The group, minus Duncan, Amanda, Joe and Anne, was sitting in the barge's den. This, of course, was pretty much Methos, Fitz and Ritchie. Duncan was handling the barge in the wheel room. Amanda was in one of the bedrooms, while Anne was working on Joe in another. She looked grim, but seemed confident she could pull him through.

"When you intern in an inner city emergency room, gunshot wounds become second nature," she acknowledged grimly, surgical gloves covered in gore.

"Brave old sod," Fitz mused about Joe. "Legless, mortal, yet the codger leapt into the fray yet again."

"Joe is truly a warrior, probably more than any of us could be, in his heart," Methos mused, slumped down in his chair. "Mortals who so believe in a cause, to
fling themselves at the face of danger, despite the strong possibility of death, possess bravery that we could never match. I mean, how many times were you shot today, Fitz?"

"None! I kept to cover, like any sensible man would," Fitz snorted.

"But we can't die," Ritchie exclaimed.

"It still hurts like the devil," Fitz retorted.

"I took one today," Methos said smoothly.

"I think that bastard unloaded half a clip into my chest. I lost count at five. That's when I blacked out," Ritchie said. "And yeah, it hurt like hell. But here I am. Smilin'!"

"And Joe is flat on his arse," Fitz said, downing a drink.

"I hope he makes it back off his arse," Methos mused. "He's the one who knows where this island is at."

"And who were those Immortals in the Rambo get-ups? I mean...I expected that from the Watchers. But that group of Immortals, doing that shtick, what was up with that?" Ritchie wondered.

"I'll tell you in a bit," Joe's voice croaked from the next room.

Ann shook her head at the conversation that was taking place as she worked to save Joe's life. Not meaning to tinge her voice with anger she said, "a little less chatter and a little more help, if you guys don't mind".

Fitz looked guilty.

Ritchie grimaced.

Methos shifted out of his sprawl in the chair and sat forward, " I've been a Doctor a few times in the past... What kind of help would you like?"

Anne shot him a glance that would have taken a head, bit back her anger and said, "Get over here and help my keep this blood stanched so that I can see what I'm working on."

"Right," Methos said, reaching for rubber gloves.

As Anne and Methos began to work as a well-practiced unit, Fitz and Ritchie
decided to risk a peak and see how Amanda was fairing.

Fitz and Ritchie stood outside the threshold of the door.

Fitz gestured magnanimously, "By all means, lad, after you."

"What, me?" Ritchie asked, eyebrows raised. "You've been around a lot longer than me, you've got more experience than me in this. Right?"

"Well, in the giving end of things, as far as the ladies go, but it is one of the gifts to the immortal male we aren't nearly so involved in the receiving, thankfully. But there have been a few occasions...this is a good learning experience for you, laddie," Fitz tried.

"Look, I've been around a bit myself, Fitz. Nothing going on here I don't know about. I mean...you know...you just don't want her to hit you with anything again."

"Quite right, lad," Fitz confessed. "You worry more about your health when you get my age."

"You've got a thick skull, you'd be ok," Ritchie said with a smile.

"That's uncharitable," Fitz groused. "I see MacLeod hasn't instilled manners or respect for one's elders in you."

"He tries, but I can be a slow learner," Ritchie said absently, hazarding a peak into the room.

He looked back at Fitz, "I think she's asleep..."

"Ah, excellent. Saved from the breach yet again... care for a libation?" Fitz asked as he helped himself to another drink from Duncan's bar.

Ritchie shook his head and asked with a smile "don't you ever stop?"

Fitz, Grinned, "Oh, yes, to be sure, I usually stop when the lady in question has ...umm...uh...stopped"

Ritchie rolled his eyes and grabbed his coat and one for Mac. It was cold out and he wanted to see if Duncan needed anything.

Ritchie went up the stairs to the wheelhouse. Clouds had gathered, and the bearing of the Highlander seemed to match the gloom present outside. Ritchie offered the coat to Duncan. Duncan absently put it on, and stared ahead into the gray.

"Oh, come on, Duncan," Ritchie says, giving Duncan a pat on the shoulder. "Joe's gonna make it, we're out of Paris...we're alright. Try to smile a little bit."

Duncan smiled. A little bit.

"That's more like it. Want me to take the wheel? Joe's gonna want to talk in a bit, I'm sure. I'll just keep her going until you get back..."