Disclaimer: This story is a Xover between The Sentinel and
Highlander. The characters mentioned here belong to Bilson/DeMeo (Pet
Fly) and Panzer/Davis (Rysher), except for the employees at
Woodbridge, Rezi, Mira, and Fielding. The flashbacks from Methos'
journal were first referenced in my story Bonds, where I put forth
that Methos had been a guide fourteen hundred years ago. I used the
same back-story here, but this tale is not linked in any other way to
Bonds. They are not in the same universe; I just borrowed the
concept. This takes place approximately a couple of years after
Sentinel Too, and after the Highlander series finale.

I would like to thank my betas, Cindy Combs and Shallan for their
wonderful job. Both have helped plug plot holes and correct my sloppy
grammar. Any mistakes you find, are not theirs, but are mine. As all
of you know, there is no profit from the fanfic we write, only the
satisfaction of the finished story. Write me if you like it at:
lwright3@rochester.rr.com

Permission to archive at Cascade Library, Guide Posts and Seventh
Dimension. All others, please contact me first. This story can also
be found on my web page: http://home.rochester.rr.com/lwrightfanfic

Enjoy!

Beware the Lion's Roar

by Lori Wright

Day 1-Monday June --

"May I see the charts for Alex Barnes?" the tall, lanky man asked
the nurse behind the desk. He was dressed in a wool pinstripe suit
and his glasses hung from a thin chain around his neck. If anyone had
bothered to look through the eyepieces, they would have noticed that
the lenses were comprised of clear glass.

"Just a sec, Doctor Adams," the nurse responded, rummaging though a
pile of folders. With a quick bright smile she withdrew the requested
chart and handed it to him.

Methos received the chart and opened it up as he began to walk down
the hall. He was finally going to meet Alex Barnes. She was the sole
reason for seeking employment at Woodbridge, an institution for the
criminally insane. No one at the asylum had any connection with the
Watchers, nor was anyone immortal, so Methos felt reasonably safe
working here. An article written in the Journal of the American
Medical Association last month had caught his eye by chance and he
was here to investigate it--or rather her.

His fictional resume stated that he was an expert in the mental
state that swung from catatonia to manic aggression. In this
particular asylum only a few inmates fit this diagnosis, particularly
Alex Barnes. Although his caseload was light, he was assured that it
would change once he got into the swing of things. Barnes was number
one on the list. Nobody wanted to treat the woman. She was dangerous
and untrustworthy. Several times she had tried to attack nurses and
other staff members. The doctors preferred to keep her in a straight
jacket and sedated. Methos wanted her lucid. 

"Was she a genuine Sentinel?" he wondered silently as he walked up
the hall. The JAMA article didn't state that exact term, but
"heightened senses" was used several times. A rush of excitement made
him shiver as he arrived at her room and took his first peek at her
through the slit in the door.

Her body was covered up in blankets. Strands of light blond hair
fell across her face hiding her features. The irregular bumps under
the blankets indicated that she was confined within a straight
jacket. Sympathy clouded his eyes. This was no place for a true
Sentinel. The confining atmosphere and mistreatment was enough to
send anyone over the bend, let alone someone with enhanced senses.
Using his master keys, he unlocked the door and entered.

The door clicked as it closed. Her eyelids snapped open to reveal
bulging blue eyes and full lips, which left little room on her face
for a nose. Methos smiled at the intelligent rage shining in her
eyes. He was pleased the fire remained in her personality. She would
need it in the months to come.

"Hello, Alex. My name is Dr. Adams. Your case has recently been
assigned to me. I'd like to get to know you." He gave a soft chuckle.
"You have quite a reputation here."

"I assure you, doctor, I deserve it all."

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Because I'm too crazy to go to jail."

"Do you believe you belong in prison?" Dr. Adams questioned.

She evaded the question. "No one wants anything to do with me. What
happened, did you pull the short straw?"

"No, you intrigue me. Plus, I think I might be able to help you."

This time she gave a sardonic laugh. "Oh, God, you're one of those
do-gooders who thinks an understanding shrink can solve any problem."

"I've been called many things in my life, but never a do-gooder." He
paused, amused at the accusation. "Do you know how long you've been
here?"

"Couple of years?"

"About that," Methos agreed.

"Are you going to take off this jacket? It doesn’t really become me."

"Eventually." He paused. "Is it too bright in here? Would you like
me to dim the lights?"

Her eyes narrowed. "They say that the pain keeps me in line. I think
they *like* to punish me."

He got up and flipped a switch, turning off the rows of lights over
the bed. "Well, I think they're a bit harsh." He sat back down on the
chair. He opened her chart and paraphrased aloud. "You were committed
because you appeared to be hallucinating without a grasp of reality.
Do you remember that?"

"The old insanity plea. Works every time. But, for the record, I was
not hallucinating. I'm just able to discern things better than you."

"Like what things?"

"Just things."

"Can you still do so?"

Her eyes narrowed again. "Are you trying to get me to admit to
things so you can sedate me again?"

"I have no intention of trying to control you with drugs. In fact, I
think half your problems are related to the meds they're giving you.
I've told them I'd prefer that you were off of them completely."

"That'll be a nice change. Maybe I'll even be able to keep my dinner
down. Think you can get rid of the jacket, too?" she tried again.

"I'll see what I can do," Methos replied. He closed the folder,
deciding that for a first meeting it had gone pretty well. No need to
rush things. "I need to go see a few more patients, I'll talk to you
later."

Alex barely acknowledged his departure. He closed the door and
turned to head back to his office. 

Another doctor soon overtook him. Methos increased his stride to
match his. "Hello Dr. Nyerges."

"Dr. Adams." The reply sounded curt to his ears.

"Something wrong?" Methos asked curiously.

"Millie in C-17 is giving us trouble, again. She's screaming that
'death is at her door'. I am so sick and tired of her doomsday
obsession."

"What's the story on Millie?" Methos asked as they continued down
the "F" wing corridor towards the hub of the institute. He had heard
that she was a nice, eccentric old lady. However, to be in this kind
of place, one generally wasn't really "nice".

"She headed a cult in the eighties and early nineties proclaiming
that the world was going to end at the beginning of the millenium.
The crazy woman converted hoards of people to her beliefs. Then in
1992, they all died. The cops found her sobbing uncontrollably over a
pile of dead disciples wailing about how it wasn't her fault."

"Did they have proof that she killed them?" Methos asked curiously.

"Oh yes. Poisoned water. Water, I might add, she hadn't drunk
herself. Since she's been here, it seems she's always finding
something to fuss about. About five years ago she said the Four
Horsemen of the Apocalypse had reunited and were going to spread
plague upon the world."

Methos stiffened in surprise.

"She refused to drink the water, cause it was what carried the evil.
I found that highly ironic since she herself used water to kill her
own followers."

Methos felt a shiver run up his spine as he remembered how Kronos
had planned to contaminate the Bordeaux water supply with his deadly
virus. Staying away from this Millie became a priority in his mind. 

They came to the central area. Dr. Nyerges made a left heading down
to the "C" corridor and Methos turned right. "Got a crisis of my own
developing," Methos told the other doctor. "Good luck."

The other doctor kept up his hurried pace. Methos gave a soft sigh
of relief as he closed his office door behind him. The room was on
the only wing of the hospital that had windows. He was able to gaze
out on the rolling lawns of the institution's back yard. Sometimes
the scenery soothed him, but this time his mind was in turmoil. Could
this woman really know about Kronos and the rest of them, or could it
just be a random coincidence? 

Absently, Methos dropped several sterile packaged bandages into his
satchel and closed it. The clock read eleven, almost time for lunch.
He had one more patient to see, then he could join some of the
medical staff on the lawn. The security force never seemed to take
breaks, or at least they never rested where he could observe them.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

It actually wasn't until two before Methos was able to take his
lunch out onto the back lawn. Three nurses sat together discussing
the latest movie. Dr. Simcoe was by himself perusing a journal,
munching on pretzels. Methos admitted that he too needed to catch up
on his reading, but it was a beautiful June day and he wanted to
enjoy the sun and birds. He took out his container of yogurt and
spoon and began eating.

"Hey, Adams. We could have used your help earlier," Dr. Nyerges
propped himself down next to him.

"Really? With Millie?"

"You bet. She is just obsessed with death, as if it were a name not
a verb." He shook his head in disbelief. "It took five of us holding
her before we could get her still enough to administer an injection.
She was afraid that if she slept, death would search her out and kill
her."

"How long has this been happening?"

"A week? Maybe longer. Feels like years." He opened his own lunch
bag and withdrew a sandwich.

"When did her obsession with the Horsemen go away?"

"That one actually didn't last long. I think she was afraid for
about a month, then she said that three were dead and the fourth
wouldn't do anything without his brothers. She was fine, without
hallucinations for almost four years. But then it got to be close to
the millenium. That's when, she said, 'the demon was going to be
loose on the world,' which was what her cult was all about." He
paused to take a drink from his soda. "The demon, came to her room
and told her about how he was going to destroy the world. She
described a red mist and yet none of us saw it. It was one wild
hallucination."

"Red mist?" Despite the warm rays of the sun, Methos could feel the
chills run down his back. First the Four Horsemen and now Ahriman?
Even the time frame seemed to fit.

"That's what she said. I was in the freaking room with her as she
described the mist and how it coalesced into a male form with blue
paint and wild dark hair. I didn't see or feel a thing. No cold
drafts. That's what everyone says you feel when a ghost is around."

"How long did this go on?" Instead of curiosity, Methos' voice
echoed the dread he felt.

"A very long time--over a year. At first she said the Champion was
trying to fight the demon, but then the Champion disappeared. That
was when her fear took over her life. I think she spent the year
sedated. Sometimes we had to strap her to the bed." He stopped
talking and concentrated on his lunch.

Methos had lost all his appetite. "Did the Champion ever show up?"
Methos knew the answer to that one. Duncan MacLeod had spent a year
at a Buddhist monastery, where he discovered inner peace, which was
how he defeated the demon called Ahriman.

"Don't know," Dr. Nyerges replied. "One day she just stopped praying
and never mentioned it again." He laughed to himself, "At least none
of us asked her."

Methos sat back and stared into the horizon. The lawn branched out
for several acres and trees dotted the perimeter. He let his mind
assimilate what Millie had been going through, realizing that her
insanity had somehow tapped into another realm. Or possibly her
sensitivity had caused her insanity. It was something Alex would have
to fight for the rest of her life, he mused. Most sentinels were
tapped in some way into the spirit world. Hopefully his tutelage
would give her an edge and prevent her, in the future, from slipping
into madness. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

That evening Methos drove his Toyota 4Runner into Cascade and pulled
into the realtor's office. He had been looking at property up in the
mountains--very far from civilization. Alex would need the isolation
to come to terms with who she was. One parcel of land contained a log
cabin, no central heat or running water. It was over five hundred
acres in size and situated at the top of a mountain. Even in the
summer the temperature probably never reached past sixty-five
degrees. It was perfect for his plans.

After signing the purchase agreement, he left the office and
returned to his vehicle. He longed to drive down to Seacouver and sit
at Joe's, nursing several beers as MacLeod and Joe discussed the
finer points of--well just about anything. Then Dawson would get up
on stage and play his guitar, wailing blues notes that made one want
to cry for lost loves, lost memories and even lost money. The land he
just purchased had cost him a great deal. However, this wasn't
possible. Joe had bought a new bar in Paris and MacLeod appeared
pretty comfortable in his old barge.

Once back to his apartment, he pulled out an old journal. It was
written in Latin. It was a copy, one that he had made back in the
fifteenth century. The original was written on an old scroll that had
decayed long ago. That was a major problem of his, having to copy
text because of the disintegration of biodegradable writing
materials. This copy was at least in book form and easy to transport.
What he needed to do was to make a new copy, one in English, so that
Alex could read it.

He found some printer paper and sat down to hand write his
translation. Later, he'd put it in the computer. In one way, copying
old journals was a way to remember his past. This particular entry
took place over fifteen hundred years ago, but he hadn't forgotten a
minute of what had taken place. Meeting Rezi was one of the most
important events that had ever happened to him. How they met was a
different story.

My belly was aching for food. I had died three times already and was
heartily sick of waking up cold and empty. My sword was not potent
enough against rabbits and deer. My traps were unsprung, and there
were no fish in the stream. Against my own better wishes, I needed to
give up waiting for Claudianus to join me, and move on.

Sitting on the bank devouring the first meal in a fortnight, a woman
came to the river to fill some baskets. She was comely, with curves
in all the right places. With one hunger filled, I felt another grow
within. Silently I crept to her and caught her. She tried to scream,
but I pressed my mouth to hers and silenced the noise, then took her
as we stood.

In no time, I exploded, relieving the hunger that had stolen over me
so quickly. Her eyes were dark with fury. I can't believe I badly
hurt her, it just didn't take me that long. I wanted to taste her
fire once more, but the urgency was gone. I had all of her life to
repeat it, and I wasn't going to let her go. It was an instantaneous
fire, which swept me, rare enough that even I recognized it for what
it was. She was mine, for the rest of her life. Of course it may take
that long for me to tame her, but that didn't matter. She was only a
woman. 

Her long hair had broken free by my wandering hands, and I spoke
gently to her. Her answer was to swear at me in my own language and
call me foul names. With her incessant screeching, a new noise came
out of the woods. A tall man, with a sword and knife. I flung her to
the ground ready to defend her against the newcomer. My own blade was
within reach and soon it was up and ready for the attack. She ran to
him and he cuddled her into his arms. I flushed with jealousy, for
she was mine. Fully knowing that I shouldn't be fighting, filled with
such emotion, I fought anyway. As an immortal who had spent thirty
five hundred years killing to stay alive, this young mortal was no
match for me. I dealt him his deathblow within seconds, then claimed
my prize.

She was crying over his body saying many improper things. She told
me then that I had condemned her entire village to death. They would
be wiped out when the great armies of Coreolus and Rikodius came
through. I had to ask why this man's death could influence such great
warriors, for I knew both, and my word alone would be enough to stay
both their swords and their armies. Then she said that I had killed
the guide. Their Sentinel now had no guide and must die the ritual
death.

Sentinel? I knew not of what a Sentinel was. So she explained it to
me.

Vaguely I remembered something of this from my past. But it was not
called a Sentinel. I fought for the recollection, but it eluded me.
So I asked why must the Sentinel die without a guide? And she replied
that the Sentinel would go mad. A guide was the most important member
of the community. While the Sentinel's job was to use his gifts for
the good of the village, it was the guide's purpose to interpret what
the Sentinel told him and act upon it. His was the strength to temper
the terrible gift. I asked her to explain with an example, for I
still didn't understand. She said a Sentinel had gifts from God that
enabled him to see clearer, hear from a greater distance, and smell
more acutely than everyone else. But a Sentinel's mind was not
usually as strong, and he needed the stability of the guide to give
him balance. Twice already in her lifetime, the Sentinel had warned
them of armies and they had escaped the slaughter that came from war.
Now they were alone. Without a guide, they were without a Sentinel.
Without a Sentinel, they were defenseless. 

I wanted this woman badly. I killed her mate so that I could have
her. So I pretended to be a guide without a Sentinel. I made up a
well-sounding lie, which in her own desperation, she accepted. We
returned to the village and I became her brother's guide.

They did not want to accept me. The leader said that for every
Sentinel born, there is only one guide. I was not that guide; I could
not form the needed bond. I implored them to give me a chance. I
would do anything to keep the woman. She would do anything to save
her brother, although she hated me. The elders relented, for any
chance to hold together the tribe, was worth taking. I know they
believed that if I didn't function well as the guide, they would kill
me. I might even let them, as long as they did it without taking my
head. The one thing I didn't tell them was of my friendship with the
warriors they so feared. I couldn't tell them that their brutalities
were nothing compared to my own. I wanted them to think of me as a
gentle man, a guide, an interpreter of the Gods. But my woman knew
what kind of man I was. Every night she fought my possession, and
everyday she smiled as if she was happy. I was her brother's only
salvation; her village's only hope. If she turned me away, I would
leave. I was content here for the first time in three centuries.

Methos put down the pen and stretched his fingers. Even now he could
feel Mira's soft skin under his rough fingertips. He shook his head;
he was getting away from his objective. He started to write again,
but found himself doing more reading than writing. Maybe it was time
for a break. He'd tackle this again tomorrow.

Day 2-Tuesday June--

Dr. Adams, wearing yet another pinstripe suit, this time in blue,
strode through the halls of the mental hospital on his way to Alex
Barnes' room. He had expressly asked that medication should not be
administered without his consent and he wanted to see if his orders
had been carried out.

They had not been. He opened her door and found her unconscious,
sporting a bruise on one cheek and dried blood on her sheets. Fury
swept through him and he fought to control it. The lights were
blazing, seemingly brighter in her room than in the rest of the
asylum. He bent over the bed, caressing her head softly. 

"Alex. Can you hear me?" he whispered into her ear.

She stirred, but did not waken. As he turned down the lights he
thought, consoling himself, at least the straightjacket was gone.
Methos spun on his heels and walked out of the room. His first stop
was the nurses' station at the end of the hall.

"Can you tell me who was covering Barnes last night?" he asked,
trying to hide his anger.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Adams. She became hysterical around three in the
morning. First screaming, then clawing at her legs."

"When was the jacket removed?"

"I don't know. Dr. Madlen came to treat her injuries and he ordered
a painkiller. She's been out ever since."

"Does she usually have adverse reactions to medications?"

"Oh yes," the nurse agreed.

"Then don't you think that sedation might be dangerous?" Methos
unconsciously let his ire leak though.

"Uh, yes sir," she mumbled, chastised.

He felt bad for taking it out on her. The nurse did not order the
meds, Madlen did. "Is Dr. Madlen still in the hospital?"

"No, he left around five, after he was sure that Barnes was out for
good. Sometimes, you know," she said in a conspiratory whisper, "she
wakes back up and she's worse than before we sedated her."

Methos reined in his temper. He had to get her out of there soon.
These bafoons were going to kill her. "Do you have my schedule for
today?"

"Yes. You have a group session in another hour in the Morning Room
with Cassie," Methos winced at the name, which the nurse didn't seem
to notice, "Maggie, Tom, Vince, and um," she rummage through some
scattered papers, "Ernest. They all have identity problems."

"Identity?"

"Low self esteem which has resulted in multiple suicide attempts."

"I didn't know suicide attempts were enough to get you incarcerated
in an asylum for the criminally insane."

"It is when you kill family members or friends first."

Dr. Adams nodded. That would do it. With only an hour to check on
Alex, he took a deep breath and walked to her cell. His nerve endings
were twitching in his need to make sure the fools hadn't over
medicated her. It was too bad he wouldn't be able to talk to her. He
still hadn't verified if she was a sentinel, but he had to go on the
premise that she was, and take it from there. A psychopathic sentinel
was not a good thing for society--in any day and age.

Using his keys, he opened the door and felt a large bundle of energy
leap at him. With quick reflexes, he threw her off and used his hands
and body to imprison her against the wall. "Is that anyway to greet
your doctor?" Methos asked through gritted teeth. She had either been
faking her unconsciousness before, or come out of very fast.

She writhed, but was unable to loosen his hold on her. "For a desk
potato, you are in remarkable shape." Alex's breaths came in gasps. 

"I heard what a firebrand you were and decided that I needed to be
tough in order to keep up with you." He pushed her more firmly into
the wall. "I will always be stronger," he told her softly with a
deadly glint in his eye.

She acknowledged his comment and he let her go. With a toss of her
head, which sent her hair flying in all directions, she sashayed back
to her bed.

"Your timing was excellent as I came into the room," he told her
casually as he locked the door and took a seat. He directed his gaze
into her eyes. "Have you done this before?"

"Jumped the doctors? Every chance I get. I prefer to be alone.
Useless chatter is not going to help me."

"What will?"

"Getting me outta here. Can you do that?"

Methos let a slow smile cross his face. "Maybe. First, though, you
have to cooperate."

Her eyes narrowed in the way he was becoming increasingly familiar
with. Was it suspicion or calculation? "What hoops do I have to go
though?"

"I need the truth. I don't care how much it embarrasses you or makes
you feel uncomfortable. I don't care if your first instinct is to
lie. I demand honesty. As long as I get that from you, I am your
friend and will help you out of this mess you find yourself in."

"I'm not in a mess."

"I'd call being locked up in a psyche ward for the criminally insane-
-a mess."

"So, what ya want to know?" she responded, subdued.

"First, I'd like to know your real name. I read the charts that Alex
Barnes is an alias, as is Alicia Bannister."

"Is this the trust thing, or do you have a purpose behind the
question?"

"Both." He decided not to elaborate.

"No. Where I came from, the families didn't want a permanent record
of my presence."

Methos didn’t say anything more and waited. Alex shuffled a bit,
eyed the door as if wondering if she could make a run for it, rolled
her shoulders, then seemed to give up. "It's Adelaide. That's the
name that showed up on a note at the children's home. They gave me
the last name of Benson."

The old immortal nodded, glad that she had confided. Her voice had
the ring of truth. Maybe he should try for some more information,
since she was obviously cooperating. With some finesse he could find
out once and for all if she was a Sentinel.

"Exactly what made you get committed? I know the story of the nerve
gas and that the Cascade detectives tracked you to Peru. Before I
came here, I researched your history thoroughly. What made them think
you were insane?"

She seemed to think. Her eyes darted all over the room, obviously
uncomfortable with the question. He could see her formulate a lie
then decide against it. "The truth. Huh? You really prepared for the
truth? I tried to give it when I was first brought here, but they
marked it as crazy-talk and gave me numerous brain-washing sessions,
trying in vain, I may add, to make me forget or change my story."

"I promise I won't call you crazy," he said softly, with compassion.

"I became overwhelmed down there. I found this temple with magic
water."

"A holy spring? I've seen a similar one in Europe."

"This one didn't seem like a spring, but a rectangular pool-- but it
wasn't stagnate. I could submerge myself and fly to heaven. It was
like my senses were doubled. I was above the earth, yet still felt
one with it. I felt its vibrations--kind of like it was breathing all
around me. I could hear the water dripping from the jungle canopy,
and I mean each little molecule as it fell."

Methos had his proof. She didn't see his satisfied smile as she
continued her descriptions of sensory overload--sensory addiction. It
was the sentinel test they all were required to take and obviously
one she had failed. Part of his mind listened, but the greater
portion was making plans. The cabin had to be readied as soon as
possible. It probably needed a thorough cleaning, nonperishables
stocked in some kind of cupboard, wood and all escape routes closed.
It was a daunting amount of work to accomplish in a short time.

She stopped talking, apparently waiting for his "professional"
opinion. "You're a Sentinel, obviously without proper control," he
told her truthfully.

Her face blanched. She wasn't expecting that answer. Good, he needed
to keep her off-balance. "You've heard of this condition before?" Her
words vibrated with both fear and hope.

"Yes, I've known a Sentinel or two."

"Like, Ellison?"

This time it was Methos who stiffened in shock. There was another
one? "Ellison? I don't know him. Is he a Sentinel you've come across
recently?" As soon as the question left his mouth, he knew the
answer. Who else but another sentinel could track her in the jungle
and have the ability to capture her.

"He's the one who caught and arrested me." Her voice dripped with
disgust and Methos was surprised at the sense of betrayal that also
resonated there. 

"Does he visit you here?"

"No! I'd refuse to see him if he did."

Methos didn't like her vehemence--too much emotion in it--but there
was little he could do about it now. This was something they would
have to discuss in depth, once they got up to the cabin. "I have to
see other patients now. I promise we'll talk later." 

