balefully and switched its tail in an irritated fashion. Karen had no sympathy. "If you had moved when I asked you to, that wouldn't have happened."

Duncan chivalrously helped Karen down before asking concernedly, "What's going on at the park?"

"The fire's coming. There's nothing to stop it. Nothing but pines and grass all around us. By this evening they expect it to hit our land." Karen looked at the truck and trailer. "I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do with this thing. I can't go back to the park; the roads are closed."

"Leave it here, it should be fine." Duncan's heart sank at the thought of the park burning. All of Maeve's work, everything she'd poured herself into, gone. "How is Maeve?

Karen grinned a little. "Behaving like a drill sergeant. We got all the animals out, but the grounds may get hit pretty hard. She's worried and trying not to act like she is. She wouldn't leave."

Duncan smiled wanly. "I'm not surprised." Looking at the trailer he suggested, "Why don't you unhook this thing and come inside? You can call your family and clean up."

------------------------

In their borrowed safety gear, Jim and Adam stationed themselves near the perimeter fence, armed with shovels. Occasionally they were pressed into service to assist in controlling a wildly flailing firehose, but largely they were kept busy putting out newly ignited sparks. Maeve seemed to be everywhere at once, spotting new blazes almost as they started, rushing around with her own tools. Jim was worried about her. He realized she was not going to get hurt, at least not permanently, but something in her frenzy of action alarmed him. She seemed to be taking this all very personally.

-------------------------

Duncan saw Karen off in the park's truck and tried to ignore the squeaky braying from the pasture and Fortunato's indignant whistling from inside the barn. Loki found the new inhabitants of the pasture fascinating, until one of the zebras nearly took a mouthful of hide out of his rear end. The dog prudently returned to MacLeod's side and did not disturb the foul tempered equines again.

Duncan couldn't simply wait and hope. Damn the roadblocks, he was going in. He eyed the dog and told him, "You stay here out of trouble. Keep an eye on yon wee beasties." Loki perked up his ears at Duncan's deliberate thickening of his brogue and whuffed in reply.

-------------------------

"….helpless among the cinders.

I've prayed for rain when the sky was blue.

What else could I do?"

"Burning Timber" – The Rembrandts

By virtue of making made himself familiar with the back roads, power lines and paths of the area, MacLeod found himself pulling up to the park just after full dark. He scarcely recognized Jim, covered with soot and ash as he was. The park's director was taking a quick break, guzzling down water as quickly as he could, his gaze already returning to the fireline that grew ever closer. He turned to see Duncan standing there, almost at his elbow.

"So," grinned the Scot, "what do you people do for fun around here on a Saturday night?"

Jim chuckled wearily. "We all hang out at the wildlife park and hold a contest to see who can put the fire out. Want to join in on this week's competition?"

"Where do I sign up?"

After getting kitted up with the accoutrements of firefighting, Duncan stiffened in Recognition. Turning slowly, he was nearly bowled over by Maeve, who caught him in a fierce embrace. Jim tactfully slipped away, back to his position in the pine woods with Adam.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He held her at arm's length, inspecting her. Her eyes were reddened by smoke and soot, dirt and ashes begrimed her face, but her expression was relief overlaying the worry.

"I couldn't watch this on t.v. and let you get all the glory, now could I?"

"Attention hound," she accused. Tugging at his hand, she led him toward the buildings. "Here," she stationed him with her on a fire hose. "This is our precinct. The fire chief got tired of watching me run around like an idiot and made me hose some of the buildings down. Said I was making him tired." She shoved a tendril of hair, frazzled by a close encounter with an ember, behind her ear.

Duncan regarded her closely, after getting a firm grip on the brass nozzle. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," she said flippantly, but he could see the tension in her body, sheer adrenaline keeping her going over the exhaustion. She looked at him sideways, caught his doubtful expression. "Really. I promise."

He nodded, but didn't believe her. He knew her, too well sometimes.

----------------------------

The night overtook their efforts and the winds died down somewhat. The rate of the fire's movement slowed, but it still continued to creep insidiously across the open grassland and through the patches of pine trees. The air was so dry it felt like a desert wind, sapping the life out of everything, not at all like the lush tropical breezes that Florida was supposed to have. The buildings were safe, though; their monumental efforts had paid off and the fire was shifting, passing up the building complex.

Jim glanced over at Adam. The lean man swept a grimy hand across his face, leaving a trail of smut from temple to temple. He caught Jim looking at him and flashed a weary grin before stumbling off toward a section that hadn't been soaked as recently as their current position . Jim tottered along in his wake.

