The days passed with some semblance of routine. Morgan and Fenris were inseparable. Following her encounter with Van Art, Morgan never failed to carry her blade again and threw herself into her training with renewed fervor. Either she was working or she was exercising or working out. In a way her mentor was sorry to see it. The first Quickening was, in a way, the real beginning of an Immortal's new life. However, it was also the death of their former self and their innocence alongside their foe.

Martin scowled over the latest pile of NHS paperwork. Not for the millionth time he resented the local Primary Care Trust and it's fixation with forms. Glancing at his watch he noticed it was almost 8PM and he realised that it was time he was getting home. He yawned and locked his work up in the drawer of his desk, briefly wondering if his student would be about when he got back. He had not seen her in two or three days as he had been working such long hours in an effort to catch up with his duties. One by one the lights flickered off and he locked the outer door before stepping into the street and heading towards the car park. The Immortal had not gone twenty feet before he heard the unmistakeable sound of a fight. At the same time, he caught sight of a large crowd on the opposite pavement and almost immediately after, felt the raw power of a very angry Quickening.

An elderly man hurried across the road, sensing in Martin perhaps someone who could help. "Mr Penwarden!" he gasped breathlessly. "There's a woman over there… I think she's not quite right" he tapped the side of his temple.

Martin nodded wordlessly but when the man turned to go he rolled his eyes. He hated the term 'not right in the head'; it was demeaning and indicated a total lack of understanding the human mind. He followed the man back to the crowd. He pushed his way to the front and stopped dead, staring in horror at the vision of wild fury in front of him. Morgan's black hair was tangled and matted, her body taut like a coiled snake as she crouched over a huge muscular man, curled on the floor and trying desperately to shield himself, with very limited success as the comparatively delicate woman proceeded to beat him to a bloody pulp; and, judging by the amount of blood on the pavement, she wasn't holding anything back. "Morgan!" The older Immortal's voice was sharp and clear. It would brook no disobedience.

Morgan turned, slowly rising from her crouching position to her full height. Martin was shocked by the fury that contorted her face and the murderous violence that filled her eyes. With a blood-curdling roar she leapt at him, her hands extended out like claws that tore into his flesh and raked his face. He ducked the first blows and grabbed her wrists. "Morgan! Calm down!" His student struggled with a violence that he had not known her capable of. With difficulty he held her immobile and scanned the crowd for someone who could help him.

Doctor Ashcroft pushed her way through the gawking onlookers. "Hold her still" she said. "I've got a sedative here!" She drew out a syringe and, as Martin straightened and pinned his Student's arm, Ashcroft injected the drug.

Morgan howled her outrage and head-butted the unfortunate doctor. She reeled back clutching her bleeding nose. However, the young Immortal showed no signs of passing out and a cold fear swarmed in the pit of Martin's stomach as he faced the horrifying realisation that she could only have taken a Dark Quickening. "Forgive me Child" he murmured (more to himself than to her) and hurled her struggling body head-first into the nearest brick wall. The momentum drove her head hard into the stonework. A second later, her eyes rolled and she sagged into his arms, unconscious. Just then, a police car came flying around the corner and screamed to a stop. The local bobby got out of the drivers seat as Morgan's victim staggered to his feet. After a brief conversation, the big man shook his head vehemently and slunk away from the scene with his tail between his legs. His friends would never let him live down if they found out that he had been beaten up by a woman. Meanwhile, Martin carried his unconscious student back to his car. He laid her in the back seat and swiftly bound her hands and feet with the tow rope he carried in the boot. He regretted doing it, but he could not risk her waking and going berserk. Fortunately for him, she did not and soon he had her locked in her bedroom.

Farrell stretched and took a long swig from his bottle of Coca Cola before picking up the remote control and hopping through the channels. The phone shrilled close to his ear, startling him. He picked it up and cradled it on his right shoulder. "Farrell".

"William, get over here. I need your help."

He sat up straighter. "What kind of help, Martin?"

"I'd rather not say over the phone. Just get here as quick as you can… it's about Morgan"

William's heart sank. "I'll be right there" he promised.

The rain beat down and plastered Farrell's hair to his head as he trudged up his friend's front path and pressed the doorbell. When Penwarden answered, William was almost shocked at the younger man's dishevelled appearance. There was no 'almost' about it when he saw the angry red scratches on Martin's face and the spectacular black eye. "Christ all-mighty!" he exclaimed.