"Am I gonna get to have shrinking sessions like the others?"

Methos smiled. "I don't think so." You won't be here long enough, he
thought to himself.

Later that evening, Methos sat at his computer making lists of
everything he needed to complete before he could remove Alex from the
institution. His goal was to get her away from civilization. They
needed to live primitively where money had little value and survival
was everything. He would take every opportunity to instill in her the
cultural importance of her gifts and the moral integrity she would
need to possess in order to keep her sanity. How much time they would
need depended on her willingness to learn. It might take a year or
ten. He would not let her back into society until he was sure that
she had been rehabilitated and would be able to function normally. In
essence, he was taking a student--just not an immortal one.

Before bed, he took out an old Army duffel and unzipped it. From his
satchel that he took regularly to work he withdrew several sterile
bandages and a bottle of penicillin and added it to his collection of
first aid supplies. There were no doctors but him up in the
mountains. He had to be prepared for every contingency--including
Alex getting hurt.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Detective Jim Ellison and his partner Blair Sandburg left the
bullpen on their way to question a suspect. It had been grueling day--
unfortunately it was only half over. When he had arrived in the
morning, the first thing on his agenda was to explain to the Captain
why he had managed to wreck yet another departmental car during a
high-speed chase. Then there was the mountain of paperwork waiting
for him on his desk. Now, the two detectives had to help Rafe
administer a polygraph test to a suspect. Jim felt used and abused.
It wasn't his fault that the person they were chasing lost control
and slammed into a parked bus and that they were so close he didn’t
have time to stop as they rounded the corner. His punishment was
babysitting a heart monitor and using his senses to augment the
device.

"Jim, you with us?" 

Jim jerked back to awareness and realized he had walked past the
polygraph room. He turned into his partner’s worried face. "I’m
fine," he responded curtly.

"You getting enough sleep?" Sandburg asked, relentless in his
bugging-the-truth out of him.

"We’ll talk about this later," Jim replied and then opened the door,
forestalling any further comment.

Later in the evening, after dinner had been cleared away, Jim sat
back on the couch with his eyes closed and feet stretched out in
front of him. He pushed all thoughts away, letting the soft sounds of
Blair rummaging around in his room sooth his tattered nerves. Several
minutes or hours went by before Blair joined him in the living room.

"Tell me what’s going on?" Sandburg asked, concern etched on his face.

"I’ve been having dreams," Jim admitted wearily. "Most of the time I
can’t remember what they’re about; all I remember is the fear."

"Is it something to do with Peru or your family? Maybe one of the
cases we’re working on? You know your senses might have picked up on
something that your mind is trying to decipher."

"I’m seeing a spotted cat," Jim blurted.

"You mean like the, uh, spirit animal of, uh, *her*?"

"Yeah."

"Have you called the hospital? Maybe she’s escaped?"

"I did and she’s there, nothing is out of the ordinary. She pinned a
new doctor against the wall today, now she’s back in a straight
jacket." Jim sounded tired, even to himself. He didn’t need to have
to deal with Alex Barnes again.

"Let’s go back to your dreams." Sandburg requested. "What can you
remember about them? Is the cat pacing? Is it doing something?"

"It’s just sitting there, as if waiting for something. I can see
shadows, but nothing with form. Her cat also sees the shadow but is
ignoring it or knows what it is. The tail flicks back and forth, but
otherwise it’s immobile."

"Creepy."

"You’re telling me. I’m the one that sees it over and over again."

The men sat in silence. Jim leaned back on the sofa and rubbed his
eyes. How long had these dreams been occurring? He didn’t know.
Mostly they stayed in his subconscious until the next one happened.
Then he remembered seeing the cat, again. Assured that Alex was still
at the insane asylum, he had to wait and see if his dreams revealed
anything else.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Day 3-Wednesday June--

Methos left the institute that night with the next two days off. He
decided to start work up at his new cabin. The mountainous road was
reported to be steep and impassable in spots. His plan was to drive
as close as the terrain would allow and then hike the rest of the
way, carrying as many supplies as possible. On the way back to his
apartment, he stopped at Home Depot and bought some equipment. Next
he stopped at the grocery store for a stockpile of non-perishables
and lots of salt. He spent the night at his apartment, having decided
that navigating the county roads, not to mention the dark mountainous
paths was too dangerous in the dark.

The next day, he was up and the Toyota was packed by four in the
morning. He drove through the city, watching the sunrise in his
rearview mirror. Breakfast consisted of four orange juices and an Egg
McMuffin, eaten while he was driving. It might be his last taste of
grease for a couple of days. In fact, eating wasn’t going to be high
on his priority list. Getting the cabin and surrounding grounds ready
for himself and Alex to live-in was at the top.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that the dirt path was wide
enough for his SUV and he managed to get within five miles before he
had to stop. Filling a backpack with the canned goods, and carrying a
bucket filled with rags and soap, an ax, and a shotgun, he debated
the wisdom of leaving his sword for another trip. An overabundance of
caution, made him retrieve the blade, although it seemed almost
superfluous considering the ax. He never liked fighting with that
type of blade, it was more suited to Silas—heavy, sluggish, but
deadly.

The trail to the cabin was rugged and difficult to follow. It might
have been impossible if not for the white disks nailed to the trees.
Methos made a mental note to remove the disks after he memorized the
path. One of the things he needed to do was to erase any outward
signs Alex might be able to follow in an attempt to escape. To get to
the cabin, the map showed three separate bridges over flowing
streams. He intended on destroying each of them to also further
ensure their solitude. One, however, was a suspension bridge at least
two hundred feet over a deep ravine with a river coursing at the
bottom. Methos mused that there might be fish for them if he could
ever persuade Alex of the benefit of fresh trout.

By noon, he had safely arrived at the lodge. It was quaint, as the
real estate agent had led him to believe. It had only one room, with
two fireplaces on opposite sides. Beside one, was a semblance of a
kitchen, with a sink, and many cupboards. Inside one, he found cast
iron pots and a frying pan. The rest were empty--no utensils, nor
serving ware. He’d have to lug them up himself. One set for each of
them should suffice.

Unloading the backpack, he placed it back over his shoulders and
began the trek back to the 4Runner for another load. It was going to
take awhile to move all of his necessities to the remote cabin. He
considered dragging MacLeod over to the States to help lug the
supplies through the forested trail, but his sense of privacy won
out. He didn’t really want anyone knowing about his new student. They
wouldn’t understand his techniques and he needed isolation in order
to get through to Alex. The Boy Scout/clan leader might take
exception to the way he taught. Students were different in their
needs and Alex needed a total refit. 

The trip to the SUV didn’t take as long since he now knew the route.
He packed the backpack with more supplies and even included a few
books. The heaviest of the load included a jug of kerosene for a
lantern. Calculating the amount of light left to him, Methos hoped to
get one more trip before sunset. He intended on spending the night in
the cabin, cleaning some and returning to Cascade the next evening.

Methos leaned against the door jam, watching twilight descend over
the mountain. He was satisfied with all the work he had accomplished
today toward his ultimate goal. The trees cast long shadows across
the clearing in front of the cabin. It was a peaceful calm, one he
relished after living in the city for these past few years. Why
couldn't MacLeod have retired to Glenfinnin for a decade or two? That
would have made his life infinitely easier.

With a sigh, he turned and went back inside the almost dark cabin
and lit one of the lanterns he had brought. Methos carried it over to
a freshly cleaned table, where his journal of Rezi sat besides some
paper and pen. He picked up the pen and began writing, mostly from
memory, but taking the occasional quick glance onto the faded sheets
of the journal.

Rezi and I returned with the other warriors with three stags. The
women went to work skinning and then salting the meat. It was not a
large amount of food, but it would last the clan at least a week. One
gutted stag was put immediately on a spit for roasting. The hot
summer day had taken its toll on the warriors, turned huntsmen, in
the time of need. We bathed in the stream and collapsed in shade of
the oak tree. 

I looked among the women for Mira. She was busy pulling the skin off
one of the deer. Her glances never went my way. This was a welcome
relief. While her glances were one thing, her vitriolic tongue was
another. I had no stamina to put up with it today.

When had I lost my patience? I don't recall. Her jealousy came on so
slowly that I didn't recognize it for what it was. Her constant
nagging that I was spending more time with her brother than her,
merely irritated me and induced me to spend even more time with him.
Because I had originally joined the tribe to be with her, she
believed that her allures would keep me bound tightly to her. 

One main source of contention was her lack of children. She
rightfully blamed me for her barrenness, not because I didn't bed
her, but because I had no seed to sow. Without children to occupy
her, what her life was missing did.

Methos reread what he had written. Alex didn't need to know this. He
needed to show her how a sentinel and his guide were two souls joined
together for the good of the tribe or clan and each other. He
shuffled back in the journal. Mira wasn't even mentioned in these
parts, just him and Rezi, working as one.

We sat upon the banks of the river. I had much to contemplate and
was happy that my sentinel was engaged in another activity. Rezi
watched the sunlight flickering off the backs of the fish as they
swam past. His spear was ready to strike when one big enough to pass
his mental scales went under the spear's shadow. I had a net in my
hand with five flapping inside ready to be dinner. I was able to do
nothing but think and hold the net ready for another offering.

We had been gone most of the day, wandering the hillside, talking
about life and things. I knew very little about being a guide. His
former one was a man he didn't feel comfortable with, so they hadn't
done much together. They had been paired for two years, yet Rezi
confided in me that he was more content after being in my presence
during the first week than with Mira's first mate in those two years.
I asked if it was common for sentinel and guide to share families by
one marrying into the other and he said that it only sometimes
happened.

When we had been walking, talking about my previous life, in which I
told him very little, he stopped suddenly at the top of a hill and
stared at my feet. I asked him what it was that he saw. I thought he
was going to mention a colorful bug or a coin, but much to my
surprise he said a lion was standing at my side.

A lion? Rezi seemed to go into a trance, still staring at my feet,
but not hearing me as I talked. Did he have a poison coursing through
his body? I drew my sword, ready for an unseen foe to jump out at us,
now that the sentinel was incapacitated. No one appeared. 

I felt a hand upon my shoulder and knew it was Rezi's. He explained
that the lion had been talking to him. There was no danger and I
could put my sword away. I was much relieved about the lack of enemy,
but more fearful about the conversation he said he had with the lion.
I have seen many lions in my travels and none could talk.

We sat on the hilltop and he told me of spirit animals who were
there to guide us. Sometimes they told us things that were important
to the tribe, but other times they just helped us see ourselves
better. Rezi said that the lion told him that I was his true guide.
The spirits were working though me when they made me come near the
village.

I shuddered. These are bloodthirsty spirits if they made me kill
Mira's husband. Rezi said that they did not make me kill; it was my
blind need that could not find a source so I mentally attributed it
to lust. My sentinel was always trying to find the good in me. I let
him. 

Methos dropped the pen and flexed his hand. He missed the computer.
Rereading what he had written, he found himself pleased. This was
more what Alex should read about him.

We returned to the village, carrying twenty large fish, enough to
add to the general pool of food. Mira screamed at me as I entered our
hut. I had been gone all day and she had specifically made me a new
tunic that I needed to try on. I offered her my body, but she
declined, saying that it was too dark to do any more sewing. I placed
my shared of the cleaned fish on the table and proceeded to season it
for cooking. She sulked as she pulled the fresh bread from the
earthen oven. After filling my belly, I offered my body once again,
untying the strings to her dress. She submitted, but didn't get any
enjoyment from the experience. Her eyes were cold and her words more
so. I believe that the only reason she didn't complain was the wish
for babies--ones I'd never be able to give her.

As I rolled off of her, she turned her back, sliding a blanket
between her legs to soak up the aftermath of my desire. I felt
chilled by her rejection and got off the bed and went to find Rezi.
He always welcomed my company. Even when he was asleep and I walked
into his hut, his face would relax into a half-smile. I went there
now and he was just getting ready for bed. I had a pallet by the fire
that he dragged out for me when I needed an escape from my own home.
I think I too felt more relaxed when sleeping in Rezi's home rather
than my own.

Methos again stopped to stretch his hand. Why did he keep straying
to Mira as the subject matter? Did he regret what he had put her
through? Not really. She had been a shrew. But this again, not what
he wanted Alex to read. The lion part was good, but not his marriage
problems. That piece of paper was balled up and stuffed in his
pocket. Picking up the journal, he flipped some pages. Where was an
example of him and Rezi working as a coordinated team?

The clan decided that a raid was needed on a neighboring tribe. We
needed more wool and the tribe to the northwest of us had a glut of
sheep. Rezi and I were called in to help plan the attack. They knew
nothing of my skills and I offered very little in the way of
suggestions. I both dreaded the raid and eagerly anticipated it. I
was born to plunder and this would be my first chance in a score of
years.

Our cover would be darkness. We rode horses and dark cowls over our
shoulders. Rezi and I were in the lead. He had to listen for anyone
who might hear our arrival and the warriors would make sure they
didn't live to tell anyone of it. When we came close, Rezi and I
dismounted and walked leading the horses. I had one hand on his
shoulder, another holding the reins. Rezi didn't think about my
hand's presence, but I had noticed that it helped him concentrate on
the chore at hand. If he thought about it at all, he would believe I
needed to be guided in the dark.

We came silently upon our neighbors, asleep. One guard was standing
vigil and I released him from his earthly bonds. I received a
scolding look from the clan leader, which I pretended not to see. We
slipped in, took a hundred head of sheep and slipped away once more.
As the sheep left their confines, many started bleating. Some
warriors were chosen to stay behind and cover our retreat, while Rezi
and I led the others to home. We arrived at dawn and there was much
celebration. I basked in the approval given by everyone. But Mira was
nowhere to be seen.

Methos scratched out the last sentence. A yawn overtook him as he
reread what was on the paper. It was enough for one night. Folding
his arms on the table, he dropped his head and fell asleep with the
lantern still blazing and papers strewn all around him.

Day 6-Saturday, June--

Feeling sore from the physical activity, but rejuvenated, Methos
returned to work. His first stop was his office to find out his
schedule for the day. Next he went directly to Alex's room. He was
curious as to whether his request that they keep the straight jacket
off would be followed. So far, he hadn't had much luck with his
recommendations. He didn't dare do anything more and thus call
attention to his special interest in Alex.

She was sitting up in bed with a tray of breakfast on her lap. He
used his key and entered her room. Her eyes never left her food, but
he knew she was aware of exactly who had come in. A sentinel would
have identified him before he even got to the door. She might even
know when he entered the building. That might be an interesting fact
to learn.

"Good morning, Alex."

"Where have you been?" she asked, while tearing small pieces of
crust off the toast.

"I had a weekend off. I chose to spend it up in the mountains. Do
you like nature?"

"Not particularly," she responded belligerently.

Methos ignored her moodiness. "I guess you missed me."

She grunted and continued picking at the food. "I had something I
wanted to talk to you about yesterday," she commented, with feigned
indifference.

"What about?" 

"I had a dream. Do you have dreams? Sandburg said that dreams that
have my spirit animal in them are trying to tell me something and I
should always listen to them. But I can't tell what this dream meant."

"Tell me about them," Methos instructed in his best psychologist's
voice.

"My animal is a spotted cat, like a leopard or jaguar."

"This cat was in your dream?"

"Yeah, he was fighting this lion."

Methos sat up straighter in his chair. "Tell me more."

"I was killing this lion, ripping his gut open and then watching him
bleed on the ground."

"Why do you think you wanted this lion dead?"

"I don't know!" she cried out. "But the lion didn't stay dead. I'd
kill him and then look away. When I looked back the lion was standing
as if he hadn't been dead. I must have killed him six or seven times."

"Did the lion fight back?"

"No. He, or I guess it was a she, just stood there, letting me kill
it and then it would come back to life."

"Did you see it come back to life or was it dead in one second and
then alive the next?"

"What difference does it matter? I don't know," Alex replied
distraught. "But, what does it mean?"

Methos took a calming breath. "Maybe it means that you're fighting a
battle that you can't win. The cats are symbolic. The spotted animal
is a representation of you."

"I know that, but who's the lion?"

Methos internally debated the wisdom of telling her the truth and
then decided against it. It was too soon. "I don't know. An
authoritarian figure?"

"No. This lion is a particular person."

"Okay. Is it the other Sentinel, Detective Ellison?" Methos
questioned, pretending ignorance. He was relatively sure she’d
recognize that particular spirit animal, especially since Ellison had
been hunting her down in Peru.

"No, *he’s* a black jaguar. And believe me, he was never that
passive. This lion just lets me kill it over and over," she
responded, sounding perplexed at the lion’s actions or rather
inaction. "Jim would fight ‘til his dying breath."

"Have you had any other Sentinel dreams?"

"Just the usual. Ellison’s cat and Sandburg’s wolf, both berating me
for trying to kill them."

"Do you regret you past actions?"

"Would I do the same thing over again? I don’t know. I’d probably
try harder to avoid Jim and not take him to the water. I wanted to
share the wonder with him and he refused to go in. I forced him."

Methos was appalled. "You forced another sentinel into the holy
water?"

"I wanted him to experience what I was experiencing—to understand me
better. But he was too close-minded."

"He must have sensed that experiencing the holy water was a private
thing, not to be shared. Every sentinel sees something different.
It’s a way of cleansing the soul, being reborn into your spiritual
self. You degraded the ritual."

Methos stood up, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to control his
disgust. She didn’t need to see it. Her soul was fragile enough
without him damaging it by accident.

She must have sensed his mood. "You can’t condemn me unless you’ve
experienced the water yourself."

"I *have* experienced a similar holy spring in Europe," he told her
ruthlessly. "It has powers we as humans can only begin to understand.
I sat on the side of the pool and could feel the power radiating up,
but was too afraid to enter. My soul was too evil and I was afraid
I’d be rejected, cast out--dead!"

He didn’t look at her, but opened the door and left her room. His
hands were shaking and he prayed the walk to his office would be made
without witnesses to his agitation.

By lunchtime he had recovered his composure enough to join Dr.
Nyerges on the back lawn.

"Hey, heard from Dr. Madlen that Barnes jumped you on Wednesday."

"Jumped me?" Methos was confused.

"Yeah, before your two day break, when you went to see her, she
leaped on you as you came into her room."

"How did you hear that?"

"She told Madlen, and sounded proud of it. Seems that your leaving
really pissed her off. I guess you’d better check in with her next
time you decide to have a weekend," he joked, "and make sure that
it's okay with her."

"We'll have to discuss her aggressiveness."

"How about scheduling a lobotomy. It might work better."

Didn’t anyone at the hospital feel anything but contempt for her?
How could they hope to treat her mind if they were so outwardly
hostile? "I think I’m going to take a walk. I was a little too active
this weekend and my poor muscles are stiffening up. Care to join me?"
Methos hoped for a decline and was disappointed to find his
suggestion eagerly accepted.

His lunch bag contained only a bag a Ritz crackers and some cheese.
He munched on them as they set off across the lawn. There was a path
that led around landscaped gardens. The first burn contained tulips
and daffodils and they were all past peak. The second had rose bushes
with white limestone rocks covering the dirt. Everything was expertly
crafted and well taken care of. In the distance, the rolling lawn
ended at a line of tall pine trees.

"Is there a fence beyond those trees?" Methos nonchalantly asked his
companion, as he chewed on his crackers.

"Yep, and it's electric. Enough to send you flying off your feet if
you touch it."

Methos nodded. "What's on the other side of the fence?"

"I think it's a mall or plaza or something like that. I've never
checked it out. Why you so curious?" Dr. Nyerges looked at him with
suspicion.

"Sometimes we forget that this institution is a prison because of
the hospital atmosphere. I see very few guards and I'm just wondering
how secure this place is if something was to happen."

"Believe me, it's secure. Barnes has tried twice to escape and both
times didn't even get out of the building. There is no way in hell
any of the inmates can get as far as the electric fence," the doctor
assured Methos.

Methos nodded, playing his part, but inwardly he was calculating the
possibilities. She'd have to get out on her own. He'd position
himself so that she ran into him and have no choice but to accept his
aid. It would be much more difficult for him to smuggle her out. 

Day 8-Monday, June--

Methos had drawn the second shift for the week. He was pleased,
hoping it meant that he was trusted to work alone without any of the
other psychologists keeping tabs on him. Before going to work, he
made yet another shopping trip. There were just so many supplies he
needed to get up to the cabin. After debating with himself all
weekend, he decided to go ahead and buy a small cart. He wasn't sure
if he could get it across the suspension bridge, but the thought of
having to build one later this summer didn't thrill him. If he was
able to get it over the narrow bridge, it would make his trips that
much easier.

Leaving his apartment relatively early, he made it to Wal-Mart just
as it opened. Armed with a list, he pushed his shopping cart down the
aisles, tossing stuff inside as he mentally checked off each item. A
metal pipe cutter was first to go in. Next, a large Bowie knife,
several pairs of work gloves, rope and a package of burlap bags and
so on. With just the cart to find, he went to the gardening section,
which was alongside the camping area. 

There were two men arguing. Methos didn't know why they caught his
attention, but he found himself watching them. There had to have been
close to a ten-year gap between them. One was tall with a short
haircut and the tell-tale military posture. He had an aura of command
that seemed to come as natural to him as breathing. The other man,
who looked younger, had long curly hair, reminiscent of the sixties,
and the posture of a devil-may-care hippy that had been so popular
back then. He thought back fondly on those times. The two men looked
as mismatched as any two pair could be. What made the scene
intriguing was the fact that the long-haired man was yelling loudly
at the military man without restraint.

"It was not my fault the tent leaked!" the younger man ranted.

"Chief, you strung the tarp over the tent and let them touch."

"I didn't *let* them touch. How was I supposed to know that I had to
play chaperone to canvas tarp and a nylon tent?" He paused for
breath. "I didn't know that knots loosen in the rain."

The older man shook his head in exasperation. "The rope didn't
loosen, the tarp got heavier and sunk."

"Whatever."

Methos let a smile crease his face. They had to be brothers. He bent
over to turn over a price tag, when the younger man's frantic voice
reached him.

"Jim. Jim! What's going on? Come on, look at me."

"Shush."

"What? You hear something?"

"No. I see a lion."

"Where?"

Methos kept his head below, feeling his blood pounding through his
veins.

"It's just sitting there in the aisle."

"I don't see it."

"I know."

"What do you think it means?"

"Remember when I saw the spotted jaguar at the convenient store and
that was before you had made contact with Alex Barnes?"

"You think we've got another Sentinel around? It would explain your
edginess."

"I don't know. I don't get the same feeling of hostility or dread
with this cat. She's just sitting there, looking at me, occasionally
blinking her eyes."

Methos peeked around the corner, but couldn't see the cat. He had
never seen the spirit animals. Only Rezi had been able to see both
the lion and his own red wolf. Carefully he backed up, returning to
the display of carts, listening hard.

"Is she trying to tell you something?"

"No," he said slowly. "But, I think she was in the dream."

"What dream? The dream with Alex's jaguar?"

"I think the lion is the shadow."

"You don't suppose that Alex is--has--a guide?"

"It's gone. The lion disappeared when you said guide."

"I'm getting shivers, man. I just can't imagine *her* with her
senses under control. The destruction that she's capable off is
enough to blow my mind."

"I think I need to take a trip to Woodbridge--talk to her doctors--
see if anyone has tried to visit her."

"I'll stay home."

"Excuse me, aren't you supposed to be at Winding Creek School this
afternoon for D.A.R.E.?"

"Oh, yeah!"

Methos could hear the happiness in his voice. What the hell was dare?

"I've got some cool skits we're going to act out."

