Chapter XXII
Even though he knew she would revive, Duncan could not stop the tears that ran down his cheeks as he held her lifeless body in his arms. Even though her death meant she was free of the pain she had suffered since fainting downstairs, and she was finally at peace from the confusion her mind was in, he felt the loss as if it were permanent.
Methos had prepared Duncan for whatever was going to happen as best he could and he had tried to explain it to his patient and prepare her as well but he wasn't quite sure she understood since by that time her pain was constant and her comprehension diminished It was Duncan he was worried the most about because he could see that his friend was holding on by a thread.
Although there were times when Kelly seemed open to the possibility that she could be the woman they all thought she was, most of her lucidity was spent adamantly denying it which dashed any hope Duncan had that his Caitlin was still locked away inside this woman who called herself Kelly. Then when her pain became unbearable and she could only lie whimpering on his bed, he felt powerless to help her and could only sit there and watch her suffer until she died. But it was what happened at the end that gave Methos hope.
Kelly's last coherent thought came as she looked through her own blurred vision into the eyes of the man who claimed to be her husband. She had come to know a lot about him and his love for his wife who had mysteriously disappeared three years ago and who he had been searching for ever since. He had never given up hope of finding her and Kelly had found herself envying the woman these people seemed to be convinced she was. To be loved so intensely must have been wonderful and when she thought about it she found herself wishing she was that woman. But she never believed it to be true. Even though her memories of her own life had begun to vanish she could not entertain the idea that she was Caitlin MacLeod. But as she looked into Duncan's eyes for the last time and could see even through her blurred vision the love he was feeling she wished more than ever that it was true. Then all she was aware of was blinding pain.
She was completely unaware that as the anyrism ruptured and bled into her brain and as her life began to slip away, she had opened her eyes one last time and looked at Duncan and whispered, "I love you, Duncan," which is when Duncan had taken her into his arms and held her as her heart stopped beating.
It seemed like an eternity to Duncan as he waited for his wife to revive. He kept glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Each moment that she was dead seemed to chip away at his strength little by little. He cradled her in his arms and rocked back and forth. He smoothed her hair away from her face and he begged her to come back to him in whispers. He didn't bother to hide his tears and he couldn't fight to keep himself from trembling. He kept thinking, "what if whatever they have done to her has somehow changed her ability to heal and revive? What if they've made her mortal and this is it?" The thought was unbearable for it meant that not only had he lost her for good but she had died not knowing who she really was, who he was and with no memory of the love they had shared. And that was the most tragic part to Duncan MacLeod.
"Please Caitlin," he whispered as one of his tears fell onto her forehead. "Please, my love, don't leave me. Come back to me. I love you. And I know you love me. We can fight this thing. Just like we have everything...together...as a team...please, baby, please come back to me."
Methos had been sitting in a chair on the front porch, his feet propped on the railing and a bottle of beer in his hand. He had been silently and mindlessly watching a doe and her fawn grazing at the tree line directly across the meadow from the him. His solace was shattered when he heard, "Methos! Get in here." It was MacLeod's voice almost screaming that had penetrated his mindless state.
Methos reacted instinctively. He jumped to his feet and rushed into the house. Joe, who had been buried in his computer was almost to the bottom of the stairs and was looking up at the loft bedroom, his eyes wide. Methos brushed past him and took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the top he came to a stop.
He didn't need to check his patient's pulse. The scene before him told him everything he needed to know. He looked at MacLeod, cradling the woman they all believed to be Caitlin in his arms and rocking her as if rocking her to sleep. He was hunched over her and whispering something meant only for her ears and she was pale as a snow drift.
Methos walked slowly to the side of the bed they were on. Standing next to Duncan he put his hand on Mac's shoulder not only to comfort his friend but himself as well. Mac looked up at Methos, his face wet with tears. He started to say something to Methos but broke into sobs instead Methos felt a lump growing in his own throat.
"I know, Mac," Methos said softly. "I know." He reached down instinctively and placed two fingers on the side of her neck. He was not surprised that there was no pulse. He wanted to examine her and try and determine what had actually caused her death but he didn't want to ask MacLeod to let go of her. He really didn't think Duncan could. Holding her was keeping him together. So Methos had to resort to a minor examination, what he could do while she lay cradled in Duncan's arms.
