Summary: A woman from Methos' dark past returns to Seacouver. Did she really reform? Or is she up to the same old tricks? Character rebirth. Starts with a flashback from Methos' Four Horseman days.

WARNING: Attempted Rape, Violence, Language, and a Wonky Time-line because I don't know when the hell this is supposed to take place.

Disclaimer: I don't own Highlander, thats the creator's joy. I am in LOVE with ALL things HIGHLANDER and have been since the day I was born. If you don't believe me, ask my 'rentals.
Chapter 1- Iliana of Devon

Flashback: Bronze Age Devon, England.

Fire, the village of Kingsbridge was alight with the fire that these madmen had caused. Rampent chaos spred throughout the peasants and even the few Nobles of Kingsbridge. I had followed their carnage across four lands. Kingsbridge wasn't the first and it certainly wasn't the last. Though I knew nothing of this village, and nothing of the people, I did know that they had done nothing to charge these men to destroy it. They were as I was, Immortal, though most of them were young, a mere 200 years in age. The chaos that bleeds through this new country was fresh. I lived in the first village of Devon that they had attacked, Barnstaple. I had lived there only 20 years, but I was the only one to survive, so I called Devon my home. In honor of their memory. To trick these madmen would be hard. They were too sick on their own adrenaline to know that I had been tracking them. Besides, who looks to a woman when they can kill men? Or children? These men did not sense that I was one of them because they were too blind to see it. Though one of them, one of them was old, older than I, yet he was one of them, the strongest of them and the first to charge in and kill the innocense of the land. England was young, by my standards, innocense did still reside here, though it was weigning. The few Romans that had chosen to stay and make the country in the name of their God were tyrants that wished to take over land rather than busy themselves with helping those in the very country they lived in. The Old One jumped from his horse and walked around the flurry of moving bodies, stabbing one or two in his path. Then, I saw it. He had sensed me. The others were wrapped in carnage, ignoring the signs. I knew he would be the first to find my presence here. I had no sword on my person, so I walked out of the village as far as I could, hoping he could not track my path. I did this slowly, as not to call attention to myself. As it were, they were more interested in the ones who were running about. I reached the hill top overlooking the destruction and pillage of Kingsbridge. I sat on this hill, but gasped as cold steel touched the nape of my neck through my shock of matted blond hair. "You awfully young to be as good at tracking as you are." The Old One said.

"I'm not as young as I look. Nor is it hard to track you ruffiens." I stated, not moving from my spot. He had made no move to take my head, and I wasn't going to give him a reason to do so.

"How long have you been tracking us?" He asked, not moving the sword.

"Since you attacked my village, Barnstaple." I answered honestly. I was going to die anyway, he knew what I was and would kill me, take my Quickening. For he knew as well as I, that there was but one lasting rule among Immortals, in the End there can be only One.

"Why did you track us, child?" He asked. Was it possible that he did not know what I was? No. Impossible. He knew, he was toying with me.

"What does it matter? Kill me and get it over with, I'm not one for short conversation." I said calmly, looking out at his fellow predators, ripping the village to shreds, unaware of his absense.

"Why do you wish for death? Your village begged for their life, as did this one. Or is it, that you want to die? Because you have nothing to live for?" He said these words with bite, as though he were trying to anger me.

"I don't wish for death. I've lived too long, seen to much, yes. But you are a brute killer, why should I expect you to spare me?" Felt the blade move from my shoulder, I thought for sure he was lifting it up to take that final blow.

"I should take your head right now, keep you from becoming one of us." The sword stabbed into the ground next to me and he crouched down. He moved my hair from my neck. "Maybe, though, just maybe, I should help your process." I was right, he thought that I was destined to become an Immortal, not an already too old to remember my mother's face or where I was born.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but you are too late. As I told you before, I am older than I look." I stood and pulled his sword. He stood and looked at me shocked. I placed the blade to his neck. "Not only are you naive, but now you are weaponless."

He smiled at me, cockily. "What do you think you are doing with that? You haven't the skill or the training to kill me."