"Skits? Aren't you just supposed--"

The words grew softer as the two men walked away toward the front
cash register. Methos noticed that the older, military man was
carrying two sleeping bags, while the younger was jumping around,
waving his hands as he explained the skits. The old immortal couldn't
help but like the two men and hoped they wouldn't cross paths in the
future. However, with the Sentinel coming to see Alex's doctors, it
was unlikely he'd be able to avoid the meeting.

Methos quickly picked out the cart he wanted and took his selections
up to the front to be purchased. His mind going over every detail of
what he had heard. The two men had to be Detective Jim Ellison and
his partner, Blair Sandburg. What a small world it was that they
should run into each other at a discount store.

The immortal spent the rest of the morning packing and organizing
his latest group of supplies. He had absconded with a bottle of
morphine pills and two bottles of Bactrim. From the drug store, he
had bought a wide selection of bandages and antiseptic cream. Methos
knew that Alex would end up hurting herself in her rush to escape and
he wanted to be sure he had all the bases covered. From the grocery
store he had bought more canned goods and he was waiting for the call
saying that his new hunting rifle was in. He could have bought one
off the black market, but he needed to be sure it was in fine working
condition. He didn't want to be caught up there without a reliable
gun. He had enough new supplies to make another trip. 

Glancing at the clock, he was startled to find that he had run out
of time. He took a quick shower, dressed in his uniform of a
pinstripe suit and left for work. He had to work Monday and Tuesday,
Wednesday he had off, and then work Thursday. He'd go up to the cabin
Wednesday morning, stay overnight and come back Thursday morning. It
was doable. As he pulled into his assigned parking place, he wondered
if he had missed the Sentinel detective.

He had just made it to his office door when Dr. Madlen intercepted
him.

"Dr. Adams. Could you please join me in the Cranberry Room?
Detective Ellison is here and would like to ask you some questions
about Alex Barnes."

"Isn't he the detective who arrested her?" Methos asked, staying in
character.

"He is."

"I don't think it would be a good idea for me to meet with him. I
think I've gained her trust and if I meet with her sworn enemy, she
may lose confidence in me as her doctor and then how can I help her?"

"Believe me, Dr. Adams, she'll never know."

Methos didn't know how to answer that. He knew both Sentinels were
probably listening in to the conversation and hoped Alex wouldn't
hold this against him. The point was moot as Madlen grabbed him by
the arm and forcefully escorted him down the hall to the group of
conference rooms; each named for the color of the decor. 

"Detective, this is Doctor Pierce Adams."

When no further comment was made, Methos realized that the two men
had talked extensively about him. "And you are Detective Ellison."
Methos flashed Madlen a look of annoyance, hoping that both men would
interpret it as a response to the other doctor's bad manners.

The detective stood and they shook hands. Ellison began, "I'd like
to ask you some questions about your patient."

"I'm sorry I can't answer very much. You understand--patient/doctor
confidentiality."

"Dr. Adams. This is a unique case. Detective Ellison has full rights
to know what is going on."

"I beg to differ, doctor. He's not family. He's not married to my
patient and even then I don't think I'd divulge anything she told me
in trust." Methos turned to Ellison, keeping a benign expression.
"What is it you want to know?"

"Has she had visitors recently?"

"I haven't authorized anyone in to see her," Methos answered
truthfully.

"Has she mentioned any strange dreams?"

"Yes. Her dreams are vivid and generally quite violent. We're
dealing with them." Methos paused and smiled. "I believe they feature
you quite often."

Ellison stiffened and looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Can you
give me any specifics?"

"No, I cannot." Methos was glad that he hadn't written any of them
down. He wouldn't put it past Madlen to have gone through his notes.

Madlen confirmed his suspicions when he added, "Do you document
everything she says?"

"Anything important." Methos knew the consequence of not telling the
truth with a human lie detector sitting in front of him.

"Has she spoken of a lion?"

Damn the man was direct. "I believe," Methos answered, "that she is
very afraid of this 'lion'."

"What lion?" Madlen interrupted. "I don't understand."

Ellison ignored the outburst. "Does she say why she's afraid of it?"

Methos thought about it. Maybe he'd give Ellison a tidbit. It would
really puzzle him since he believed the lion was Alex's guide.
"Actually, she wants it dead."

Ellison's eyes widened. It *had* clearly shocked him. Good. "Has she
mentioned anything else?" he asked.

Methos ignored the question. "Since you know about the lion,
possibly you could tell me what the animal signifies? I seem to be at
a loss." He hoped Ellison would his interpret his increased heartbeat
for excitement, and not a lie, if indeed his heart had sped up.

Methos felt Ellison's intense stare. It felt like the detective was
trying to read his mind--it was rather unnerving. Methos purposely
wore his most bland expression, hoping it would ease any suspicions
on Ellison's part.

"I don't know who the lion represents," Ellison finally answered,
reluctantly.

"Possibly Miss Barnes will be able to tell me, when she herself
discovers the truth. The mind is a wondrous thing. It only reveals
facts when it thinks we are able to handle them. And never before.
Self-protective, I would say."

Ellison snorted. After a last look at Methos, the detective rose to
his feet. "I think I've learned all that I'm going to."

Methos admired his choice of words.

"Please contact me if you learn anything else. If Alex does tell you
who the lion is, he or she might be in need of protection."

"I think," Methos remarked slyly, "that we have an adequate police
presence here. It is after all--a prison."

Ellison flashed him a glare then shook Dr. Madlen's hand. "Thank
you, Doctor, for your time."

"Anytime, Detective. I'm glad to be of help."

Methos slowly rose to his feet. "It was nice meeting you, Detective
Ellison. I'm sure we'll talk again."

"Riiight," Ellison drawled as he left the room.

"There was no cause for your impudence," Madlen chastised as soon as
Ellison had closed the door.

Methos tried to act contrite. "I'm sorry, sir, but I felt like he
was denigrating our fine institution."

"I don't think that was his meaning at all. He only wants to help."

"I stand corrected." Methos wanted to get out of the conference room
and witness the detective's departure before he went in to talk to
Alex. The last thing he wanted was to be overheard. "When I see him
again, I will contrive to be more courteous. Is there anything else
you need to see me about?"

"No, you can go."

Without wasting a second, Methos was out of the door heading to the
front entrance. He peeked out of the front vestibule window and saw
the detective get into his truck. It appeared that he was truly
leaving the institution. It was time to face Alex, despite the scent
of the rival sentinel on his person. Methos was curious to see how
Alex would handle it. Was her control strong enough to hold in her
rage and jealousy?

His first stop was his office where he took off his jacket and
picked up his clipboard and folders. It was always good to appear as
if he was taking notes on Alex's condition, when in fact he had put
nothing of relevance into her case files. 

Taking the circuitous path of hallways that led to his main
patient's padded cell, he had to pass the intersection with the "C"
hallway. Shrieks echoed from an open room. Almost against his will,
his feet made him turn and investigate.

"A Horseman is alive," the shrill voice announced. "Sword and
famine! Wild beasts and plague! He will kill all men and animals!
There is no hope for the world!"

There were some mumbling and then a scream. Slowly the scream's
intensity lessened and silence overtook the hallway. Abruptly he
turned and walked quickly back to junction of hallways and continued
to Alex's room. He regretted his lack of composure, but he almost
seemed to need Alex's condemnation in order to regain his sense of
self.

He paused and took a deep breath, readying himself for an attack,
either verbal of physical, then slid the door open. Much to his
surprise, Alex was seated on her bed, uncuffed, no straight jacket
and looking quite unperturbed. 

"Millie's insane remarks have upset you," she commented with
curiosity. "Your heart rate is through the roof. Your pits are
sweating so much that I could smell it before you opened the door.
Yet, your entire conversation with *him* didn't faze you in the
least." She looked at Methos quizzically. 

"I sympathized with her predicament. She knows things that people
disregard as lunatic ramblings. She's scared for the world." It was
the best explanation he could come up with that was part truth.

"Why did you say I was afraid of the lion?" Her eyes flashed her
annoyance.

"I wanted to make him think."

"About what?"

"He sees this lion and believes it to be your guide," he informed
her simply. "I replaced that idea with something else."

"Another rival?" she smiled. "Interesting," she added as the
implication sunk in.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jim Ellison came home to an empty loft. Blair was undoubtedly still
at Winding Creek Elementary School. He had been drafted to represent
Major Crime this year as the D.A.R.E. policeman. Each department was
responsible for one of the city schools and the different officers
took turns fulfilling the obligation to the community. Blair was the
natural choice considering his aptitude for teaching. Unfortunately,
he took his duties very seriously, often staying longer and putting
much more detail and thought than officers did in the previous years.
He was going to be a tough act to follow, unless they could talk him
into doing on a permanent basis.

Slipping his shoes off, he decided to take a little snooze on the
couch until his partner got home. After all, it was Blair's turn to
cook. Leaning his head back on the small square pillow, he let his
thoughts wander back to the conversation with Dr. Adams. On the
surface, everything was fine. Yet, the hairs stood up on the back of
his neck during the entire meeting. His instincts were screaming at
him to be careful of this man--the good doctor wasn't what he seemed.
Jim couldn't put his finger on what had aroused his suspicions, but
his internal radar was binging loudly. 

Stifling a yawn, he thought back to the man's physiological
responses to his questions. Not once had he shown any sign of
fabrication. His heart rate had remained constant. Adams had no
problems looking at him straight in the eye without flinching. For
Jim, that was a rarity, even among the innocent. It showed that Adams
had no fear of him. Fear. Lion. Alex Barnes was afraid of the lion--
wanted it dead. Eyes drifted shut. 

An open field replaced the loft. High grasses swayed as the breeze
caught the seed tips. Jim was in the grass, yet he didn't have a
body. It was more like he was the breeze, a spirit witnessing nature.
As the gold stalks moved in a slow rhythm, a blonde cat became
visible and then vanished. As his sight became clearer, he recognized
the cat as a female African lion. She was lying on her side with her
head up and eyes closed, dozing in the sun. 

A movement off to the side caught Jim's attention. The lion's ears
flicked once in the same direction, yet she showed no alarm. Another
cat, whose spots stood out more in the light colored surroundings,
was stalking the lion. Jim tried to warn the lion, but no sound
emerged from his brain. He was trapped in the scene as it played out
before him. The other cat leaped onto the lion, forcing her onto her
back. With a snarl of frustration, not triumph, the hunter began
ripping open the belly of the lion as she lay passive. Blood poured
out of the numerous wounds and still the jaguar didn't stop. The
lion's massive head fell to the ground and Jim could tell that she
was dead. The spotted cat backed off and stood watching the dead
lion. Jim again tried to get in closer, but his dream wouldn't allow
it. His consciousness stared with hate upon the jaguar, when suddenly
it howled. It sounded like a screech from hell. The lion suddenly
stood, shook herself and slowly padded away. The jaguar didn't
follow. 

"Jim! Wake up."

"NO!"

"Jim, it's me. Come on, you're having some weird dream. Come back."

The grasses dissolved before his eyes and the loft, with its
artificial lights and aroma of grilled steak, greeted his senses. He
blinked a couple of times, then bolted up. "My God, what a dream!"

"What happened? Was it a Sentinel dream?"

"Yeah." Jim looked at Blair and saw the concern however much it was
coupled with curiosity. "It was about the lion." He described his
conversation with Dr. Adams; how he had mentioned that Alex was
afraid of the lion and then took him step by step through the dream.

"You mean the spotted cat actually killed the lion. I don't
understand, I thought you said it might be the guide."

"That's what I thought. But you should have heard the roar after the
attack. It seemed like this was a scene that had replayed over and
over. The lion dies and then comes back to life. The spotted cat
can't win and the lion knows it. She's not concerned over the attack,
practically ignores the approaching jaguar."

"Man this is creepy. A lion that dies and comes back to life? I can
see how that would infuriate Alex. Killing is her way of keeping
control."

Jim couldn't think of anything to add. His nose twitched as the
scent of sizzling meat pervaded his thoughts. "I think I better
rescue those steaks before they're nothing but charcoal."

Blair gave an uncomfortable laugh and the lion subject was dropped.
Jim didn't really want to talk about it anymore. He needed time to
process and find the relevance in it. A nagging feeling told him that
the dream contained important information and he had to separate the
facts from the symbolism. Sandburg was hopefully doing the same thing.

Day 9-Tuesday, June--

Methos left his apartment early and decided to find the mall whose
land adjoined that of the asylum. Grabbing a pair of powerful
binoculars, putting on sturdy shoes and a light jacket, he set out
for the Creekside mall. After perusing a map the night before,
Creekside seemed the obvious choice. The parking lot was relatively
empty with only the employee's cars parked on the outskirts of the
stores. The policy of close spaces being reserved for patrons fit his
plans nicely. 

Methos climbed onto the top of the SUV and pulled the binoculars to
his eyes. A small creek did run to the south of the mall parking lot.
He was now parked on the south side next to the JC Penny store. The
road the mall was on was to the east, and a housing track was to the
north. That left the south and west for the probable locations for
the property line between the asylum and the mall. It was almost
impossible to see through the brush surrounding the creek, so Methos
hopped off his vehicle and started walking.

Inside the small dense grouping of trees, he followed the creek
until he found a way to cross. It wasn't deep, but the water was
flowing rapidly. It had the look of a mountain run-off caused by
melting snow. On the other side, he quickly walked south of the
stream. Before he came out of the trees, he came to a fence.
Excitement quickened his pulse. This could be it. He couldn't detect
any sign of people having been there. With regret, he reached out and
touched the fence. The volts sent him back several feet and left his
hand tingling.

Directly on the other side of the fence was nothing but more trees.
It was an excellent place for Alex to break out. Withdrawing a knife
from his pocket, he cut a mark into one of the trees. Then taking a
blue Sharpie, he colored the white bark a bit. This evening, during
his dinner, he'd try and find this place hidden in the trees. As he
walked the fence line a little further in a westerly direction, he
saw a large pine tree, easily topping the others on the asylum's side
of the barrier. The branches on the tree went all the way to the
ground and offered a wonderful place to hide metal cutters. Methos
smiled with satisfaction.

Next stop was into the mall to buy Alex a mountain wardrobe.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Methos walked back to his office and shut the door with relief. A
knapsack with the metal cutters was safely buried under the pine
tree. The whole operation went off without a hitch. No one appeared
to have observed his movements or questioned him as to his actions.
He wanted to make one last visit to his patients and then head home
to rest before his excursion to the cabin early tomorrow morning. 

He poured himself a mug of coffee and headed back out. The central
common room was empty. Everything was quiet on the "C" corridor.
Something made him pause. A guard stood sentry, but there were no
other doctors around. Maybe he should pay Millie a private visit. He
knew a meeting was inevitable and doing it on his terms was important.

Using his passkey, he slowly unlocked her door and went in. Her
lights were on and she was staring at him intently as he closed the
door.

"I've wondered how long you would take to come," she said, sounding
confident.

"I wasn't sure how you would react meeting me face to face," Methos
responded.

"You're wrong in your self-assessment. All your life you've
considered yourself, Death. But, it's not true. You are the Deceiver,
the master of half-truths and the art of camouflage. Killing is never
your main goal. I don't know *what* you want in this place, but I
have no doubt that you will get it."

"What makes you so sure you know me so well?"

"Just because you cannot see your true reflection doesn't mean that
God can't. He uses you for His will. Through the ages you have tried
to make up for your heinous crimes. God uses that feeling of guilt."

Methos was affronted. "I have no guilt. I may not be proud of my
past, but I don't dwell on it."

"That would defeat His purpose. Why do you think you became a
doctor? Why not an engineer or farmer?"

"I've been a farmer."

"But only to eat and only because your wives held the farms and you
wanted to be with them. Farming is not in your blood. Saving lives
is. It is a method of atonement. You prevented the Four Horsemen from
starting a worldwide plague. God's judgement has been put on hold
because of your sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"

"You saved the Champion at the expense of a Brother. It must have
hurt."

Despite Methos knowing that this woman was a true seer, her insights
truly scared him. Never had he met such an awesome spirit. "It did,"
he responded, not trying to hide the pain in his voice.

She snuggled deeper into her covers and closed her eyes. The
interview was over. Methos wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. He
stared at her for several seconds then turned to go. As he went
turned to close the door, he noticed that she was sitting up.

"Do you know the story of the Damoclean sword? Be careful it doesn't
happen to you. In your world, true happiness can be perilous." 

His heart hammered in his chest. Taking deep breaths, he strived for
composure then headed back to his office. The coffee was stone cold.
He'd need another cup before facing Alex and trying to explain both
his absence the next day, and what had just happened with Millie.
Alex would be intrigued at how easily Millie could get under his
skin. Methos went back to his office, made a fresh pot of decaf, and
shuffled papers on his desk. When the coffee started bubbling out, he
stuck his mug under the stream, capturing the concentrated brew.
Wishing instead for a bottle of beer, he settled in his chair, taking
deep breaths and sips from his mug.

Knowing that he had avoided the excursion long enough, he started
once more to see Alex. As always, she knew when he was coming. 

She gave a slow smile as he entered. "You've had quite a day," she
started.

Wearily, he sank to a chair and waited. 

"Our sessions haven't really been designed to help me, but actually
to help you. I've been puzzling over it until today." She got up from
the bed and walked over to him. Seductively, she slid her hands onto
his shoulders and massaged them. "Does that feel good, doctor?"

He moaned in appreciation. His muscles *were* tight.

She bent over and whispered into his ear. "What did you hide under
the tree branches?"

He should have known that she'd follow his walk with her uncanny
sense of hearing. "Can you tell which tree if you had to find it?"

"Oh, yes," she responded, quietly.

"Fence cutters with rubber handles."

She let her breasts graze the top of his shoulders and she bent once
more to whisper. "Did anyone see?"

"I sure hope not." He groaned as she continued her ministrations. It
did feel good. The amount of planning and execution was staggering
and then to top it off with Millie's revelations, his mind was
overloaded. "I have tomorrow off, but I'll be back Thursday. Sit
tight until then. I can't help until I'm back in town." He turned and
roughly pulled her onto his lap, then whispered in her ear, "You
can't get out alone. You've already failed twice."

Her eyes clouded with anger and she squirmed out of his grasp. He
let her go--his point made. She made no allusions to Millie.

 

Day 11-Thursday, June--

Methos entered his apartment and went directly to the shower. He was
filthy. The trek up to the mountain had gone as planned and several
loads had been deposited to the cabin. The cart was able to get over
the narrow suspension bridge and therefore he had been able to
accomplish almost twice the cargo. All the clothes and personal items
were now there: food and utensils along with tools and a pair of
shotguns. Cleaning equipment and kerosene were stocked. Sleeping bags
and a pair of mattresses leaned against the wall to the right of the
fireplace. Even the medications and first aid supplies were stored in
a trunk. Methos found a hiding place for his sword, which he hoped he
wouldn't need. Alex must never find it. Everything was ready but the
details for her escape.

His shift at Woodbridge started officially at four, but he entered
early, hoping to have a few minutes to get settled. Dr. Nyerges was
leaning against the nurse's desk and pounced as soon as he walked by.

"Adams!" he called. "You missed another thrilling couple of days."

"Millie up to her old tricks?"

"Yeah, and Barnes tried to escape again."

Methos stopped in his tracks. "She didn't?" he asked in stunned
disbelief.

"Since you've been treating her, she's been quite docile. One of the
aids went into her room to retrieve her dinner tray and she pounced.
It was quite a chase throughout the hospital corridors. I couldn't
believe how well she knew them, considering that she has never been
out of her cell."

"Except for the other times she tried to escape."

Dr. Nyerges coughed. "Yes. Well. There was Millie chanting in her
cell about the four Horsemen and that death rode not a pale horse but
a white horse. He was a deceiver and then she'd laugh insanely
wondering how many of us were taken in by his cunning disguise. All
the while, Barnes is sneaking around the halls looking for a way out
of the building."

"Did she get out?"

"Nope. Dr. Madlen had a guard shoot her with a tranq. She went down
like a ton of bricks. Serves her right."

Methos felt his breathing slowly return to normal. "Is she conscious
yet?"

"Yep, and back in the straight jacket. Her eyes are wild."

Relief was taking a back seat to anger. He had been hoping to make
their move Friday night and now the guards would be more alert than
ever. "I better go see her," he dismissed the other doctor and
heading directly to Alex's room.

Methos schooled his face to reveal nothing. He opened her door and
went in. She was sitting on the bed with her back against the
headboard, glaring defiantly at him.

He stared directly at her face and slowly let his fury show. "How
dare you disrupt my timetable? You are a fool. Not only have you
prolonged your stay here by at least a week, I am almost ready to
wash my hands of you entirely." He walked up to the bed and leaned
over nose-to-nose with her. "It's not my senses that are out of
control."

Her eyes didn't drop. She wasn't afraid. This made him even angrier.
"You will do nothing further, until I give the order."

"I do not take orders from you, Doctor. I could tell them that you
plan on helping me to escape. Which would make anyone think 'why does
he want me free'. Do you have some corrupt scheme in mind? Robbery?
Murder?"

He backed up from her, disgusted. "I don't need your help to kill,"
he responded offhandedly. Her eyes widened a bit. "You do anything
else to jeopardize things, I will walk out of here and not look
back." He hoped the threat would work.

"You going to get me out of this jacket?"

"I don't think so. Is it uncomfortable?"

"Very!"

"Good." He sat down on the chair and opened up his folder. "How are
you eyes? Are they dealing with this light?"

"It's no worse than normal."

Methos got up and shined a light into her pupils. "Yes, they seem to
be responding normally." He went back to his seat. "How is your sense
of smell?"

"I can smell your aftershave, Old Spice, isn't it? I can smell a
faint odor of sweat and dirt. You did manual labor on your time off."

"I did and it was refreshing. How about taste?"

"I haven't eaten anything since two nights ago when I got out of
this room. First I was unconscious from the drugs and then they
called in through the door that no one was willing to come in."

Methos nodded. "I can understand how you got your reputation. You
stab everyone one in the back. Is it a reflexive action?" Methos
asked rhetorically. "When I first arrived, I was appalled at how you
were treated. Now I quite understand."

He let himself feel and show the anger and disappointment, then
turned abruptly and left Alex's cell. She needed to be punished.
While she wallowed in isolation, he'd make the necessary plans for
her escape. The first thing he needed to do was gain access to the
floor plans for the institution. Walking out was not an option. Her
route would take her through the ventilation system. His job was to
locate the best possible tunnel that would fit her and hide her from
the guards.

The second thing was to find his set of lockpicks. Amanda had given
them to him as a Christmas present several years ago. He had used it
only once. They were special because she said they could spring the
hardest lock. Even with Alex's keen sense of hearing, her lock would
not be forced open easily.

The third thing was to obtain another car--one that wasn't traceable
to either Pierce Adams or Adam Pierson. It would have to be
nondescript. If by some chance they were seen leaving, no one would
connect him with Alex's escape until the next day when he didn't show
up for work. His Toyota would be hidden in the mountains where they
would never think to look.

As he made his mental checklist, he slowly began to cool off.
Nothing really had damaged his plans. Not that he would tell *her*
that. It would just be a manner of days before they were both free of
civilization. How he longed for the freedom.

Day 15-Monday, June--

Methos leaned against the tree that had his mark scratched into the
bark. There was very little light, only a few stray streaks of
moonlight were able to penetrate through the leaves. He knew that it
should be a matter of minutes before she began cutting the fence, but
the time crept by slowly. As soon as she cut through one link, the
alarm would sound and her escape would become known.