His biggest question came when he gently raised first her right eyelid and flashed the beam of a pen light into it to checked her pupillary reaction, then the left eye. The right pupil, although sluggish to react because she was physically dead, did react. But the left pupil did not. He checked twice just to be sure but it never changed. Pieces of the medical part of the puzzle started to fit together. Her headache that became increasingly worse incapacitating her, her weakened reflexes in her right extremities, the dizziness and her elevated blood pressure and now the blown pupil; it all pointed to an anyrism that had ruptured. Now the only piece of that part of the puzzle missing was the reason why...what had caused it.
"She had an anyrism in her brain that ruptured," Methos explained to Mac. "That explains the pain she was in."
Duncan looked up at Methos and with a voice thick with emotion he asked, "so when she revives she'll be alright. Right?"
"Technically, yes," Methos said. "Unfortunately we don't know what caused it. It could be related to whatever they did to her or it could have been from the stress of her trying to remember things." He stepped back from the bed and placed a hand on Duncan's shoulder. He kept his eyes on the girl in Mac's arms. He didn't like her color. Most Immortals didn't get that waxy pallor of death when they died that Mortals did...but she did. "Then again," he continued in order to blank out the fear that she might not revive, "it maybe totally unrelated...caused from a riding injury or something. Who knows what she's been doing or what's happened to her in the three years she's been gone."
"Methos?" Duncan looked up at his friend and as Methos made eye contact with Mac he knew what Mac was going to ask. "She is going to come back, right?"
Methos did something then that he rarely did during his life as Dr. Adam Pierson because he hated the risk involved "Of course she is, Mac," he lied. "It just may take a little longer than usual." And with that he strolled over to the bay window and sat down on the window seat. He quickly turned his gaze out the window so that Mac wouldn't see his dishonesty in his eyes.
Downstairs, Joe had heard most of the conversation. He shook his head feeling the weight of sadness on his shoulders. He turned and as he walked back to his laptop and his research, he said a silent prayer that they not lose their Caitlin again.
He had been at his computer only a couple of minutes when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and answered it.
"Joe? It's Amanda," the voice said on the other end of the phone. "Where the hell are you?"
Joe was surprised to hear her voice. She had taken off to Europe six months ago hoping to uncover a trail of clues that MacLeod might have missed in his search for Caitlin and she had only called a couple of times during that time.
"Where are you?" Joe asked.
"I'm in your bar. Mike said you left with Adam a week ago to parts unknown and he has no idea where you are."
"You're back in the States?" Joe asked surprised.
"Yeah," she said and the disappointment, sadness and discouragement were obvious in her voice. "I owe Mac an apology. Methos too. I found nothing." She paused and Joe figured she was taking a drink of whatever Mike had poured her. When she spoke again her emotions were hidden and, although not completely up beat, she sounded more like the light hearted Amanda he knew. "So where the hell are you guys? Hell Mac isn't even home."
"We're all at Mac's cabin in the mountains," Joe said.
"Who's we all?" Amanda asked.
"Methos, Mac, me and...," Joe hesitated.
"Who?" Amanda pressed. "Who else is there?"
"Caitlin," Joe said softly.
"What?" Amanda shrieked into the phone and then the line went dead.
"Mike," she said, "I'm out of here." And Amanda practically ran out of the bar, got into her car and sped out of the parking lot.
Amanda had gone straight from the airport to Joe's Bar. She was exhausted. The last six months had been the most frustrating and disappointing months Amanda ever remembered experiencing in her 1100+ years. When she got to Joe's and found out that no one was around she began to feel the emotional and physical exhaustion that she had fought on the flight home. But when Joe told her Caitlin was with them at the cabin Amanda's energy returned.
Most of the three and a half hour drive Amanda spent remembering her one time student and best friend.
Flashback
It's 1860 in a serene meadow surrounded by a dense and peaceful forest of Sequoia, Redwood and Oak trees across the bay from the bustling chaos of San Francisco. The day is sunny and warm, the sky a rich blue in contrast to trees that seemed to end somewhere outside of human view in that vast blueness. Two women, one with log red hair, the other with short dark brown hair, dressed in loose fitting men's trousers and undershirts appear to be battling each other with swords. Their movements seem like a perfectly choreographed ballet, each in rhythm with the other, flowing smoothly and in sync. Then the young red head miscalculates her move, fails to find a solid foothold and the other woman uses her opponent's momentary unbalance and is able to disarm her opponent with her own sword, which causes the red head to lose what was left of her concentration and as she tries to step backward out of the reach of her dark haired opponent, she steps on a piece of uneven ground leans a little too far forward trying to attempt to regain her balance which only aided the seemingly non-effort of her opponent to raise her sword just high enough to barely touch its steel to the red head's throat.