I laughed shortly. "You think me a child? I have been trained by the most skilled swordsmen in Rome and Greece. Egyptian kings have fallen by my hand. You know not of my skills or training. What do I call you, if I am to be your downfall?" I questioned. He smiled. The two halves of his face, blue and skin colored, scrunched into the smile.

"Death. My name is Death. And yours, if you are to be my killer?" He asked.

"Iliana of Devon." I drew back, to make my final strike.

"Wait, dearest Iliana, might I make a suggestion, before you kill me?"

I hesitated, but nodded, not releasing the hilt of the sword. "What?"

"This." And I felt a sharp blow hit the back of my head, and the world went into darkness.

Present

I wrapped the warm peacoat around me. The weather in Seacouver, Washington could freeze the hair off a cat. I reached the building I knew that he lived-well, occupied, half of his time. I walked through the doors to a gymnasium. It was a nice gym, if not a little worn down. I mean, how can they not call a decorator? Its not like its that expensive. I know for a fact that atleast two Immortals live there. They could afford it. I sat there for a second then sensed one of the said Immortals arrive. I turned to see an elevator land, and the screen lift. The man in the elevator had long, dark hair. He was broad and handsome. He drew his sword within sight of me. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, who are you?" He asked.

I smiled. "Put your sword down, Highlander. I'm not here for your head. Or anyone elses. I was hoping if you could help me find an old friend, Adam Pierson?" I asked. He brought his sword down and walked to me.

"Can I offer you a drink?" He asked, making his way towards an office.

"Tea, if you have it." He nodded and started to set up the maker.

"You never answered my question, who are you?" He questioned. He offered a seat and I took it.

"Elena, Elena Elden. Thanks." I said when he handed me the tea. He sat down on the otherside of the desk.

"So, how have you known Adam?" He asked.

"Years. We go way back." He stood and went across the desk.

"Let me take your jacket." He offered. I thanked him and stood. I unbuttoned my coat and he was standing behind me, hands on the collar.

I removed the jacket and he took it from me, hanging it up on a coat rake. "Hmm. The age of chivalry isn't dead. Nice to know." I smiled at MacLeod. He gave me a brief smirk and returned to his chair.

"It might be awhile before Adam shows, so-"

"I'm in no hurry. I wouldn't mind working out in your gym though. It seems like an amazing practice area." I said looking at the floor. He nodded and we went onto the floor. He handed me a boffing sword (boffing sword is a piece of pvc piping with cushioning around it, held on by ducktape.) I tied up my long blond hair and removed my high heeled boots. He bowed, and I bowed. We crossed swords, politely. Then he made his attack and I blocked. I striked and he blocked. He brought his sword down and tripped me. I fell, but not as he'd hoped. I was in a splits position and when he brought his sword down, I blocked efficiently. I brought my right leg around and tripped him, his sword flew away forgotten. With my left leg, I pinned him on his back while symultaneously pulling my body up just enough to stradle the Highlander. I pulled my sword up and put it to his chest. He just looked at me. "Guess this means I win?" I asked.

He smiled and nodded. "You're very good." He said. I smiled back.

I threw my sword away towards his. "Good to see I'm not rusty." Then we felt it, the presence of another Immortal. Long life line.

"MacLeod, I brought more beer. You weren't upstairs-" He stopped and looked at us. "And now I know why." How odd it must've looked. Even to a casual observer, it would've looked wrong. I, a woman who looked no older than 16, which I think was my age at my time of death, I couldn't remember, stratling a man who looked to be about 35 on the floor of a gymnasium. But, to him, it must've appeared worse. I stood up and helped MacLeod up as well.

"We were boffing, Me-Adam." Duncan said in explanation.

He held up a hand, stopping him. "No need to explain, Duncan." He dropped the brown bag on the floor and walked towards me. I was in the middle of the room. "Iliana. Or do you go by something else now?" He asked.

"Iliana is fine. Its been along time, Adam." I said.

"MacLeod knows." He said. "And yes, its been 300 years."

MacLeod walked around at us. "I'm confused." He said. We ignored him.