He glanced at his watch. The illuminated dial read four-thirty.
Tick. Tick. A bird began chirping from a branch above him nearly
sending him into cardiac arrest. The sun would soon be rising. Tick.
Tick. She had better--snap! A twig snapped. Was it her? He heard a
rustling and then the sound of the fence bending. Her blond head
poked through, followed next by her back and then legs.

"How's my timing?" she whispered, laughing in quiet triumph.

"Not bad. This way." He started jogging toward the parking lot.
"That’s my car," Methos told her, pointing to an old Honda Accord.
The early morning moon illuminated the open area with plenty of light
for Methos to see. 

Alex’s breaths came in quick gasps. She nodded and changed her
direction slightly, aiming for the front passenger door. 

As they settled inside and buckled their seatbelts, Methos reached
into his coat pocket. Her attention was directed outwards. 

"Can you hear anything?" he asked, as his fingers surrounded a small
dart whose tip had been coated with a mild sedative the night before.
The hard airtight plastic container prevented her from smelling its
presence.

"Some are almost to the hole in the fence, but the majority are
still searching close to the building." She gave a sarcastic laugh.
"They probably think I’m looking to steal a car." Her breathing was
becoming less labored. Her eyes darted around the Honda. "This isn’t
your truck," she stated, obviously just realizing it.

"That’s right. I wasn’t sure if I’d be seen aiding your escape and I
didn’t want them to be able to track us by my 4Runner." He
unobtrusively slipped his hand out from his pocket, leaving the
container within.

"And where is the—" her eyes widened in surprise as his hand went to
her neck and poked her with the dart. It only took seconds for the
drug to take effect.

"Sorry, Alex," Methos muttered to the sleeping woman. "I couldn’t
take the chance that you’d try and kill me before we got to the
cabin."

He lifted her out of the front seat and placed her supine form
across the back seat. The small amount of sedative would only last
for fifteen minutes, which should be enough time for him to get back
to where he parked the SUV. His medical bag with more of the drug was
there. Things had gone pretty well up to this point. He turned on the
radio and sang along as he navigated through the streets to where his
truck was waiting. 

It took only minutes for Methos to pull next to his vehicle. He
quickly removed the syringe and injected her with more of the
sedative. Her eyes didn’t flicker. Having her drugged on the trip up
into the mountains was the wisest course. Then he did a methodical
search of her person to make sure that she hadn’t pirated any weapons
during her escape. He found a scalpel and a pair of scissors. Not
bad, he thought admiringly. Taking a blanket from the car’s floor, he
wrapped it around her, carried her to the SUV and slid her onto the
backseat with a pillow under her head. Locking the Accord, he
returned to the Four-Runner and pulled out of the underground garage.
Phase one was now complete. He now eagerly awaited their adventure in
the cabin without the usual amenities.

The low traffic volume made the trip uneventful. Two police cruisers
sped past at one point, but Methos wasn’t worried. They hardly looked
in his direction, intent on their destination. He parked his SUV at
the usual spot to unload his cargo. The cart hidden in some bushes
was his first chore. He scooped the debris out and placed a blanket
on the bottom. Next, he gently lifted Alex from the back seat and
placed her inside. Satisfied that she was as secure as possible, he
went back and took out his backpack filled with more supplies. Methos
placed the backpack down next to the cart then went to hide his
vehicle. The little dirt road shouldn’t be on anyone’s map. In
effect, it was his private driveway. Hiking back to the cart, he
started the arduous journey up the mountain, removing the white discs
marking the trail as he went along.

The first obstacle he encountered was the bridge. He crossed it with
little difficulty, but then had to destroy it. Using his ax, he
chopped the wooden planks into pieces and threw them into the running
stream. The incline wasn’t great, but the water didn’t look safe to
forge. 

He did the same to the second bridge.

The third bridge was the suspension one. He had to first carry Alex
over it, then come back for the cart. Safely on the other side, he
began hacking away at the ropes. It didn’t take long for them to give
way and the bridge to disconnect from his side and fall down. It
didn’t quite reach the bottom, but Methos wondered if someone could
navigate down the ravine and then climb back up the other side using
the bridge's slats as a ladder. He must not forget this possibility.

With a shake of his head, Methos turned back to his cargo and
continued to hike. The sun had just reached its zenith when the cabin
came into sight. Going directly to the well, he pumped out water for
him to slack his thirst. As he drank, his gaze went back to his guest
to see if she showed any sign of waking. Still no movement. Taking
the chance that she wasn’t playing possum, he went into the cabin and
hid his Ivanhoe. He did *not* want her to find his sword. 

After replacing the stones, he went back outside to find her still
asleep. With a sigh of relief, he carried her inside and placed her
on the bed he had assembled for her. Using the time wisely, he
unpacked the remainder of the supplies and began to organize them. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jim was woken at five in the morning by the telephone. He sleepily
navigated the stairs and picked up the receiver. Blair came out of
his room looking curious as to who would call this early. It was
either a police emergency or a family one.

"Hello," Jim spoke into the mouthpiece.

"Detective Ellison? This is Dr. Madlen. I work—"

"I know who you are doctor. Is this about Alex Barnes?"

"She’s escaped."

"What!!!!" Jim roared into the phone. He could feel his partner’s
eyes boring into his back with fear. Hell, he felt the same fear.

"I think she had help. In each of her other attempts, she never got
outside the building's security. This time she had a lock-pick,
knowledge of a particular air vent, and metal cutters."

"Any suspects?"

"Not at the moment," the doctor informed him. "But we’re checking
into it."

"I’ll be right there." Jim slammed the phone down.

"I’m coming with you."

"Sandburg, that isn’t—"

Blair interrupted. "I’m safer with you than on my own here. This
might be the first place she goes."

As arguments went, it was weak. But Jim had to admit to himself he’d
feel better if Sandburg was within sensing range. Less chance of
danger to either of them. "Okay."

They drove in silence to Woodbridge. Jim was lost in his own
thoughts on how he would react when he came face to face with her
again. He wasn’t proud of his previous responses and hoped Blair
would keep him grounded enough to resist any "biological
imperatives." 

Jim pulled into the parking lot and had to get through security
before he was allowed to park his truck. Dr. Madlen was waiting for
them at the front door.

"It seems that our new doctor Adams is involved." Dr. Madlen’s face
was red with anger. "On paper he seemed an excellent choice, but
since he’s been with us, I’ve had my doubts."

"Why didn’t you say anything sooner?" Jim said, annoyed at the
doctor’s reticence. 

"He was so good with her. While he worked, she was a model patient.
When he had his days off, she became unmanageable again. The staff
approved of him whole-heartedly. It saved them from having to deal
with her, you see. It never occurred to me that he’d help her
escape." He sounded as bewildered as he looked. 

"Well, he has. Can you give me his address and any pertinent
information you might have?"

"I have it compiled for you here." Dr. Madlen handed Blair a folder.
"I checked out his references myself. They were impeccable."

"I want to take a look around the grounds, see how she got out. Is
that okay?"

"Fine. I’ll clear it with the guards."

Jim and Blair were shown Alex’s room. Jim search but couldn’t find
anything out of the ordinary. Blair took off down another corridor to
question some of the other doctors. 

They met up at the back door leading out onto grounds. Blair was
practically bouncing on his toes. 

Jim held up his finger, "Wait." He had a semblance of an idea as to
where the fence had been cut and headed in that direction. As they
left earshot of the staff he turned to Blair. "What did you learn?"

"Most of the doctors really like Dr Adams. None could believe he’d
let a criminal loose like that. But one doctor thought that Adams
might have a soft spot for her. Then I saw," his eyes widened even
more with excitement, "Millie."

"Millie?" Jim asked.

"She’s a patient."

"Chief. These patients are insane—criminally insane."

"Millie isn’t like that. I admit she has some strange ideas, but
some of the stuff she said—well it was weird."

"How weird?"

"First she started talking about the end of the world and that it
had been avoided. Then she went on to say that ‘sometimes evil can
change into good. Death is like that.’ What spooked me is that she
started talking about how ‘she thinks she can kill her teacher but
that he won’t ever die. He’s lived through the Four Horsemen, the
death of Christ and has evolved into a decent human being.’ Then she
laughed and said we’d never find them--*he* made sure of that. Isn’t
that eerie?" 

Jim had to agree. "I don’t understand most of that, but—"

"What about the fact that she tries to kill him but he won’t die?
Doesn’t that sound like your dream?"

Jim stiffened. It did sound like the dream. The spotted cat tried to
kill the lion who wouldn’t stay dead. "This Millie called Adams her
teacher? What does that mean?"

"Maybe Doctor Adams is going to teach her how to be a sentinel. You
did say he mentioned her dreams and didn’t seem fazed by them," Blair
suggested.

They continued walking as Jim mulled over Millie’s words. "I don’t
like the sound of Adams compared to the Four Horsemen and death and
evil. What if these two are joining up for nefarious reasons?"

"Great word, Jim. I don’t know. I think we have to find them,
despite the fact that Millie said that we won’t. Maybe I should go
back and ask her where they are. Maybe Adams told her."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Let’s try honest detective work first."

They arrived at the line of trees that hid the perimeter fence from
plain view. Jim used his enhanced vision to find the hole that had
been cut. Taking long strides to the area, he examined the ground
closely around the fence.

"She came here alone. He didn’t help her escape from the hospital."
Jim crawled through the opening. As he stood upright, he noticed a
blue "X" carved into a tree trunk. "Dr. Adams scouted first, found a
logical site to break through the fence and marked it for future
reference." He scoured the ground and found multiple footprints, too
many to distinguish individually and then some that lead away from
the institute's grounds. "The doctor waited for her here and then
they left together." 

Blair joined him on the other side and they both followed the trail
to a stream and onto the other side. 

"It’s a parking lot to a shopping center," Blair blurted out.

"He had a car parked here and this is how they made their escape."
Jim straightened as he looked around the asphalt. Nothing among the
debris shed any light on where they might have gone. "I didn’t see
the fence cutters, so he must have taken them with him." They went
back to the property line and Jim went back though the fence. He
looked all over for any tools. Under one of the pine trees, he found
an old backpack. 

"Jim, this fence has been cut from the inside. See the links have
been pulled in, not out."

"I agree. Adams must have hid the tool in this pack, under the tree,
and told Alex to find it and cut the fence close by."

"It’s a pretty tall tree. Good landmark," Blair noticed, looking up
the long trunk.

Jim glanced at it absently. "I think we should check out the good
doctor's office."

Madlen met them at the door. "Did you find anything?"

Blair briefly filled him in as they made their way to Dr. Adams'
office. Dr. Madlen unlocked the door for them. Jim started with the
desk. The front drawer contained pens and pencils--nothing unusual.
However, way in the back was a pair of glasses. Jim slipped on latex
gloves and reached in for them. He held them up. "They're clear. Not
magnifiers or prescription." 

Blair reached in and brought out an evidence bag. 

Madlen went directly over to the filing cabinet and pulled out some
files. "Damn the man." The expletive made Blair jump. Jim flung his
hand over making sure that his partner didn't drop the bag.

"What?" Jim asked, as Blair recovered.

"He's only made brief notes in *her* file. Nothing about his
sessions with her, only that he found her 'drugged again' and that
the lights were blazing in her room."

Jim and Blair exchanged looks.

The doctor continued. "Adams was forever nagging me about keeping
her lights dim because they hurt her eyes." He gave a disgusted snort
as if he didn't consider the suggestion worth his time.

Jim started feeling confused. He had been ready to think Adams was a
nutcase, but now he was beginning to empathize with Alex. The
director had been abusing her. He brought himself up short. Alex was
a criminal. She didn't deserve his sympathy.

"He didn't leave anything, Jim," Sandburg broke into his thoughts.
"Let’s check his home." 

The address was written on a copy of Adams' resume. Jim told Dr.
Madlen they were leaving and would be in touch.

The two men left the asylum. As they drove out of the parking lot,
Jim noticed that Blair was staring at him.

"Were you losing it in there?" Sandburg asked.

"No. I just felt a moment of empathy. Those lights *are* too bright."

"That's all, right?"

"That's all," Jim assured his friend

Several blocks later, Blair pointed out the window. "That's the
street listed here."

Jim turned.

"My God, look at that?" Blair spoke with amazement.

Jim smiled. "It's a new high rise apartment complex that caters to
the bankers and businessmen of Cascade," Jim added as he pulled up to
the front of the building.

Blair rubbed his fingers together. "Big bucks. Wonder where he gets
his money?’

"Doctors are very well paid. I’m sure he manages."

"If he's a real doctor," added Blair.

Jim acknowledged the possibility as he rolled down his window. A
security guard came over to the car.

"Can I help you?"

Jim flashed his badge. "I need to talk to the superintendent or
manager about one of the residents."

The guard pulled out a cell phone and pushed a button, mumbled a few
words, which Jim chose to ignore. 

"This way," they were directed.

Jim explained to the man in charge that they needed to see Dr.
Pierce Adams' room. The man didn’t show up for work and his boss
feared he might be in trouble. It didn’t take much coaxing. 

The manager took them up an elevator. Each floor had only four
apartments on it. They were shown to the door on the far right. After
a knock, the man used a master key and opened the door. Jim wasn’t
sure what he expected, but what he saw was incredible. The
furnishings were more expensive than anything his father might have
ordered. The front room was completely dirt-free and immaculate—not
even a magazine out of place. 

Jim and Blair toured the apartment, going from one room to the next.
The closets were full. Several suits hung alongside casual shirts and
Dockers. The dresser contained an array of boxers and socks. The
kitchen had food in the cupboards and there was even a gallon of milk
half full.

"Jim, maybe she kidnapped him."

Despite the evidence that Dr. Adams hadn't packed for an extended
leave, Jim didn’t quite buy that Adams had been kidnapped. The
detective turned to the manager. "Can you check and tell me if his
vehicle is parked in its usual spot?" 

The man pulled out his own cell phone and pushed a number. "No, his
Toyota 4Runner is gone. The guard said that he never came home the
night before. We didn’t think anything of it since he works odd hours
at that hospital and frequently takes off for two or three day
stretches."

Jim’s internal alarm buzzed. "Has he given any indication where he
goes?"

"I think he likes camping. I happened to see him leaving very early
one morning with his truck filled with kerosene and lanterns and
equipment like that. He was gone for three days."

"Did he ever mention where he liked to camp?" Blair asked.

"Oh, no. He didn’t know that I even saw him. We’ve never talked
since he rented the place."

"How long is his lease?" Jim asked, looking for more facts.

"He signed for a full year and paid the whole thing up front. I
wasn’t going to complain. He said something about never knowing what
day of the week it was and if he didn’t pay up front he’d forget."

"That must have been a huge hunk of change," commented Jim as he
mulled over the time frame of the lease.

"Sixty-thousand dollars. Wrote a personal check for it. It didn’t
bounce, so I didn’t think anything more of it."

Jim took another look around the apartment. The magazines on the
table consisted of Biography, Golf Digest, Smithsonian, and several
written in French, which he didn’t recognize. All had been bought off
the shelf--no subscriptions. There was a desk in one room. He went
through the drawers and found them empty except for blank paper.

"Jim?" Blair asked for his attention. 

"Yeah?"

"You notice that there isn’t anything personal in this room? No
plants, no pictures, a few books—best sellers—not—wait. Look at this."

Jim saw Blair with his head in a book with an astounded look on his
face. "What is it?" He walked over to his partner.

"It’s a first edition of Mary Shelley’s, Frankenstein. It’s even
signed."

Jim looked over Blair’s shoulder and read the inscription a loud.
"Doc. To my favorite monster disguised as a gentleman."

"I can’t imagine him leaving such a valuable book behind. Man, I’d
treasure something like this ‘til I died." Blair paused, flipping the
pages of the book. "Wonder who Doc was?"

The book's presence implied the man was coming back. "I don’t know
what’s going on. This place has given us more questions instead of
answering any," Jim remarked, annoyed. But, except for the book,
Blair was right there was nothing personal in the room. The plates
and silverware were--wait--there was no silverware in the drawers. In
fact, as Jim opened each drawer, he found them all empty. No
dishtowels, or spatulas or anything of that nature. He did find pots
and pans in the compartment under the stove--but no utensils. 

Using his sentinel gift of enhanced eyesight, he swept the room
looking for any scrap of paper or misplaced minute items that might
give him a clue, but the place was immaculately cleaned. Nothing was
out of place, which was very unusual. "Sandburg. Take that Shelley
book and bag it. I want to dust for prints. Maybe our Doctor Adams
isn’t who he says he is." He took one last look and turned to the
manager. "I think we’re done here. Let me give you my card. If Adams
comes back, you call me immediately. Understand?"

"No problem, detective."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Methos carried an armload of wood inside the cabin. The sun was
setting and still she hadn’t woken up. Perhaps he had given her too
much of the sedative? There was a fire going and Methos added this
bunch to the growing pile. He sat calculating how more he would need
when he felt eyes on his back. He turned slowly and found her still
but staring at him.

"Glad your awake, Alex. Getting hungry? I’ve been waiting for you to
wake up before I start dinner."

She didn’t respond. He shrugged his shoulders and went out for
another load. When he returned, she was sitting up looking around. 

"Where are we?" she asked. Her words were cold.

"I took you up to my cabin. You might recognize the smell from when
I--"

"You came up here on your days off. To get it ready for me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." He dropped the wood and came over to
stand in front of her. "The reason I took the job at the institution
in the first place was to get you out and bring you here."

"Why?" Her apparent lack of feeling was replaced by curiosity.

"You need a teacher. You have been let go for too long."

"Let go?" she asked, anger showing on her face.

"Alex, you are a strong woman and many men can’t handle you."

She laughed. "And you can?"

He smiled at her naivete. She would learn that the lion is stronger
than the jaguar. "Yes, I can. Now, what would you like for dinner? We
have limited perishables, so we’d better eat them first. Soon, we’ll
be living off the land."

"What does that mean?"

"We eat what we can scavenge or kill. Deer, squirrels, rabbits
animals like that."

She looked horrified. "Why this back to nature routine?"

"You need to learn about life. In fact, there are so many things you
need to learn it would take days to list them. For now, we
concentrate on the jobs at hand."

A sly look crept over her face. "You going to give me a gun so I can
shoot the little animals?"

"Yes. When you leave the safety of the cabin, I want you to carry a
rifle for your own protection. There are bears and wolves and other
predators up in these mountains. I would prefer that my teaching not
go to waste and have you die prematurely."

"Aren’t you afraid I’ll turn on you?"

"No." He said with such surety that it made her pause.

"Why did you drug me?"

He had wondered how long it would take her to ask. It gave him hope
that things were going to be okay. They were talking. "I couldn’t
take the chance that you’d try to get away. I didn’t trust you. I had
told you not to try and escape while I was gone and you did anyway.
You don’t keep your word. Up here, we have to depend on the other for
survival. There is no going back." He implied no going back to
civilization, but he meant going back to the way she was before his
intervention.

"We’re never going back? We’re stuck up here forever?"

"Forever is a long time. But I don’t see any reason to go back. You
are an escaped convict. If you go back, the only thing you can look
forward to is a real jail. They won’t make the same mistake twice. At
least up here you’re free."

"With you as my jailer," she mumbled quietly, but loud enough for
him to hear. Several minutes of silence passed before she asked, "So
what did you bring for food? I’m getting hungry."

Excellent. He wasn’t deluded into thinking that she wouldn’t try to
get away from the cabin, but he was confident that eventually she’d
settle in. Even her dreams indicated that she’d try and kill him. He
was ready for that and for the lesson it would evoke.

He had a fire going in the stove. The large iron frying pan was
warming up over one of the holes. On the shelf, a package of
hamburger was waiting.

"Do you like hamburgers? I brought up a couple of pounds of frozen
meat, to start us off."

Alex removed herself from the mattress and sauntered over to the
kitchen area. "Hamburgers sound wonderful. The institution has
something they called hamburgers, but I don't think there was any
meat in it. Or maybe they served us dog," she said spitefully.

"I've had dog before. It's pretty dry."

She lifted an eyebrow. "When?"

"A very long time ago."

She laughed, but it sounded forced.

"Why don't you set the table. There's a bag over there that has some
bread. I brought enough for a week, but after that, we'll have to
make our own."

She stopped in her tracks. "We have to make our own bread, too?"

"Our days will be full trying to survive. You'll have to do your own
share, or you'll starve. For these first weeks, I'll end up doing
most of the work as I teach you how. Pretty soon, you'll have to
carry your own weight." He looked up at her, but she had already
turned her back to him.

Slowly, she found where the utensils and plates were kept and set
the table. Methos had some vegetables, which were stored underground.
He cut up an onion and sliced a cucumber and two peppers.

"What's to drink?" she asked sullenly as she bit into her burger.

"Water. I did buy a couple of cans each of powered lemonade, tea,
and a fruit punch to mix with the water."

"No milk?"

He patiently tried to explain. "We don't have a refrigerator. We
can't have milk because we can't keep it cold."

"Then why did you bring me here. I was better off *there*!"

He refused to get mad. "I can take you back, but it would be very
difficult and you'd probably end up getting killed on the long
journey out. It's better if you just get used to it."

Alex stuffed a pepper slice into her mouth. "It's getting dark
outside. If there is no electricity, I suppose that means no lights
either."

"I have lanterns; but not a lot of kerosene. We have to use it
sparingly. There is, of course, the fireplace. That gives out a lot
of light."

She grunted. 

There wasn't any more conversation during dinner. Methos could tell
that her mind was going a mile a minute and wished he had an inkling
of what she was considering. He knew it wasn't going to be pleasant
for him. He still had to contend with her image of the spotted cat
killing the lion. How many times would he have to die? 

Alex finished first and carried her plate to the sink. There was a
hand pump and she filled the sink with cold water. "I take it we just
forget about the hot portion of wash water?"

"No, I have some heating on the stove."

"Oh, I thought that was for coffee."

Methos didn't dignify that with an answer. "There is some soap under
the sink."

"Are we going to making that, too in the future?"

Methos laughed inside. "Of course," he kidded.

She scowled, but did her share of the work.

Methos went over to the fireplace and added more wood. The
previously roaring fire had died to a pile of glowing embers by the
time they had finished dinner. He placed two logs on top of the coals
and then two on top of them. Using a large stick, he poked at the
embers trying to give it some oxygen and to start the logs. Suddenly
he heard Alex behind him and then felt a thump of pain as she took a
log and smashed it against his head. For a few seconds he felt nausea
rise, then nothingness.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jim Ellison sat at his computer running the set of prints Sam had
been able to lift from the pair of glasses. His partner was at Rafe's
desk surfing on the computer and then making phone calls. Dr. Pierce
Adams was a mystery. Blair was researching his medical school records
and personal history. So far, it didn't look like he had one.

"Jim," Blair squeaked in excitement. "I've got something!"

Jim rolled his chair next to Rafe's desk.

"I decided to try his ID picture--you know the one from his
Woodbridge file. Look, he was a guest on a game show back in 1996
called Wheel of History. It's a complete match. He gave his name as--
ready for this? Adam Pierson. He described himself as a student of
ancient history at the University of Paris."

Blair punched in some more keys and connected with the University.
"You know French? I know some, but --oh, the page is in English." He
connected next with the history department and then called up the
student directory. Pierson wasn't listed.

"Try alumni," Jim suggested. "He might've graduated."

"Or this also could be a lie," Blair muttered as he called up the
alumni directory.

"Bingo!" Jim found Pierson's name first. "It says he defended in
'97. It even gives a last known address."

"But, it's in Paris. You think Simon'll let us go there to search
for Alex?"

"Don't know. But I can check and see if there are any records of
Adam Pierson flying to the States. You keep on trying to locate an
address for Pierson around here."

