Paris, Five Days Later.

Methos slogged up the stairs to his flat, let himself in, and collapsed on the couch. He'd picked up a week's mail in the downstairs hall; but he dropped it on the floor, too tired to look at it.

Virtually his entire life had been an "act," for as long as he could remember. He was so well adapted that he usually didn't find that tiring. But this week had been different. Meeting Megan's family and colleagues...having to pretend he still knew nothing about her last assignment, hadn't heard from her since she'd left Paris, hadn't heard of Matthew Hale or Gary Lundquist...he'd been under a constant strain. Unsure, for the first time in years, "how to play it." How hard should he seem to be trying to learn details of her assignment? Should he be too grief-stricken to care? Could a wrong decision arouse suspicions about him? Jeopardize his future in Paris - even his life?

Knowing that Megan had made an enemy she believed was dangerous, he'd had to consider the possibility that she'd been murdered. She'd scored a triumph over the ambitious Hale when the Watchers adopted her idea for a more humane Sanctuary. Might Hale have killed her for revenge?

After all this time?

Matthew Hale had been...not what he'd expected. In more than one way.

He'd made "casual" inquiries of other Watchers in the last two years, and learned that just about everyone shared Megan's view of the man. Egotistical, domineering, snide. He'd been prepared for veiled digs from him. For hints that Megan wouldn't have been in the U.S. - and thus wouldn't have died - if he, Adam, had either (a) asked her to marry him, or (b) been a more adept lover.

Instead, Hale had gone out of his way to be polite. Methos hadn't sensed any difference in tone between him and Lundquist. Or any rivalry between them.

That made him, not less, but more suspicious. Hale had been acting, as surely as he himself had.

And no one does that without a reason.

He dozed on the couch for a few minutes. Woke with the annoying sense that he'd had a bad dream, which left him more tired than he'd been before - even though he couldn't remember it.

Sighing, he bent and picked up the stack of mail.

A blurb on the topmost envelope made clear it was an offer of yet another credit card. He tossed it back on the floor, unopened.

A travel brochure joined it.

And then he froze in shock, as he saw the handwriting on the next envelope.

Another letter from Megan!

She'd written his address in haste - the writing was almost a scrawl, but still recognizably hers. The postmark gave a place name he didn't recognize, but it was in New York State. The small town nearest the Sanctuary? And the date was that of her death.

He ripped the envelope open, skimmed through the letter.

Sat on the couch till he managed to stop trembling.

Then he got to his feet, slipped the letter into a pocket, and headed out.

x

x

x

He walked the streets of Paris for two hours. Telling himself he didn't know where he was going - possibly wasn't going anywhere in particular.

But all along, he really had known where he'd wind up.

I have to tell him. If there's even the slightest danger, I have to warn him.

And yes, I need to see him for my own sake. I need to share this with the person who's, maybe, the closest thing I have to an Immortal friend.

So he went through the gate, up the walk, and reverently entered St. Joseph's Chapel.

He had, of course, already sensed the presence of the man he sought. He would have been alarmed if he hadn't; in recent centuries, Darius was always there.

He'd be there, Methos felt sure, as long as the building stood. And he'd be somewhere in Paris as long as the city itself endured.

x

x

x

He saw Darius come out of the sacristy - making it look, briefly, as if he was coming out at that moment by chance. He couldn't have heard the chapel door open and close. And for all he knew, the Immortal he'd sensed might be accompanied by one or more mortals who had no idea what their companion or the priest really was.

When he recognized Methos, he smiled, and hurried to meet him. But as he drew close - better able to see his visitor's face, in the dim light - the smile faded. He extended a hand, and as Methos gratefully shook it, he murmured, "I'm always glad to see you, my friend. But you look troubled. Let's go back to one of my private rooms, where we can have a real talk!"

Methos nodded. "Thank you, Darius." But then he took a moment to face the altar and genuflect - knowing Darius would appreciate the gesture, despite his having no illusions about the ancient Immortal's beliefs.

x

x

x

Five minutes later he was in a homey kitchen/den, sipping something Darius assured him was tea. Wishing he could exchange it for a beer.

