"I was just going to ask you the same thing," Methos said as he pulled off the pitch black sunglasses he was wearing, "Exactly what brings you two to this part of the country?"

"I'm on vacation," Richelle said defensively.

Methos turned to Richie and added, "And you?"

In a smart aleck tone Richie replied, "I'm on vacation from my senses."

"And you?" Richelle parroted mockingly.

Methos remained unfazed by her response and answered, "I suppose you could say we're doing the same."

Richie grumbled under his breath, "Five million vacation spots in the world and we wind up in the same place as these morons, that's fate."

"Being out in the middle of nowhere with the three idiots you call brothers is a vacation?" Richelle asked and shook her head, "Sounds like hell to me."

"Hell never knew anything as obscene as vacationing with my brothers," Methos replied mockingly.

"Still, why would you choose to bring the circus freak show with you?" Richie asked, watching the slight facial reaction his comment drew from Caspian.

"Well they could hardly stay home," Methos responded cynically, "They'd claw all the furniture to pieces and eat the drapes."

In response to his statement, Methos received a prompt slap in the back of the head from Kronos. Completely nonchalant and unfazed, Methos remarked, "Thank you."

"I can't believe this," Richelle commented, "How the hell did we wind up having you for neighbors?"

Methos was completely deadpanned as he answered, "Just lucky I guess."

"It's impossible for this thing to get any color in the city," Kronos commented sarcastically, and turning his head towards his brother added, "Especially when said thing insists on wearing 10 layers of clothes."

"Ha-ha," Methos dryly remarked.

"Of course," Kronos added, "When you spend 8 months of the year in cities where it rains without end and is colder than a witch's tit..."

"Oh here we go again," Methos replied begrudgingly, "You're never happy wherever we go, if we're in the tropics you complain there's too much sun, if we go to London you complain there's no sun, if we stay in London you complain it rains too much, if we go to the desert you complain it never rains."

"If we go to Haiti maybe I can find a voodoo priest who'll stitch your mouth shut for me," Kronos said to him, "It's just fortunate that our kind doesn't breed, saves me the trouble of making sure you never do."

Methos was unfazed by that comment and only said in response, "Hands that castrated pigs will never touch mine."

"Don't flatter yourself," Kronos warned him, "The pigs were better company."

Richie leaned over towards his sister and murmured, "They're as bad as an old married couple."

Richelle leaned in towards her brother and responded, "It's worse than that, we're being haunted by Pinky and the Brain."

Richie pointed to the two arguing Immortals and started to ask, "Which one's…" before getting a sharp elbow to the ribs.

Richelle went over to the two Immortals and pushed her way in between them and addressed them both saying, "Excuse me Thing 1 and Thing 2, exactly how close of neighbors are we going to be during this stay out here in the middle of nowhere?"

Methos turned and pointed to a cabin clear over on the far end of the land. "That's where we're staying."

"All of you?" she asked.

"Yes, why?"

Richelle turned and looked to Caspian, who hadn't said a word as of yet, and she answered, "Oh…no reason." She'd give the roof of the cabin 48 hours before somebody blew it off the house.

"When did you guys get here?" Richie asked.

"Last night," Kronos answered, "The best way to travel is still under the cover of darkness."

"Sounds like paranoia to me," Richelle said as she walked over to Kronos, "And plain stupidity. If somebody wanted to find you it wouldn't matter what time of day it was."

"That," Methos told her, "Depends on what angle you're watching from."

"You got here last night?" Richelle asked, "You didn't know we were coming?"

"We sure as hell wouldn't have planned it if we'd known," Kronos remarked.

Richelle looked to Methos and asked, "You mean Connor didn't tell you we were coming?"

Now Methos looked genuinely and utterly confused, "Of course not, I haven't spoken to Connor since last week." He quickly caught on that something wasn't right and he asked Richelle, "What's this all about?"

"Connor's not here," she told him, "He brought me up yesterday morning," she pointed to Richie and explained, "These chuckleheads didn't even know we were coming, I didn't even know we were coming. Connor dragged me out of bed and we drove all night to get here. He's gone off to fight some Immortal and he wouldn't tell anybody anything. You know him well enough to know this is not his standard routine, something's gone wrong, and I think he's going to get himself killed this time."

Kronos had just opened his mouth to say something but Methos abruptly cut him off by balling his hand up into a fist and driving it behind him to a vital place that knocked the wind out of his brother.

"Well you're right about one thing," Methos told Richelle, "It's most unusual even by Connor's standards. Did he happen to say who he was looking for?"

"Does it even matter?" Richelle asked.

"It might," Methos said.

Richelle shook her head, "I doubt that very much, even if we knew who, we have no idea where Connor's going or even how to get in contact with him."

