Duncan's senses were overwhelmed. POWER! POWER! Infinite, uncontrollable power tossed him to and fro. He couldn't possibly cope with such power!

"Ah, but you could, Duncan MacLeod. If you are the one, you could," said Constanza's voice, from somewhere distant.

"What is it?" Duncan asked. He thought he was screaming, but his voice was lost in the cosmic torrent before him.

"This energy, this is composed of pure reality, no, pure possibility. It, combined with will, becomes reality. In the Game, it manifests itself in various forms you call the Quickening. One of you, in the end, will inherit all this power. It's important the last one remaining get it all, and be worthy."

The rage of incoherent energy seemed to dissipate somewhat, and Duncan began seeing points of light, no two the same, flitting about. Every now and then, one would flare brightly, then vanish. Another nearby would flare, too, then dim, but be just a bit brighter, afterwards.

"Is that..?" Duncan asked.

"Yes," said Constanza's voice. "That is the energy of possibilities changing hands as these contests are decided. But not right now. The Game is suspended for the time being. But soon, it will start up again, with the Quickening fully restored. It's all ending, Duncan. They have forseen it."

"If it's that important, this force and who ends up with it, how can you stand to sit back and let it happen? What if someone unworthy, someone evil, ends up with it?" Duncan asked?

"First off, I don't determine anything," Constanza gently rebuked. "I'm not a god. I just exist to monitor the Game. My existence ends when it does. Second, whoever ends up with the Quickening will play their part on this stage. Whoever ends up with it will be the one needed at the time. For whatever reason."

"For what reason?" Duncan asked.

"I don't know," said Constanza. "I don't suppose I will ever know."

"Doesn't that make you sad...angry...something?"

"No. Should it?"

Duncan then noticed one dot, glowing warmly. With it, two smaller ones glowed in rhythm with the larger one.

"Is that?"

"Yes, it is. It's almost time."

And Duncan was standing before the group. And they were next to the temple.

"Duncan, what happened? Where did you go?" Joe asked, stepping forward.

"He's fine. I was just filling in some of his blanks," Constanza said. "I don't think I settled any of his worries, but he knows a little more."

"And just what do you know?" Joe asked.

"He knows everything," Duncan said softly.

"Hardly," Constanza chuckled.

"You know about all Immortals, from the dawn of time to now," Duncan said.

"Well yes, this is true," Constanza admitted.

"Wha...why would you need to pretend to be a Watcher, if that's the case?" Joe asked. "What's with all the spying?"

"You wound me, Joe. I'm no spy. I do what you do. I watch Immortals. Yes, I do have resources you don't. But I don't know everything. The records of the Watchers help me fill in the gaps. I'm most appreciative, by the way. Yes, very," he said with a smile.

He then turned to Amanda, "It's time."

She seemed to drift forward, then stopped after taking is offered hand, "Can I..?"

"Yes, you may," he answered. "Duncan, she wants you to come in and be present. Miss..?" he said, staring at Anne.

"Dr. Anne Lindsay," she answered, somewhat bewildered.

"Of course. Please come with us," Constanza said. He then led Amanda into the unearthly structure.

Duncan looked at his remaining companions.

Joe pursed his lips, brow furrowed. Ritchie shuffled from one foot to another, sighing. Fitz looked on thoughtfully, fumbling for his pipe, then thinking the better of it. Methos' expression was neutral, looking intently into the temple.

He then said, "Amanda needs you, Duncan."

"Yeah," Duncan said. He then nodded, then led Anne into the temple.

Joe and Methos looked at each other.

Both of them began to speak, then paused. Methos gestured towards Joe, "Age before beauty."

"Yeah, funny. Methos, did you have ANY idea? Any at all about Constanza being...what he is?"

"Well, considering I STILL don't know what he is, really, I'd have to say no," Methos

said.

"What IS he?" Joe asked. He turned to Ritchie and said, "You mentioned he 'felt' funny. What do you mean?"

"It's weird," Ritchie answered. It's like...like, instead of sending out stuff, like most Immortals, it's like he's...picking it up. Like he's a big Immortal antenna, or something."

"He listens to Immortals and their tale of woe through the centuries," Fitz mused.

"And he apparently works for Them," Joe added. "We just thought he was a gifted, eccentric researcher."

"I thought he was just another Immortal. I kept running into him every now and then," Methos said. "He never seemed to age. But I never heard of him...doing anything."

"No battles, duels?" Joe said.

"No. Because he's not an Immortal. At least not like we are. He doesn't play the Game," Methos thought out loud. "He...watches it. So, a natural for associating with you," he said, looking a Joe meaningfully.

Fitz stared at the Temple, "A cold, barren place to bring a couple of wee ones into the world..."

Lightning flashed in the distant storm clouds. Above, the evening stars made themselves known, one point of light at a time.