Dropping into a chair opposite him, Darius said, "I wouldn't have risked calling you 'Methos' even in the nave of the church. And I realized I'm not sure what name you're using now. Are you still Watcher Adam Pierson?"

"Yep. I passed myself off as being only twenty when I began using this identity - dress and hairstyle can make people believe almost anything these days! So I should be able to use it for a good many more years.

"But you were right about my being troubled. And my being a Watcher has a lot to do with it -"

Seeing new alarm in the other man's eyes, he hastened to say, "No, I haven't gotten inside information about something bad having happened to anyone we both care about! But a woman I once loved, maybe still loved - a fellow Watcher - died a few days ago."

"I'm sorry -"

But Methos wasn't pausing. "And since her death, I've learned things that are...downright horrifying."

x

x

x

He began by telling Darius, as succinctly as possible, what he'd known before Megan's death. Darius's stunned reaction proved he'd never heard of the Sanctuary.

"Maybe I should have told you about it before," Methos said contritely. "But it didn't seem important, except for someone who hoped to become the One...or needed reassurance that the end of the millennium won't bring the Gathering. You've never struck me as being worried on that score."

"Uh, no. I expect Immortals to be around for a long time."

"I hope you're right. Anyway, last week, Don Salzer gave me the bad news about Megan..."

He described his and Salzer's trip to the U.S. for her funeral.

Darius winced. "That must have been a nightmare for you - when you were grieving, having to remember all the time not to let the people around you see how much you knew! I understand that you always have to be cautious, but this must have been...way beyond normal."

"Yes, it was. Knowing what I did - and not more - was maddening. But when I got home, I found this waiting for me."

He pulled the envelope out of his pocket. His hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't open it - so he thrust it at Darius, and let him do it. "Another letter from Megan. Read it yourself!"

Because, damn it, I think I'm about to cry...

"Dear Adam," this letter began, "Everything's going to hell here. I'm trying to get away - yes, to escape! If they catch up with me, I'll probably be dead by the time you read this.

"But I have to get word out. To you. All Immortals are facing a new danger..."

x

x

x

The Sanctuary, September 1992.

"I told you this wouldn't work!" Matthew Hale was almost screaming. "Megan and her damn newfangled ideas..."

Megan was as angry as he was. "Shut up, Matthew! You know damn well that we all argued against uprooting the slumberleaf! We should have had it as a backup - I was just as adamant about that as you were. But now we don't have it, and wasting time bitching about my 'newfangled ideas' won't solve our problem."

She couldn't help wondering whether the "problem" was of his making. Would he have dared go so far - in hopes of discrediting her - as to convince the Tribunal to order the slumberleaf destroyed, then sabotage their drug order? Waiting almost two years to do it, so the mix-up in communications with their supplier wouldn't look suspicious?

Now he said, "The Tribunal knew what we were doing here, but for centuries, no one had really thought about it. Not till Megan raised a ruckus about how 'inhumane' it was. So then they got all upset and went to extremes to change things. If she'd been more temperate about it, they might have been more temperate, too! Let us keep the slumberleaf -"

Gary Lundquist said wearily, "Knock it off, Matthew. This is no time for finger-pointing. Like Megan said, we're wasting time."

They'd discovered they'd been shorted in their latest order, sent too little of the drug needed to keep the Immortals heavily sedated. They weren't missing much, but they couldn't afford any lack of that drug.

"We can't possibly get more here by the time we'll need it," Jess Mayhew said grimly. "Even if we order by phone and have it rushed to us. Or break into the nearest hospital and steal it! That's the problem with being in the boonies - no hospital's close enough."

Megan stated - as she thought - the obvious. "So rather than risk having all of them wake up at some point, causing mass confusion, we'll have to bring one back to consciousness for, maybe, ten hours or so. That's not a tragedy. We can at least be thankful they're nourished and hydrated now, so the man won't suffer while he's awake."