But instead of following through with the motion and what would seem to be the logical conclusion and outcome, the dark haired woman reaches out with her free hand, makes contact with the red head's shoulder and gives her a shove that send her sprawling backward and landing in an unflattering position in the grasses that carpeted the meadow.
"Damn!" Cara pounds the ground on either side of herself and frustration and embarrassment are written all over her face. Amanda is laughing as she reaches down to help Cara up. "Oh, sure..." Cara pouts as she lets her friend and "mentor" pull her to her feet. "Go ahead. Laugh. As if I'm not humiliated enough."
"Humiliated? Why on Earth would you be humiliated?"
"Because, I don't think I'm ever going to get this crap down well enough to be able to remain on my feet and not on my ass every time we spar."
Amanda, took Cara by the shoulders and forced her to make eye contact with her. Then, looking almost inside of Cara, she said in a voice that no longer teased, but emulated reassurance and love, "You will get it. I have faith in you, you just need to have faith in yourself." Cara tried to break the intense eye contact but Amanda wouldn't let her. "If you hadn't lost your footing, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to disarm you and in doing so, startled you, shook you enough to weaken your confidence and concentration which threw you more off balance and opened the door all the way. It could very easily been the other way around."
"Yeah, right."
"CJ, I have fallen on my ass more times than I care to count."
"But you still have your head. You've been training me for 2 years now. You'd think I should have been able to at least master such a simple basic thing as keeping my feet under me no matter what the terrain."
Amanda put her arm around Cara's shoulder and steered her toward the small stream that gurgled through the meadow. "You really are a self perfectionist, aren't you?"
"A what?" Cara asked.
"A self perfectionist."
"OK. I've heard of a perfectionist, but..."
At the stream both ladies sat on the cool ground, removed their shoes and dangled their feet in the cool water. Amanda lay back, closing her eyes. "A perfectionist is someone who expects perfection from everyone and everything around her. A self-perfectionist expects perfection from herself. It's OK for other people to make mistakes, but she doesn't allow herself to. She understands that situations are not always perfect but she demands that how she reacts to those imperfect situations and how she goes about resolving them or handling them to be perfect."
"That sounds like a load of crap," Cara laughs. "Where did you come up with that psychological mumbo-jumbo?"
Amanda chuckles, "Some guy I know."
"That figures," Cara lays back on the grassy carpet like her friend, only she doesn't close her eyes. Instead she looks up into the clear sky and watches a hawk gliding peacefully in big circles and she lets the warm sun wash over her like a blanket of comfort. "It's always a guy with you. Who was this one? Another woman's husband, a lover, a partner in crime?"
"Oh," Amanda says dramatically, "you wound me."
"Sorry." Cara giggles.
"He's a friend, sometimes lover. More like a playmate."
"I'll bet," Cara shook her head. She admired and almost coveted her friend's relaxed bravado with men. Amanda never led them on with a false moralistic attitude. With Amanda, a man knew from the start just what her intentions were and she set the rules and limits of the relationship. If she just wanted to have some fun, she let them know. Cara never saw a man walk away from a relationship with Amanda, no matter how short it may have been, with hurt feelings because they expected more. In fact, Amanda remained friends with each and every man that had shared whatever time she had allowed. She wasn't cold and uncaring, she was just honest and each man that Amanda had let into her life during the 2 years Cara had been with her, had left happy and content. Amanda had a gift that Cara admired and envied.
"You're something else," Cara said trying to sound like she disapproved.
"It's a gift," Amanda sighed. Cara looked at her friend, who was looking at her and they both burst into laughter.
Present day
Amanda became aware of her surroundings when a car passed her and honked at her because she was swerving over the center line on the two lane highway that led to Grisdale.
By the time she pulled into the town of Grisdale, Washington the only store of any kind that was open was a small twenty four hour convenience store and gas station. Amanda pulled in and parked. She got out and stretched her tired muscles then went inside and bought a large cup of coffee and then got back out on the road.
Amanda was surprised at the ease at which she found the dirt road that led to the meadow. She made her turn and slowly followed the tire ruts, eventually arriving at the meadow. Unlike everyone else who would stop at the end of the tree line before driving across the bridge to admire the awe inspiring beauty of the secluded meadow, Amanda accelerated across the wooden bridge and came to a stop behind Methos Landrover. As she got out of her car she felt the buzz of several Immortals coming from inside the house which was lit up like a Christmas tree from the lights inside.