Jim sent his chair rolling back to his own desk. One by one, he
called up the manifest from each flight leaving Paris to the States
from the day before Adam's start date at Woodbridge back four months.
It was slow going.

"Jim, I found an address for Adam Pierson from a 1996 Seacouver
phone book. He's not listed in the 1997 one."

"I found a listing for a British Airways flight for Adam Pierson
from April twenty-seventh. He left Paris, landed in New York City and
continued on to Seattle." Jim hit the print button. "So, this man
gets a graduate degree in ancient history and then creates a resume
for himself that says he's a doctor and lands a job an Woodbridge.
Works several weeks and then helps Alex Barnes to escape."

Jim heard Blair gulp before saying, "He must know she's a sentinel."

"I agree. But, what does he want with her and where did they go?"
Jim pondered the questions, not liking any of the answers he came up
with.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Alex could hear the roar of her spirit animal as she clubbed her
captor across the back of the head. She didn't know or care whether
it approved or not. All she wanted was to escape. Purposely delaying
until after dark, when she'd have the advantage, she found her chance
to subdue him and took it. In her rush, she hit him too hard. There
was no heartbeat. 

Not feeling any remorse, she scoured the cabin looking for a coat
and some heavy clothes to keep her warm. With Adams dead, she didn't
have to hurry. Finding his backpack, she loaded it with all the food
she could find. Next she looked for the rifle. He implied that there
was at least one. She couldn't find it. Feeling the need to leave
now, she opened the door and walked outside and the darkness
swallowed her up.

Alex felt like she was back in the Peruvian jungle, except that it
was cold, and not as many bugs. She had her senses on full. Her first
order of business was to figure a direction in which to head. Since
they seemed to be on a mountain, her instinct said to head down. Her
cat snarled and loped ahead of her.

She came to the end of the clearing when she heard Dr. Adams'
heartbeat start. Her feet paused of their own volition. She knew she
had killed him. Yet, now he was groaning and sitting up. Curiosity
held her still. The door of the cabin opened.

"Alex, I know you can hear me. I'm not coming out to chase you.
Wander around all you want. I'm going to be in my nice warm sleeping
bag while you're freezing your ass off. Just remember, the lion can't
die."

The door closed. Alex felt her legs give way under her. The full
pack kept her from falling on her back and her arms caught her before
she found her face full of grass, leaves and dew. He was dead, but
alive now. Just like the lion. No matter how many times she killed
him, the lion always came back. She never told Adams how many dreams
she had, but they never varied. The lion was dead--then alive. Now
Dr. Adams had been dead--then alive. 

The shock soon wore off and the futility of her actions hit her. She
wasn't getting off this damned hill. He would never let her wander
around if there was the slightest chance of it. He had full
confidence that she'd come crawling back asking for forgiveness. That
would be a cold day in hell. She had never asked anyone for
forgiveness. The specter of Blair Sandburg rose in her mind. Using
all her mental strength, she banished him and tried to consider her
options. She could explore and see what she was up against. One way
or another she would escape the clutches of that madman inside. Guile
might work better. She needed him to find her way back to
civilization. Playing along with his game seemed the best plan--for
now. Sooner or later, they'd have to leave. No one could live in the
wilderness forever. With it all resolved in her mind, she returned to
the cabin and the warmth of a sleeping bag.

Day 16-Tuesday, June--

Methos woke up as soon as the birds starting singing. He glanced
over to his cabin mate, but she was still sound asleep. Alex had come
in shortly after he had stoked the fire one last time and then gone
to bed. The embers were still smoldering, so he took a few and
started a fire on the stove. The stove itself had to date back at
least a century. He was very lucky to have something along these
lines.

He started a saucepan of water to make coffee. Despite his joke the
night before, he had brought quite a few jars of instant and some
Cremora. Today was going to be one of revelations. He was going to
explain immortality and the fact that he had been a guide a long time
ago. The South American brew was a necessity.

She opened her eyes.

"Would you like some coffee?" he asked, as he carried a mug of the
steaming liquid over to her bed.

"Thank you," she responded, taking the mug and sipping the contents
carefully.

He gave her a smile and returned to the kitchen area. "I've got some
toast browning over the fire, come on over and have some." 

"Is there butter to go with it?" she asked, her former sarcasm
returning.

"I brought a little, but we should use it sparingly. It's all we got
to last a lifetime." 

She gave a shudder as she sank into a chair. "How's your head?"

He was happy that she brought the subject up first. At least she
wasn't a coward. "I admit you walloped me pretty good, but I heal
amazingly fast." He carried a plate full of the toast and sat down
with his own mug of coffee. "Eat," he commanded.

Several minutes passed in silence. Methos could hear the wildlife
outside and wanted to begin showing her the wonders of nature--and
the perils. Survival was the key.

"Why are you still alive?" she asked suddenly, startling him out of
his thoughts.

"It's a long story, but technically I'm immortal. I cannot die no
matter how you try to kill me. Well, actually I do die, but I come
back to life."

"Does it hurt?" she asked, showing no emotion.

"The dying part, yes, it hurts. The coming back part is just--
disorienting."

"Are you the lion from my dreams?" Her face was ashen.

"Yes. I am."

"Does that mean you're my guide?"

"I was a guide about fourteen hundred years ago, but he died of old
age. When I heard about you, I knew you needed my help. I know about
sentinels--their weaknesses and their strengths. So far, all I've
seen are your weaknesses. I intend to teach you your strengths."

"If I don't learn?"

"We'll be here a long time." Giving her a careless smile, he stood
up and returned the dishes to the sink. He poured himself another cup
of coffee, when he really wanted--needed-- a cold beer. Then he heard
her mumbling some profanity under her breath. "What?" he asked
confused.

"Again I get a used guide," she complained bitterly.

"What do you mean?"

"Sandburg was the one who gave a name to the chaos I was feeling. He
gave me pointers on how to control it. But he belonged to someone
else. Now, you say you're here to help me, but you, too belong to
someone else."

Methos didn't know what to say to her. It was all true. He knew in
his heart and soul that he wasn't her true guide. If fate smiled on
him, Rezi would be born again. He would know by his spirit animal,
the red wolf. The lion and the red wolf would always be connected. "I
don't have a sentinel now. You should learn from all teachers who are
willing to impart their knowledge to you. Maybe the gods don't
believe you're ready for your true guide. With your temper, you might
kill him or her. Maybe you need to prove yourself worthy."

Alex burst from the table and stormed out the door. Methos let her
go. This was a truth she needed to work out on her own.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jim and Blair sat in companionable silence as they ate their
breakfast. The younger man was busy jotting down notes on scrap paper
between bites. The older one took slow deliberate mouthfuls, as he
stared at a dirt mark on one of the cabinets. In truth, he was in
deep contemplation of what happened the previous day. Alex's escape
had thrown him in a loop. He oscillated between fear and the absolute
need to *do* something. Even if it meant a trip to Paris.

"Jim, why don't we check around where he used to live in Seacouver.
Maybe he has or at least had friends there?"

"Good idea. I'm thinking we need a vacation."

Blair looked shocked. "Where to?"

"I'm gonna book us two seats to France. I want to check some things
out. My instincts are telling me that he'll take her to some place
familiar. Someplace where he's known and have help keeping her
isolated. He must know how dangerous she is."

"Good luck getting it past Simon. I can't see him agreeing to this,"
Blair remarked.

Jim wore his stubborn look. He had to find her. She needed to be
incarcerated. Only then could he be sure that his guide would be safe.

After leaving the loft, they went directly to the station. Blair's
job was to find an address for Adam Pierson. Jim had to tackle Simon.

"Captain, can I speak with you?" Jim asked, poking his head inside
the office's door.

"What do you need, Jim?"

"Barnes escaped from Woodbridge last night. With help, I might add."

"What?!" Simon exploded off his chair.

"A new doctor helped her escape. He had come originally from Paris
and I want to check it out. We have to find them."

"Can this doctor keep her contained?"

"I don't think so, sir. I think he's infatuated with her and not
thinking straight. Why else would he help a cold-blooded killer
escape?"

Simon let out a sigh and sank back into his chair. "I'll reassign
your cases. You've got one week. No longer, understood?"

"Yes, I do."

"And I'm recording this as vacation. You have no jurisdiction in a
foreign country. I assume the asylum has reported this to the Feds?"

"I would imagine so."

"I'll be sure to keep the coffee warm for them. No doubt they'll be
pounding on my door before long."

"Just don't tell them we're in Paris. I'll let you know if we need
help."

"Which should take about two days, by my calculations." Simon stood
once more. "Go! The sooner you leave the sooner you get back--with
the Barnes woman."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Alex slammed the cabin door behind her then paced back and forth
across the clearing. The grass was knee high, but it was better than
trudging through the woods. Even as strung out as she was, the warmth
of the sun was preferable to the coolness under the tree's canopy.

Another false guide. She was doomed for all eternity. Was this Dr.
Adams punishment from the great sentinel spirits? How was she going
to escape from a man who couldn't die? There was no way she could
fight her way out. It was a no-win situation--at least from her
perspective. No wonder he didn't have a problem with her carrying a
gun, she thought wryly.

She fumed and continued pacing. Why didn't she deserve her own
guide? As a sentinel, she was entitled to her own guide--not somebody
else's sloppy seconds. Now twice it had happened. Maybe she didn't
*need* a guide. If she learned from this Dr. Adams, then when he
left, or she left him, she would be able to function just fine on her
own. Even at the hospital she had done okay. There had been only one
sensory spike and the doctors caused it with their damned drugs.
She'd show the stupid spirits. Dr. Adams wanted a willing student--
well she'd give him the appearance of one. She'd soak up everything
he was willing to teach her while still looking for a way to escape.

Alex sunk to her knees and knelt in the tall grass. Her long hair
whipped around her face as the wind swept past her. His sentinel died
over a thousand years ago. The fact registered and tossed out
everything else. Just how old was this man? He said he couldn't die,
which must mean that he didn't grow old either. Was he born in the
usual way? Or did he appear on earth all grown up? Curiosity once
more overcame self-righteous pity and she went back inside the cabin.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*

Jim parked his truck along the street of a high-rise apartment
building. This was Pierson's last known address. The DMV had him
listed here until 1996.

"What's our story going to be?" Blair asked as they entered the
building.

"We need to find him because you have one of his old books." The
inspired idea caused a smug smile to spread across his face.

"I like it," Blair agreed. "Let me do the talking."

"Right. I'm just the side-kick along for the ride."

"As it should be," Blair joked.

They came to the main office. Blair carefully opened the door.
"Excuse me. Anyone here?" he asked.

A woman with glasses much too big for her face was standing by a
filing cabinet. "Can I help you?" Her short gray hair and easy smile
made them feel comfortable at once. Jim thought she reminded him of
the stereotypical grandmother. Not that he had one, just seen them on
TV.

"My name is Blair Sandburg. I work at the university. A former
tenant of yours, Adam Pierson, loaned me an old book a few years ago
and I'd like to return it. Unfortunately, I just found it on my
bookshelves. I guess I forgot all about it," Blair admitted
sheepishly. "By any chance do you have a forwarding address for him?"

Jim mentally gave his partner points for believability.

"He did leave rather suddenly. His friend Joe Dawson came and packed
away the things he left behind. I think they live in France now. Let
me look it up." She went over to the desk and began rifling through
the Rolodex. As she searched, she kept up a running monologue. "He
was such a sweet man. Very studious, too. I'd see him come in late at
night carrying a load of heavy books." She laughed, conspiratorially.
"He was rather fond of beer. I believe his friend Joe owned a bar
here in town. He spent many evenings there listening to the music and
drinking his beer. He invited me along once. Said I needed to get out
more. Here it is!" She pulled a card out and set it on her desk.
Withdrawing a pen and a notepad, she copied down the address, then
handed it to Blair. 

"Thank you, very much. I know he'll be happy to get this book back.
It's a first edition and quite valuable." Blair glanced at the paper
before stuffing it back in his pocket. "Did he have other friends
here in Seacouver?"

"The tall dark-haired man. Let me see if I can remember his name. He
wasn't at Joe's when Adam took me. But I overheard Joe tell Adam that
he had business out of town and would be back. Duncan MacLeod was his
name. He did something with antiques and I think he was into martial
arts or something. I can't remember exactly."

"That's okay. I don't suppose Mr. MacLeod is in Seacouver?"

"Oh no. He's moved to France, too. In fact, I think he came from
France. I heard Joe mention that he had a barge moored on the Seine."

"You've been very helpful."

"I'm glad I got to meet a friend of Adam's. Tell him I said hi."

"I will," Blair promised as Jim propelled him to the door. At this
rate, the two of them would be saying pleasantries for the next year.
"I'm coming, Blair whispered softly.

They made it back to the truck. "We need to find a phonebook," Blair
suggested as Jim started the car. "I bet Joe's is--"

"We've got three names," Jim interrupted. "Joe Dawson, Duncan
MacLeod and Adam Pierson. And an address. We don't need to visit
Joe's."

"But maybe we can find out where the other two men live. It would
give us a place to start looking after we land in Paris. You actually
think he's at that apartment she gave us the address for?"

"No, I don't," Jim admitted, reluctantly.

"You just want to get moving."

Jim pulled into a restaurant. "We might as well grab some lunch. I'm
getting hungry."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Methos watched through the window as Alex warred with herself. There
was a long road ahead of them. Giving-in was not in her vocabulary.
Even if she learned the lessons he wanted to teach, her stubbornness
might prevent her from utilizing them. Eventually, Alex gave up her
inner struggles and came back into the cabin.

"So, what's on the agenda for today? Bake some bread? Make some
soap?" she asked facetiously.

Methos ignored her sarcasm. "How about we go fishing."

Her face made a grimace. "That sounds like fun."

The old immortal shook his head, sadly. "Fishing is one of life's
many pleasures. Nothing on earth beats sitting back, holding a
fishing pole in one hand and a beer in the other."

Her mockery disappeared and a real smile animated her face. "You
have beer?"

"Not much. Only one 12 pack. I have it tied in one of the streams
near here. One beer for every fish you or I catch."

"It's my reward for getting dinner?"

"Something like that." Methos was pleased to see her
competitiveness. With her guard down, maybe they could get to know
one another better. If he confided in her, about Rezi, she might
relax and realize that he wasn't such a bad guy after all-- despite
the fact he was keeping her a prisoner.

He grabbed the two fishing poles leaning against the wall. "Let's
go, partner," Methos called as he strode out the door. Leaning
against the outside wall was a net and a tackle box. "You take
those," he told her as he headed directly to a path leading up the
mountain.

"Do you think the fish will be biting?" Alex asked as she trudged
along behind him.

"Don't know. It's not that hot out and it's still morning. We should
get enough for lunch."

Methos walked for thirty minutes, 'til he found the right stream. He
had found it by accident during one of his previous trips. The
objective had been to find out if there was a way out heading up
instead of down. What he found was a stream teeming with trout. He
had caught several that trip, and had cooked them by an open fire on
the stream's bank. It kind of reminded him of the old days. "Here it
is," he said, as he veered off the path, cut through some brush and
found himself in a clearing with the flowing stream cutting through
the middle. 

As Alex came through the trees and cast her eyes upon the vista, her
body froze. "This place is beautiful," she murmured softly.

"Yes, it is," Methos agreed. He took the net and tackle box from her
stationary hands and began getting the poles ready. 

She slowly came closer to the stream's bank, her eyes darting
everywhere. "There's a mother deer and a fawn on the other side
looking at us through the trees."

"Does she seem scared or curious?"

"Wary. She wants to come to the water, but doesn't know what we're
going to do."

Methos smiled. "What else do you see?"

"A hawk or eagle sitting high up in that sycamore tree. That tree
must be a hundred years old."

"Or older."

She finally focused her attention on him. "How old are you?"

"Older than that tree," Methos replied. He handed her a pole. "Do
you know how to cast?"

She blinked. "You fling the pole and the string goes into the
water." She did the flinging. The hook and fly went behind her and
caught hold of a tree branch. She let out several expletives as she
yanked, trying to free her line.

Methos cast his own line and handed her the pole. "Watch the line.
Feel the tension in the pole. When a fish bites, you'll know."

"Can't I just look in the water and see the fish?"

"If you can see them, they can see you." Methos untangled her line
and baited it with another fly. He cast it out onto the water, making
the fly dance across the surface.

"I can see one," Alex shouted out. 

The fish nibbled at the fly and with a sound yank, Methos hooked the
small bass and reeled it in.

"Does this mean you get the first beer?" Alex pouted, showing her
disappointment.

"Nope. This one's too small to keep." He unhooked it and tossed it
back into the water. "It wasn't even big enough to clean."

Alex turned her attention back to her own line. Trying to mimic
Methos' method, she jerked and swiveled, making her line move in the
water. He tried not to laugh. Keeping one eye on her line, he retied
his fly and cast it out once more. 

The sun peeked above the treetops, telling Methos that it was
getting closer to noon. In the last hour Alex had caught one fish,
and he had just landed his first. It was enough for a snack, but not
lunch. 

Alex set her empty can of beer down on the ground. "I guess this
means you can get one now."

Methos smiled with appreciation. "Yes, I can." He walked over to a
place where the stream jutted into the bank, thus leaving a quiet
area of water. The beer was tied on a long rope to a dead branch
hanging over the water. He pulled the rope and one of the sixes
emerged. Selecting a can, he opened the top and drank thirstily from
it. There was no better taste in the world than a cold beer when you
were parched. Reluctantly, he let the rest fall back into the water
and came back over to their fishing spot. Instead of recasting his
line, he reclined back and enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the
coolness of the beer.

"You seem to be really enjoying yourself. It's only a beer."

"Only a beer?!" Methos exclaimed in mock anger. 

"We're not talking about a million dollars or a bag of diamonds."

"This is ambrosia-- a work of art--something that makes me feel
wonderful. Isn't there anything that makes you feel--other than
material possessions?"

She paused, thinking. "When I was at the temple of the sentinels and
submerged in the water. Becoming one with nature and everything
around me was better than anything I've ever experienced before.
There were no headaches, nothing that I needed to extract from the
sensations, just the glory of flying. No drug or alcoholic high can
equal it."

"Now you're addicted to this high." Methos shook his head sadly.
"You didn't have adequate preparation for what you experienced. It
was the Sentinel test. You were required to leave off worldly
concerns and find your inner self."

"My inner self?"

"It can be used to cleanse the evil in your soul so that you can
dedicate your life to your tribe or clan."

"I saw the eye of God."

"The spirit's were trying to communicate with you by showing what
you could become. But, you didn't listen. A sentinel unwilling to
accept their guidance is a threat to the natural order of things."

"I don't understand," her soul cried out.

"The power they gave you to see inside yourself, you used for
selfish reasons--it made you feel good. It was obviously a high like
nothing you've ever experienced, which isn't its purpose. You're not
supposed to experience the waters like a drug, but as a holy
excursion. You walk through your dreams--"

"I did that," Alex interrupted.

Methos felt somewhat relieved. Maybe it hadn't been a total
disaster. "What did you see? What was your true self?"

"I was home. I wanted to be there."

"What did you see of yourself? Methos repeated, enunciating each
word slowly.

"I don't remember," was wrenched out of her. "I was only interested
in what I was feeling."

"That's why you failed. Self-absorption. Did Ellison fail? He took
the waters and came out sane. Why? Because he's weak?"

Alex remained quiet. Tears dripped down her face. "He's not weak,"
she admitted, finally.

"He has a strength of character you wish you had, but because you
don't, you feel the need to destroy him."

Alex threw her pole on the ground and curled up in a fetal position.
Her hair covered her face so Methos was unable to read her
expression. The birds sang in the background, blanketing the area in
a soothing melody. Methos recast his line out and continued fishing.
He let her have the quiet time to reflect and hopefully learn.

After taking a fish off his line, Alex got up and began walking
quietly around. Methos tossed his line back in the water, keeping his
eye on his guest. She bent over, picked something up and slid it into
her pocket. Ambling over to a different spot, she bent over and
picked up a new object.

"What are you doing?" Methos asked, interrupting the quiet moment.

"I'm picking up stones that have interesting textures. See this one
is smooth, its edges probably worn away in this little lake. Yet,
this one is rough--" her voice trailing off as she looked closely at
it.

Methos smiled in satisfaction. It was good to see her use her
sentinel senses with uninhibited wonder. "Maybe its volcanic rock
from eons ago when this mountain range was formed." He watched as she
picked up another specimen.

"This one has very tiny bumps." She slid them in her pocket. "Did
you know that I am an artist?" she asked self-consciously, as she
walked back and sat down next to him again. "I'm finding that my
creative juices are flowing. Maybe I'll make a collage of things that
I find."

"I didn't know about this side of you. I would have brought up
canvas and paints. Maybe we can make our own."

"Make our own canvas?"

"Two thousand years ago, we used sheep or calf skin. If we tan some
deer hide, and mix some dyes that are native to this region, I can
get you painting again."

Alex smiled at him with what looked like gratitude.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jim pulled into the parking lot of Joe's. The place was open, but
doing a minimum of lunch business. 

"Let me do the talking," Blair instructed. "We want them to think of
us as friends, not cops. You always give the impression it's an
interrogation."

"I do not," Jim replied, pretending to be affronted. He knew Blair
was speaking the truth. "I can ask them about Joe without even," he
opened the door, "raising their suspicions." His voice lowered.

"Hello, detectives," the man behind the bar greeted them. "What can
I do for you?"

Both men halted, shock clearly on their faces. "How did you--"

"I'm Mike Barrett," the bartender said, interrupting Blair's
whisper. "You're looking for Adam."

Jim's training took over. "We understand that he's friend's with the
owner. Can we talk to Joe Dawson?"

"He's not the owner anymore. I bought this place off of him a couple
of years ago. He bought a new bar in Paris called Le Blues Club."

"I see," Jim said, not seeing at all. "Is Adam Pierson also in Paris?"

"Adam makes a point of disappearing quite frequently. We never know
where he is, unless he wants us to know," Barrett added.

"Can you give us the address for this club?" Blair interjected.

"And Joe Dawson's home address," Jim added.

"Sure." The bartender took a pen from his pocket and wrote down both
addresses on a napkin then handed it to Jim. "Anything else
Detective's?"

"Do you happen to know where Duncan MacLeod lives?"

Jim could detect Barrett's heartbeat increase. "No. I'm not sure
where he is."

"Thank you very much for your time. If you find out, let me know.
Here's my card."

Jim and Blair walked out of the bar. Jim held up his hand
forestalling any speech from his partner. He could hear Barrett
picking up a phone and punching in some numbers.

"Hi Joe. They just left. I gave them your addresses like you asked,
but then they asked for MacLeod's and I didn't know what to say."

The conversation was barely discernable on the other end. "That's
okay, Mike. I can't wait for them to get here. What's that reprobate
up to, now?'"

"I don't know. But when I got the call from the apartment complex's
office where Pierson used to live, they said that these men were
pretending to be friends. It can't be official business. I mean,
you'd think if Pierson wanted to break the law he'd know enough not
to leave any clues behind and that book was one huge clue."

"What was the book?" Dawson asked.

"A Mary Shelley first edition. God, I'd love to see that book. Bet
she wrote something personal in it, like 'to Doc Adams the most
infuriating man I've ever met.'"

Jim could hear the laughter in the bartender's voice. 

"I don't know what it says. In fact, I have no idea what *name* he
even used back then." Joe continued the dialogue. "He did mention
that Mary Shelley was a close and person friend, if you know what I
mean."

"He slept with her?"