An older male Watcher objected. "No, there's an alternative. We could 'kill' one of them - temporarily, I mean! Smother him, maybe, while he's unconscious. And then keep him 'dead' till we've gotten the damn drug in."

While he was speaking, his suggestion was almost drowned out by cries of revulsion.

A woman said, "Maybe we should call the Tribunal and ask them which way to go?"

Lundquist shook his head. "No. I'm not going to pass the buck. Or condone deliberately killing a man, even temporarily! Letting them die over and over again - something they'd agreed to - was bad enough. Deliberate killing is worse, however painlessly we might do it.

"So we'll do as Megan said. Revive one of them."

Matthew, and a few others, scowled.

Lundquist took a deep breath. "Now we'll have to agree on which one."

When no one else spoke up, Megan did. "I vote for Jonathan. For two reasons. English is his native tongue - so even after a thousand years, we'll probably be better able to communicate with him than with some of the others. And he'd only been Immortal for a few months before he came into the Sanctuary - so he may be better able to relate to mortals, understand our concerns, than any of the others."

Matthew was quick to protest. "She just wants to see Poole conscious! I swear, she has some kind of crush on him!"

"I do not!"

But whether or not she had a "crush," she knew she did want to see him conscious.

Lundquist was frowning. He let the group babble for a few minutes, suggesting other names. Then he raised a hand.

"I've decided it will have to be Poole. For the reasons Megan mentioned - and others.

"All these Immortals came into the Sanctuary of their own free will. They knew it was a permanent commitment. But still, if one of them sees how different our clothes and speech are, and realizes centuries must have passed, he might change his mind and want to leave. God knows how the Tribunal would handle that! But instead of waiting to find out, he might just attack us.

"Or they may have been affected, somehow, by not having taken Quickenings in that length of time. We don't understand their kind that well - a thousand-year abstinence may have driven them insane.

"So the safest one to revive is the 'young' one we know had no extraordinary 'powers.' Poole."

Those arguments had a sobering effect on everyone. They all nodded agreement...and fell into step behind Lundquist, wordlessly, as he left the chapel and stalked toward the elevator.

x

x

x

In the underground facility, Lundquist had to make several phone calls to arrange for purchase of the drug. Two Watchers were sent to pick it up. As they'd expected, a long drive would be required, even assuming they didn't encounter any problems - and that was by no means certain, when they weren't dealing with their usual supplier.

Then more time was wasted debating where the others should revive Poole. The Immortals' reclining frames no longer looked like instruments of torture, and none of their "guests" appeared to be uncomfortable. Matthew thought Jonathan might accept what was happening more easily if he could see his "sleeping" mentor Talfryn. But Lundquist finally decided they should move him to the nearby bedroom Cadre members sometimes used when they needed a quick nap.

They disconnected all his tubing, carried him into the bedroom, and put him in bed - fully clothed, in the way they normally clothed the Immortals. "Not natural when someone's in bed," Lundquist admitted. "But he'll be more at ease this way, when he has to wake up among a bunch of strangers." They even put socks - though not shoes - on his feet.

Lundquist decided that only he, Matthew, and the three who'd been caring for Jonathan - a group that now included Gerard Roget, along with Megan and Jess - should stay at his bedside. The others, anxious as they were, would have to wait outside the room. (Megan wished he'd sent Matthew with them.)

Jonathan slept for another fifteen minutes before stirring, yawning, then slowly opening his eyes.

He saw the group gathered around him. Blinked twice - and then sat bolt upright. "Wh-what's befallen us? Where am I? Talfryn! Where be Talfryn?"

Predictably, Matthew muttered, "I told you so."

Lundquist put a hand on Jonathan's shoulder, and said quickly, "Everything's all right, Master Poole! Talfryn is sleeping peacefully, in another room. We needed to wake you - briefly - but not because anything is wrong. It'll just be for a few hours, and then we'll let you go back to sleep."

"Sleep?" Jonathan thrust the restraining hand off him. "Why should I wish to sleep?" His voice rose - though whether in anger or panic, it was hard to tell. "Who are ye?"

