"Sagira!" She continued to walk away. Methos felt like gritting his teeth. She could be so petulant. "Kanikalayla, stop right there!" Methos called after her retreating form. As he caught up to her, he could see she was quickly sobering. "I am getting sick of chasing you down, Child. Now, why don't you allow me to drive you to your hotel." He did not ask. He knew she would refuse. She would more than likely argue with him the way it was. So, he was not giving her the choice. He would make her let him take her back to her room.

"I do not need your sympathy, Old Man. I never have and I never will. I am no longer drunk so why don't you just leave me the bloody hell alone. We can talk again tomorrow evening." She turned away from him and continued down the street.

"I was not asking, Kanikalayla. Get in the truck."

"Would you please pick one name and stick to it, dammit!" She turned on him. He could see that her previous sadness and drunken joy were replaced with fury. In a way, he was not surprised. She had quite the short fuse.

"Child . . ."

"I am not a child, Old Man. I wish you would not treat me as one. I am tired and have some things I need to take care of tomorrow. If you will excuse me," she snapped. Once again she turned to leave.

Grabbing her arm, Methos stopped her. "Kanikalayla, you will allow me to drive you to your hotel. After tonight, I would not be surprised to find you gone tomorrow if I allow you to go alone. I am not asking, Child."

"I am walking, Old Man. Unless, of course, you want to draw swords over it." She glared at him calculating every muscle twitch and movement.

"I am not going to fight over . . ."

"Then I am walking. Goodnight, Methos." She shoved him away and turned back up the street. Her steps were heavier and her arms were tight in their movements.

He watched her go until she was about six yards away. He felt Duncan behind him and knew that Joe was there as well. He knew also that calling after her again would probably not go over well, but he had to try. He had to know that she would not run away; that she would not disappear from his life again. She meant too much to him. She was a sister, a daughter, a best friend. Her presence had been missed more than he had ever realized. She had filled a hole he had not known he had just by stepping through Joe's door. "Kanikalayla . . ."

Before he could plead for her to turn around, she had. Only this time, she came at him with her sword, a look of fury on her face. He barely had time to register that she had drawn on him and get his own sword up to defend. Her sword bore down on his with more strength than he remembered her having. He became aware that she was running off emotion. Soon she would collapse. If not, he would have to do some pretty fancy foot work to get out of her wrath. He was not sure that she would not take his head in her state of mind.

She stepped back and faked a jab from the right. He anticipated the bluff and blocked her attack from below. The upward strike, though blocked, knocked him back a few steps. He had not foreseen the strength in that attack either. As he stumbled back she came at him again with a downward slash. He blocked most of the blow, but her sword caught his left shoulder before he could stop her blade.

Deciding that defense would not work. Methos switched to offense. He pushed a little harder than he would in a sparring match as he thrust her sword away from his. She stumbled slightly but regained her footing before he could take any advantage. So, he chose to disarm her. After seeing a small opening, he used a move he knew she had never seen him use. He caught her hand between the thumb and forefinger as she moved to block a blow, slicing through skin, muscle, tendon, and perhaps nicking the bones. Her grip loosened and he wedged his sword between her hand and her sword. With a flip of his wrist, her sword flew several feet away.

She fell to her knees in defeat. He stepped up to her and placed his sword at her throat.

"Kanikalayla, I know I trained you better than this. You have gotten soft."

"No softer than you, Adam Pierson."

"I don't believe you are in a position to be smart, Child. Now, should I take your head or are you going to let me drive you to your hotel?"

"Take my fucking head! I don't want it anymore! Perhaps it will bring you more happiness than it ever gave me." She screamed then closed her eyes and leaned into his sword. Her skin split open slightly. Sparks danced across Methos' sword. He did not move. Duncan was looking around trying to figure out what to do while Joe looked on, stunned.

"I don't want your head, Child. It would probably give me more grief than it already does." He continued to play casual. Then, she leaned forward harder. His blade sunk a good inch or so into her neck. He could not chance her truly committing suicide. He knew she was going to. Methos yanked his sword away. He was not going to allow her to kill herself, especially not on his sword.

