Chapter XIX

Methos had only been to the cabin in the meadow three times. Once before Caitlin and Duncan's wedding and for the wedding when he gave Caitlin away and then when he and Amanda had come up to close the place down after Duncan had taken off to find her after her disappearance. When he first pulled his car out of Joe's parking lot he hoped that he could remember how to get there. But when he pulled off of the freeway and headed down the old highway it was if he were on auto pilot. Before he knew it they were coming into the town of Grisdale.

They made one stop at the local market where Methos purchased a twelve pack of beer and they were off again He didn't even have any trouble finding the obscure dirt road they had to turn on to get to the meadow.

Joe had never been up to the cabin before. He hadn't been able to attend Caitlin and Mac's wedding because Caitlin's Watcher and long time friend (of Caitlin's) and Joe's God daughter had been beaten nearly to death by Michelle Webster who Joe had assigned to her and she had to undergo reconstructive surgery on the same day as the wedding. But he had one of his guys there with a video phone. He had heard all about this place. First from Caitlin on night when she and her Watcher/friend, Peggy, came into his bar and got drunk and again later from Duncan after he had befriended him. Now as he looked at the scenery they were passing he could see why Duncan and Caitlin had loved it so much.

Joe had liked Caitlin from the first time he met her when Peggy had brought her from her ranch in Arizona to Seacouver and into his bar. She and Peggy had become good friends. She was probably one of the spunkiest women (next to Amanda) he had ever met. No matter how grave the situation Caitlin always found a way to see a positive side to it. He wondered how she'd look at the current situation were she not the victim.

Kelly opened her eyes and looked up at Duncan. Though her vision was blurred she could see the way he was looking at her clearly. "Why?" she asked in an unrecognizably small voice. "What's happening to me?" Her desperation was unmistakable.

Duncan reached up to gently wipe her face with the cool towel. He shook his head as he said, "I don't know why, baby. But I promise everything will be alright."

Kelly grabbed his wrist to stop him as she moved sideways trying to get away from him. "I'm not your baby," she said adamantly, although her voice sounded weak even to her.

"Caitlin...," Duncan started to say.

"And I'm not Caitlin," Kelly interrupted "I'm Kelly. Kelly McKinney."

Duncan was shaking his head no. "You're wrong," he said trying to remain calm. "You're my wife. Caitlin MacLeod."

She put her hands over her ears and rolled her head from side to side. "I'm not your wife. Why won't you believe me? I'm Kelly McKinney. I'm Brian McKinney's wife. Not yours."

Duncan sat up and looked at her in surprise. Her words stung as if he had touched an electrical cord that had a bare spot and was still plugged in. Through it all, the possibility that she might mot be his anymore had never occurred to him. He didn't know what to say and even if he had, he would have been afraid to say it for fear his own emotions would show and he needed to remain calm in order to get through...get her through this.

Kelly could see the hurt in his eyes and for an instant felt sorry for him. Something must have happened to his wife and now he was seeing her in every woman he met. At least that was the only explanation she could come up with at the moment. She tried to sit up, but when she raised her head off of the pillow a wave of dizziness washed over her again and she sank back against the pillows, shivering.

Duncan watched her face become even more pale than before and he could see her shiver as she fell back onto the pillows. He pulled the afghan up over her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Shhhhh," he said. "Just rest. It'll be alright."

"No," Kelly said in a weak attempt to move away from him. "I have to go. I have to get out of here," she said.

"Caitlin...I mean, Kelly," Duncan corrected himself. If calling her Kelly would keep her calm until Methos got there he'd make himself call her that all day. Anything to prevent her from leaving...or worse, he thought as he remembered his nightmare. "You're in no shape to leave right now," he said, hoping he sounded calm. "You're safe here. This is Holy Ground. No one can hurt you. You can rest."

Kelly allowed him to pull the afghan up to her chin and she looked into his eyes. Suddenly, for reasons she could not explain she believed the man who, except for the dreams, nightmares and visions she'd been having with him in them, was a stranger to her. But she did feel safe. Maybe it was knowing she was on Holy Ground that gave her that feeling. Then that nagging little voice in the back of her head said, "but what if he's lying? What if this isn't Holy Ground?" Kelly put a hand to her forehead as it throbbed. To drown out the voice she thought to herself, "Since when do Immortals get headaches?" But one thought kept running through her mind almost in rhythm with her heart beat and that thought was a phrase which was, "you're my wife. You're Caitlin MacLeod." She closed her eyes and took an extremely unsteady breath in as she tried to calm the throbbing pain in her head.