"Jonathan!" Megan hoped he'd recognize her voice. "We're Watchers. You must have met some of us - other Watchers - before. Remember? And I've been talking to you, sometimes, while you slept."

That got his attention. "Y-yes. Methinks I have...heard thy voice before...mayhap in dreams..."

Their eyes met. And she knew, suddenly, that she wanted to help this man - in whatever way he needed.

She wasn't prepared for his saying, "Thou art...just as beautiful as thy voice."

She gulped. "You - thou - thou art very handsome." Which was true.

Matthew made an impolite sound.

But Megan's beauty had only distracted Jonathan for a moment. He turned away, looked quizzically at each of the five mortals surrounding him. Focused, frowning, on Matthew.

So Matthew must have had an especially unfriendly expression on his face, Megan thought wryly. Doesn't he always? Damn!

"Where am I?" the frustrated Jonathan cried out again. Then he asked her, "Ye call yourselves 'watchers'? Watchers of what?"

"Of...of Immortals!" Could he possibly not have known that?

Suddenly, he let out a near-shriek. Grabbed her hand - violently.

"What be this?" he bellowed.

The tattoo he'd seen on her wrist.

"The insignia of our organization..."

He thrust her away from him. "The brigands who attacked us? Ye - all of ye - be like them?"

"What? 'Brigands'?" Five horrified voices.

Jonathan lurched out of bed. Stumbled and fell, before anyone could grab him; while he might - in theory - be in peak physical condition, his legs hadn't seen use for a thousand years. But he struggled up again, pushing the Watchers away from him and yelling about "brigands."

As other members of the Cadre rushed into the room, Lundquist and Matthew overpowered him and forcibly sat him down on the bed.

"Listen to me," Lundquist said in a tight voice. "You've probably forgotten what happened. You and Talfryn agreed to go with...other members of our organization. To go into a protected Sanctuary, as some other Immortals were doing, so there could never be a 'Gathering' that would leave one survivor with the power of all..."

"This be madness!" Jonathan raged. "I heard nought of such a thing! We were attacked, outnumbered! By varlets wearing medallions with the same 'insignia' as yours!"

Megan gripped Lundquist's arm and said urgently, "Gary - what if Talfryn had agreed to enter the Sanctuary, but hadn't even mentioned it to Jonathan? And then, when the Watchers showed up sooner than he'd expected and seemed prepared to abduct Jonathan because of what he'd heard, Talfryn changed his own mind?"

Jonathan had understood that well enough that he howled an objection. "Talfryn would ne'er have gone anywhere with those scoundrels!

"His friend Corentin had told us, weeks before, that mortal brigands had attacked him. Some wore medallions with a device he'd ne'er seen before. He fought them off - that time. But a few days later, he disappeared.

"We thought they'd had some quarrel with him alone. But e'en so, Talfryn cast a Druidic spell to protect our house. And they faked a carriage accident to draw us out! We rushed out seeking to help, not taking weapons, and they set upon us and beat us insensible!"

By now all the Watchers were stunned, murmuring things like "Oh my God." The blood had drained from Lundquist's face. But he said weakly, "There's some misunderstanding. No Tribunal would ever have allowed what you're claiming -"

"A pox on all of ye!" Jonathan leapt to his feet again - and all at once, his hands were around Lundquist's throat. "Have ye let one of our kind, some villain, take Talfryn's head? Deemed mine not worth the taking? No, the head be not worth much - but these hands be strong enough to rip thy head from thy shoulders!"

"Jonathan!" Megan flung herself at him, clutched one of his arms. "Please, don't hurt him! I believe you - I think everyone else does, too. And no one's taken Talfryn's head! He's alive, and so is Corentin. I swear it!"

He looked at her. Hesitated, then loosened his grip on Lundquist...

In her peripheral vision, Megan saw Matthew moving toward...a lamp? Picking it up...why on earth was he interested in a lamp?