"Back in his hedonistic days," Dawson answered.

"You found out during that Byron incident?"

"Yep. I think Lord Byron, Mary Shelley and our own Doc were close
personal friends."

Jim had to shake his head. "I swear Barrett and Dawson are," he said
to Blair, "making references to Pierson being alive--no, I must have
heard them wrong." There was no way Doctor Pierce Adams or Adam
Pierson could have been a contemporary of Lord Byron or Mary Shelley.
This conversation was too weird for him.

"What?" his partner looked at him oddly.

"Never mind. Barrett called Dawson in Paris and let him know that he
gave us the address. Pierson's apartment people called and told
Barrett about us being there."

"I can't believe that that nice lady--"

"I don't think it was her, Chief. She didn't act nervous. Someone
must have overheard us and then reported it to Barrett. I think
Pierson's whereabouts is as big a mystery to them as to us."

"So, why are we going to Paris?"

"Cause I know he's hiding there." Every instinct in him said that
Pierson took Barnes as far away from them as possible.

"I don't think Pierson took Alex to France." Blair tried to explain.
"He didn't have a passport for her. We don't have an--"

"Any man who can fake his credentials to get him into Woodbridge,
can fake passports, too."

"Okay, we'll go to Paris, but I think they're still right here in
Washington. Maybe not Cascade, but--"

Jim directed one of his stares at his partner. He had to see Dawson.
The instincts didn't have anything to do with the Sentinel thing; it
was totally a cop thing. His cat hadn't visited him since the dreams
where the spotted jaguar killed the lion.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* 

While Alex was collecting her things of nature, Methos went and shot
a deer. He dragged the beast back to the cabin, gutted it and began
slicing the meat. Adding large amounts of salt, he preserved the meat
in the old fashion way of numerous tribes. It was done from memory,
for his thoughts were fixed on his captive. She hadn't interrogated
him any more, but he knew she couldn't be quiet for long. Her
inquisitive nature would win out over reticence. Most mortals, after
they came to terms with immortality, had lots of questions.

"Dr. Adams," she had come up behind him.

He turned his head. "Yes?"

"Am I still supposed to call you doctor?"

"You can call me Adams."

"Is Pierson Adams, your real name?"

"No. Most people call me Adam Pierson."

"What are some of your other names?"

"I was Dr. Benjamin Adams in the nineteenth century. Remus back in
the days of Rome. There was Haribu and Caratarix Et Maru. I can't
remember them all."

"What about the name you were born with?"

"I don't remember." He turned his head back to the salting. 

She sat down and watched what he was doing. "Why did you kill the
deer today? I thought we had enough meat?"

"For its skin, although we'll eat the meat, too. You did want to
paint, right?"

She stiffened in surprise. "Yes," she said slowly, then added, "My
art isn't always pretty."

"Art shouldn't be pretty. Art represents feelings and emotions,
which can't be wrapped up in a nice package. Good art shouts
something to the viewer and moves them, for good or bad. You can't
use bland words to describe something momentous.

"Art for me is like a purging. I have all the stuff locked up inside
and I can't really see it until I can get it down on paper or sculpt
it into clay."

Methos smiled as he stood. "I'm happy that you have that outlet.
Want to help me carry this stuff inside? Then I need to cleanup this
mess before it draws the predators to our humble little home."

They worked in companionable silence. The day ended without any
further disagreements. She worked without complaints and didn't play
any of her power games. Methos considered the day well spent. The
owls were hooting and the wolves began their howling. Methos drifted
off to sleep contented. A fragment of a memory haunted him for a few
minutes and was then forgotten. 

An illusion of the Damocleon sword swung gracefully above his head,
but Methos was oblivious to the danger.

Day 17-Wednesday, June--

Methos woke early and spent some time mixing up some bread. Luckily
he found boxed mixes that required that you add water, nothing else.
Eggs were of short supply. He let the dough rise and went out to
continued tanning the deer hide. 

Alex joined him, munching on an apple. Fruit trees were abundant
around them. He worked in silence, letting the morning sun beat upon
his head. The cool air made the sensation very pleasant. 

"What's it like--the dying part. You must have done it a thousand
times." Alex gazed at him with contemplation.

"It's painful. A gunshot or stabbing hurts no matter where it
strikes on the body. If it's a mortal wound, the pain is followed by
oblivion. You take a gasp of air, which hurts your lungs and makes
your chest feels like it's going to explode. Soon you feel the pain
in the wound of whatever killed you. It burns as the body slowly
heals itself. Then I feel like my usual self."

"So when you're dead, there's no bright light or pearly gates?"

Methos laughed. "No, nothing like that. There's just a big
nothingness. I've never dreamed while dead. It's definitely not like
being asleep."

"Are there others like you?"

"A few, not many," Methos lied.

"Are they your friends?" Alex continued her questions.

"Some. Mostly we stay away from each other. People who don't age
have a tendency to draw attention. If we congregate, it might draw
unwanted attention."

"Have you fought in wars?" Her large eyes were round with interest.

"Too many to count." He stopped to think. "The last war I felt
passionately about was when Sparta attacked Athens. I didn't want the
great works of masters like Socrates or Plato lost."

Alex wore a derisive look. She clearly thought he was putting her
on. He didn't care. It was the truth. From then on he was too jaded
to care--too worried about his own survival to care.

"What about you, Alex. Tell me about yourself--before you became a
career criminal."

She looked affronted.

"You aren't going to tell me that you've been like this all your
life."

"Growing up in foster care isn't the easiest," she retorted.

"Many immortals have the same experiences. My friend's student,
Richard Ryan, went through a similar thing and he turned into an
upstanding citizen. He had been beaten and starved, but he crawled
out of the gutter." Methos didn't add that it was because MacLeod
hauled him up and wouldn't let go. "You make what you want out of
life. Crime is the coward's way out. Living straight takes effort,
sacrifice and moral character. Do you have any?"

"I don't know."

"Richie was given the gift of immortality. You're given the gift of
enhanced senses and what you do with them is very important, not only
to you, but to those around you. From what I understand, Ellison was
in the armed forces. When he left, why did he join the police instead
of becoming a mercenary? He could have made a lot of money that way.
Do you have any idea?"

"No," she answered.

"Probably because he feels the need to protect. A sentinel's job is
to protect his clan or tribe. In your case, you protect only
yourself. You are a one man tribe." Methos stood and stretched his
legs. "Let's go for a walk. I haven't gone up the mountain yet."

Alex nodded absently.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Blair sat in front of the computer and looked at the options. No
matter how he plugged in the numbers, it appeared that they would
have to fly out early the next morning, getting into New York City
and taking a red-eye to Paris. Almost twenty-four hours in the air.
He was not looking forward to it. The jet lag would be discomfiting,
to say the least. 

He didn't want to go, period. Was it because he believed Jim was
right and they were heading right for Alex? Or was it because he
thought Jim was wrong and Alex was still somewhere near Cascade? All
he knew was that *his* instincts were telling him to stay put. Jim
wasn't listening to him. 

Blair looked up from the screen as Jim walked over to the couch,
munching on a bagel loaded with cream cheese. "The earliest we can
get out is tomorrow at five-thirty in the morning. We fly to L.A., on
to Chicago, then straight to Kennedy. We have a three hour layover
and then board for Paris."

"Book it," Jim commanded. "We can sleep on the planes." 

"What about accommodations? You want me to find a hotel? I think
we're gonna need to sleep before we begin scouting. Besides, Dawson
owns a bar; they don't open until night anyway. I bet he'll be
sleeping in the morning."

"Good point. Find someplace near the club's address. That way we
won't have to travel far. You speak French?"

"Enough to get by on. How about you?"

"I took it in high school, but I don't remember much now." 

Blair went back to plugging in numbers and clicking. After cross-
referencing several maps, he found a nice hotel, about a kilometer
from Le Blues Bar. Now he had to figure out what clothes to pack and
how light. Knowing Jim, he'd move fast once he found out something.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Methos took the rifle and packed a box of shells in a pack alongside
some snacks for the hike. Both wore jeans and Methos made Alex carry
a sweatshirt. The air was crisp and Methos shivered as they started
up a trail shrouded with foliage. Alex seemed disinclined to talk, so
they walked in silence. The old immortal glanced back at her, and
found her attention fixed on something high in the air.

"What do you see?" Methos asked quietly.

"A bird of prey. I can hear the air flutter through his wings as he
glides up there."

Methos couldn't see anything, not that he expected to. "Tell me
about the prison where they kept you in solitary confinement. It must
have been hell."

"It was. They kept it dark. I had no idea of what time of day it was
or how many days had passed. When the guards came to feed me, they
weren't allowed to talk to me. I tried to make them break the rules,
first because of the challenge, then because I was desperate to talk
to anyone. I hated the silence. I hated the dark even more because
after they left, the door was closed and no light would get in."

Methos let some time pass before he commented. "It's classic
conditioning. They were trying to break your will and--"

"They didn't succeed," she interrupted. "Right when I thought I
couldn't take it anymore, the door stopped blocking all the light.
Rays came through the bottom, enough for me to see the outline of my
body. After the excitement died down, I happened to notice that I
could hear voices. They weren't clear. It was muffled, like they were
whispering. I strained to hear, but couldn't."

"Did you think you were going crazy?" Methos asked, curious.

"No, I just thought the conditions were changing. I had no idea that
the change came from me. At least not until I was released from
prison. After the solitary confinement, I was better behaved, just
biding my time. But after I got out, small things started happening
to me. First I couldn't sleep because there was always too much
light. Then I couldn't eat because everything tasted too strong. I
didn't let it stop me though. At least not until the day I drove my
car into the pole because my clothes became too scratchy and the
oncoming car's headlights blinded me. The next thing I knew, Blair
Sandburg was giving me a name for what was happening to me."

"And for his help, you repaid him by drowning him in a fountain?"
slipped out of Methos' mouth before he could stop it.

"Jim was too strong. I couldn't take the chance that he'd defeat me.
It would mean the end of my life. Without Blair, Jim was powerless."

Methos had no response to that. 

"Tell me about your sentinel. What was he like?"

"Rezi had a gentle soul."

"You mean he was a coward," Alex remarked snidely.

"No! He was not afraid, but--but--things easily overwhelmed him."
Methos fought for the correct words to express himself. "He needed
both guidance--"

"So you did his thinking for him and fought his battles. You got a
raw deal with that one."

The images of Mira, Rezi's sister, filled his mind. First as a
desirable woman, one he had to have at any cost, to the Mira he had
been wed to for ten years. The woman he abandoned because her
shrewish jealous nature irritated him so much he thought he would
kill her too. "I murdered his first guide--"

"We have something in common," Alex remarked triumphantly.

"No, I killed a man who was trying to prevent me from raping his
wife. I was not intentionally trying to kill a guide in order to
render his sentinel powerless."

"There's a difference?"

Methos grunted. "The tribe insisted that I take the place of the
dead guide," Methos lied. In actual fact, he had still wanted Mira
bad enough to promise anything to keep her. "I became Mira's husband
and Rezi's guide. After a decade or so, I preferred Rezi and moved in
with him."

Alex raised her eyebrow over that statement. "No wonder you haven't
taken advantage of me, you're gay."

"That has such a vile connotation. I enjoy both men and women."

"Oh yeah, you raped your wife when you first met her. You're just a
bundle of morality."

Methos gave up trying to talk to her. His good mood had vanished and
with it any interest in continuing the hike.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Alex sat back on the ground and watched her jailer working on the
hide. She didn't understand the method of tanning and, more
importantly, why he was doing it. It had been several hours since
their disagreement during their walk. In truth, she didn't understand
why he had gotten upset. They both were guilty of killing guides, why
was hers so morally wrong and his justified? Everything she had
learned of his past seemed to be at odds with the man she knew now.
Did someone kidnap him and teach him the same way he was teaching her?

The sun beat down on his bare torso and she stared at the droplets
of sweat that slowly ran down, caught every-so-often by chest hairs.
He was such an enigma. One minute he was gentle then next his eyes
would radiate power and intimidate her without mercy. If she was
honest with herself, she was frightened of him, or rather his
unpredictability. She had always prided herself on her uncanny
ability to guess what people around her would say or do to any given
situation. Now that was gone and she was floundering.

Dr. Adams murdered a man because he had lusted after the wife. He
freely admitted to it. When had he changed from the man he was to his
present self? A memory flashed in her mind. "I don't need your help
to kill." What an understatement. She wondered how many men he had
killed in his lifetime. His head was bent over his project. Would he
answer if she asked? 

"I'm going to get some water," Dr. Adams broke into her thoughts.
"Do you want anything?"

"I'll come with you." She laughed inside at his surprised look. They
walked a ways and she sprung her question.

His eyes grew dark. "I have killed thousands. I have ridden into
villages and killed everyone in them. I took pleasure in the death."
His eyes softened, slightly. "But it was a long time ago. I learned
my lesson the hard way."

"Did someone teach you not to murder?"

"No. I've had excellent teachers in the past, but this was one
lesson I learned on my own." He placed the cup under the pump faucet
and filled it. Drinking deeply, he kept his eyes on her. "Why are you
so interested in my dark past?"

Alex considered the question and answered it honestly. "I think
because, um, in the beginning I didn't believe you knew what you were
talking about. Reforming me?" She gave a brittle laugh. "I didn't
believe it could be done or that you, a shrink, could do it."

"Now do you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know." It was getting too much for her to
handle. Turning abruptly, she wandered back to the deer hide. He was
preparing something for her because he knew she's find pleasure in
it. A few tears gathered in her eyes, but before the doctor had a
chance to see them, she rushed into the small cabin and sat in front
of the unlit fireplace. With unseeing eyes, she stared at the dead
embers, trying to gain control of her emotions.

Day 18-Thursday, July--

The phone rang jarring both Jim and Blair out of a sound sleep.
"Must be the wake up call," Jim mumbled as he picked up the receiver.

Blair glanced at the clock, which read eight o'clock. "I bet the
club is beginning to fill up with patrons," he commented as he walked
over to his duffel and selected something to wear. "Think this is
appropriate for listening to blues? I'd never wear it to a classical
concert or a rock concert, but to--"

"It's fine, Chief. I'll grab my shower first."

Before Blair could blink, Jim was in the bathroom with the water
running. "Thief," Blair mumbled as he turned on the television to see
if he could find an English speaking channel. 

It took the men a little over an hour to get fully dressed and ready
to tackle Joe Dawson. They walked the short distance to the
establishment. The street was already lined with parked cars. The
front door was propped open beckoning them inside. Blair's stomach
grumbled its dissatisfaction at being without food for so long.

"Don't worry, they serve dinners," Jim whispered to him as they
entered.

Blair admired the way it was decorated. Wooden tables and chairs
varnished to a shine dotted the room. Waiters and waitresses bounced
from table to bar and to another door he presumed led to a kitchen. A
hostess directed them to a table. Jim's eyes were fixated on an
elderly man with gray hair who was using a cane to walk with. The
man's back was to them as he talked to several people seated at a
table. As he turned, his eyes glanced in their direction and he
stiffened.

"Is that Joe Dawson," Blair whispered to his partner.

"Yep, and he seems to recognize us," Jim answered back.

Blair watched as the older man made his way to their table. Suddenly
he was stopped by one of the waiters, and Blair saw him mumble
something. "What did he say," Blair asked.

"He ordered that our drinks be on the house and asked for them to
bring out a whiskey for him."

"Hello Detectives Ellison and Sandburg. Joseph Dawson, at your
service."

"How did you know us?" Blair asked, curious.

"They faxed me your pictures. So tell me what Pierson's done now?"
Dawson asked as he pulled out a chair and sat.

"We don't know if he's been kidnapped or if he's kidnapped someone
else," Jim told him bluntly. 

Blair laughed inside. Jim was using his intimidating stare, yet
Dawson didn't look alarmed in the slightest. In fact, he was acting
like a kid wanting to learn a secret.

"Who is this other person; maybe I know him." 

"It's a woman and her name is Alex Barnes," Blair said before Jim
could open his mouth.

"A woman?" Dawson gave a hearty chuckle. "I can't believe he was
kidnapped by a woman." Then he sobered. "What does this woman look
like? Long dark hair?"

"No. Light blonde." Blair could tell that Jim had all his senses on
alert. Poor Joe Dawson was taking a lie detector test whether he knew
it or not.

"I've never really met any of his lady friends. At least not
recently. How did they meet?"

Blair looked at Jim who subsequently nodded so he related some of
the story. "We know that Pierson was living in Paris when he changed
his identity and flew to Cascade where he took a job as a
psychologist at a prison for the mentally insane."

"You're kidding?" Dawson looked at them in disbelief. "Adam as a
shrink. What did he want there?"

"We don't know. He worked several weeks, then one of the patients he
was treating broke out and the two have disappeared. Do you know
where he might be?"

Jim had his eyes glued to Dawson as Blair had talked.

"No. I didn't know he'd left Paris."

"Has he contacted you?" Jim asked.

"Last time I saw him," Dawson smiled, "or talked to him, was back in
May. He never mentioned traveling back to the States."

"Don't you find it a strange coincidence that he used to live not
more than thirty minutes from where the institution is located?"

"A coincidence? I don't find it strange. Believe me there are a lot
of weirder things in this world. Besides, I lived in Seacouver, too.
As for this Alex Barnes, he's never mentioned her before; either here
in Paris, or when we were living in the States."

Blair looked at Jim. Judging by his body language, Joe Dawson must
be telling the truth. Blair decided to take a stab in the dark. "Has
Pierson ever mentioned anything related to lions or spotted jaguars?"

Dawson looked puzzled. "You think they're at some zoo? I'm sure Adam
has never owned pet, let alone anything dangerous. He prefers not to
call attention to himself."

"I don't mean a real animal, but maybe a dream or nightmare about
them," Blair added.

"He would never tell me his dreams or nightmares for that matter.
Adam is very private person."

"Is he in Paris?" Jim asked pointedly.

Joe looked puzzled. "I just told you I hadn't seen him." 

Jim sat back in his chair and sighed deeply. Blair interpreted that
to mean Dawson had told the truth and Jim was disappointed. "Does
Pierson like to camp?" Blair asked on another whim.

"Camp?"

"You know, go camping--tents, sleeping bags, open fires."

"Adam likes his creature comforts. I can't imagine him voluntarily
sleeping in the wilderness. But, if he had to, he'd survive. He would
know how--but what does this have to do with this kidnapping? You
think he went to the trouble to kidnap a woman and then took her
camping? That does not sound like the Adam I know."

Blair related how his apartment manager mentioned that Adam had
camping gear in his truck.

"I wouldn't know about that. Roughing-it and Adam Pierson is an
oxymoron."

Jim picked up his beer and took a swallow. 

"Does this mean the third-degree is over?" Dawson asked, hints of
humor coloring his voice.

"Yes," Jim responded. 

"So why did you move to Paris, if you don't mind me asking," Blair
asked

"No, I don't mind. My friend needed help. It's as simple as that."

"What friend? Adam Pierson?" Jim seemed to be back in interrogation
mode.

"Adam never needs help. He gives it, but doesn't need it. I was
referring to Duncan MacLeod."

Jim nodded. "Well, we have Pierson's book. When he resurfaces, tell
him to come and retrieve it. Come on, Chief, our business here is
done."

Blair took a gulp of his beer and stood up. "It's been nice meeting
you, Mr. Dawson." Blair used his best manners.

"Nice meeting you, too, Mr. Sandburg."

"If Adam Pierson does contact you, please call me." Jim handed him a
card. "Sorry for taking up your time."

"No problem. I love hearing what mischief Adam's gotten himself into."

Just as Blair stood up, a dark-haired man came over to their table
and spoke. "Hi, Joe"

"Hey, Mac. What's up?"

Blair waited for Jim to continue to the door, but he was staring at
the newcomer.

"Not much. Went down to the Sorbonne and loaned them some of Tessa's
sculptures for a big art exhibit that features their alumni. A couple
of works they even asked for by name, so how could I refuse?" He
paused and looked at the two men standing up. "Am I interrupting
something?"

Dawson glanced at them, but when they didn't respond, he went on to
introduce them. "This is Detective Jim Ellison and his partner Blair
Sandburg. This is Duncan MacLeod."

Blair started at the name, but Jim didn't show any reaction. Blair
realized that Jim must have recognized him or at least had an idea
who it was.

"You're not going to believe this, but they're here to ask me
questions about Adam Pierson?" Joe's smile was tinged with irony that
piqued Blair's interest.

"What's Adam done now?" MacLeod asked.

Blair noticed that Dawson didn't even consider the fact that Pierson
could have been kidnapped, but that he must be the kidnapper.

"It seems he took a fancy to a patient in an institute for the
criminally insane and kidnapped her. These nice detectives are trying
to find them."

Jim was staring at MacLeod, who looked incredulous at the
announcement.

MacLeod stared right back. "He told me that he was leaving. I didn't
ask where he was going, but he did say that he'd be gone for some
time."

"He didn't say anything about taking a new identity?" Blair asked.

Dawson and MacLeod exchanged looks then Dawson asked, "What name did
he use?" 

"Pierce Adams," Jim responded.

Both men smiled widely. "Not much different from his current name,"
Joe said while laughing. "What was the name of the institute where he
was working?"

Blair caught the stern look MacLeod flashed at Dawson.

"Woodbridge," Jim replied. "Is there anything you can tell me about
this man that might aid us in trying to locate him and the woman?"

Again Dawson and MacLeod exchanged glances. "I can't think of
anything." Dawson's eyebrows were pinched, as if he was in deep
thought. Blair didn't buy that for a minute.

"He didn't come back here, especially after saying he'd be gone for
awhile. He does like the warmth. You should look into someplace
tropical, like Bora-Bora. He's always mentioning that he'd like to go
there. Sorry I can't be more help." MacLeod's smile actually looked
contrite. Blair didn't buy his response either.

"Thank you gentlemen. We'll just be on our way." Jim nodded and
started for the door. 

Blair gave them his own good-bye smile and followed his partner. As
soon as they were outside, Jim shoved him over to the side. "Shhhh,"
he instructed.

Blair restlessly shifted from foot to foot as Jim's attention was
inside listening to the two friends talk. Finally, Jim pulled his
arm, said "let's go," and pulled him down the walk.

"What did you hear?"

"They really don't know where he is. MacLeod wants to follow us home
and, 'keep and eye', on us. Dawson said that he'd assign others to do
it. MacLeod didn't like that idea."

"Is someone following behind, now?" Blair looked behind him,
scanning the crowd for anyone that looked suspicious.

"No. We seem to be on our own--at least for now."

Blair lapsed into silence going over what Dawson and MacLeod had
said. Could anything help them locate Pierson?

They walked on a few steps when Jim stopped. "When we first told
MacLeod what we think Pierson has done, he whispered to himself,
'again?'. Then Dawson said that springing Caspian is not in the same
league. Sounds like Pierson is in the habit of breaking people out of
jail."

"Caspian sounds like a code name." Blair kept reviewing what he had
heard. They continued their way to the hotel in silence.

After getting to their room, Jim pulled out some stationary from a
drawer and found his pen. "Here, take notes on what we know."

Blair sat down with the pen and paper and began jotting things down.
"Pierson's not in France."

"I agree."

"Finally. We need to concentrate closer to home. Dawson says that
Pierson doesn't like to camp, yet he had camping equipment in his
truck. Why?"

"He was renovating something? It wasn't livable--"

"Yeah," Blair interrupted, excited by the idea. "What if he found an
abandoned home or warehouse. He used the few weeks he was working
there to fix it up?"

Jim nodded. "What if he bought such a place? He'd probably use
another alias. It seems that changing his identity is old hat."

