A/N: at long last a new, albeit short-ish chapter from me. Sorry for being so bad at updating - life and stuff, you know the drill ^^ Thank you to everyone who was reviewing and faving!

Chapter 13

Then

"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," she heard the Scotsman's voice ring out across the misty fairground. It not being carnival season the lot was closed to the public and all attractions had been boarded shut. The only people remaining were Caitlyn, Felipe and their family. They owned the fair and had set up winter quarters just outside of Paris, while the seasonal workers had gone home to their own families.

Family, Caitlyn mused, that expression had gone from having a hollow ring to her to being all that mattered. Her world revolved around the fair and the people inside it, so it was with determination that she stepped out from behind the trailer to face MacLeod, ready to defend them.

"I'm looking for Felipe," he said evenly, eyes fixed on Caitlyn and her sword.

She could feel the eyes of her people following both of them. Apparently, he had the same impression, because he broke eye contact and started looking around, as if expecting someone to join them any minute.

"He's not here," she replied, trying to assess the man. "What do you want?"

MacLeod shrugged and flipped his katana to rest against the back of his arm. He had obviously decided she and whoever was watching posed no immediate threat. "I wanted to talk to him about using the kids here to steal for him," he replied.

Caitlyn's eyes narrowed in suspicion. What was he talking about? Granted, not all their activities were legal, but they kept the kids out of that.

"I caught one of them, Laurent he said his name was, as he tried to steal my wallet," MacLeod explained, "at first I thought he was a runaway, trying to make a living. So imagine my surprise when he told me he had done it to fill some sort of quota so his family won't get into trouble with the big boss."

The Laurent Caitlyn knew was twelve, but it couldn't have been him. "I don't know who tried to rob you, but it sure wasn't one of our kids," she said with conviction.

"And who are you, exactly?" MacLeod wanted to know.

"Felipe's partner. I know all about him and this business, so I suggest you take your unfounded accusations elsewhere," she threatened.

"Or what?"

Caitlyn shrugged and smiled humorlessly, "Felipe doesn't take kindly to accusations."

"I don't react well to threats," MacLeod replied, unconcerned, and handed her a business card. "Tell him to call me when he's ready to clear this up." As he turned to go he added, "if I were you, I'd reevaluate how well you really know your partner."

Now

"That was the first and last time I met him," Caitlyn explained.

"So, did you reevaluate your partnership?" Nichols asked.

"Not right away," she sighed at the memory. "When Felipe - Phil came home, I confronted him. Or rather, I just asked him if there was any truth to MacLeod's words."

"Let me guess, he denied it all," Nichols supplied when she hesitated.

Caitlyn nodded. She had been so focused on Phil and on finally belonging somewhere, she had just shut her eyes on the truth. "I was young and naïve, I just believed him and looked the other way. It took years before I was able to see what was going on right in front of my nose. But even then, I was apparently too dumb to see that I needed to get far away from him, where he couldn't mess with me any longer." Caitlyn's voice was trembling with pent up frustration.

She took a deep breath and asked, "Phil killed him for interfering, didn't he?"

"Either he personally or one of his flunkies, either way, he's responsible," Nichols confirmed, hard eyes staring out into the clearing.

A silence followed that neither of the two seemed to be willing to break, both lost in thoughts of the past.

Caitlyn nearly jumped when the quiet was interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone.

"Yeah," Nichols answered.

Then, after a short pause, "I hope you're on a prepaid."

His counterpart on the phone was obviously giving him an earful as this time, the pause stretched.

"It's refreshing to know you're thinking the worst of me." A grin was spreading across his face as he added, "I can assure you, she's very much alive."

Another pause. Then, "Tell you what, you come out here and see for yourself."

He gave directions to the cabin that sounded to Caitlyn as if they were smack in the middle of nowhere before ending the call.

"We're going to have a visitor," Nichols announced unnecessarily. "But it'll be a while yet. Want a beer?" he asked casually, not waiting for her answer as he went inside.

Caitlyn stared at the two swords he had just left lying on the table as if they didn't matter one bit. And maybe they didn't. In any case, she was too spent to do much of anything. The previous fight had left her physically drained and the conversation had brought up memories she would rather have forgotten.

She had been such a good little soldier back then and she hadn't even realized it. Caitlyn had done everything for Phil because she had been completely adamant that he would do the same for her. Thinking back, she felt embarrassed at following him so blindly.

Nichols handed her a can of beer, straight from the fridge, and sat back down next to her. He popped his and took a long drink. "I know I'm beginning to sound like a broken record here," he started looking over the clearing pensively, "but I do think we can work together on this."

Unsure of what to say to this, Caitlyn took a sip of her own beer.

Nichols turned toward her. "I'm sorry about your husband," he said and Caitlyn thought she could see in his eyes that he meant it. But even if this were real, and she was well aware that she had no idea if it was, she couldn't accept the apology. The pain of losing Thomas was still too fresh and the memory of the Scotsman and his advice wasn't going to change any of that.

"I'm sorry about your friend," she finally said, "but I really don't know if I can do this."

"I'm not asking you to get personally involved," Nichols reasoned. "All I'm asking is that you tell me what you know about his inner circle and his methods. I'll handle the rest."

Before calling the old man, Amanda had gone to the hotel for a quick shower and change of clothes. Afterwards, she had gone out to get her ersatz sword. She hadn't even made it down the block when she had felt eyes prying into the back of her skull. The police had put a tail on her. Just great. So, instead of going straight for her emergency stash, where she also kept a prepaid for events such as this - one could never be too paranoid in her line of work - she had gone crisscrossing across town until she was sure she'd lost them.