"Why thank you" Martin muttered as he waved him in and gingerly applied a pack of frozen peas to his face.

"What in hell happened?"

Before Martin could answer, there came a loud thud from upstairs. It was followed by further thuds and other sounds of commotion.

"PMS?"

"She's taken a Dark Quickening"

"I'm not sure which one's worse."

Penwarden sighed and flopped into a chair as his wounds began to heal. "I need your help William. I've never seen this before and I have no idea where to even begin".

"You look like shit, Royalist" William commented drily.

"Flattery will get you everywhere. Now… can you help me or not?"

Farrell's voice dropped an octave as he became serious. "I don't know, Martin. But I'm going to damn well try. Now, where is she?"

"Locked in her room. I'm telling you William, she's out of control. It's turned her into a wild animal!"

Farrell pondered for a moment. "You can't get through to her?" he asked.

"I'm not sure she even recognises me"

"She does… She just doesn't care."

"Wonderful" Martin muttered with a heavy sigh.

"Well… I'd better get up there then… See what I can do, huh? But I'm going to need you too Martin. This is going to take both of us. If you can take another female induced black eye that is" William grinned but his friend did not return it. Wordlessly Martin drew a key from his pocket and handed it over to his friend. "Right. Come on."

The key turned softly and easily in the lock and the door swung inwards with a gentle creak. The room beyond was dim and deathly silent. The two Immortals glanced at one another, then William pushed the door fully open and stepped inside. A hunched figure hunkered on the floor at the foot of the bed, head bowed. Martin had bound Morgan's hands behind her to the bedpost so that she could not escape from her makeshift prison. Farrell moved closer and crouched down to her level. Penwarden remained sentry-like by the door.

"Morgan?" William spoke softly and inclined his head close to look into her eyes. They were smouldering orbs of hate and rage. They did not look human, they looked more like they should belong to a demon. "Morgan, can you hear me?"

Slowly she lifted her head and stared straight into his eyes as if she were burning a path to the back of his head. A sneer contorted her face. "You want me baby?" she purred, flicking her tongue across her lips. "You can't handle me… betcha can't get your little Immortal dick up to the challenge, hmmm?"

"This isn't who you are, kid" Farrell ignored the lewd suggestion. "This isn't the Morgan I know."

"Too bad… this is who I am now… and I like it. C'mon, untie me and you'll like it too!"

"No can do."

Morgan let out a bestial roar and lunged towards him. However, she could not get any closer than arm's length as the ropes pulled tight around her wrists. Snarling, she bared her teeth and struggled to get free. "Coward!" she screeched. Rolling to her side, she lashed out with her right leg and caught the unfortunate William square in the crotch before kicking at his knees and shins, as she tried to bring him to the floor. Farrell staggered back so that he was out of range. "You can't keep me here forever, you pathetic worms! I'm going to tear your heads off with my bare hands and then bathe in your blood!"

"Morgan, it isn't us that you are angry with" reasoned William.

"You'll do in the meantime!" The maddened woman struggled and the rope started to splinter from the friction against the wood of the bedpost.

"Listen to me! Listen to yourself! It's a Dark Quickening in control of your mind. Do you understand?"

"Who gives a flying fuck! I'm strong! It feels good! No one can hurt me now! I'm invulnerable!" Her grin was near manic and absolutely wild. There was a splintering snap as her bonds broke and she flew forward with a bone chilling screech and barrelled Farrell to the ground. He struggled to fight her off as she sank her teeth into his throat and her clawlike nails tore at his eyes. Martin shook himself out of his shock and plunged into the fray. He twinned a fist into his student's once luxuriant mane and yanked her head back hard before slamming her into the nearest wall. It took three blows this time before she fell. Martin let her drop and turned to his friend. William was clutching his throat as he tentatively sat up. "Shit, you weren't kidding!" he swore.

"So what's your plan?"