"What are you doing here?" He questioned.

"I came for your help, Methos. I've missed you." I said the last part in a whisper.

He crossed his arms. "What do you need my help with?" He asked, doubt in his voice.

I pulled the sleeve of my black Oxford shirt up, to reveal my tattoo. "If you'd been to a meeting, you would know that."

"When did you become a Watcher?" He asked.

"50 years ago. Its better than having them hunt me down, just as they've tried to hunt you. They won't put me on my case though. You were lucky." He walked around me like a predator stalking his prey. He really didn't trust me. Not that I deserved it.

"How have you survived being in the Watchers for 40 years? Daughter?" He asked. I nodded. "How did you know I was here?"

"Dawson knows who I am. He was the only one I trusted, since I knew he was friends with MacLeod. He's the one who told me you were here. He knew I'd been trying to find you." He went to the far wall and grabbed a real sword from its sheath. He pointed it at me.

"You shouldn't have come." He said. I looked at him slowly.

"Would you kill me? Unarmed?" I asked. He shook his head. He grabbed another sword and threw it at me.

"After all these years, you shouldn't have returned."

Flashback: Bronze Age Devon, England.

I woke up, groggily. The Earth seemed to spin. I became aware of an arguement not 10 feet from where I lay. It was not of my interest, so I paid it no attention. I put my arms on the ground below me and tried to lift up, but I was too weak. My arms gave way and I fell back to the earth. I groaned in agany, and the arguement was silenced. I heard feet stomping towards me, but I dared not open my eyes. Someone picked me up and turned me onto my back. I opened my eyes, to meet the terrifying face of one of the tyrants that raided the villages, it wasn't the Old One. The last I remembered, I was about to take the Old One, called Death's head and a sharp blow, undoubtibly from the hilt of a sword, then the darkness. It took my eyes a second to adjust. "You woke in the knick of time, child." The brute said. I dared not answer. I heard tearing cloth and felt fresh air hit my flesh. "Its been a long while since I've had one so young." Clumsily, he was trying to unsheath his natural weapon, and when he did, I knew what was coming. "I pray you a virgin." Was all he said. (The lack of good grammer was meant) I awaited the blow to come but instead his weight was lifted off of me. My eyes were shut, I knew not who my savior was or if I were even saved. I felt my body being lifted and I opened my eyes. The light stung and I waited for them to adjust. I looked into the face of the one holding me. 'Twas Death. And I looked upon the face of Death and knew not sorrow, but joy. (If someone could tell me if thats a quote or not, it'd be much ablidged.) He was the savior, though everything about him said opposite. Could this enraged killer hold any form of compassion? Or was he planning on being the one to do it? I saw that we had reached a river and he threw me down on the bank.

"Clean yourself, you haven't bathed in weeks, if you've been tracking us that long. I'll leave you some of my clothes, but then you leave. You do not return. If you do, Kronos will kill you. But he'll do much, much worse than that." And with that, he began to walk away.

"Why did you save me?" I ventured to question. He rounded on me, his face no kinder than when he'd dropped me.

"I am many things, and I admit freely to being each of those things. But, I will not allow for one of my men to defile a body such as yours. Though you may well be beyond your apparent years, your body is still young." He knew that he was showing his weakness and he spat it out like poison.

"Is it possible that you have such compassion? I remember not how old I was when death crashed through my doors and I was taken into this existance, but I was aged well beyond 16 years, yet you still worry for my well being?" I admitted freely to him, questioning his awareness of such feeling was dangerous, I knew this and still did so.

"It is not out of compassion that I save you. It is out of my own disgust at such things." He turned once again.

"The man, Kronos, you called him. He has another name, does he not? I heard someone call out to him in the village, naming him War. Does that mean you have another name as well?" He looked at me.

"I do. Some call me Methos. It has been my name since my memory could serve me well." He answered.

"May I call you that? Rather than Death?" I asked.