Then, just in time, she realized what he meant to do. Pulled Jonathan out of the way an instant before that lamp would have crashed into his head.

Jonathan roared. Struck out wildly at Matthew - knocking him down, but probably doing no serious damage - then headed for the door, pushing frightened Watchers aside. Megan and Jess trailed along, making no attempt to stop him.

When he found himself in a huge, dimly lit cavern, he paused in confusion. But then his expression changed, eyes widened.

Megan knew at once what had happened. He's sensed the other Immortals!

He started in that direction. But Watchers crowded around him again, blocking his way. And as Lundquist tried to reassert his authority, Gerard Roget caught Jonathan in a bear-hug. Said confidently, "I can restrain him, Gary. He still doesn't have his normal strength."

Megan looked into Gerard's eyes. And saw an urgency there. (Jess was looking his way, too.) He made an ever-so-slight movement of his head. In the direction away from the other Immortals...

Both women got the message. They began vociferously arguing with Lundquist - and with Matthew, once again at his side. All four now "agreed" that Jonathan had to be held prisoner till they could drug him again...and then consult the Tribunal. But Megan and Jess were insisting he should be allowed to see Talfryn and Corentin. The two men opposed that, saying the sight of them as they were now would only make him more angry. All the others were caught up in the argument, paying close attention, and occasionally contributing their two cents' worth.

All but Gerard. Megan knew, without looking, that he was doing some fierce whispering into Jonathan's ear.

Telling him he'll have to leave Talfryn for now, and let Gerard help him get the hell out of here.

When she heard the sound of the two men's pelting feet, she raised her voice in an attempt to cover it. But that only worked for a second. And Matthew hit her - hard, with his fist - before everyone ran after them.

x

x

x

Gerard and Jonathan were out of sight. When the first pursuers found that the elevator was now on the upper level, Lundquist said grimly, "Roget may just have paused for a second to send it up - I'm guessing they took the tunnel. Anyway, that's where I'm going. Not waiting for the damn elevator!"

And off they went, racing through the eerie tunnel that led outside the Sanctuary grounds.

Megan, running with the others, scarcely dared to hope. I couldn't get them much lead time. I'm sure they did come this way. And Jonathan really can't be at full strength now, not for a long run. The poor man doesn't even have shoes on!

She wondered why she wasn't seeing Matthew...

As she'd feared, they caught up with the fleeing pair not far beyond the tunnel. Gerard was half-supporting an exhausted Jonathan. But both men kicked, clawed, and spat at the Watchers who ultimately subdued them.

The group prepared to drag their quarry back to the Sanctuary. Megan and Jess, at this point, were being treated almost as roughly as the captives.

But when Megan thought the situation couldn't get any worse, it did. A voice called out, "Wait!"

Matthew, coming on the run. And now Megan saw why he'd been delayed. He'd stopped to get something from a storeroom.

Oh God, no.

A sword.

At the sight of that, all the Watchers began to scream.

Lundquist lunged at Matthew, and briefly restrained him. "No, Matthew! For God's sake, we can't behead him! Holy ground -"

"We're outside the Sanctuary property, if you haven't noticed! Off holy ground. And besides, if holy ground matters at all, it's only Quickenings on holy ground that are dangerous. There's no Quickening when a mortal takes an Immortal's head!"

The Watcher Chronicles told that in earlier eras, when execution by beheading was more common, many known Immortals had met that fate. Their final deaths had been like anyone else's.

"If there's another Immortal nearby, there's a Quickening that goes into him," Lundquist argued. "And we don't know the range. The ones back in the Sanctuary may be close enough. Having a Quickening go into one of them - or more than one! - would be disastrous!"

"Ridiculous! The 'range'? Poole couldn't even sense them while he was in that bedroom!"

Megan screamed, "Forget Quickenings! Don't you give a damn that what you're talking about is murder?"

Someone else called out, "She's right, Gary. An hour ago, you weren't even willing to 'kill' an Immortal temporarily - and painlessly. Now you'll consider beheading?"