"My plan? Charming. Well… clearly just tying her up isn't going to hold her and keeping her unconscious will only compound the problem. So… restrain her as well as you can, dope her with horse tranquilisers if you have to and I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'll be right back… on my honour"

Martin sighed as William left and picked up Morgan's limp body. Blood was congealing on her face and she was already beginning to stir. He laid her down on the bed and used a strip torn from a sheet to bind her hands. Knowing it wouldn't hold for long her hurtled down the stairs at breakneck speed and bolted outside to the tackroom, where the horse medications were kept. He scanned the shelves anxiously and then grabbed the bottle and a clean syringe. Back upstairs, Morgan was almost fully conscious and starting to struggle furiously. When she saw Martin, she let out a roar of anger and a tirade of the foulest language he had ever heard. Ignoring the insults and the threats, he knelt on her arm, pinning it flat and pushed the syringe into the vein. Morgan bared her teeth and snarled in fury. "You'll thank me for it later" he murmured as he withdrew the needle. Her eyes began to cloud and a few seconds later she was deeply asleep. Martin sat back and wiped his face. He was about to check his watch when he heard William's footsteps on the stairs.

When the older man's impish face appeared around the door, Martin glanced up. "She's out for the count" he said. "But I can't tell you how long for, so whatever plan you've got, you'd better put it into action fast".

William winked and drew something from his pocket. Martin felt his jaw go slack. "You've got to be kidding me! Where the hell did you get those?"

"I have my sources. They're the real McCoy, so don't worry they'll hold her"

"Sometimes I have to wonder about you"

"Wonder away" Farrell locked the manacles tight around Morgan's wrists and connected them to the bedposts. Finally he sat back and pulled his blood stained collar away from his neck with a grimace of distaste. "Damn where the hell did that come from?"

"Her second Quickening and it's Dark. How the hell can anyone be so unlucky?"

"These things happen. If her opponent was under its' influence she was lucky to win at all. When she comes through it she'll be stronger than ever."

"How many times have you encountered a Dark Quickening?"

"In my whole life?"

"Yep"

"Twice".

Penwarden frowned. "Twice?"

"That's what I said. This one and the other one."

Martin felt an almost irresistible urge to bang his head against the desk. "Well that makes you the expert in this house. What do we do now?"

William stripped his ruined shirt off. "First, I get cleaned up" he replied as he headed out of the room.

Martin shook his head and, after checking that Morgan wouldn't be able to free herself, he left the room silently and locked the door.

She stood in the centre of a brilliant circle of white light. It was blinding and she was forced to squint so as not to burn her eyes. Beyond the illumination it was pitch black, however she knew she was not alone. A thousand pairs of eyes focused on her yet she could not see any of them. When she tried to leave the circle of light, she was thrown back by an invisible barrier. Something a science fiction writer would have termed a Force Field. "Who are you?!" she yelled. By the echo, she judged that the chamber was immense. It was only the echo that answered her. The unseen eyes remained mute and faceless. "Where am I?!" Again there was no response and she turned around in a circle, a tight ball of fear growing in her belly. "Answer me!"

"We are you. You are us". The voice was an almost malevolent hiss coming from the darkness.

"I don't understand!"

"Understanding is not necessary. Only being."

"What do you mean? Where am I?"

The voices were silent.

"Please!" her voice cracked in fear. "Where am I? How did I get here?"

"You were always here".

"We've been waiting for you"

"Who are you!"

"We are your Quickening. We are your strength."

"Why am I here?"

"Because you choose to be"

"But where…"

"We can show you how to use your power. We can make you stronger, quicker, smarter."

"You can feel our strength. Accept it. Let it flow into you, feeding your heart and mind."

Bewildered, Morgan tried to peer through the light and then gasped as an immense red fury rushed into her. She let out a roar that could have shook heaven itself. Anger raged through her mind and she screamed her primal energy to the watchers. It seemed to her that it was met with approval and she screamed again and again. It felt good. More than that, it was intoxicating, even stronger than the energy of the Quickening was the energy running through her now.

"Yes" hissed the malevolent ones. "Yes, welcome it; accept it; absorb it; let it take your soul".

"No!" Shrieked another voice, struggling to make itself heard. "No! It's a trick!"

Barely had Morgan had time to absorb this warning when it was drowned out by an incoherent roaring babble. Every faceless voice was calling to her, exhorting her to accept the dark rush of power. She stumbled and slumped to her knees, gasping and weeping as a part of her soul that had never seen the light of day, began to emerge. The rage felt like it was splitting her in two and she lashed out.