He came towards me where I stood and grabbed my arms. "You call me nothing. You bathe, you clothe, you leave. Unless you are prepared to be one of us, unless you are prepared to be a killer." He said this with furocious passion. If nothing else, he was a passionate man. His face was within inches of mine. Though Greecian beauty was caked in mud and my golden hair was matted and dirty, I knew that no man would be able to resist me. It was then my decision was made.

"Teach me." I replied and placed my hands on the back of his head, intertwining my fingers with the locks of his long, darkened hair. I crashed my lips on his, kissing him with all my might. In Greece, we were taught to be open with our sex, no holding back. If desire took hold, bring it forth. Desire for a man I should otherwise hold none for did come and I brought it forth. At the beginning, he was taken aback, then he returned the kiss. His tongue tore into my mouth, and I willingly let it. There was passion in this man, so much more than I had thought possible. No wonder he was a killer, there was a fire in him and that was his outlet. I wanted to know more of this passion, to know how to feel this passion in my own person. As quickly as our kiss had heated up, was as abruptly it ended. He shoved me off.

"Clean yourself. Dress and come to the camp. Do not do that again if the others are in view." With that he left. I saw clothes discarded on the bank at my feet.

Present

"What did you expect us to do? Roll out the welcome mat?" He questioned.

He swung his sword and I ducked. "No. But I didn't expect you to try and take my head either." I returned his swing and he blocked. I backed away and tried to avoid his blade. "I don't want to fight you, Methos."

"Then you shouldn't have returned." He charged and I threw my sword away and got down on my knees. The action caused him to faulter. But he raised his sword.

"Do it. Take my head. For my crimes I deserve to die." He started to swing, but stopped again. "Please. I'm here for the taking. Do it. Please, Methos, just do it." I begged. Again, he hesitated.

"Maybe you should hear her out."

"Stay out of it, MacLeod." Methos barked. Methos looked at me.

"I've been in this position before, many times, in many places. Yet every time I am, you refuse. This time, don't hesitate, don't back away. Swing that sword, take my head, take my power. I've lived too long, seen too many things. You wish me dead, now do it!" I yelled. He yelled and threw his sword across the room.

"Get out of here, and don't come back." He said. I got up and left, leaving coat and sword behind.

Duncan and Methos' P.O.V.

They went up to Duncan's apartment above the gym. Methos threw Duncan a beer, took one for himself and restocked the fridge. His thoughts trying to avert what happened down in the gym. He popped the cap from his bottle and sat down on Duncan's couch. Duncan watched him as he lowered his head back against the armrest and close his eyes. "Methos, who was she? Really?" Duncan asked.

"Are you sure you want to know, MacLeod?" Methos asked not opening his eyes.

"No, I'm not. But you're going to tell me anyway." Duncan answered, sitting in his chair.

"Fine." Methos said sitting up and looking at Duncan. He took in a deep breath. "I met Iliana in the Bronze Age. The Horsemen and I were riding through Devon, pillaging and burning every village we came across-"

"Elena is Iliana, then? And I don't need details on your excertions, Methos." Duncan cut in.

"Yes. Iliana was living in Barnstaple, the first village we hit once entering Devon. We thought we'd killed everyone, but I had sensed her there, but I didn't know how young she looked and I couldn't pick her out from the rest of the bodies. When we moved on from that village, she had began tracking us. I finally caught her overlooking the destruction of Kingsbridge. I thought she wasn't aware of her Immortality. I mistook her youthful appearance and I expected her to be just as young as she looked. She wasn't. She's old. Almost as old as I am. She nearly took my head, because I was so careless. Kronos knocked her unconscious before she could do it. When she woke up, Kronos tried to rape her. Even then, I wasn't up to rape. I pulled him off of her, brought her down to the river. I gave her clothes and told her to clean up. I told her that when she was done, that she should leave. Unless she wanted us to turn her into one of us. A killer. She replied by kissing me. So thats what we did. We turned her into a killer and she was worse than I could ever have been. When we reached Cassandra's village. Once we had, and I kept her alive, I asked for Iliana to leave with me. She wouldn't, she wouldn't even consider it. Thats the day when Iliana of Devon became Death."