Kanikalayla, as she had been known as a child growing up in Egypt, did not move. She stayed on her knees as her blood poured over her. She coughed up even more as some ran down her cut larynx into her lungs. All four of them were aware that she was dieing.

"You re . . . realize I am g . . .going t . . .to be p . . .pi . . .pissed when I . . ." she rasped as she stared at the ground until Methos cut her off. Her voice was a gargle from the blood.

"Don't hurt yourself, Sagira." He watched with a blank expression as her head fell forward then her body. She was dead, or as dead as they got under most circumstances. He did not move. She was going to wake where she lay, in her own blood, as punishment for what she had just done. Of course, MacLeod had other ideas.

"Are you just going to leave her there?" Duncan looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"Yes, I am. She had no right to kill herself, at least not on my sword. I taught her better than this. I raised her better than this. There is something going on here that has nothing to do with Byron. I intend to find out what." Methos watched her body. He knew she would not wake for quite a while. An injury to the neck never healed fast and she had lost a lot of blood. He suddenly noticed the stickiness of his left hand. He had forgotten about the injury he had taken. Pulling at his coat and sweater, he saw that his shoulder was nearly healed. With a sigh, he wiped his sword on his coat sleeve and put it away.

Scanning around them, he spotted Kanika's sword. He walked over and picked it up. He wiped it upon his sleeve as well before examining it. The sword was heavier than those carried by most women. The blade was straight but ended much like a katana despite being double-edged. A small blood groove ran about eighteen inches, centered between the sides and the ends. The blade was about three feet long, an inch and a half wide, and a half centimeter thick. The hilt looked to be crystal, but he knew different. The hilt was constructed of pure, flawless diamond, etched and polished to accommodate grip, set in platinum. Onyx inlayed in the platinum further adorned the end and cross. The over all length of the sword was about forty-four inches; larger than his Ivanhoe.

"That's a beautiful sword," Joe interrupted his thoughts. He turned to find the Watcher smiling at him. He had not known he had lost himself in thought.

"Yes, it most certainly is. One of a kind." Methos again focused on the sword.

"If I ask how old it is will you answer me?"

"Old, Joe. Older than you would imagine. She started a trend in some cities with it. Many of the materials it is made of were not well known until long after this was crafted. Archaeologists would die to get their hands on this."

"It's large as well. I'm surprised she can wield it so well," MacLeod joined the conversation. Despite having known her for a while, he had never saw her use her sword or even take it out.

Methos was silent a moment. Finally, he decided that he might as well tell them part of her history. Served her right. "Yes, but she was trained to be able to wield many different weapons of many different sizes, shapes, and weights. I wanted her to survive. I pushed her hard but sometimes, now that I think back, she pushed herself even harder. She never complained, never fought that I was too rough. The harder I pushed, the more she seemed to want to participate. At first I thought she was just trying to show off. Then, as time grew and we became closer friends instead of just teacher and pupil or father and daughter, I realized she was training for something other than me, other than the game. She raised her goals every time she came close to fulfilling them. I realized she saw her training as her only reason to live and she wanted a reason to live. She also wanted to be good at something honorable.

"When she was a young child, about eight or nine, her mother was killed in a famine, her father was dead, and no family wanted her. I knew the child was to become one of us and could not allow her to die so young. She would have more than likely been killed for pick pocketing, at which she had grown quite efficient. I took her and began her training before she became immortal. I didn't want her to. I hoped she would grow old, die happy. However, one day, while I was at the market and had left her to clean at home, a man happened by our home. He was a foreigner. A Nubian, I believe, and an immortal. He took a fancy to her twenty-two year old body. She was, is beautiful. Feeling that she was one of us, and being an archer, he hid and shot her through the heart.

"He had no idea she had been training in case of something like this for over half her life. When she came to, she was disoriented. He calmly told her what she was and that he had happened by and found her dead. She asked him how she had died and he told her that he had pulled an arrow from her back. Noticing the arrows and bow he carried, she asked to see the offending object. When he handed her the arrow that had killed her she laughed in his face. She told him that only an idiot would not see that the arrow matched those he carried and realize that he had been the perpetrator.