Methos felt the Immortal buzz only seconds before Mac did. He was already standing and starting to walk toward the stairs when Duncan raised his head and looked around.
"I'll take care of it, Mac," Methos said quietly and headed downstairs.
Joe had seen the headlights and was already on his feet. He looked tired and his eyes were red from staring at the computer screen for so long.
"Why don't you put that thing away, Joe?" Methos said. "Get some rest. I know there's a couch in the den." He pointed to the room under the stairs as he continued walking toward the door. As he passed the sofa table in the living room where he had laid his sword when they first arrived he picked it up and held it in his right hand as he opened the front door with his left.
Amanda had just stepped onto the front porch when Methos opened the door. She saw his sword in his hand and smiled. "I've always had a thing for guys with big swords," she teased.
Methos let out a sigh of relief, even though he was curious as to why she was here, especially since the last time he had heard, she was still in Europe. He smiled and quipped, "I've heard that about you."
Amanda reached up and put her arms around his neck giving him a hug. "Believe it or not," she said, almost whispering, "I actually missed you."
Methos stepped aside so she could come in the house.
As soon as Amanda was inside she turned to Methos and said, "OK. Where is she?"
Methos looked at her confused.
"Joe?" Amanda turned to Joe. "You told me...," Amanda started.
Joe held up his hands to quiet Amanda down. But Methos took more aggressive action. He grabbed her arm, opened the front door and practically dragged her out onto the front porch.
"What the hell are you doing?" Amanda yelled once she was let go.
"Is it at all possible for you to NOT yell?" Methos groaned.
"Well first I'm told that Caitlin's here and after I bust my ass getting here I'm drug outside," Amanda was still talking loudly but not as loud as she had been.
"Just calm down," Methos said.
"I am calm," Amanda retorted but she didn't sound calm.
"When you calm down," Methos chose to ignore her retort, "I'll explain it but there's no sense me trying to talk to you when you're like this."
Amanda plopped into the porch swing, pouting.
"And you ought to know by now that that doesn't work on me," he added in regards to her pouting. When he determined she had calmed down enough he began to explain the situation and all that had transpired in the past few weeks.
As Amanda listened the expression on her face went from fascination to disbelief to anger to sadness then to concern.
When Methos didn't come back right away Duncan became concerned. He couldn't hear any voices in the house so he figured that they must have gone outside. He was actually toying with the idea of going down to check out the situation when Caitlin gasped for air and sat up coughing. Duncan released his hold on her and helped her sit up placing his hand against her back for support.
"It's OK, honey," he said gently. "Just take a couple of deep breaths."
Kelly woke up gasping for air. Her lungs were completely empty and it took more than the usual gasp to fill them and the process caused her to cough. Through the coughing fit she could hear Duncan's voice reassuring her. When the fit of coughing ended and she was able to coax her chest muscles into allowing her to inhale more deeply she realized that Duncan had his hand on her back supporting her. Her first instinct was to move away but there was something about the warmth of his touch that made her feel safe so she banished her instinct.
Finally able to breath normally she looked at her surroundings. The room was dimly lit by the lights from the downstairs rooms. She turned and looked at Duncan. His eyes were red indicating he had been crying and she felt sorry for what he must have been going through.
Kelly sat quietly as she went over in her45 mind what had transpired over the last week. The pain in her head was gone, her "death" having healed the anyrism Dr. Pierson had suspected she had. Even tough the pain was gone, for now, she was more confused than ever. She had listened as both Duncan and Pierson had poked holes in what she thought was her past. For months she had remembered being married to a man who was supposed to be a simple researcher and a mortal. But she had seen the evidence when Duncan brought Joe's laptop upstairs and showed her the file. He, of course, then had to explain to her about the Watchers.
Kelly reflected on this piece of information. If the memory of her life was a lie then how many others were, too? And if her life, the life she remembered was all a lie then who was she really? And why would someone do this to her?
Kelly became aware o Duncan's watchful eye and turned to look at him. When she did he asked, "Are you alright?" His voice was soft and comforting and he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Kelly nodded and said, "yes." But as soon as she did she was filled with emotions and broke into tears and she shook her head and whispered, "no."
Duncan was taken by surprise when she began to cry. At first he didn't know what to do but her tears made his heart ache for her and he gently pulled her into his arms. She didn't fight him this time. He held her until she stopped crying and gently pushed away from him, wiping her eyes.
TO BE CONTINUED