X - Collision.

Dortmund, Germany.

Methos was flying the jet at low height. Below, the empty road stretched eastward and westward. In the passenger room, Kenny was savouring a glass of brandy. His hair was tied and he was dressed in a shirt and a pair of jeans the jet owner had stolen from a shop. Not that anyone would notice, anyway.

The kid was shocked. He had awoken to see Methos receive a multiple quickening. Afterward, he had left Sanctuary to find Germany was a ghost country, with hardly anyone still alive. And by him was Duncan MacLeod, one of the persons he hated the most. And he had just learned what had gone on. Planet Earth was just as he had left it, only that less than a tenth of the population was still alive.

"Are you OK, lad?" Duncan queried.

"Yeah..." the reply was distant " just a little baffled."

"It happens." Duncan gazed at the sight of the skyscrapers faraway. "And why were you there?"

"Amanda."

"What with her?" Duncan felt his blood coarsening.

"I couldn't get over her death." Kenny spoke without malice, like a kid.

"Death?" Duncan felt his heart sinking. "When? How?"

"Ahriman." Methos was the one who answered.

Silence followed. As soon as he could not to concern the others, Duncan moved away and hid in the bathroom, where tears rolled down helplessly. Memories of the days shared gripped him. He remembered laughing on a river's edge, trying to make her jump with her. She agreed, then changed her mind. If he had not dragged her in with him, she would have let him dive without her.

He felt a motor whirring below fast and the presence of an immortal as well. He knew Methos had felt it too, for the plane was going down. The landing caught him unawares and he revolted a bit in the place. He left and found the doors open. Kenny was clung to his seat. He glanced at the kid, who shook his head and nodded him outside. Duncan grasped his katana and left the plane.

Methos stood sword in hand in the middle of the road. Duncan heard distantly a motor vehicle approaching. Suddenly a jeep appeared before him, speeding towards him. The older immortal didn't seem to mind. He just stood calmly, his sword between his palms, its tip to the floor.

The jeep approached. Duncan made out the faintest image of the driver. Longhaired, pretty. Duncan knew her. The woman behind the wheel carried on, going closer and closer to Methos. Then her eyes opened wide and she stepped on the brake. The jeep's frontal wheels halted, squelching maddeningly and the vehicle turned over in the air, sending her away through the air. It turned over itself a few times as it left the track, and collided against a tree, catching fire fast.

Methos had gone to help the driver, who had landed near him, hurt but sound. She gazed at him and smirked sorely.

"Adam..."

"Are you OK, Alexi?" Methos queried with concern.

"Yes." She was helped to her feet. "I was..." Duncan approached, smirking at the woman he had met once... a long time ago. She beamed back in recognition. "Hello, stranger."

"Hello." Duncan nodded with a charming grin. "I'm Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod."

"Alex Raven..." she gasped, still a little sore.

"And where were you going at full speed through an empty road of Dortmund?" Methos inquired. He eyed the jeep, turned over and slowly catching fire. "With a jeep that worked." It came out almost as a reprimand.

Alex exposed the facts as they happened in Göteburg: the four immortals, and that stranger that brought them all down. She omitted her involvement with Cassius. However close she had been to Adam in the past, it was nothing of his concern, as their relationship hadn't been to Cassius.

"And this guy simply says: I can't say my name 'cuz he might hear it?"

They were back at the jet. Kenny had listened to the rant too and couldn't suppress a smile. Alex shot him with her eyes.

"Yes." she replied calmly.

She studied the others. The kid, of whom Alex had heard to be 800 years old, seemed amused. MacLeod was somewhat puzzled. And Adam looked concerned. She measured him up, trying to figure out if he knew something else that he was not telling. He caught his eyes and nodded.

"I don't like it." Methos hissed aloud.

"You have any idea of who that immortal might be?"

"Yes, MacLeod, I might." Methos closed the jet door and headed towards the cabin. "But let's not discuss that. We have a funeral to attend."

Kenny glanced at Duncan, who accepted the resolution without argument. His eyes posed on the woman, so pretty as many others he had met, none of which he had ever been with. He had never had the chance of being with a real woman, only in his imagination.

"Adam..." she spoke calmly. "You know his name, don't you?"

The plane took off. But the reply didn't came in the entire trip back to New York...

-----

New York.

Nicholas Wolfe lay in the cold water, which had been hotter not long ago. He stared at his Might, who seemed to be at rest after some exercise. His eyes moved to his left, where his favourite mistress was, her naked curves being towelled dry by another woman, a redhaired female in her early forties, who was as clothed as they were.

She seemed distant lately. The act had been pleasing but she had not seemed as turned-on as she should have been. She had wailed and moaned. If he had lacked confidence, he would have thought she had been faking. Probably what she needed was a change.

"The paper!" he demanded.

The redhaired vanished instantly. He stared at the darkhaired he desired so much. Her eyes vacantly replied. She seemed tired, not as physically as psychically. Seconds later, the redhead came back, bringing back the weekly edition of the New York Times, the only newspaper he still allowed to work. His reasons had been simple: he liked the name.

He read the headings, which seemed a police chronicle of another age. John died of starvation, Paul of some disease, Ringo of old age, and George of loneliness. He wondered why he still wasted his time in it. He tossed the paper away and glanced at the two women. His eyes glimmered of red and he smirked lecherously.

The redhead left the towel, but her bare hand carried on at the darkhaired's breasts. The other caught her neck and brought the red's face to his. They kissed long and wildly. The older woman's hand moved knowingly down through the younger one's belly. The younger one stirred and hissed as the red-haired's mouth was on her breasts. She gave a glance to Nicholas.

He was paying no heed to them. Something in the paper had caught his attention. She dared not try to guess what could have made his face gain such a surprised and ... panicked expression? She smiled, both for the other's games and for the hope brought by something that Ahriman feared...

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: I stole a couple of lines from the song "Dublin Sky", by Darren Hayes. The idea came from Neodevilbane's video in YouTube... "Highlander: Dublin Sky," using the same song.)