"About that time, he noticed she had not asked about being immortal and had not gotten upset. I wish I could have seen the look on the man's face when she told him he had already explained it and she had gotten it the first time. She's always been quick on the up take and even quicker with her tongue. Anyhow, once she was feeling herself again, she told him she appreciated him dislodging his arrow from her and bid him a good day. He informed her he had slain her because he found her appealing and wanted her for his. She asked what he meant, and he told her that she was to become his for his pleasure. That he would take her against her will painfully if she refused.

"Kanika calmly told him to allow her to collect a few of her belongings. She then went into the house, got a bag and put random things into it, including her favorite sword. She returned to him and said she was ready to leave but wanted one last look at her home from a large sand dune off in the distance. He granted her request and they traveled there in silence.

"Once they reached the dune, she sat down the bag and pulled out her sword. Again, I wish I could have seen the look on the Nubian's face. He laughed at her when she challenged him. He told her there was no way she could defeat him. Then she boasted, 'My father taught me how to use this. I've been training for thirteen years. My father, if not by birth, is an Immortal like you. I believe there is a fair chance I will defeat you.' She told me he laughed again and told her that thirteen years was nothing compared to experience in battle.

"So, they fought. I returned home just shortly after they had left. I was surprised to find her missing because she had never left her chores undone or left without my permission, which she rarely got if I was not accompanying her. Then, I saw the arrow and the blood. Despite knowing she was immortal now, I got very worried. I had no idea who had killed her or where they had taken her. That's when I heard the sound of a Quickening. My heart nearly stopped at the thought that an Immortal had murdered her just to take her head. I raced toward the sound, the smell, the sight. My mind was racing with the fear that I had failed her and she was gone.

"When I came upon her dead body and the Nubian's decapitated one, I wept. I'm not sure if it was joy or sorrow. She was going to live, but she was immortal. She was doomed to live to kill her own, be it in defense or otherwise. After she awoke, her training intensified and so did her determination. I think the reason he chose to kill her is why she has refused to ever bed anyone. And Byron took that all away from her." Methos took a deep breath and looked over at Kanika's body. Her neck was healing faster than he thought it would, but she would not wake for a little while yet.

"So, you raised her as your daughter?" Joe asked. He was not used to hearing Methos talk about something serious and personal in such length and with such hidden emotion.

"Yes, I did."

"And yet you leave her to wake in her own blood?" Duncan accused. Methos rolled his eyes.

"I told you, Highlander. She had no right to shove her neck on my sword. This will speak more than any words I could bestow upon her," Methos snapped in irritation. Duncan scowled at him.

"So, she is Egyptian?" Joe asked to change the subject for at least a moment. He wasn't up for watching another fight.

"Yes," Methos answered already tired of questions. Had he not said enough for the evening? Had he not entrusted enough to them without her permission.

"How old is she, Methos? As her friend, I would like to know." Duncan gave up on getting to move her.

"As her friend, ask her yourself." Methos' irritation carried into his voice.

"Come on, Methos. Do you really think she will care if I know?"

"She knows Joe is a Watcher. She saw his tattoo when they met earlier. I'm not sure she would want them to know she exists let alone how old she is." Methos was growing agitated as well.

"Off the record. You know I leave a lot of shit out of Mac's Chronicles about you. So what difference would this make? Besides, she's already in them. I checked."

"I am aware of that. I have read them myself. Still, if you want to know, ask her!" Methos snapped before sighing and turning away. "I'm sorry, Joe, but I am a bit protective."

"I understand. You have nothing to apologize for. This, on top of everything else that has happened recently. I am surprised you're still around, and even more surprised you haven't lost it." Joe smiled at him as he glanced back.

Methos chuckled. "Thanks, Joe. Knew I could count on you to forgive, pity, and chide me all at the same time with so few words."

"Yeah, well what can I say? I'm wise for my years." Joe shuffled his feet. "Even though that's not saying anything in mortal terms. I'm getting too old to stand in the street for ages like this."

"Go home, Joe. I have her sword. The fighting, physically, is through. Now the verbal, let's say this may prove to be a very long night." Methos moved to stand closer to Kanika as she gasped for breath.

"I'm not going anywhere," Joe retorted as he and Duncan joined Methos.