"Oh…" Kronos gained a second wind and spoke up, "There could be a way."

The others turned towards him and Richelle asked, "What is it?"

"Those damn shadows that follow his kind around," Kronos answered.

"The Watchers?" Richie asked, "I thought they were all dead."

"No," Methos replied, "The Hunters are dead, there is a difference."

"You mean Connor's still got a tail on him?" Richelle asked him.

"Very possible," Methos answered, "Wouldn't take long to find out."

"Except," something occurred to Richie, "How could you explain wanting to find that out? You've never been assigned to Connor's case, have you?"

"Well no," Methos confessed, "It would take a little dancing around to make sure nobody got suspicious, but it's not impossible."

"Well can you do that?" Richelle asked, "Can you find out where he's headed so we'll know?"

"He could, but why would he do that?" Kronos asked, "If he is going to die, you think you're going to stop that?"

Richelle had her lips curled back to show her teeth like a dog about to rip somebody's throat out and she marched over to Kronos about to tear into him. Methos grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back enough that she couldn't reach Kronos.

"I'll see what I can find out," he told her, "In the meantime where are you staying?"

"At the only other cabin within a 10 mile radius of this dump," Richelle answered, and she and Richie pointed back the way they'd come.

"Who all's staying there?" Methos wanted to know.

"Just us and Mac and Tess," Richie answered, "Why?"

Methos could just hear the gears turning in his brother's head and he turned to Kronos and could tell that something sinister was brewing in the other Horseman's mind. Before that idea could get too far, Methos grabbed Kronos and jerked him forward to get his attention and told him, "If you're about to do what I think you're going to do, I'll slit your throat while you're sleeping."

Kronos yanked Methos' hand off of him and remarked, "Promises promises."

"What?" Richelle asked Methos, "What's he thinking?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," Methos told her, "Just this longstanding bad blood between him and MacLeod."

"But Mac probably doesn't even remember that," Richie said, "He's never talked about it."

"Yeah well," Methos replied, "If there's anything my brother enjoys, it's refreshing people's memories at warp speed."

"You mean ludicrous speed," Richelle said.

"That too," Methos said.

"So what do we do in the meantime?" Richie asked.

Methos looked at the teenagers and asked, "Is there any chance whoever Connor's gone to find, followed him when he brought you out here?"

Richelle shrugged, "Anybody's guess, we tore out of New York pretty fast, obviously he had to think he beat them out, and I would think at almost 500 years old he knows how to tell if he's being followed, especially by another Immortal."

"At any rate," Richie said, "No Immortal would come out here to make trouble," he pointed to his sister and added, "One look at her would scare anybody off."

"Shaddup," Richelle told her brother, and tried knocking the wind out of him the same way Methos had with his brother.

"Well anyway," Methos told them, "We'll be relatively close by, if any trouble does come up…"

"Yeah you and the Bastard Squad will be the first to know," Richelle replied, "And if by any chance Connor would happen to contact you…"

"I'll let you know," Methos said to her. He looked over to their cabin and advised them, "You better get back before they come looking for you."

"Let them look," Kronos told his brother, "I've been looking forward to seeing that self righteous bastard MacLeod again for 126 years."

"Can't you ever let go of a grudge?" Methos wanted to know.

"Yes," Kronos answered, "When the other person's dead."

"All he did was get you shot," Methos said, "Your wives did far worse than that to you."

"That was different," Kronos insisted.

Richie leaned over towards his sister and murmured, "We're supposed to depend on these guys for help? I'd rather take our chances alone."

"He's right about one thing though," Richelle said, "We've got to get back, come on."

"How could we ever have wound up in the exact same place as those 4 Stooges?" Richie asked once they returned to the cabin and retreated back to their bedroom.

"I don't know," Richelle shook her head, "And I don't know whether to be relieved they're here or not." She hit herself in the head repeatedly and said, "This whole thing is a mess…"

"Whatever happens," Richie said, "You know we can't let Mac know about those guys being here."

"I know," Richelle responded, "I'll tell you though, Richie, all things given and all things considered, I really don't know what we can be expected to make conversation over for the next few days that we're staying here." She wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold and said, "I wish Connor would come back. I can't shake this feeling something's going to go wrong this time."

Her brother asked her, "How many Immortals has Connor gone out to whack since you moved in with him?"

"You kidding?" Richelle asked, "Maybe 30."

He looked at her curiously and asked, "And you never had this feeling before?"

She shook her head slowly, "Not like this."

Through the door they could hear Duncan and Tessa talking, and one of them was coming towards their room; Richelle jumped up from the bed and pulled herself visibly together. The door opened and Tessa came in and told them, "It's going to be hot today, what do you think about going out to the lake and swimming?"