"Going from Adam Pierson to Pierce Adams isn't old hat," Blair
corrected, "But I get the drift."

"When we get home we should also check real-estate offices to see if
any mountain retreats have been rented or sold in the last month.
Pierson may have gone that route."

"Remember, Dawson said that Pierson doesn't like roughing-it. I bet
maybe it's a nice cabin; one used for rich people on hunting parties."

What they learned from Dawson at least gave them a place to start
when they got home, Blair thought, as they continued their thought
sharing process. This trip to Paris wasn't a mistake after all.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

"You want to try another walk?" Dr. Adams yelled into the cabin.

Alex was done feeling sorry for herself. It was better that she
spend time outdoors, than brooding in here. "I'd like that," she said
as she walked out of the cabin. For the first time, she was looking
forward to spending time with him. He could teach her a lot, if she
could remember to listen. "Where are we going today?"

"You pick a path. I'll follow you."

Alex brightened even more at the idea. She would be in charge. First
she headed down. Adams stayed next to her and really let her choose
which direction. Randomly, she turned left and he kept pace with her,
with no questions asked. Empowered, she began to truly investigate
her surroundings. First she heard the way the wind picked up, so she
headed that way and found a meadow. The trees surrounded the grassy
area, but didn't encroach upon it. Cutting across the field, she
headed downhill once more. "Do you know where we are?" Alex asked
after almost an hour of silence.

"Not in the slightest. I'm leaving this expedition up to you.
Although, I am getting hungry. Can you smell any fruit growing
nearby?"

She stopped and sniffed the air. "I smell water. I can hear it, too.
If we head in that direction, we can get something to drink and if
we're lucky, find some cherries. I swear I can detect their faint
odor."

Adams smiled at her. "Sounds like a plan."

Taking a deep breath, more to fortify herself than to smell the air,
she chose the direction closest to where she heard the water. It
sounded like a river that ran quickly with the mountain snow's
runoff. She was feeling so good. Her eyes caught the yellow finches
chasing each other amid the treetops. A caterpillar was slowly eating
his way through a thick luscious leaf. If she slowed her pace, so did
Adams. If something caught her interest and she sped up, so did he.
Nothing was too trivial for his understanding.

A deer jumped in front of them, leaving a spotted fawn quivering in
the grass. Casually, both humans walked past, trying not to alarm the
mother doe too much. "Look, over there." Alex pointed to where a fox
was walking along a felled tree.

Another hour went by as Alex reveled in both the freedom and the
companionship of Adams. For the first time, she was having fun and
she didn't want it to end. 

"I can see the cherries," Adams said as he loped toward a tree with
rings coloring its trunk. The tree was loaded with dark red fruit,
small but sweet. They sat down and devoured handfulls.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Adams asked her.

"I am, thank you. I didn't know--"

"I understand. You don't have to explain. In the cities, the bustle
of people all trying to get ahead, to make a name for themselves,
makes one forget about the simple things. This is what I was trying
to tell you before, when I was drinking the beer."

She didn't answer; she didn't need to. He grabbed her hand and
pulled her to her feet. "Let's find the water. I'm getting very
thirsty."

The river was definitely closer now. She pushed some branches out of
the way and found a deer path to follow. Not heeding her steps, she
navigated with her ears, not her eyes. Suddenly, Adams grabbed her
waist as her feet almost slid out from under her. They had come to a
cliff. Several hundred feet below them ran a stream, impossible to
get to without a parachute. Alex heard Adams heart stop and great
gasps of air fill his lungs. He had been scared for her. A satisfied
smile lit her face. At once she began scanning the river and what was
across it. Her hand clutched his arm, steadying herself at the edge.

"I think we need to back up. We are much too close."

Adams broke into her thoughts, but she ignored him. This was her
day. She was in control. Her eyes darted from the other side of the
ravine down the slope when something caught her attention. Using the
control both Sandburg and Adams had taught her, she concentrated on
what looked like rungs to a ladder. As the object became clearer in
focus, she identified it as a bridge, attached by only one side. She
followed it down to the end. It didn't reach the water. Focusing more
closely, she detected not frayed ends, but neatly cut ends. Someone
had purposely destroyed the bridge.

An upwelling of betrayal filled her soul. She knew exactly who had
cut it. Realization that he had gone to such extremes to keep them
stranded left her immobile. Her one way of escape was gone. All the
good feelings that she had experienced that day vanished in an
instant. Adams was the enemy once more.

"You need to back up, Alex," Adams' voice penetrated through her
haze of anger.

Turning slightly, keeping her eyes pointed to the ground, she took a
strong hold of Dr. Adams' shirt. Stepping back, his body was now
between her and the edge of the cliff. As he picked up a foot to step
closer to her, she pushed with all her strength, all her rage and
watched as he toppled off into the depths below. She saw a flash of
resignation in his eyes before his face turned towards the ground as
he fell. 

The Damocleon sword dropped and took the life of the man beneath.

Alex closed her eyes and sat on the ground, her legs giving out
beneath her. As he fell, she heard his body hit the rocks, rolling a
bit and then bouncing off. His heart had stopped by the time he hit
the bottom. Tears filled her eyes--tears of betrayal. She had been
beginning to trust him. It was lucky that she found this bridge
before she had lost her sense of self. Standing, she peered over the
top. His body lay in unnatural angles, twisted, bleeding and still.
It wouldn't take long before the wild predators came to pick the meat
off his bones.

Without thinking, she started walking in the direction of the cabin.
Her mind had shut down in an effort to stop the pain.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Methos groaned as he regained life. He wanted to die--everything
hurt. If he could just pick up his sword and thrust it through his
heart, he could stop this terrible torture. Memory returned slowly
and with it, the knowledge that he had no sword. He moved his arm;
pain made him black out.

When consciousness returned once more, he found he was able to move
at least his arms. They had healed and were functional. His legs were
a different story. The left one was twisted at the hip forming an
angle that made him shudder. The right was broken at the ankle. He
needed to straighten both of them before he would ever be able to
walk on them. Using his arms, he propped himself up. With both hands,
he pulled himself along the ground so he was resting against a tree
in a more sheltered area. With a few deep breaths to prepare himself,
he twisted his left leg so that it ran parallel with his body. He
screamed, but this time remained awake. He felt the bones break and
then re-heal in the correct alignment. The ankle would be a snap.

With his body now connected correctly, he used the tree to bring
himself into a standing position. It hurt, but the pain was
manageable. Was Alex above listening to see if he was alive or had
she run? At this point he didn't care and realized that she was a
lost cause. He should have left her in the institution or killed her
when he had the chance. She was an abomination--even by his standards-
-and should be destroyed.

"Do you know the story of the Damocleon sword?" echoed in his mind.
Millie, the crazy lady at Woodbridge had uttered it to him as he had
left her room. It had been a warning. Was it meant for him? The sword
had fallen and nearly cut his head off. Whether he would keep it
before he attained his Ivanhoe again, would remain to be seen. He was
tired from all the exertion of healing. His body wanted sleep. Giving
in, he lowered himself back to the ground and curled up, his back to
the rising cliff. He was asleep even before his eyes were fully
closed.

Bad dreams haunted his rest. First the spotted jaguar was standing
on the sprawled body of the lion. The lion was defeated. The jaguar
was victorious. Next the scene was set in ancient Greece. Dionysius
was having a feast and Methos found himself on a couch with a sword
hanging over his head. He was so hungry, yet he dared not move in
case the sword fell and killed him. Alex was just tying the knot on
the sword, but let it slip. "Oops," slipped from her mouth as the
sword began its decent. He woke at it penetrated his heart.

"The nature of happiness is indeed perilous," Methos muttered to
himself. His hopes for rehabilitating Alex had been crushed. Millie
had known he'd meet defeat before he had even started. Anger and the
need to teach her a lesson she would never forget filled him with
purpose. No more fun. No more trying to coax her to learn. She was
the one under the sword now. If she didn't learn--she would die. He
had always known that it might come to this, but he took the chance
anyway. 

With new resolve, he walked over to the water and drank his fill,
then began the long hike to the top.

Day 19-Friday, July--

Alex spent the night still numb. She didn't bother to eat. Even
lighting the fire was beyond her capabilities. She was alone and she
was getting scared. Using her senses was unthinkable, what if she
lost control? 

The next morning she woke and stayed in bed thinking. Adams was
still alive. He told her that he couldn't die. Nothing worked, not
stabbing, shooting, burning, drowning or suffocating. He didn't say
anything about falling off cliffs, but she bet he couldn't die from
that either. If he were alive, would he come back? If he didn't, she
would be alone here for the rest of her life. If he did--the thought
terrified her. What would he do to her? Probably kill her. She
shuddered.

Her stomach made a large grumbling noise--twenty-four hours without
food was a long time. She looked through the cupboards and found some
canned soup. Even though it was early morning, soup sounded good. It
didn't take long to open it and pour it in a saucepan. However, the
fire had gone out. It took longer to find matches.

After cleaning up and putting things away, she wandered around the
cabin looking for something to do. She pulled out drawers and looked
into the trunk. Surprise held her immobile as she gazed at the
assortment of medical supplies. Slowly she closed the lid and went on
with her snooping. A duffel bag was propped in a corner. This was
Adams' personal property. She dragged the heavy bag into the center
of the floor and reached inside.

Clothes were the first things she encountered; jeans, boxers, socks,
and shirts. Next, she found books. Some were classics. She recognized
them from when she went to school. They were all first editions and
some were signed. Charles Dickens wrote that he had never met anyone
else better at talking around a subject yet never approaching it.
Alex had forgotten anything she had read by him, if she ever had. One
book didn't have anything written on the cover. She opened it--and
found a journal. Picking it up, she headed outside to read. Maybe
she'd learn something about the enigma that had taken her prisoner.

She opened to the first page, but found it written in a different
language. The second and third the same. In a fit of anger she shook
the book and was surprised to find small pieces of paper falling out.
She picked them up and noticed that they were in English. She
immediately began reading the one on top.

I had been with the tribe now for ten years. Mira had now officially
taken another husband. She was happy in this new arrangement, as was
I. She had become a thorn in my side and I was glad to have the
responsibility lifted from me. I thought that this would ease my
sentinel's mind. But it did not. He was still troubled, both by bad
dreams and times where he would be lost within. I talked with the
elders and they suggested a pilgrimage to the well of cleansing
waters. Maybe his soul needed purification. With three others we
walked two weeks westward, towards Paris. How I longed to go all the
way there and see Darius, but knew that it wouldn't be possible. 

The journey was long. We avoided wandering armies. The Romans were
very active in their quest for domination. I wasn't afraid of meeting
up with them, but didn't want to hear Rikodius or Coreolus's chiding
if I had to explain the reason for the journey. Rezi did not sense
any of my trepidations. 

At last we arrived. Rezi confided to me that he wasn't afraid of
entering the dream state, but was nervous of what would be revealed
to him. Would it change him? I assured him that the gods have decreed
that we stay together, but it did little to ease his mind. I made an
oath to him and myself that we were bonded--sentinel and guide-- in
this lifetime and for all time. I would never desert him. Our
spirits, the lion and the red wolf, were linked. Nothing could break
it.

The temple was a large monument with marble pillars like the ones I
had seen in Greece, a thousand years ago. Guards were set up, and
several priests of an unknown religion were hovering nearby. Druids
also were plentiful. Bitak conversed with a man at the door, who then
told us to come back the next day after our mid day meal. Rezi would
be admitted then.

Alex let her head fall back. It was about *his* sentinel. She wasn't
sure if she wanted to read it. Obviously he intended her to, or else
he wouldn't have brought it, nor translated it for her. With
trembling hands, she read some more.

Rezi was quiet. I tried to engage him in conversation, but he only
answered with one word. Later that night I asked him more of what we
would experience the next day. He said that when he first became a
sentinel, he had to come here to cleanse his soul of evil. It was a
ritual that all holy men had to partake. One had to enter the water
and then all the evil was pulled out of the body and thrust into the
netherworld. Rezi admitted that he hadn't seen or felt anything
happen, put the priests assured him that all evil had been
eliminated. Armed with that knowledge, he went back to his village
and his position as its Sentinel and guard.

The elders had decided that the reason Rezi was discontented was
because evil had taken hold of him and that it had to be taken out.
They had also said that perhaps I might have to experience the waters
also. Rezi would tell me after he was cleansed. The thought made me
very nervous. I knew just how much evil resided in my soul and became
afraid that the waters would take away everything that was me. Was
there any goodness left in my three thousand year old body? I didn't
think so.

Alex stared at the last line. He had been three thousand years old
back when the Romans were conquering Europe and druids were alive. It
seemed impossible. No one could be that old. She closed her eyes and
pictured Dr. Adams. Adam, what an appropriate name, she thought. The
name was unassuming, almost bookish. Yet, when she had tried to jump
him back at the asylum, he was quick and had her pinned before she
knew what was happening. He had been strong. Also, he said that he
didn't need her help to kill. In this journal, he referred to the
amount of evil in his soul. One time he mentioned that fact to her,
too. He must have laughed at her, she thought with desolation. He
also must know a lot of ways to torture a person. She squirmed in her
seat and read some more.

 

The next day, Rezi was allowed in the temple. I waited outside for
him, very impatient to see how the experience would change him. There
was an anxiousness about me that communicated itself to those also
waiting. They all misinterpreted it to mean that I was afraid for his
welfare, when in reality I was afraid for myself. What if Rezi now
was able to recognize the evil within me? What if I was the evil
contaminating him? Would the waters kill me? The thought began to
terrify me. When Rezi returned, he looked and sounded the same. Then
he beckoned me go in, alone. He assured me that it would be all right.

With shaking knees, I descended the many steep stairs. At the
bottom, a large room held a few tables, no chairs, and a small round
pool of water. The walls were decorated with pictures depicting the
gods and mother earth. I can recognize some of them, yet others were
a mystery. This place was used by people of many different beliefs.
Did the Romans come here, too? I hoped not. Anything not Roman
usually had to be converted or destroyed.

In my entire life I have never understood or trusted magic, and a
magic pool, designed to rid the body of ill humors, was the most
fearsome of all. I would surely die. I slowly went to the edge. I was
alone with my demons and all the evil that was such an integral part
of me. Kronos laughed at my superstition. He would have broken in,
killed the guards and taken the relics. Cassandra probably knew
exactly where I was and was demanding that the gods take my life. It
was what I deserved. I could almost detect her face staring out at me
from the water. 

Yet, I continued. It was what Rezi needed, and I would do anything
for him. The water in that shallow pool was still. It beckoned me in,
but my body would not move. I could hear both Kronos and Cassandra
laughing at my fear. The pull on my senses was almost overwhelming,
but my fear of death was more so. Evil was not something that could
be discarded by a bath. It had to be worn away through good deeds and
compassion, which would take time. That was something I had a lot of.
I consider my life in the last thousand years and the progress I had
already made. I had evil tendencies in me, but I no longer succumbed.
I sat on the edge, dangling my feet in the water, but felt nothing.
My hands gripped the edge--knuckles white. I closed my eyes, but left
my mind open. I saw nothing. The lion and red wolf did not talk. My
ordeal must be over.

I returned to the stairs leading up and saw the blinding sunlight.
To my surprise, I had been in there all night. Rezi did not ask me
what I had experienced, nor did I confess anything that had happened
to me. Whether the sanctity touched my soul or not, I cannot say. I
did not feel different from before. If anything can turn me into a
good man from an evil one, it would be the purity of my sentinel's
soul.

Alex could feel the tears falling down her cheeks. The phrase,
"purity of my sentinel's soul" filled her with a longing she could
hardly comprehend. But, it was too late for her. Maybe it was
different in the olden days. Maybe it was easier to be good. Life had
to have been better back then.

She inserted the sheets into the book and put it back in the duffel
with everything else. After replacing it into the corner where Adams
had stored it, she went back outside. On automatic pilot, she
retraced her steps down the mountain to the spot where she had pushed
the guide off the cliff. For all intents and purposes, she had killed
another guide. The fact that he might come back to life was
irrelevant. She had killed without thought.

With a deep breath, she peered over the side. The body was gone. She
could see blood on the rocks and scratches where the body had been
dragged, but Adams wasn't there. She focused her ears, hoping for a
heartbeat, or the sound of a voice, but was met with absolute
silence. Even the birds weren't singing. She walked back to the cabin-
-mourning her lack of self-worth.

Day 20-Saturday, July--

Blair sat at his desk, still blurry-eyed from jetlag. The only one
smiling was Simon, happy to have them back so soon and unharmed. Jim
couldn't wait to look into the real-estate agencies and left the
precinct as soon as many of the offices opened. Blair said he'd stay,
citing paperwork as an excuse. The real reason was Millie. He
intended to drive up to Woodbridge and talk to her. 

Blair pressed print and wandered over to the machine to collect the
hard copy. He signed his name and deposited it into Simon's in-box.
"I'm heading out for lunch," he called and left the bullpen before
anyone could request that he bring them back something. As the
elevator door closed, he congratulated himself on a smooth departure. 

The drive itself was long and boring. He had the radio turned up as
loud as he could stand it in an effort to stay alert. What he needed
was another eight hours of sleep, but both curiosity and Jim kept him
going. He had purposefully neglected to call Woodbridge ahead of time
in order to have the element of surprise on his side. Millie couldn't
have time to prepare any answers. The truth came out better
unrehearsed. 

He parked his car in the assigned lot and strode up the walkway to
the front door. The receptionist made him wait while she called Dr.
Madlen. 

"Detective Sandburg. Have you found something?" the doctor asked.

"We're getting close," he evaded. "What I would like to do is
interview Millie, one of your patients."

"What for? It's not like the two women know each other. Alex Barnes
was never mixed in with our other patients."

"May I talk to her, please?" Blair wore one of his most charming and
yet ingratiating smiles. 

"I see no purpose to it, but I'll arrange it. Follow me."

Dr. Madlen led him through the entryway door, past security, and to
a small conference room. "I'll see if Millie is willing to see you."

Blair sat alone. The room had a few framed photographs on the wall
depicting rainbows and flowing meadows. None were inspiring, but
bordered on cheesy. "Must have been bought at a garage sale," Blair
muttered to himself.

The door opened and the doctor walked in wearing a bemused
expression. "It seems that she was expecting you."

An involuntary shiver ran up Blair's spine. Madlen took Blair down a
different hall and unlocked a door leading into a bedroom/jail cell.
Millie was dressed, sitting on a chair next to a desk.

Blair exchanged looks with Millie, but neither spoke. Dr. Madlen
cleared his throat, shifted from one foot to another, then resigned,
told them he'd be back in a few minutes. As soon as the door closed,
Millie winked.

"I didn't think it would take you this long to come back," she
uttered, standing up and turning her chair so that it faced Blair.

"We were in Paris."

"They're not there."

"We know," Blair answered. "We were checking out his friends."

"He has a few friends and many enemies. Our horseman knows how to
hide."

"And remain inconspicuous--in plain sight," Blair added.

"You are beginning to know him."

"Do you know where he is?"

"The lion has died for the second time. She doesn't learn. I can
feel her confusion and fear. What will he do to her now?" Millie had
a far-away look in her eyes as if she wasn't in the room at all.

"Can you see the place where she sleeps?"

"He'll come back to her, but now he's angry. She has turned the
teacher into a horseman. He'll punish her like a misbehaved slave,
for he knows no other way. She can't be reached by example."

It was obvious that Millie wasn't going to give any concrete clues,
but talk in riddles. Blair took out a notebook and jotted down some
of the cryptic things she was saying.

"It's going to come to a crisis. Inside she wants to change, but
there is too much for her to unlearn." Millie turned to Blair with
troubled eyes. "One of you will die."

"What?!" Blair's eyes widened with shock. "Who's gonna die?"

"Either you or her. Only one can live. You should stay away, but
your partner won't let you. Because of your interference, one will
die."

Blair shuddered.

Millie stood up from her chair and went back to her bed, holding her
head in her hands. "Goodbye," she said, and it sounded both final and
sad.

Blair made his feet move to the door. It took tremendous effort to
bring his hand to the doorknob. 

"She's all alone--has always been all alone," Millie spoke into her
pillow. "The cabin is so cold and empty."

Blair was motionless, waiting for her to add more. Silence. Then a
key sounded in the lock and the door opened.

"I see you're done," Dr. Madlen announced. "Ready to leave? I told
you that talking with her was useless. She can never even give *me* a
coherent sentence."

Blair refrained from commenting. He offered his thanks and returned
to his car. As he tried to insert the key into the ignition, he found
that his hands were shaking. Millie said that he was going to die if
they kept up their search for Alex, or rather if they found her. She
was a crazy lady--could he believe her? The trouble was that he did
believe.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Blair started his car and left the
institution. His head swam with everything Millie had said. One of
them would die. Blair shivered. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Methos pulled himself to the top of the ridge and rested on his
back, looking up at the sky. It had taken him more than a day to
reach the top, resting overnight in an indentation pretending to be a
small cave in the rocks that made up the cliff. He was exhausted and
very hungry. His clothes were in tatters--torn on the jagged edges of
the rocks. The sight of clouds moving across the sky relaxed him and
he dozed. 

A blue jay screamed, tearing him from slumber. His rage had
dissipated, but the underlying anger remained. Alex would find that
her jailer had changed personalities as a result of this latest
murder. He stood and with resolve he returned to the cabin.

Alex was standing at the cabin door as he broke through the trees.
She knew he was out there. He said not a word to her, but roughly
pushed her aside as he entered. First, he went to his duffel and
removed a clean set of clothes. His books were not in the same order
as he had left them. He flashed her a quick look and noticed that she
blushed. 

Next came a sponge bath of sorts in front of the spigot, not caring
if she saw him naked. Once clean, his next stop was food. Rifling
though a cupboard, he took out a bag of pretzels and began inhaling
them. He longed for a beer. Alex was still standing at the door,
watching his every move.

"I want some real food," he told her as he sat down at the table.
"First bring me some water and then get some of the salted venison
and you can cook that for me with some potatoes and carrots."

Alex didn't budge.

"Move it woman! I have spent the last two days climbing, falling and
then climbing again, without food or water."

"I don't know how--"

"I'll talk you through it, but I'm not moving from this table. Get
me my water, first!"

Alex scurried into the kitchen, got a glass and went back outside to
fill it. After handing it to him gingerly, she went to their little
root cellar and brought out the meat and vegetables. He barked orders
and she followed them, glancing at him warily as she worked. 

When the preparation part had finished, she stiffened her shoulders
and joined him at the table. "I'm sorry for--"

"I have no interests in apologies. What's done is done--there is no
going back."

"What happens now?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure as hell not going to baby you any longer."

He watched her stiffen her spine as she took offence at his words.
In spite of himself, he was proud of her backbone, but none of what
he was thinking showed on his face. He continued to shovel pretzels
in his mouth and drink the water. "Were you bored as I was making my
way back?"

"Bored?"

"You were reading my books. Which one did you like best?"

She shifted in her seat and didn't look at him. 

"You read the journal. Did you learn anything?"

"What did you do that you considered yourself evil?"

Methos despaired of her ever learning anything. No matter what she
experienced, she always read the wrong thing into it. "I really can't
explain. You don't have an accurate frame of reference."

"Try me," she asked eagerly.

"I was a warrior," he responded wearily. "As such we would ride into
villages and kill everyone. Hundreds every day. Women. Children. Even
old people, if there happened to be any. Back then, thirty was
considered old."

She didn't speak.

"Were you glad that I was gone?"

"For a little while," her voice rang with truth. "Then I became
afraid."