William involuntarily flinched as a bound arm tried to grasp towards him, the movement was jerky, as though Morgan was struggling to strike him. Her eyes were wild and unfocused, or, more accurately, focused inward. "Atta girl" he murmered softly. "Fight it. Don't let it take you over". Metal rattled as the chains on Morgan's wrists pulled taut then slackened again. A creak came from the door behind him as Martin came into the room, bearing a bottle of water, which he handed to William.

"How is she doing?" He enquired.

"I don't know." William sounded tired. "I think she's trying to fight it but I can't be certain. She's gone beyond rational communication…" He sighed and caressed one of Morgan's wayward, curls. The young woman's body had fallen slack, coated in a sheen of exhausted sweat. She did not respond to the contact.

Martin sat down in the chair beside the bed. "Tell….tell me the truth Roundhead." He swallowed to hide the cracking of his voice. "If she doesn't… come back…"

"It won't come to that, Martin. She's strong, she can overcome this darkness. We just have to have faith."

"Faith" echoed Penwarden. He frowned as he regarded the unconscious woman. "Something tells me this is going to take a while; we're going to need help".

The receptionist knocked on Doctor Ashcroft's office door. She glanced at the clock, noting that surgery hours were long over. "Come in" she called.

The Receptionist was a stout woman in her late fifties. She wore old fashioned pinz-nez and pulled her grey hair into a tight bun that made her look like a strict school marm who would be more at home in a girls grammar school from the early thirties. "Doctor, Mr Penwarden is here. He says he needs to see you. Shall I tell him to come back tomorrow during surgery hours?"

1994

A couple of workmen were busy removing the ladders and detritus of decorating from the unoccupied suite of rooms in the East wing of the building. A brass plate had been screwed on the door, indicating the name and speciality of the new occupant. Martin Penwarden rubbed it with his sleeve, removing a tiny speck of dust from the gleaming metal. His new office was much larger than he was accustomed to. It needed to be; for a small market town the inhabitants of this place certainly had a substantial history of needing emotional support. A floorboard creaked and footsteps sounded down the stairs. Martin turned to see one of his new colleagues, carrying a couple of empty coffee cups.

"Hi" she smiled. "You must be Mr Penwarden. I'm Doctor Ashcroft, Sarah."

"Martin" he replied as they shook hands. She wasn't exactly pretty, but her eyes were a deep, rich chocolate brown and filled with gentle warmth. Sarah Ashcroft radiated the rare beauty of human empathy and kindness.

The doctor opened her mouth to speak but tripped on the bottom stair. Martin lunged forwards and caught her, but the mugs she carried fell to the floor and smashed. "Here, I'll get that for you" he offered, ever the gentleman. Ashcroft smiled and nodded her thanks. Martin crouched and started to gather up the ceramic fragments. He was almost done, when one of the shards slipped and sliced open his palm. Penwarden let out a hiss of pain and shook his hand, clenching his fist to cover the wound.

"Here" said Ashcroft. "Let me look at that."

"No, it's alright" replied Martin, drawing his hand behind him. "Just a scratch. It's fine."

"I'll be the judge of that" the doctor replied as she took his arm, pulled it towards her and unfolded the clenched fingers. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away the pooled blood. At the same moment she revealed the cut, it sparked a little and healed without a trace as though a zip had been fastened across the flesh. Ashcroft's mouth dropped open and Martin groaned inwardly.

"Look…" he began.

"That's… incredible!"

Early 21st Century

"No, tell him to come in." Doctor Ashcroft told the receptionist. The woman nodded curtly and disappeared. A moment later, Penwarden's head appeared around the door. "Martin" she smiled as she stood to greet him. "Now it's not often I see you in here. In fact, I think this is a first."

"Yes, I think it is" the man's voice was as humourless as his face. "Unfortunately this isn't a social call, Sarah. I need your help."

"Don't tell me you're sick" smiled Sarah as she rose.

"Do you remember that woman who went berserk in the Market Square?"

"How could I forget?" the Doctor touched her nose, which still showed signs of bruising.

"She's a friend of mine, Sarah, and she's in trouble."

"What kind of trouble, Martin?" she frowned slightly.

"It's difficult to explain. Suffice to say, she's not herself and she needs a little medical intervention before she gets better."

"What kind of intervention?"

"Glucose, saline, sedatives on IV. Nothing restricted. What do you say? Please Sarah, she's in a real mess…"

"Of course I'll help! She's at your place?"