"You mean to tell me, that that young girl, was Iliana of Devon? The Iliana of Devon? She's more of legend than you are."

"She's alot older than she looks, MacLeod. She didn't know how old she was even then. I'm guessing either her memory is pourer than mine or she's much older than I am. In Greece, they thought she was Aphrodite in human form. People would worship her, MacLeod. Yet, she never gained the attitude that went with it, after God knows how long she moved from Royalty in Greece to poverty in England. When I had met her, she was wearing a burlap sack as dress, dirt for make up and her hair hadn't been brushed or cleaned in probably 10 years." He said.

Duncan looked at him. Thoughts were swimming in his mind. "Did you love her?" Duncan asked.

Methos seemed to think about this. "I did. She was part of the reason why I was so easily reformed."

"Why can't you kill her? You killed Kristin easily enough, and she hadn't killed nearly as many as Iliana and you took her." Duncan stated in curious revery.

"As you said yourself, MacLeod. It isn't easy taking the life of a woman you've held in your arms, a woman you've made love to. You and Kristin were together less than 50 years. Iliana and I were together for 500 years. What she said was true, she's gotten on her knees many times, and every single time, she's begged for me to kill her because thats what I've set out to do, and every time, I couldn't do it." Methos said getting up.

"That doesn't answer my question-why?" Duncan demanded.

"BECAUSE!" He yelled throwing his empty beer bottle towards the kitchen, causing it to shatter into the sink. Duncan sat up fast. "I love her. Is that what you need to hear? I love her. No matter how hard I've tried, no matter what I've done, no matter who I've been with, I've loved her. I haven't been able to stop loving her for almost 4,000 years, MacLeod. And every time, every damn time she gets on her knees and begs me to kill her, I can't because I don't know if I could live without her in this world, knowing that she died by my hand."

Flashback: The Bronze Age Devon, England

I brought the bear fur blanket closer to my face, as the air had gotten colder with the changing season. I lay naked in this bed of fur, lying next to him. I had long forgotten what purpose my tracking them had original been forged, but now that I was one of them, I felt no need to wonder. Methos and I made love every night. Thought Kronos and the other two barbarians that slunk along in this camp wished that they could have their turn, I was satisfyed with who I had. Love was irrelevant in the lives we led, but if there were a way of loving him, I had found it. 500 years had passed since our fatefull meeting atop that hill overlooking Kingsbridge. 550 years from my first arrival in this infernal land. Though I still missed Greece, I took satisfaction to the pain and suffering I caused. I killed plenty, Pagan or Christian, it didn't matter. All that did was that it was a joyous time and there were a plethera of mortals for the taking. The taste of blood was in my mouth as a permanant reminder of these advents. I knew nothing of conscience or pity, I knew only what Methos had taught me. Kill, live, enjoy. I had to say that I was an apt pupil. First my lessons were rocky, but I was a quick study and completed efficiently and with pride. Who knew that this bliss would be coming to an end? We dressed quickly for the days events. We would be attacking a small village outside of Kent. "Iliana, I want you to stay here for this-these people are skilled beyond our normal range and I won't risk them catching you." Methos bargained.

"Do you think that I am not able to take care?" I asked unable to believe that he did not trust my aptitude.

"I believe you are able, my love. But I won't risk it. Stay here, care for the camp, we will return at dusk." He kissed me. I felt the passion in his soul. We walked out upon the encampment. Everyone mounted up and ready.

"Oh, are you not joining us, Iliana? Pity, we could've done with a good distraction." Kronos jaunted. I picked up Methos' sword to hand it to him. "Ah, Methos, you have your bitch doing everything for you."

"Never call me a bitch, Kronos." With that I took the sword and cut his right eye, a failed attempt at cutting it out. The oafs laughed, Methos went to me and took the sword from my hand.

"Lets leave, before more damage is done here." He said. He kissed me briefly, mounted his horse, and they took off. Kronos swearing as he rode away.