Now, Amanda was fuming. First, Methos had left her to tend to his biker friend, landing her in jail where she had been forced to look at what was supposedly his handiwork, and now he had the audacity to pretend all was good, inviting her and giving her directions and all. He hadn't even wanted to know who had given her the number, either. Which Amanda would have gladly pegged as being due to her tenacious personality, if she hadn't known the old man for a while. He left nothing to chance, ever.

If she was honest, Amanda had not expected the call to be productive in the least. The best she could hope for had been him assuring her of the fact that, no, he had nothing to do with Caitlyn Freudinger's disappearance and of course he wasn't torturing her to get information. And no, he hadn't been the one to kill her husband, what on earth made her think that? And no matter how convincing he might have been, Amanda doubted she would have believed him.

But this…

She certainly hadn't expected directions to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Or his joking attitude. That was more like the Methos she remembered than the Methos she had met the night before.

And yet, she wasn't sure. Amanda realized with a start that her anger was giving way to an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of meeting Methos in a cabin in the woods. She had no clue how far gone the old man really was. In the worst case scenario, this could be a trap to take her head.

With that thought on her mind, Amanda turned on her heels and went back to her stash.

The woman's visit had left Don strangely apprehensive. Not because he thought she could do any damage to the club or Jude, but because he was unsure what Jude would say when he found out Don had been the one to give out his number. He didn't get to do much brooding though as the waiting room grew silent with the arrival of his club brothers.

"How are you?" Bill, his VP, asked while Mike leaned down slapping him on the back.

"Been better," Don replied, noticing how the other patients were trying to look everywhere but at the group of bikers.

"What the hell happened?" Jack asked, looking curiously at his bandaged foot.

"Saul told us you got arrested," Mike supplied. "And that a woman was with you."

"Yeah, long story," Don sighed, running both hands through his hair. He wasn't in the mood to go through everything that had happened. Especially since he was pretty sure he didn't know all of it himself.

"Give us the short version then," the VP insisted figuring Don didn't want to talk with that many ears nearby.

"I got shot, Jude helped deal with it. Then the police picked me up at Nichol's apartment when he wasn't there." Don shrugged as if to say it was no big deal. He just hoped his face told the same story. Don knew his brothers wouldn't react well to the prospect shooting a member in the leg. About Cat's death, he wasn't so sure. She had left them after all, which in the eyes of most of the bikers made her a traitor. Don himself had seen her as one, but seeing her get shot just like that had shown him things were not as clear cut as he'd thought. The incident had also proven to him that he shouldn't mess with Jude. So he'd rather keep his buddies in the dark for a while than risk an all out confrontation with him caught in the middle.

Bill nodded. "I see," he said in a tone that told Don that this conversation wasn't over, just postponed. Especially the part about who shot him. Retribution was a big part of the MC life, after all.

Thankfully, that was when the nurse came to get him.

"I'll see you later at the club house," Don told them as he let the nurse help him into a wheelchair and cart him off towards the doctor's office.

When Amanda arrived at the cabin, the sun was almost setting. The house looked peaceful, like something from a vacation catalogue. When she drove into the clearing, she felt two quickenings. At least she's still alive, she thought, apprehensively grasping the Glock in her jacket pocket that she had brought for insurance. Killing the engine, she grabbed her sword from the passenger's seat and got out.

In the dimming light, she could barely see the figure sitting on the porch, feet on the railing. Even before Amanda got close enough to make out his features, she recognized Methos' sprawl.

"Hey," he greeted her.

Amanda's eyes narrowed. "Where is she?"

"Oh, she's in the basement, I'm taking a break from torturing," he said, sarcasm seeping into his tone that took Amanda a second to recognize.

In the meantime she must have looked at him in complete shock, because Methos' grin spread wide as he said, "Come on Amanda, I already told you she's fine. She just went inside to go to the bathroom and get another beer."

He gestured for her to sit down, but Amanda stayed where she was. The two swords on the table next to Methos hadn't escaped her.

"Have it your way," he shrugged.

"I want to know what is going on," Amanda pressed.

"And you will," he said.

At that moment, a dark haired woman stepped out of the cabin, two beer cans in hand. She put them on the table and wiped her fingers on her jeans before sticking out a hand toward Amanda. "Hi, you must be Amanda, I'm Caitlyn," she introduced herself.

Slightly taken aback, Amanda took the proffered hand. "I am. I'm sorry for your loss," she said, realizing it would be awkward when she later had to broach the subject of Methos' alleged involvement. But if she was here and sharing a beer with the old man, at least that meant that he hadn't killed Freudinger after all.

Caitlyn tried a sad smile. "Thanks," she said taking her seat next to Methos. The fact that now Methos was between the swords and Caitlyn didn't sit too well with Amanda.

Deciding to confront him now and get it over with, Amanda said, "Don and I got arrested this morning. In your apartment."

Methos just arched an eyebrow inquisitively.

"They were looking for the weapon Thomas Freudinger got murdered with."

Caitlyn looked at the floor, obviously upset at having the topic dragged up again. But she didn't say anything.

"They can look all they want," Methos replied calmly. "They're not going to find anything."

"Then it wasn't you?" Amanda had to ask. She needed him to tell her to her face that this had not been his doing.

"They won't find anything because the sword is at the bottom of the ocean," Methos explained in a voice that sounded like 'do you take me for an idiot that leaves evidence lying around?'.

Amanda just gaped at him, not knowing what to say to that. Then she looked at Caitlyn who was still studying the floor, then back at the old immortal. What the hell was going on here?

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