"Did you have any sentinel dreams?"

"No. The spirits abandoned me."

"You are an abomination. Your self-centeredness has ruled your life
for so long that you are incapable of seeing anyone else's view. You
don't know how to listen."

"I'm never leaving this mountain, am I?"

"I seriously doubt it. You are not fit to be with others."

"Does this mean you'll stay here with me?"

"I don't know. If you kill me again, I won't return. You'll live for
awhile and then starve."

"Or zone and never come out of it."

Methos nodded. "I don't feel like talking anymore. I'm going to take
a nap. Go outside or something. Just be quiet. Wake me when the food
is cooked."

"When will that be," she asked in a tight voice.

'Two hours, or so."

Methos got up and went over to his bunk. He closed his eyes and let
sleep overtake him. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Blair didn't feel like returning to the station. His emotions were
churning. The loft was quiet. After closing the drapes on the patio
door, and turning out the lights, he lit some incense and put on some
soft music. Slowing he sank to the floor, sitting Indian-style, he
closed his eyes and let his mind clear. Unknowingly, tears dripped
down his face. His hands were still shaking, but as time passed, they
stilled. 

Every time thoughts of Alex intruded, he deliberately shoved them
aside. She was not wanted. Blair was a guide. Jim was his sentinel.
Jim's protective instincts were driving him to find Alex and deal
with her. Yet this same action would put his guide in danger. How
could Blair prevent this? He could refuse to go with Jim. That would
put Jim in danger. The sentinel spirits would know that Blair would
never do this. It was a no-win situation.

Blair opened his eyes to see Jim sitting on a kitchen chair facing
him.

"What happened, Chief?"

Blair took a deep breath. Then he bounced to his feet. "So what did
you find out? Did Pierson or Adams' or whoever buy a cabin?"

Jim continued to look at him. 

Blair, uncomfortable, continued babbling. "I finished the reports on
the Phillips case and--"

"You went to Woodbridge," Jim stated calmly. "Madlen left a message
on my voice mail saying that he hoped that Millie hadn't upset you.
He said you were agitated as you left."

"I had to talk to her, man. I mean, I knew that she knew something."

"And you were right. What has got you upset?"

"She said that Alex is gonna kill me."

Jim paled. "Exactly, what did she say? Madlen told me that she talks
in riddles. I'm sure she didn't state it that way."

Blair thought back. He couldn't remember the exact words. The
meaning had been so chilling that everything else was pushed into the
background. "I don't think Millie thinks we should try and find them."

"So, saying that Alex is going to kill you could be a scare tactic."

"No," Blair responded, slowly. "I don't think Millie cares. She
mumbled something about the lion being dead again and turning into a
horseman. Oh! She said one of us is going to die--me or Alex."

Jim rubbed his chin as he thought. "That's a different slant on
things." He paused. "I know where they are. Pierson bought a remote
cabin up in the mountains back in the beginning of June. There is a
long trail that leads up to it, but I'm sure somehow he's blocked it."

"Why?"

"Because Alex would be able to find her way out. He'd need to fix it
so that she couldn't."

"That's stupid," Blair commented. "How would Adams get out when it's
time?"

"I don't know. I have the map. It's getting late now, but we'll
leave early tomorrow morning. It's about a two hour drive from here
and then a four hour hike up to the cabin if the trail is passable."

Blair shuddered, knowing that there was no way out of this. "Okay.
Let's have a big dinner and I'll cook--"

"A big juicy steak," Jim finished for him. "With baked potatoes
slathered in butter--"

"And summer squash coated with olive oil grilled next to the meat."
Blair smiled. For a last supper, it wasn't too bad.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Joe was sitting in his office in the back of the club. A Watcher,
assigned to the Cascade Police Department, had just celled telling
him the location of Adam Pierson and the woman Alex Barnes. Fielding
didn't have anything nice to say about the woman except that she had
nice legs. He hoped that Pierson killed her. While it wasn't common
knowledge within the Watcher community that Pierson was Methos, he
was surprised that Fielding didn't know about it.

Now Joe had to decide whether to tell Mac. The Highlander had flown
to the States as soon as the Cascade detectives had left. He was
determined to find the old immortal. Joe was positive that Methos
didn't need his help. The problem was that Joe had promised Mac that
he'd call if he found out anything. With the feeling that he was
betraying Methos, he placed the call.

As Joe hung up, he pondered fate. The last woman Methos had loved
was named Alexa. Now he was with a woman named Alex. One personified
everything good in the world and according to Fielding, Alex was evil
incarnate. Did the old man contemplate the irony? 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Duncan MacLeod left his cabin on the island loaded with his camping
equipment. His backpack was heavy with his supplies and bedroll. Joe
had called him with the location of Methos and the woman he had
kidnapped. When Duncan had asked Joe where he had gotten his
information, the Watcher was evasive. It didn't really matter. Maybe
it was better that he didn't know.

Hiking up that damned mountain was not going to be easy. He would
have to walk night and day, resting only to eat and drink if he hoped
to arrive before the two detectives and warn his friend. It was a
good thing that this mountain was no stranger to him. There had been
a time, about a hundred and fifty years ago, that he had lived on the
southern side. He knew many things would have changed since then, he
hoped not too much.

 

Day 21-Sunday, July--

 

Alex woke up and looked tentatively over at her companion. There had
been little conversation the night before. She was still a little
afraid of him and decided to tread carefully around him. As long as
he didn't go into a temper tantrum, she figured she'd be safe. After
that initial shove he hadn't touched her. 

With him back home, she had to admit to herself that she was
relieved. There was hope that maybe she could become what he wanted--
a good person. If he abandoned her, there was no hope at all. Maybe a
good breakfast would help make it up to him. Quietly, she got out of
bed and went into the kitchen. The instant he awoke, she was aware of
it. 

"Good morning." To her surprise, it did feel like a good morning.

"You cooking?" he asked, without any courtesy.

"I thought this muffin mix and coffee?"

"Okay." He got out of bed and went outside.

"So much for being nice," Alex muttered to herself. She followed his
progress as he urinated and then took a drink of water. He splashed
water on his face and then came in. His whiskers had grown pretty
long, she noticed as he sat at the table. Would he shave or let it
grow? 

She poured the coffee. "Here." 

He didn't even look at her. The muffins were golden brown as she
took them out of the oven. However, as she tilted the pan, she
noticed that the bottoms were burned. He didn't remark about this
either, but ate them heartily. Where once there had been
conversation, now it was quiet--and not a pleasant one. It was
stilted and uncomfortable.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jim pulled off the road onto a dirt driveway. "It says on this map
that this is the road that leads up to the cabin."

"Cool. Then we won't have to walk four hours." Blair grinned, but it
didn't quite reach his eyes.

Jim was also feeling uneasy, despite his easy conversation. He
dreaded meeting up with Alex and her protector. Something drove him
on. There had been no sentinel dreams; no warnings of impending doom. 

The truck hit many bumps as Jim went slowly along the road. "We're
about six miles from the cabin. I can't believe we've made it this
far."

"Do you see any kind of tire tracks in the dirt?" Blair asked. "I
mean it hasn't rained in at least a month so the tracks should still
be there."

Jim stopped the truck and got out. "I do see remnants of something
that could be tracks. But, it's so dusty that the tracks have been
erased by blowing sand and dirt."

Jim got back in the truck and they drove some more. He kept his eyes
on the road, trying to avoid the many potholes and indentations.

"Hey, Jim. Look over there. Is that something in the bushes?"

Jim stopped the truck again, and both men got out. Jim studies the
bushes as they got closer. "You're right. It's an SUV."

"Kinda weird that it's hiding in the bushes, don't cha think?"

Jim nodded as he memorized the plate number and he went back to the
truck to call it in. Blair stayed behind and went into the vehicle.

The radio dispatcher confirmed its registry to one Dr. Pierce Adams.

Blair jumped into his passenger seat. "The thing is empty. No
registration card or insurance. I can see that it's been used for
carting equipment and bags of things. I found a couple of receipts as
if they fell out of bags."

"It's Pierson's car. It's registered to Pierce Adams."

"Oh." Blair didn't elaborate further.

"Lets go farther."

"Why did he leave his truck here?" Blair asked, puzzling over
finding it in the first place. "Why didn't he take it all the way up?"

Jim couldn't answer until he drove a bit further and came to a break
in the road. They got out once more and found the road had come to a
stream and the bridge had been hacked away, as if by an ax. "Guess
that answers that." Jim looked to the other side and noticed that
road kept going, but it was no longer big enough for a truck, it was
a footpath. "We walk from here on."

"Wonderful," Blair groused. "We'll have to walk through the water."

"It looks pretty clean. We'll just take out shoes and socks off and
wade across. It's not going to hurt us," Jim chided after seeing
Blair's disdainful look.

They walked around a mile before they came to another stream where
the bridge had been deliberately destroyed. This one wasn't as easy
to ford.

"We might have to use the rope."

"Jim, you gotta be crazy. The water is going sixty miles an hour.
I'll get washed away."

"It's not running that fast. Bet here's some good fishing here," Jim
remarked half to himself, appreciating the clearness of the water. He
stared some more and saw flashes of silver. The lights danced off the
fish making the water shimmer in a hypnotic--

"Jim, you with me?"

Jim stiffened as he realized that he had momentarily lost it. "Yeah,
just lusting over the idea of fresh fish cooked over a wood fire."

"Yeah, man. That would taste good. Wonder how close Alex would have
be in order to smell our dinner?"

As a sobering thought, it was a good one. He mustn't loose track of
why they were up here. "I'll cross the water first, with the rope
around my waist. Then after I reach the other side, you cross. The
stream is running fast, but it isn't that wide." He could see Blair
reluctantly agree with his plan.

Jim made it across without mishap, but Blair fell, having slipped on
the rocks. Jim kept a tight hold and Blair was able to regain his
feet and make it the rest of the way. As he reached the other bank,
he plopped on the ground, his chest heaving from both fear and relief.

"Damn you, Jim. I don't ever want to do that again."

"We still have to get back," Jim reminded him with a laugh.

Blair didn't reciprocate the humor. "If I make it back."

Jim felt a scowl cross his face. "That is not something I will
consider. You are coming back, with Alex Barnes and Pierson in tow."

After Blair regained his breath, they set out again. The path kept
taking them up further up the mountain. The incline was greater after
they had forded the last stream and even Jim was beginning to get
winded. "Let's rest a bit," he suggested.

"Yeah, let's." Blair leaned against a tree. 

Jim used the time to search his surrounding both auditorily and
visually. He could hear some more water further ahead and, as he
analyzed the sound, he realized that it came from below. "Wait here.
I want to check something out."

Blair nodded so Jim strode purposefully ahead, afraid of what he was
going to encounter. Just past the rise, where it flattened out
somewhat, he found himself looking down a large cliff. A suspension
bridge had traveled across to the other side, but it hang limply down
the side of the cliff where he was standing. Dropping to his stomach,
he focused to the ends of the bridge and verified that it had been
cut--deliberately sabotaged.

Jim groaned as he realized that he'd have to go back and tell Blair
that they weren't going to make it to the cabin this way. They had
wasted a day. It seemed that a helicopter was going to be the only
way up.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Methos sat on the ground contemplating the world around him. He
didn't know what to do. In his mind, Alex could not be saved. For
some reason her mind just couldn't grasp what being a sentinel was
all about. The slow mentor/student relationship didn't work. When
confronted with a problem, she fell back on her old instincts of
murder to solve it. That didn't work in this world. He could try the
master/slave scenario, but didn't have the heart for it. Violence
only begot more violence and she had had enough of that in her short
life. What was left? He had to try something.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Duncan was bone weary. The going was hard. He had brought rope and
needed to climb several gorges. Unfortunately he fell during the last
climb. Now his clothes were torn and he was filthy. He didn't have
any extras. The only saving grace was that his supplies hadn't been
lost. The moon was overhead, illuminating the ground enough for him
to walk slowly. One foot in front of the other, he kept going.

Day 22-Monday, July--

Alex woke in a cold sweat. It was late morning, possibly nine
o'clock. She kicked off her covers, then realized that she was
shaking. The dream had been so real. Her heart was pounding so loudly
that she couldn't hear anything else. Could *he* hear it? She turned
her head and looked at him. It appeared that he was asleep. The
sudden urge to see for herself impelled her out of bed. Her legs
would barely support her. Taking a deep breath, she tiptoes over to
the other bed.

Adams was sleeping with his back to her in an almost fetal position.
His chin was curved towards his chest and his arms were wrapped
around his neck. She listened to his breathing, which was rhythmic
and shallow. In a fraction of a second, he went from still to sudden
movement. His legs whipped around and smacked her behind the knees,
which sent her sprawling to the ground on her back. The rest of his
body followed the forward momentum and she found him towering over
her with a feral look of the predator blazing in his eyes.

"You will *not* kill me again."

"I-I wa-was ju-ju-just checking to see if you w-were asleep. I
wasn't going to try anything." Fear made her stammer. His demeanor
had radically changed from anything she had seen before. Now she
could visualize him as the warrior he had described himself. Back in
the institution, his aggressive tactic of pinning her to the wall was
nothing compared to what she was seeing now. Which of his
personalities was real and which was the façade?

Adams stared at her intently with a cold, calculating look. He must
have believed her since he rose and then helped her to her feet. "I'm
hungry. Go fix us some breakfast."

Alex nodded, grateful to escape the encounter. With trembling hands,
she got the fire going in the stove and put a pot on to heat water
for coffee. Between the dream's imagery and what had just happened,
her nerves were in tatters. Somehow, by the time Adams was dressed,
she had the coffee and food on the table. As he dug in, she sat back
and picked at the food that she couldn't swallow if her life depended
on it. 

"Do you hear that?"

Alex listened and heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter. How
had she missed it?

Both ran out of the cabin and Alex could make out, in the far
distance, the aircraft flying as if searching the area.

"I think someone's out to rescue you," Adams remarked dryly.

"Or incarcerate me."

"That, too." 

Both observed the helicopter make a pass at them. 

"God damn it, Ellison and Sandburg are in there." Alex couldn't
believe it. How had they been found?

"Looks like we're in for a confrontation," Adams remarked, seemingly
unfazed.

"A confrontation? It's going to be a war. I'm never going back with
them."

"So, do you intend to kill--"

But, Alex didn't hear the rest. She ran into the cabin and retrieved
the shotgun. There was no way she was going to be locked inside four
walls again--never again. With her ears focused on the path of the
helicopter, she filled the chamber with shells and ran back outside.

"I think they've landed in the meadow," Adams told her.

"We better go meet them." She took off running, hoping to catch the
interlopers before they came too close to her home. In the periphery
of her mind, she knew that Adams was following her, but didn't care.

She could hear the chopper taking off as she broke into the open
field. "Stop where you are," she commanded. 

Jim and Blair obeyed. She was just about to speak again when Adams
interrupted her. "Why don't we invite them to have some tea," he
asked.

"Tea?" she answered back, incredulously. "Tea? Are you nuts? They've
come to ruin everything. You can't treat them as if--"

"They're friends? Come on Alex. These two are Sentinel and Guide.
You can't keep killing your own. It's time to make a fresh start."

"No!"

Adams ignored her and walked over to where the enemies were
standing. "Hello, Detective Ellison. How nice of you to drop by."

Alex could see Jim's eyes widen in surprise. She bet he wouldn't
know what to make of the doctor either.

"We've come to take Alex Barnes back to Woodbridge."

"Why?" Adams asked.

"Because she's belongs in jail."

"Don't you think that this mountain is enough of a jail? She can't
get out. There is no danger to other people. Unless of course," Adams
laughed, "they drop in like you two did."

"This doesn't count."

Alex could hear the bitterness in Jim's voice--and the fear. Well,
she was scared, too. "I am sorry that I almost killed you, Blair."
She saw Adams turn back to her, thus exposing his back to them. "I
thought I had a good reason, but I was wrong. Please go back and
forget you saw me here. I'm not gonna leave even if I have to kill
everyone who tries to force me," she threatened.

"You know I can't do that, Alex. It's my job. It has nothing to do
with you being a sentinel or killing Blair. You stole the nerve gas
with the intention of destroying millions of lives. I can't let that
go unpunished."

"I guess that puts us at a stand off." Adams said as he shifted from
foot to foot but otherwise looked calm. 

Alex was furious at the way Adams was refusing to help her. This was
Ellison and Sandburg, her greatest foes and he was protecting them.
He had practically placed his body between the three of them so that
if she shot, the bullet would go through him first. She was the only
one with a gun. At least the only one cocked, ready to fire.

Suddenly, before her eyes, everyone began to morph into their spirit
animals. It was her dream, suddenly becoming real. In the distance,
she could hear more helicopters, but the danger in front of her was
what held her attention. The black jaguar leaped at her, but she was
too quick and moved out of the way. With a swipe, she raked her nails
across his face.

The helicopters landed. She would not be captured. Taking off at a
run, she left the meadow and entered the trees. The jaguar was right
behind her. He growled, but she refused to look around. As her paws
hammered the ground, she morphed once more into a woman with feet. In
the dream, he chased her off the cliff. That wouldn't happen again.
The spirits had warned her. Smiling, she ran almost to the edge and
then veered sharply off.

Ellison came pounding after, but his senses must have warned him of
the precipitous. He also turned in time. She stopped and turned to
face him. "I'm not leaving here," she warned once more.

Blair Sandburg came barreling up to the cliff. Jim would have to do
something to prevent him from falling off, then he'd take his eyes
off her and she'd strike. It was so simple; she'd just push them over
like she did Adams. It could work again. She carefully measured the
distance in her head. One false step and she'd go over too. 

Blair skidded to a halt and Jim pulled on his arm to steady him. She
placed first one foot and then another silently in front of her and
tread slowly toward the other two while they were focused on each
other. Thundering feet through the brush interrupted her
concentration. Adams, roaring loudly, burst in front of her, grabbed
her around the waist and sent them both tumbling over the edge.

"I couldn't let you do it, Alex," was the last thing she heard as
the wind whistled past her ears for the last time. Her dream had told
her that she'd fall off the cliff, but not for a second did she
believe that the lion would be the one to push her. Her vision only
showed the fall--and her death.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jim was stupefied. Adams sacrificed himself in order to prevent Alex
from killing them.

"'If you confront her, one will die.' That's what Millie told me. I
can't believe--" Blair didn't finish the sentence.

"I can see them down there. Both Alex and Adams are dead." Their
bodies were on the rocks angled in a grotesque manner. Jim heard more
rustling as Simon broke through the trees.

"Where are they?" his captain asked, looking around. Then he noticed
the steep drop. "Did they fall off as you chased them?"

"Not really," Jim answered. "Alex was attempting to kill both of us,
when Adams grabbed her and jumped off."

There was several seconds of silence as all three tried to make
sense out of what had happened. "Listen, I'll take care of retrieving
the bodies. Take the kid and go on back," Simon instructed gently.

"Thanks, Captain. Come on, Chief. We don't need to keep looking at
this."

Sentinel and guide walked back through the woods to the clearing. 

"Jim, I want to take a look at the cabin. We should pack up the
effects and somehow mail them to Joe Dawson. He'd want to know about
his friend."

"You're probably right. I just feel kind of numb."

"I know what you mean. I just--I don't know--why did he do it? It's
not like he really knew us or anything. When we first got off the
chopper, he almost seemed pleased."

"It appeared that he did have some control over her." Jim was truly
surprised by that fact. Maybe they shouldn't have tried to find her. 

The path to the cabin was easy to follow, despite how long it took.
As they came to the opening in the woods, Jim heard another person
rummaging around in the cabin. He pulled out his gun and angled his
body in front of Blair.

He pointed the muzzle at the front door. "Cascade Police! Come out,
slowly!"

Much to his surprise, Duncan MacLeod walked to the doorway. 

"I'm unarmed, " MacLeod shouted back. 

MacLeod's clothes were ripped in several places and it appeared that
he'd at least tried to clean off the dirt, although it was still
smeared somewhat across one side of his face.

Jim lowered his gun and went closer. "What are you doing here?"

"I've kept track of your progress and when I heard about this cabin,
I decided to take a look my self. Where's Adam?"

"Dead." Jim didn't see the need to add any niceties.

"He fell over a cliff, taking Alex with him." Blair added, trying to
add more explanation to the brief statement Jim had made.

Jim thought the man seemed relieved to hear that Adam had fallen off
the cliff. It didn't make sense unless they weren't really friends.
No, he did look upset when he first mentioned that Adam was dead. His
first involuntary response was an increased heartbeat and his pupils
dilated.

"I see. Well, I'll pack up his stuff, if you don't mind. In fact, I
think I'll stay up here a few days." At Jim's upraised eyebrows,
Duncan added, "To mourn. He was a very good friend."

"I'll have to check with the captain, but I'm sure it will be okay.
Any of effects of Alex Barnes have to be given to the police
department."

MacLeod nodded. 

Jim didn't like leaving the man alone, but didn't see a way out of
it. 

"What about funeral arrangement?" Blair asked. Jim kicked himself
for not thinking of that.

"When I get back to Seacouver, I'll call you. I probably won't be up
here more than a couple of days."

"How are you going to get out?" Jim asked, curiously.

"Same way I got in. I'll walk."

Day 24-Wednesday, July--

Methos walked the last couple of steps to the cabin then stopped in
shock as he felt the presence of another immortal. He didn't have his
sword and he was exhausted after falling from that damned cliff and
having to hike and climb his way back. He looked up and saw Duncan
MacLeod leaning against the doorframe. Relief almost made him drop to
the ground.

"You look like hell, Methos." 

"You're not exactly GQ yourself. Is everyone gone?"

"Yes. I told them I'd pack up your effects, but the captain wanted
to make sure there wasn't anything here that could destroy the world.
What kind of company are you keeping?"

"Later. I need a bath, food, and sleep." Methos did all three. It
felt good to finally be able to relax. Had it only been a month since
he had met her? Sleep claimed him as he realized how much this woman
had meant to him and how much he regretted her death. She might not
have been Rezi, but she had needed him, and he wished he could have
done more for her.

When Ellison and Sandburg had first arrived, he'd been glad. It was
a way to further Alex's education. She could witness what a true
partnership was like. They would have stayed. Methos would have
promised to let them take her after a week if they didn't approve of
what he was doing. It would have been a lie, he never would have let
her go, but it would have served the purpose in letting the four of
them get to know one another.

Methos had to admit he was curious about the two detectives. How did
a sentinel and guide function in this time period? There were so many
sights, sounds and smells that had to drive him crazy. Sandburg must
have to be alert twenty-four hours a day.

A shiver racked his body as he remembered seeing Alex, saw her
intent face, imagined her calculating eyes, and those stealthful
steps toward Ellison and Sandburg as they were standing on the edge
of the cliff. In that instant, he knew that he had lost. She would
never be the sentinel he had envisioned her to be. Maybe her
conditioning was too ingrained. Maybe trust was not something she
could comprehend. He, himself, trusted very few, but he did know how.
He would never know how her mind had worked, but at least he knew he
had given it a shot. She was better off dead than incarcerated in
that hell. No sentinel deserved that.

"You okay, Methos?" MacLeod called over to him from across the cabin.

"Yes." And he was okay.

"You're pretty restless over there. Sure you don't want to talk
about it?"

'There's nothing to talk about."

"Sometimes it helps. It makes things clearer in your mind."

"I need to assimilate it first. Believe me, it's a long hike back,
plenty of time for me to answer all your nosy questions." Methos
smiled. Yes, he trusted very few, but MacLeod was definitely one of
them. He felt sorry that Alex would never know the warm feeling of
having such a friend.

The End