"Ah, no thanks, Tess," Richie said, "Deep water and me don't really mix."

"I wouldn't mind," Richelle added, "Except that I didn't bring a swimsuit. Now, I know where you come from that doesn't stop anybody, but…"

Tessa giggled and told Richelle, "Don't worry, I saw to that," and held up a one piece swimsuit, "This should fit you."

Richelle went over to the Frenchwoman and held the black swimsuit up to herself, "I suppose it'll do…" she sneered, "Pitch black, always black."

Richie leaned over towards Tessa and asked, "You get what she's talking about?"

Richelle told her brother, "For some reason us redheads are expected to continually draw a contrast between our red hair and our pale skin, by always dressing in pitch black, as if we didn't have enough unwanted attention drawn to us already, no, we're supposed to go that extra mile and make ourselves look borderline albino, what for? That's what I want to know." She held the suit up to her again and sighed, "Oh well, I suppose it beats the alternative of a sunburn on the ol' torpedoes."

"Eww, there's a nice image of my sister," Richie grimaced.

"Come on, Rich," she said to him, "I'll show you how to do the breast stroke."

"Har-har-har," he remarked as he followed her out of the room.

"Water's nice and freezing cold," Richie said, trying not to tighten his body as he felt an outbreak of gooseflesh all up and down his skin.

"That's the way I like it," his sister replied as she dove under the water, only to reemerge on the other side of her brother, her nose pinched shut and her cheeks fat from holding her breath.

"Maybe it's just me," Richie said to her, "But I get a weird feeling that we're not alone out here."

"Ah, you got that too, eh?" Richelle asked.

"You're deliberately trying to make me paranoid, you know that?" he asked.

"I'm trying to keep us alive," Richelle told him.

"You really think whoever Connor went after would give him the runaround and double back this way to whack us?" Richie asked.

"Or torture us, or kidnap us and use us as a bargaining chip with Connor," she answered, "Anything's possible with these whackos. And I'll tell you something else, brother dear, I get the feeling I'm not the only one that thinks so."

"Oh really? Why's that?" Richie asked.

"Did it ever occur to you that there's a reason you feel like we're being watched?" Richelle asked.

Richie saw her nod her head towards the side, he looked and saw what she saw. Off in the distance, almost too far away to actually be seen, standing by the edge of the shore, they saw a large fat man casting a fishing rod into the water, chuckling to himself over something.

"Sheesh," Richie commented, "They brought out the entire nightmare crew, didn't they?"

Richelle told him dismissively, "That fatass Silas knows there's no fish out here, none biting at this time of the day, none that close to shore. He's out here watching us."

"Why would he do that?" Richie wanted to know.

Richelle shrugged, "Maybe they know something we don't."

Richie looked back to the fat man who seemed to be overly amused by something, and he said to his sister, "I get a bad feeling having those four hyenas so close to our place."

"We already put up with them for almost two months," Richelle reminded him, "They're virtually harmless."

"I still don't like it," Richie remarked.

"Yeah well, I'm not too hot on it either," his sister told him, "But you never know, it could work to our advantage somehow."

"How?" Richie asked.

"I don't know," she admitted, "But you remember that movie about the 10 Indians?"

Richie looked to her and asked, "You mean that one where everybody dies one by one? Sure, what about it?"

"Remember the rule, as long as there was a third person around, the other two were safe, because Mr. Owen never acted with a third party around," Richelle said, and pointed to the man at the shore and said, "There's our third party. If any rogue Immortals come out here, they'll know it."

"So will Mac," Richie said.

Richelle threw her head back guffawing, "Yeah…and over there are four, thousands of years old, psychotic, bloodthirsty, pointfully barbaric Immortals, who know more about how to torture and maim, especially of their own kind, than Mac could ever dream of."

"Sure, but why would they agree to help us?" Richie asked, "They don't like us."

"Because," she answered, "Methos is friends with Connor, that's what kept us in fair shape the last time, somehow, for some reason, he can command those other three jackalopes to do what he wants them to, or at the very least, he can strong-arm Kronos into siding with him, and Kronos can beat the other two into a bloody submission."

"So that's what it's like to have a family," Richie commented, "No thanks."

Richelle folded her arms against her chest and told her brother, "I'm cold, come on," and swam to the shore, with her brother right behind her. Richie suspected it was something more than just the frigid temperature of the lake that was driving his sister back onto land and back towards their cabin so early, but he didn't know what. He took a final look back to the man who stood a hundred yards or so back from them, and pretended he didn't notice them. Richie wasn't sure what to make of it, but he just got an all around bad feeling about this whole trip.