As they reached the far side of the buildings, Adam froze, assuming an attitude of listening. Jim stopped, straining his own hearing, trying to discern what it was that had so captured Adam's attention. Adam began to look around, peering into the darkness surrounding them. He spied Jim and pointed back the way they had come.

"Get back with the others. Find Maeve and stay with her."

Jim was confused by the sudden air of command in Adam's voice. It seemed very out of character.

"What?"

"There's something I have to take care of and you'll be safer as
far away as possible." There was no negotiation in Adam's voice; he fully expected Jim to comply immediately. Naturally, Jim held his ground.

"You'll have to do better than that, Adam."

The slender man's shoulders slumped impatiently and he sighed as he turned to face Jim. "I don't have time. You'll just have to trust me on this." He gazed into Jim's eyes, a burning expression in his eyes that had nothing to do with the fires around them. "Please." The glow in his eyes brightened and their intensity alarmed Jim somehow. "Please trust me this time."

Jim nodded once and turned to go back. From out of the darkness to his left, a large shadow detached itself and grabbed him by the throat. Instinctively, Jim drove an elbow into the man's midsection, but froze suddenly when he felt cold steel against his throat.

"Good boy," a voice hissed in his ear.

"Let him alone."

Jim looked up to see Adam standing before them, a naked sword pointed toward them. Jim felt a chuckle rumble through the huge body he was held against.

"I was trying to find the Kiernan woman, but you are a nice bonus. Pierson is it, this week? Or is it still Ben Adams? I can't keep them all straight."

"Let him go, Braddock." Jim heard the undeniable note of command again, this time directed toward his assailant. The grip on his throat loosened and he wheezed gratefully. The hand shoved him forward and he fell to his knees. Scrabbling crabwise, he moved away from the two men facing one another in the shadows. His captor came into full view. It was the same man he had seen in the parking lot that day. A huge man, easily twice the size of Adam, he moved with a deliberate grace, a massive broadsword twirling casually in his left hand.

"I don't have much use for mortals. No challenge in them, nothing for me at the end of the fight. But you seem awfully attached to them, Pierson. Never did understand it myself."

Adam never took his eyes off his opponent's face. "Go," he urged Jim, who needed no further encouragement. Gaining his feet, he hurried to the shelter of the nearest building. Once gaining the safety of the shadows, his curiosity got the better of him and he looked back. Adam didn't see him stop so close.

The two men circled one anther, looking like nothing so much as a pair of large cats vying for territory, stalking one another, waiting for the other to make the first move. Braddock moved first. He hurled himself at Adam with a shout that was audible even over the growing sound of fire and chaos. Jim watched, with a morbid fascination as they circled and slashed, Adam whirled around the larger man like a terrier after a mastiff. He worried the larger man incessantly, never giving him a moment to rest. Braddock was good; he moved with a speed that belied his size, but Adam's sheer strength of will wore him down. Finally, the big man stumbled and went to his knees. Before his weight had settled fully on them, Adam spun, sword held flat and level. It never slowed in its arc as it passed through his victim’s neck. The body toppled over and Adam went to his knees.

What happened next terrified Jim almost beyond comprehension. Blue lightning erupted from the severed stump of Braddock's neck and hit Adam with a wild ferocity. It ran across his arms and into his eyes, and tendrils swept from the fallen and the victor and headed outward, seeking. Some of them found Jim and struck. Jim couldn't even draw breath, let alone cry out; the pain and shock were so great. The electricity held him, shaking him like a dead rat, forcing him to the ground on his face, his back arching in agony, nearly to the point of breaking.

Adam screamed, a sound that was furious and pained. He jerked upright, body convulsing in the raw power that struck again and again. Somehow, in the throes of his possession, he saw Jim get hit by the fringes of the power and cried out again. There was nothing he could do. Dry grass ignited at Adam's feet, the flames gaining strength in the strange wind that accompanied the lightning storm. The blue bolts slowed and finally stopped, dropping his limp body to the ground. The fire spread in a circle from Adam outward, finding fuel enough in the parched vegetation.

Jim's taut posture relaxed abruptly as the effects wore off and he lay quiet. Adam dragged himself upright and hauled himself over to the stricken man. Rolling Jim over, Adam saw that Jim was conscious, but the surging power had overwhelmed him. Adam dragged him up, nearly falling again himself and they stumbled for shelter. The newly ignited flames registered on Adam's awareness and he swore.

"Oh shit," he breathed and cast about for anything to put out the flames, but all he held was his sword. Jim could only watch as the fire began to consume the outbuilding, knowing that it was inevitable that the rest would go soon. It was burning too hot and fast for anything to be done about it. The dry air had quickly reversed their efforts and they watched helplessly.