Another voice suggested, "All we have to do is drug this guy and pop him back into the Sanctuary. It's unpleasant, sure. Makes us...wonder. About a lot of things. But we can go on as always, the Sanctuary serving its purpose."

"No, we can't!" Matthew had pushed a trembling Lundquist away from him. Brandishing the sword, he spat out, "If we 'pop him back into the Sanctuary,' his friends will try to help him escape again! And maybe try to find out whether others want to be 'freed.'

"There's only one way to keep Poole's friends in line. Finish him off, so they'll see we mean business. So they'll know what will happen to anyone else they might try to 'free'!"

A gray-faced Lundquist said dully, "Matthew's right. We have to do it now, set an example. Like I said before, Poole's the least dangerous of the ten of them."

At that point, Megan's - and several others' - screams were drowned out by a howl of pure outrage from Jonathan.

He had by now had time to recover from the exertion of his run. Breaking free of the two men holding him, he raced to the nearest tree, broke off a low-hanging branch for use as a weapon, and charged Matthew - just as the sword-wielding Matthew was charging him.

Megan knew she'd always remember the twisted smile that appeared for a moment on Jonathan's face. The words she heard him cry out, that sounded, for some reason, like a taunt. "Hatest thou all Immortals?"

As the men fought - Jonathan hampered by the poor quality of his "weapon," Matthew by his unfamiliarity with his - Megan was sure Jonathan meant to kill Matthew. Back in the Sanctuary, she'd known his threat to rip Lundquist's head off with his bare hands was mere bluster. Young as he was, he'd almost certainly never killed anyone, mortal or Immortal. She'd sensed that he'd be as reluctant as she herself would be to actually do such a thing.

There was no reluctance now. He tried, repeatedly, to thrust his makeshift spear into Matthew's chest. Aiming for the heart.

And he might have succeeded. But the other Watchers, who'd initially frozen in shock, saw what was happening as clearly as Megan did. A half-dozen men flung themselves into the fray. Seized Jonathan, disarmed him, held him immobile.

Panting, he looked up at Matthew. And said: "Proud of thyself?"

Matthew swung the sword with all his strength.

x

x

x

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn't.

It was bad enough that Jonathan's head rolled to Lundquist's feet. A mute reminder that he, the person in charge, bore the ultimate responsibility for this atrocity.

But then, before anyone could move, they felt a strange electricity in the air. Jonathan's headless corpse began to vibrate. To convulse.

Crackling sounds. A sudden wind.

And then came the lightning. Furious lightning, not descending from the heavens, but rising from the corpse!

As the shrieking Watchers scattered, the lightning seemed to pursue them. Snaking around every one - save Jonathan's three "friends." Teasing them, terrorizing them.

But actually striking...no one.

The lightning ricocheted off trees and rocks. Off Jonathan's "spear." Off the sword Matthew had dropped.

But it never extended toward the Sanctuary. Not through the air, or through the tunnel.

In the end, it simply dissipated. A Quickening that went into no one.

x

x

x

Brian Kirk said nervously, "Th-that can't have happened!"

Lundquist had managed to pull himself together. He was still pale, but his voice was steady as he said, "It may have happened because so many Immortals were fairly nearby, even though they weren't close enough for the Quickening to reach them."

"Right," Matthew agreed. "All that matters is that it didn't reach them."

Megan knew it would be safer to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn't. "Maybe it happened because the crime committed here was so appalling! The Watcher Oath forbids 'interfering with' Immortals. The Sanctuary has been 'interfering' all along, in a worse way than we knew. And when you learned an Immortal had been held against his will for a thousand years, instead of trying to make it right, you murdered him!"

Matthew took a step toward her, hand raised to strike.

She braced herself.

Lundquist pulled him back.

But then Lundquist said, in a voice that chilled her to the bone, "Not here."

x

x

x

The letter concluded, "I'm still mourning the waste of the wonderful Immortal Jonathan Poole could have been. A thousand years of life stolen from him - from everyone whose life he would have touched! I'm sure you would have liked him, Adam.

