This time he didn't feel it before it dropped him. No pain, no tingling, just nothingness. He came to a few feet away from the fence on the ocean side. The salt breeze felt like ice on his cheek. He blinked, or rather he tried to blink. He was mostly paralyzed, he could feel and hear his heart beat, feel the wet sea air racing through his nostrils but he couldn't make himself move. Somewhere he could hear sea birds calling and waves.

A face loomed into his line of sight, blond, slightly rounded, crystal clear blue eyes in a mask of blood with too-white teeth gleaming between pert lips. His mind gibbered at him that he knew that face and it was important to protect it. He tried to move again and felt his finger shift. He was sprawled on the coarse seagrass, fingers buried in the sandy soil.

Voices boomed at him like storm driven waves on rocks, warbling and indecipherable. One higher than the other, the two tones dancing and darting around each other like siamese fighting fish. He laughed, or thought he did. Hands were on him. Grips that were rough and bruising, too tight and savage with speed.

Suddenly the world flipped and he was racing across the grass, his shadow turning day to evening, a premature colorless sunset. Blood rushed to his dangling head while his arms and legs stuck out like inarticulate cries for help. Propelled by those same clawing hands.

He laughed again, this time he heard the soft sigh of mad joy before the wind snatched it. The seabirds were still crying and wheeling overhead, drifting down an unseen drain. The premature night faded and flared into a sharp blinding dawn. Water, dancing, bright and dangerous splashed inches below him and then the sky appeared again. And a new face with a new voice.

"Methos?" A soft distant blow rocked his vision and the new face moved away. He was rising and floating and then surrounded by warmth and the ground was gently drifting and rocking under him, and in the end nothing else mattered much. He drifted into the lurking gray and was still.

"...full recovery."

His eyes flickered feverishly and finally snapped open. He panicked and sat up too fast. Head swimming and vision still adjusting he reached out reflexively for an enemy. Someone gripped his wrists firmly and a calming voice broke through his panic.

"You're okay you're at the Sanctuary." As Methos' eyes adjusted he realize it was Will. He was holding Methos' wrists and attempting to keep his head on his shoulders as Methos flailed to free himself.

"What happened?" Methos asked slowly sitting up. Will released his wrists and helped him sit upright.

"The perimeter was kicking back on when you went over the second time." Will said and let Methos get his balance and then helped him drink a small amount of water.

"The girl?"

"She's okay she went over a few seconds after you, something about your body interacting with the field interrupted it long enough for her to cross safely."

"Splendid." Methos sighed sourly.

"Take it easy you've been out for a few days. It looks like the field reset your body's electrical field."

"A biologically focused E.M. Pulse?"

"Basically, only the pulse is somehow looped to be a continous charge."

"Clever." Methos admitted. His head was pounding like he'd been drinking vodka for three days straight. The light in the infirmary was stabbing his retinas. Will dimmed the lights. The claws trying to blind him finally drew back.

"Where's Magnus?"

"She's here, she's on her way in, we were getting worried about you."

"I heard someone talking-"

"That was me talking to Magnus on my cell." Will assured him. Methos nodded distractedly. He had only been in the Sanctuary infirmary for a few minutes during the initial tour but something felt off. He got to his feet and frowned at his paper gown.

"Will?" He asked.

"Oh yeah sorry I'll get some clothes for you."

Methos shivered in the cool air as Will left. Something felt off, nothing obvious but something was...tweaked. He closed his eyes and concentrated on remembering his tour. The molding along the ceiling... it had been a different pattern. More geometric with hard edges than the scalloped molding now in place.

"He's noticed."

"You can't be sure."

"Yes, I can, pull your head out of your ass and you can too."

"Assuming you're right, what now?"

"We wait and watch, he might not be sure."

"So we do nothing?"

"We take a day to be sure, that's all."

"What if it goes wrong?"

"It won't."

He ate a small meal after he dressed. The food tasted fine but he didn't finish the meal, he was concerned about drugs but he could feel his weakness and knew he needed to eat. The more he studied the infirmary the more slight differences he noticed. Will returned to take Methos' plate.

"Any word from Magnus?"

"She should be down soon." Will said with a smile. Methos had been studying the boy and was convinced he really was Will. Why he had not realized something was very wrong with their situation he wasn't sure.

"Hey Will...how's Ashley?"
"She's doing well, she wants to see you when you're feeling better."

"Why?"

"She wants to thank you. Look it's not often a complete stranger involves himself in the Sanctuary and it's even rarer that Ashley gets into a situation that she can't get herself out of."

"So I beat her?"

"Yeah I guess, in a way."

The door opened and Magnus entered. She seemed legitimate as well. Methos frowned but kept his suspicions to himself. Maybe he was seeing things, maybe the E.M. Field had damaged some of his memories. Maybe, but his instincts didn't buy it. He'd lived five thousand years listening to those instincts. He'd keep listening for now.

"Helen." He said neutrally. She smiled broadly at him and sat on the edge of his bed. He was sitting cross legged leaving plenty of room.

"Thank you Ben."

"I'm not-"

"Yes you are, part of you somewhere in there is Ben. So thank you. You didn't have to help us."

"That part of me you so admire did. Are we done?" He asked standing.

"Ashley was hoping to speak with you."

"That's sweet but I don't care. I did it for you and John and because you made a promise. Now I have a life of my own I'd like to get back to." He said softly sliding off the bed. He could see his familiar Ivanhoe in a rack near the door. He strode toward it and as his hand wrapped around the familiar handle he felt himself relax minutely. It was familiar and well worn. He had killed with it yes, but more often he had defended himself and run.

He wasn't a coward, but any combat situation had an element of chance. Why would he risk his life on the offchance of a wet floor or some similar element of bad luck when he could simply run away? He was a competent fighter, had proven that over time but he preferred living to killing. At least now he did.

"Methos-"

It was John. Methos flinched at the voice, it was such a slight reflexive movement that only John caught it. Will was across the room speaking with Magnus.

"I'm leaving John. Now." He said firmly. John nodded once.

"I can take you."

"Have any dramamine?" Methos asked with a small smile. He couldn't hate John. The man had never known what he was doing to 'Ben'. That Magnus had realized it too late made no difference in the end. He offered John his hand, Druitt gripped it firmly at the wrist and a split second later the Sanctuary was gone.

There was no nausea this time. Methos opened his eyes and found himself alone with John in a wide white room. One wall looked like glass but was probably some kind of plastic. The floor was tiled neatly with a slight slope toward a drain in the center of the room. The walls were also white and appeared to be seamless, the ceiling as well. Methos suspected there was a door somewhere there had to be.

"I'm sorry." John said releasing Methos' forearm. Methos glared at him.

"I should have cut your throat in Paris." Methos hissed and reached for John, he knew it was futile, even as his fingertips brushed Druitt's lapels the man teleported away.

Methos was a prisoner.