Martin nodded mutely.

"Give me two hours to get the things I need together and I'll be there, ok?"

"Thanks Sarah" he picked up a pen and scribbled a rough map on her jotter pad. "At risk of sounding like a cliché… I owe you one."

The water was freezing as the two combatants lunged at one another through the swirling river eddies. The other was barely a child but he didn't care. All he desired was the euphoric power of the Quickening. The child slipped on the weed covered river bed and he took his chance, charging forward with his sword held ready to kill. A silver arc and a fount of blood and the river was running red. The child's body fell beneath the surface and the victor roared his exultant victory to the heavens. He was about to become the strongest of his kind in the whole region and the thought made his whole being quiver in anticipation.

Even as Morgan pulled her own consciousness free of the distant memory she still felt the tremors of that long ago Quickening. A dull roar echoed around her and she was back in the column of light with faceless voices calling to her. Each one wanted to tell her its' story and, if it drove her insane they were going to do it. She felt a tremor of outrage and resentment. She was not going to let these personalities invade her being and overrun her soul. She reached out, feeling the pressure of the invisible barrier, pushing against it with all her strength. However, it was to no avail and she slumped to her knees in exhaustion.

"What do you want from me?" She murmured.

"They want your mind and your soul" replied a gentle voice. "Do not yield to them. You must draw on their power, not the other way around. You…" The voice was suddenly and abruptly cut off by the clamouring of others.

Smoke drifted across the bloody field, cutting of the sight of the carnage ahead but it could still be heard and smelt. The taste and stench of blood and gunpowder tainted the air when he felt the presence of another Immortal nearby. Turning slowly, he saw the man… a common private, armed only with his musket. In the heat of battle the man had no sword. It was not part of the Private Soldier's uniform. He grinned, almost sneering as he drew his blade. The soldier raised his bayoneted musket in an effort to protect himself. It was in vain as it was swatted aside as though it were nothing more than a fly. The impact of the sword sent splinters of wood flying up. The private reflexively attempted to shield his face and his opponents sword swung through the air in a deadly arc, decapitating the hapless and helpless young man. Through the thunder of cannon and screams of dying men, no one noticed the Quickening. No one noticed one more body.

The insistent jangling of the doorbell drew Martin from a troubled doze. He felt no Quickening and a quick glance through the spyhole confirmed that the visitor was Doctor Ashcroft.

The doctor was straight to business. "So where's the patient?" she asked.

"Upstairs, I'll show you". The Immortal led the way up the stairs and tapped on the bedroom door.

"Yo?" drawled William's lazy voice.

Martin opened the door and ushered Ashcroft into the room. The Doctor put her box of supplies down on the floor beside the bed and moved closer to inspect Morgan. She spotted the bottle of sedatives on the bedside table and her mouth opened in horror as she picked it up and read the label. "You haven't been dosing her with this!" she gasped. "Good God Martin, you'll kill her!"

"It's alright Sarah" Penwarden rested a gentle, reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Believe me, it won't hurt her in the least".

Sarah looked bemused for a very long moment before enlightenment dawned. "She's… like you!"

Martin nodded slightly. "That's correct" he replied.

"Then let's get to work" She put a stethoscope to her ears and perched on the edge of the bed, listening to Morgan's heart. Even though the Immortal woman was deeply asleep, her pulse was literally racing and her heartbeat thundered in Ashcroft's ears. The doctor let out a low whistle and scribbled the figure down on her hand before checking Morgan's blood pressure and pinching the skin on the back of her hand to check her hydration levels. As Martin had feared, it was dangerously low. Swiftly, Sarah set to work, setting up the IV and inserting needles into the girl's hand. When she was finished, she sat back and ran her hand through her hair with a sigh. "Tell me the truth Martin," she said quietly. "What's happening to her?"

"It's hard to explain Sarah" Martin replied. "Morgan is… struggling right now. Struggling against an influence that is not her own. I know it's not much to go on, but it's about all I can tell you." He shook his head sadly.

Sarah frowned and it was obvious that she wasn't too happy with the situation. "Alright" she said at last. "I trust you, so I won't push you for more details, but tell me this. What will happen if she loses this 'struggle'?"

"It won't be pretty" he said sombrely. The expression on his face was sufficient to curtail any further questions that the doctor might have had on that particular issue.