Present

I sensed an Immortal approaching before he'd even entered the building. I watched out the window as Duncan made his way to my hotel. The doorman buzzed up, to inform me I had a visitor, I granted the access. I opened the door as Duncan left the elevator. "You knew it was me?" Duncan asked entering and taking off his coat.

"I saw you from the window. Please have a seat. I'd offer you something but I'd have to go down to the market." I said. Duncan laughed and I smiled. He took a seat on the leather couch. I sat on the bed across from him. "Why did you come, Duncan?" I asked.

"I came to find out what you needed Methos' help with." He answered. I got up and walked to the small table in the 'living' area. On it was a file. I handed the manila folder to Duncan. "Artus Kemp?" Duncan asked.

"His watcher was found dead, decapated, on Pier 7 here in Seacouver. Matthew checked in with us before his body was found. Kemp moved to Seacouver just under a month ago. From what little evidence we could gather, we guess it was Kemp who did the beheading. Whether he knew it was a mortal or not, we don't know, but Davidson thinks he knew that Matt was a watcher. All the information we have on him is in that file. Kemp killed over 65 people in Europe before even coming to America and thats over the last year, I'm in charge of finding him and having him locked up, but I can't help it if another Immortal beats me to it. Since 'Adam' wasn't at the meeting, logically he was my first choice. But that was a bust." Duncan closed the folder and sat it down.

"I'll take care of it. Before I forget, you left these." He handed me my coat and sword.

"Thanks." I took them and put them in the tiny wardrobe.

"Iliana-can I ask you a personal question?" He asked. I looked at him.

"Sure." I said shrugging. I sat down on the bed again and he looked me in the eye.

"Why do you beg for Methos to kill you? He says you've been doing it for centuries. Every time you two meet, you fight, then you throw down your sword and tell him to kill you. Why?"

I looked away from his eyes and stood. I went to the window. "Because, before we fight, he acts as though he hates me. When I throw down my sword, I order him to take my head. If he hesitates, it means he still loves me. If he doesn't, whats the point in living anymore?" I finished looking at him. He looked at me as though he understood perfectly.

"He makes it sound as though you were one of the greatest evil Immortals, yet from where I stand, you seem alot like you're not even close." Duncan told me. I smiled brief.

"I was one of the most evil. I was also one of the first. Methos forgets or perhaps he doesn't forget, that he's the one who taught me to be evil. When he left me, for Cassandra, for the greater good, I was angry. I had lived that way for 500 years. I didn't know if I could change. As soon as Methos left, Kronos offered me his place, but only if I were his new consort. I realised my mistake, when he said this. I knew that what Methos and I had had was real. I ran from them. I went back to Greece. I stayed there for 300 years, I spent another 600 in Asia. I didn't kill another Immortal or mortal for 1,000 years. When I thought it would be safe, I returned to England. Methos remembers what I was with him, not who I was once he had left. He assumed the worst. He didn't keep tabs. He just waited for us to meet again. Thats when this started. The last time we saw eachother. We were in Rome, and I had been assaulted by a street vendor. The man was trying to force himself on me. He'd brought out a knife and I tried to take it from him, the man ended up stabbing himself in the heart. All Methos saw was the man fall and my hands coated in blood, with the knife in my hand. He thought I'd killed him in cold blood, he never asked what happened. He just drew his sword, we fought, I stopped, he hesitated. Even then, he hesitated, right afte he thought I had killed a man." I laughed to myself. It sounded a bit hysterical, even to me. Duncan stood and walked over to me. He seemed to understand, and he wrapped sympathetic arms around me. We hugged and I let myself get close for the first time in centuries.

Attention: Okie Dokie, it spent me 6 goddamn hours to write this so if I don't get a review, I'll be pissed the fuck OFF! So please review. Unless you can't tell, I'm very passionate about my Highlander and I'm dedicated to making it as perfect as possible. So, please appreciate how much work goes into it. With the flashbacks, I try writing it in a different style because I think it helps paint the reader a picture of how different the times were back then. So, the flashbacks here were Bronze Age and no one is real sure what it was like because there isn't exactly a written history on it, so I guessed, just like the creators of Highlander had too. Remember, review.