"They've buried him, of course. And they had to tell the Tribunal part of the truth - couldn't have gotten away with pretending, for long, that they still had ten Immortals here.

"But they weren't sure how the Tribunal would react, so they didn't tell the whole truth. They explained why we had to revive Jonathan, but everything else was a lie. They never admitted he, or anyone else, had been forced into the Sanctuary. Instead, they said he'd become insane - probably an unintended effect of the thousand years' unconsciousness. They claimed it was he who'd gotten a sword from the storeroom, and attacked Matthew. Said Matthew wrested the sword from him and killed him in self-defense, when he'd been backed into a position where he couldn't do anything else.

"Adam, they really believe there's some mystical reason why the Sanctuary needs ten Immortals! Instead of doing away with it, now that they know the truth - all our "guests" probably here unwillingly - they're planning to find a "replacement" for Jonathan. Maybe they'll identify some depressed Immortal who'll buy into the story of its always having been voluntary, and come on his own. But if they can't do that, every Immortal faces the risk of being abducted, and condemned to this...burial alive.

"I'll try to get to the Tribunal and tell them the whole story. But at this point, I don't trust them, either! So if I can't make it, I don't want you to risk telling them.

"I just want you to know.

"Love,

"Megan"

x

x

x

Methos had succeeded in not crying. But he wasn't surprised by the tears he saw in the priest's eyes.

"Why did she think it so important to tell you, Methos?" Darius asked softly. "Do you think she knew what you are...even who you are?"

Methos shook his head. "I've been asking myself that. But I'll never be sure. While we were together, I didn't think she'd guessed anything. She did know I'm in charge of the Watchers' search for Methos - she may just have thought that in case I should ever find him, she'd want me to be able to warn him.

"But now I hope she had guessed the truth. Knew that was the only reason I hadn't been willing to marry her - because sooner or later I'll have to move on, to hide my not aging."

After a moment's silence, Darius said, "About that Quickening..."

Methos grimaced. "Yes, the Quickening. The Quickening that erupted and went into no one, for a reason the Watchers didn't understand - that there was a pre-Immortal on the scene.

"The letter didn't surprise me. I'd already met the bastard - hey, I now know he is a bastard, literally! - at Megan's funeral. Matthew Hale."

"Of course," Darius reflected. "Poole realized it! That was why he snarled at Hale, 'Hatest thou all Immortals?' - and then tried to spite him by giving him his first death, in front of everyone!"

"I wish he'd succeeded," Methos said grimly. "I don't intend to give Hale his first death, though. I'll let someone else do that - so I can give him his second. A 'second' that will be his last."

Darius didn't voice any objection.

After another brief silence, Methos said, "I came in part to warn you, of course..."

"Yes, I know. Thank you. But I've been having dreams...my future may not be pleasant, but I'm sure it doesn't include the Sanctuary."

"I'm glad of that." Methos cleared his throat. "About your dreams...I'm sure you're remembering the first time they led you to save me. When you knew we were both in some kind of danger, but you weren't sure what it was..."

"And you came within inches of taking my head, before I somehow convinced you I was really a priest." Darius was smiling at the memory. "Yes, I get the connection. The year was 990."

Methos nodded. "Yes. Those dreams your dead mentor Ludovic sends you saved both of us from being dragged off to the Sanctuary.

"There's something else you should know. After I learned Megan had died - before I left for her funeral - I did some major research. Hunted up records no Watcher had looked at for hundreds of years. I hope I found and destroyed every mention of this, but I can't be sure.

"The Watchers didn't trap ten Immortals in the Sanctuary because they saw mystical significance in the number ten! That was the number they had to settle for.

"The number they thought was crucial was twelve. Twelve months in the year, twelve signs in the Zodiac, twelve legendary tribes of Israel, twelve Apostles of Jesus.

"They settled for ten - temporarily, as they thought - because they meant to keep trying, for as long as necessary, to snare the specific two Immortals they still wanted.

"You and me."

x

x

x

The End