"How long will it…?" Her voice trailed off.

"I don't know. Could be a day, could be months. There's no way to tell."

Ashcroft reached out and touched his arm. I can see she's more to you than a friend. I'll come by twice a day, let me know if you need anything else. Unfortunately there's nothing more I can do for you now. Keep the fluids going, ok?"

Martin nodded mutely and Sarah smiled. "I'll see myself out" she said as she closed the bedroom door behind her.

As the days passed, Morgan remained unconscious and struggling with the dark Quickening. Doctor Ashcroft was as good as her word and came twice daily to monitor the young immortal. Only the glucose IV was keeping her body from dying, providing as it was, the barest minimum of nourishment.

The voices became more insistent and the visions became shorter and more vivid. Each one brought with it fresh rage and hatred so seductive that Morgan was sorely tempted to give in to it and the revitalisation it promised. However, as she tentatively reached towards the maelstrom of emotion she felt sickened. It reviled her. "No!" she screamed. "No! No! I won't do it! Do you hear me?" She closed her eyes and took a deep figurative breath, summoning up all the strength she could and shoved hard. At first, nothing happened, the barrier remained immovable. She snarled and bared her teeth, pushing with all her strength. Gradually her hands and then her arms grew warm, then hot then the resistance of the barrier that imprisoned her was gone. One final shove and it collapsed, she fell past the perimeter of the column of light and into the inky blackness.

The young Immortal woke suddenly and tried to sit bolt upright, she realised she was chained down, she let out a yelp of terror. "Martin?" she tried to call for her Mentor but all that emerged from her dry throat was a weak croak.

A shadow crossed her and she peered, trying to recognise the face swimming in front of her. "Martin?" she croaked again.

"No kiddo, it's me… William. How are you feeling?"

"What… what's happening? Why am I here?"

"Don't panic Child" soothed the older Immortal. "There's no need to be afraid. We had to find a way to stop you hurting yourself. What's the last thing you remember?"

She frowned and a hazy image came to the forefront of her mind, she felt her teeth sinking into flesh and saw William grimace in pain, raising his hands to protect himself. "I… bit you" she replied cautiously.

William smiled wanly. "Yeah, that you did" he replied. "But it wasn't your fault. The last head you took was what we call a Dark Quickening. Basically it manifested the evil in your soul. Removed your inhibitions and forced you to act in a way that is totally alien to you."

"How… long?" she realised she felt ill and sick.

"You've been under its' influence for almost three weeks, near as we can tell".

"Three… weeks?"

"Uh huh" he could already sense that her Quickening was calmer, more like the familiar one he had come to know. However, he was too cautious to just release the handcuffs. He had heard tell of Immortals who could control the sensation of their Quickenings. "Just stay calm and still" he spoke almost tenderly. "I can't free you just yet. You're very weak. Rest and we'll see how you're doing when Martin comes home".

Morgan half-nodded in response but a flash of misery crossed her face and Farrell's heart clenched. "I know kiddo" he said, gently. "I know. It won't be much longer, just hang on in there, ok?"

The wait for Martin Penwarden's return seemed to Farrell to be endless and the tension was unbearable. Morgan dozed and cried then dozed again. As he had been silently worrying, the comedown from a Dark Quickening was even more intense than a regular Quickening. The bottom of the pit, deeper and colder and more unforgiving. William paced the front hall agitatedly and was on the verge of picking up the phone again in a vain effort to call his former student home when he heard a car on the drive and sensed the Quickening. He flung the front door wide while Martin was still only half way down the path.

"What is it?" Martin frowned as he ascended the porch steps.

"She's come out of it! Get up there, quick!"

"How long? Why didn't you call me?"

"A few hours ago. I tried, but all I could get was your voice mail."

Martin shed his coat swiftly and dropped his briefcase under the coat hook before taking the stairs two at a time, William was hot on his heels. When he opened the door, he was shocked at the intense difference in the few short hours since he had left for work. Penwarden did not need the Quickening to confirm that the darkness in her soul had been vanquished. He turned to his old Mentor. "I feel it too, William."

After a moment's thought, Farrell nodded. "She's beaten it" he said. "Fetch the first aid kit and some clean towels. Better run the bath too. I'm going to release her."