"You're one of them too, aren't you?" Jim already knew the answer but needed to hear it said. Adam had him leaning against a wall far enough from the new blaze to keep them safe but close enough that he could use its light to examine Jim's wounds. He had some burns on his face and hands, but was otherwise in fair enough shape.

Adam nodded, managing to look embarrassed, angry and indignant all at once. He got an arm under Jim's and half-lifted him the rest of the way up as they began to make their way back to the command center and away from the burning buildings.

"You could have said something before now," Jim accused, wanting to be angry, unsure why. He felt somehow betrayed, even though, in his heart, he realized it really wasn't any of his business. It was like being Jewish, or Muslim; it didn't show on the outside, but it could change the fundamental way that that person was viewed by others.

"I try to keep that particular information to myself; nothing
personal," Adam told Jim. Adam looked at the merrily blazing outbuilding, muttering, "Maeve is going to kill me."
-----------------------------
MacLeod was exhausted and he had been at this for several hours less than Maeve. She was steady on her feet, if a bit glassy-eyed.

The Quickening that he saw worried him until he felt the presence of another and saw Jim and Adam walking into the command center. Adam looked at him, raising an eyebrow and shrugging slightly, the simple eloquence of that gesture telling MacLeod all he needed to know. The two men vanished in another direction.

The fire was now actively consuming the entire complex. The outbuildings for maintenance were blazing merrily and several of the animal enclosures were beyond redemption. Now the hospital was catching, despite their having soaked the roof. The dry air had undone much of their good work; now the heat from the fires was undoing the rest. Maeve was frantic. She had seen the Quickening also and knew immediately what was to come. She tried to get closer to the building with the hose, but the oppressive heat drove her back again and again. Duncan finally caught her as she tried once more, having to physically drag her away from the flaming building. She pounded on him, struggling, but he suspected that her reaction was more frustration than any real desire to try again. He wrapped her up tight and her struggles finally ceased, her tear creased face looking out at the inferno from the safety of his arms.

-----------------------------

"I believe there is a power of healing that comes with experience.

I believe in believing your feelings even when they make no sense."

"Angels Of Mercy" -- The Badlees

Dawn came, the smoke turning the normal gentle morning glow into an obscene, lurid beacon.

Duncan sat with Maeve, hovering over her protectively, though she had retreated into a shell of her own making and probably didn't know he was there. At the tingle of Recognition, he stood and placed himself between her and whoever approached, though he was relatively sure who was coming.

Jim and Adam staggered toward their position against a portion of wall, all that remained of the nursery. The pair staggered along like drunks, random patterns marking their progress. Jim looked up, realized where he was and what he was looking at and he grew very still. Adam patted his arm solemnly, made sure the man could stand unassisted and continued on alone.

Adam came to Duncan. "Nice of you to show up."

Mac took in his friend's appearance. There were several burns through his clothing and one eyebrow was singed almost off. "You okay?"

"I'll live."

A heavy sigh sounded behind them and they turned to see Jim rubbing his eyes self-consciously. "Damn, damn, damn." He muttered. Then he drew himself up, speaking clearly and with determination. "Looks like I've got my work cut out for me."

"Where's Maeve?" Adam asked suddenly. Duncan nodded toward the corner where she was curled into a ball, arms wrapped around her knees and her face hidden under her curtain of hair. She had looked up briefly as Methos approached but dropped her head back down again.

"Is she going to be okay?" Jim asked worriedly. Although he knew that Immortals were practically indestructible physically, he couldn't be so sure about their mental faculties.

"Everything she's ever had has always been taken away by fire," Duncan said by way of explanation. "Now it's happened again."

"She has you," Jim said softly. He turned and wandered blearily to the coffee urn at the Red Cross tent.

"Wise man, that," Methos commented softly to Duncan as he moved to join Jim in his search for artificial energy.

Feeling slightly chastened, Duncan went back to Maeve and knelt before her. He sat quiet for a few moments before reaching out and placing a gentle hand on her head. She looked up slowly, the redness of her irritated eyes making the green irises glow intensely.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," he returned. "You okay?"

"I guess." Exhaustion weighed her voice down, pressed down on her, flattening her. It made her emotions harder to control, if she had the energy to feel anything. "It's all gone."

"You did everything you could. And you did get the animals out." He lifted her chin with his hand. "Fortunato is pissed off about the unwanted guests in his paddock. He's been screaming ever since they got there."

A shadow of a smile flitted across her face before it dropped back into its tired mask. Looking around dully, she surveyed the damage. "I can't do this again."

Duncan squeezed her shoulder. "You sure? I'm sure they would want you to stay."

She nodded. "I'm sure. I can't do it." She looked up into his eyes and he saw the spark of old memories again. "It was *fire* Duncan. The force of upheaval in my life."