Duncan gently rubbed her shoulder. He could see that she was in physical pain. He had no idea what could be causing it, but he ached for her. When she hurt, he hurt and vice versa. It had been that way since the first day he had met her over a century ago.

"Just rest," he said softly avoiding the use of either name. "You are safe here."

Robert Woods stood on the balcony of his hotel room in Seattle and gazed out at the multicolored sunset as the golden ball of fire began to disappear, seemingly, into the Pacific Ocean. But as spectacular as the sunset was, Woods was oblivious because his attention was on the conversation he was having on his cell phone.

"So give me some idea," he said, "paint me a picture of what to expect at this point."

The voice on the other end of the conversation belonged to Dr. Benjamin Trask, the Organization's top scientist and researcher. He was the head of the Project and had worked closely with Kelly and knew her better than anyone else.

"There's really no way of knowing for sure," Trask said. He knew it wasn't the answer Woods was looking for but he wanted everyone to understand that there were no documented cases of the effects of the Project "wearing off" since Kelly had been the Project's first success story. Trask himself had performed all experiments on the lab rats and then on the monkeys and he had overseen the first three attempts on Immortal subjects. When those failed and the three Immortals ended up as vegetables having to be terminated he felt the failure more than the rest of the Organization. When Kelly became a success story he had beamed with pride long before the Organization acknowledged his success and rewarded him. But it all boiled down to one thing. It either took or it didn't.

The only thing they had to go by was the reaction of the laboratory animals. Only one of the rats had survived and showed signs of success but that outcome was short lived when the rat developed an anyrism in its brain which ended up rupturing and killing the rat. It was unclear what exactly had caused the anyrism. But since the two successful trials on the monkeys did not result in the same thing as the rat, it didn't seem probable that the Project had anything to do with the animals demise.

"You keep telling me that," Woods said. "Don't you get it doctor? That's not good enough. I need to know what to expect. Speculate if you have to. I know you have some ideas about it."

"Oh, Robert," Trask sighed. He had known Robert Woods since he first came to the Organization as basically an errand boy. Robert would have made a fine researcher. He had the intelligence and logic needed to succeed in research but his main interest had leaned more toward the more hands on departments of the Organization. He was a boy then and now he was a man, THE man as it were, CEO of the Pacific Division of the Organization. Even so Trask maintained his right to call the boss by his first name. "There may be some pain involved," he continued. "If it's an anyrism like the rat, she'll be having severe headaches. Problem would be that being an Immortal, if it kills her, she'll revive and it'll form all over again. Now remember, Robert. This is all in theory. It's kind of hard to run an accurate simulation on a rat when there are no Immortal rats to test."

Woods nodded. "I understand that doctor. What else? What about her memory?" He asked getting into the specific area he was most interested in.

Trask knew why Woods was interested and concerned about the subject. "Speculation?" He confirmed.

"Speculation," Woods said.

"Oh God Robert," Trask sighed. "I...we really don't know. There could be short term memory loss, complete amnesia...there's no way of knowing for sure."

"What about the other memories?" Woods asked.

"Those are gone, Robert," Trask answered with confidence "That part of the treatment...or should I say...pre-treatment was a complete success."

"Are you sure?" Woods asked.

"Positive, Robert," Trask smiled proudly. "We started with a completely clean slate."

Robert Woods let out a sigh of relief. "Then she can be treated again. She's still useful"

"You're wrong son," Trask said.

"But you said...," Woods began.

"I said if she developed the same type of anyrism the rat did, she will suffer from it every time and we...you...would go through what we're going through now, again and again." Trask didn't know if Woods had gotten too personally involved with this subject clouding his logic or not.

"OK doctor," Woods said, disappointment in his voice. "I gotcha. It wouldn't be in the best interest of the Organization."

"I'm sorry, Robert," Trask sighed. He, too, had invested much of himself into this subject. This failure fell as much on him as to Robert Woods.

"Thanks, doc," Woods sighed. "Talk to you later," and he hung up. As he stared at the last remnants of the sun he said, "what a waste," then turned and went inside his room.

TO BE CONTINUED