Martin nodded and set about his appointed tasks as William found the keys to the handcuffs and gently unlocked them. As her hands fell free, he caught them and carefully massaged them until the circulation came back. Morgan let out a low moan as her fingers began to prickle with the blood flowing back into them. At last the white digits were pink again and William adjusted the pillows, assisting her to sit upright as Martin returned with the First Aid kit. Her sunken eyes wandered slowly from one to the other and she frowned. "I feel weird" she muttered.

"That's to be expected" replied Martin. "You haven't eaten in almost a month and your muscles are wasted. However, on the plus side, you are stronger now. Beating the Dark Quickening has done that much for you." As he spoke, Penwarden gently cleaned the abrasions on Morgan's wrists and rubbed Arnica cream into her numerous bruises. Immortal or not, it would at least make her more comfortable as they healed. "Now" he smiled kindly. "There's a nice hot bubble bath with your name on it. Can you manage by yourself?"

"Yeah" her voice was barely audible. "I can manage…" then she mustered a weak smile. "Besides, I don't want you two nutters leering at my charms… or worse… trying to be chivalrous, closing your eyes and dropping the soap…" the words faded into a spasm of racking coughs. A scratching sound came from outside the door, which was followed by a persistant whining. Martin opened the door and a gigantic furry shape bounded into the room. Fenris leapt onto the bed and curled up comfortably on Morgan's lap, wagging his tail fast enough to take flight. She smiled and lifted her left hand to pet the dog, then realised there was an IV strapped into her knuckles. "What's this for?" she wondered.

"Couldn't have you dying of dehydration on us, now could we?" Grinned William. "We should wait for your doctor friend to stop by, Royalist" he suggested. "I have no idea what to do with these needly things."

Glancing out the window, Penwarden saw a familiar car draw up. Sarah Ashcroft emerged from the Driver's seat. "Are you psychic, William?" he quipped. Within a few minutes, Sarah had let herself into the house and was entering the room. Martin introduced her to Morgan and then he and William made themselves scarce to give the two women some privacy.

As the weeks passed, Morgan slowly recovered and regained the weight she had lost during her enforced inactivity. Penwarden was impressed by her newfound strength and fire in combat. Clearly the young immortal had more than overcome the Dark Quickening; she had drawn it into herself and made its' strength a part of her. From a distance a young man watched and made notes. Penmarric was his first assignment and since she had not been seen in over a month, he was excited to be making his first report in her Chronicle. He listened eagerly over the amplifier as her mentor sparred with her at hand to hand combat and his eyes opened wide in amazement as she proceeded to deck Penwarden, not once, but twice in quick succession. Given her frail appearance, he hardly believed that he would be assigned to her for long. After all, she was unlikely to last in the Game, despite all Farrell and Penwarden's efforts. He shrugged and removed the headset as he scrawled his last notes before pulling out his cell phone to report to his supervisor. Somewhere in the vicinity, he knew Penwarden's Watcher was around. For reasons of anonymity Watchers did not observe together.

"They're out there again" Farrell rustled the pages of his paper.

"I know. They're getting sloppy" replied Penwarden as he flopped down in a garden chair beside his friend. The two were alone as Morgan had gone upstairs to change out of her workout gear.

"Think we should tell the kid?"

"She'll go beserk. She feels very strongly about her personal space"

"Yeah, I know that but somehow it doesn't feel right to keep it from her"

"It's a dilemma, I agree"

"There's another dilemma. Pizza or Chinese food?"

"Good point" a small smile crossed Penwarden's face. "I think Chinese. They haven't had that for a while."

Farrell chuckled and picked up the phone. Calling the Imperial Dragon, he placed the order and requested it to be delivered to the top of the lane that entered the woods at the end of the field behind the house. He and Martin knew exactly where the Watchers liked to hide out and precisely thirty minutes later, a motorcyclist was removing a thermally insulated container from the carrier on the back of his bike and knocked on the car window. As it was rolled down he handed the package over.

"Already paid for Mate" he said. "Enjoy".

The Watcher wound the window back up as his companion looked into the bag of Chinese food. "I don't believe this!" he complained. "They know I can't stand prawns!"

"Take it easy Arthur. It's nothing to be concerned about. Besides, who are we to turn down a free meal once in a while?"

"We shouldn't even accept it. We aren't supposed to come into contact with them."