"Yeah, I figured as much when I said that." Methos responded with a smirk though his eyes never left Kanika.

Kanika pushed herself up onto her hands and knees looking around wildly for a moment. She coughed up flakes of dry blood and reached for her throat. "Why wouldn't you do it?" Her voice was weak and raspy. She knew she was going to have a light scar. Neck wounds tended to do that.

"Why ask a question to which you know the answer?"

"Don't start with your psychobabble. All I wanted was freedom." She stood up quicker than she should have. The world spun around even after she clamped her eyes shut as hard as she could. She didn't even know she was falling until she landed in Methos' arms.

"Freedom? I too want to be free but yet I fight to survive. I'm afraid of what my quickening would do to someone, and I'm curious to see where the world will go from here. But, most of all, I survive because of life. I enjoy watching mortals. They have no sense of time despite knowing their time is short. They act like they have forever when they truly have but a moment."

"I've been alone way too long, Methos. I have never had a companion to share my heart, my dreams, my nightmares, my bed." Her voice became quite at the end. She turned and looked up at him. "I concede. You may drive me to my hotel."

"Well, you didn't give up without fight."

"I was taught to go down fighting if you are going to go down." She smiled up at him. "May I have Athanasia back now?"

Duncan shared a glance with Joe as they watched the exchange. They both knew he could give her more, exactly what she wanted.

"Athanasia?" Joe asked more to remind them of their presence.

"Her sword, and no, you may not." Methos answered them both without looking up at Joe.

"Look, Old Man, I have no need or want for your head."

"I know, but I am not going to have another round of your suicide attempt. I think we should continue discussing this inside your hotel room." He turned to the other two men. "I believe I've already said goodnight once." Taking Kanika's hand, he started for his truck. Then, he stopped. He turned to Joe and rolled his eyes. "Go ahead."

"What?" Joe looked around confused. He did not think he had missed anything.

"Ask her so you will stop hounding me," Methos snapped.

"Huh? . . .Oh! Samantha, I was curious . . . Well, what I mean is . . ."

"Gods, Joe. Spit it out!" Methos' patience was gone.

"You don't just spit this out to a woman. As old as you are, I would think that you would know that," Joe snapped back.

"How old are you?" Duncan asked for Joe as well as himself. She chuckled.

"It's alright, Joe. I have been anticipating that question from both of you since you found out I know the Old Man. Let's see . . . I was one hundred years old, round about, when I met Imhotep; so, I am around forty-seven hundred years old." Needless to say, their jaws fell as far as they could. She and Methos shared a glance before they burst out laughing. "What! Can't a woman survive? I mean, the Old Man is older than me. So, I am no big phenomenon."

"But, as you said, you are a woman. Women don't seem to last as long in the game as men. Though, there are exceptions, but none as old as you," Duncan responded.

"And you know that for sure how? Because you guessed my age?" She shot him a pointed look.

"Okay, so maybe some are older than they seem, but I am sure there aren't any as old as you. No where near."

"Well, the seer is quite old for your train of thought, as well as Amanda," she said knowing he more than likely had no clue who she was referring to.

"Who?" Duncan and Joe asked as one.

"Cassandra," Methos answered quietly.

"You know her?" Duncan seemed surprised.

"We've met," she answered flatly.

"You sound like you don't like her," Joe observed.

"I don't. End of story so don't ask." She looked at Methos. "I believe we were leaving." She turned and walked to his truck seeing as it and MacLeod's were the only vehicles there.

"Did you know . . ."

"No, Mac. I had no idea," he answered before following her and unlocking the doors. They got in his truck in silence. Duncan and Joe watched until they could no longer see the truck.

"So, she knows Cassandra. I wonder how they met." Joe turned to the bar.

"I don't know, but I bet Methos is going to try to find out. I just hope they don't get into another fight. She seems rather fragile. I am a bit worried their friendship is heading for rocky ground. Good night, Joe. I'll be sure to stop by tomorrow."

Joe raised a hand in parting. MacLeod mimicked the motion and got in his car. He blew the horn as he drove away. Joe turned and watched him go as well before shaking his head and returning to the warm confines of his bar.