He gripped her shoulder tighter. "He didn't do this, Maeve. It was just an accident of nature."

"I *know*, Duncan," she returned in exasperation, the flash of anger making him feel better about her state of mind. "It's just that every time a major change comes through my life, the fire brings it." She shuddered briefly. "And this time I brought it on myself."

"What?" he asked her in disbelief. "you didn't start the fire--"

"I might as well have. Braddock was after me, Duncan. If Adam hadn't been forced to fight him and take his head, the fire would have stayed out and the park would be safe. I've put my friends in danger again." She shook her head angrily. I'm not doing it again."

"You can't help what or who you are, Maeve," Duncan soothed, squatting down beside her to look her in the face.

"I know that," she replied in mild exasperation, as if he were missing the point. "That's why I can't stay. I want to go home."

Duncan helped her to her feet. "We'll go now."

"I mean back to Washington."

He turned to face her, looking deeply into her eyes. "Are you sure?"

She nodded wordlessly, leaning into him for support. He wrapped his arm around her and they walked to the car.

Jim and Adam watched as the couple made their slow way through the knot of workers.

"Will she be all right?" Jim asked Adam.

Adam sipped his coffee. "I expect she'll be fine, eventually. She's had a rough time of it and she gets attached." Seeing Jim's look of inquiry, he elaborated. "To people, to places. She tries to make a home wherever she goes."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, unless you are an Immortal. Things are so different for us, to see time pass so slowly for us, so quickly for others." He waved a hand at the destruction around them. "And when something comes along to *really* change things in a hurry, that has a tendency to throw an Immortal off kilter." At Jim's worried look, he reassured him. "She'll be fine. She always is."

"Just where does someone who is hundreds of years old call home?"

The innocent question caught Methos by surprise. He shook his head to clear it of memories of many homes he remembered, all as lost to him as the ruins around them.

"Anyplace you can hang your hat, my friend."

-----------------------------

Jim watched as Maeve tossed one last item into the tack room of the horse trailer. He felt helpless. He wanted to stop her, make her stay. He knew she felt guilty about the fire at the park, even though she hadn't had a thing to do with it, at least not directly. But nothing he said could change her mind. He approached her one last time before she got into the truck to bring up the tag end of the caravan going back to Washington.

"Carol wanted to see you off, but Kim's got chicken pox, so…" Maeve nodded in understanding. He went on. "I wish you'd stay. We could sure use your help."

Maeve smiled gratefully. "Call me anytime, but I just can't stay. I can't have something like this happen again. It's not fair to anyone."

He looked her right in the eye. "Are you going to run every time another one shows up for you?"

Her head popped up to look at him, narrowing her eyes in scrutiny. "It's one way to deal with it," she replied neutrally.

"You can't run forever," he told her.

A smile flitted across her face. "Now you sound like Mac," she accused.

"That must mean I'm right then," he smiled. Impulsively, he reached out; she stepped into his embrace and hugged him hard. When they finally separated, she dropped a set of keys into his hand.

"What's this?" he asked.

"The house," she replied simply and got into the truck.

He watched as it rolled down the drive, then went to unlock the front door. A note lay on the console table just inside the door. It read, "I knew you'd never accept it if I told you before we left, but this place is yours now. Save it for me if you feel you must, sell it, move in, do what you like. You need the room for that wild child of yours."

He dropped the note back on the table and shook his head in amazement. Bemused, he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hi. Yeah, she just left. I need to show you something."

Still mystified, he looked around him at the home Maeve had made, the home she left behind. The home that she felt was trapping her. It was beautiful, like the woman who had rescued it from ruin, as she had apparently done for herself many times over. It was a wonderful place for a family, a place to raise a child, a child she could never have. He would be proud to raise his daughter here, in this place she already loved, but he'd give it all back in a heartbeat just to have Maeve walk back through that door.

He was finally roused from his thoughts by Carol's voice on the other end, calling his name, worried at the long silence.

"Yeah, I'm here." He shook his head, still trying to take it in. "You'll never guess what she did…"

-----------------------------

"Ashes" by Tom Conry, 1978 New Dawn Music.

We rise again from ashes, from the good we've failed to do.
We rise again from ashes, to create ourselves anew.
If all our world is ashes, then must our lives be true
An offering of ashes, an offering to you.

We offer you our failures, we offer you attempts,
the gifts not fully given, the dreams not fully dreamt.
Give our stumblings direction, give our visions wider view,
an offering of ashes, an offering to you.

Then rise again from ashes, let healing come to pain,
though spring has turned to winter, and sunshine turned to rain.
The rain we'll use for growing, and create the world anew,
from an offering of ashes, an offering to you.

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