AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is the first of trilogy consisting of "Maura", "Promises" and "Choices." Each can be read on its own, but they make the most sense being read in order. The character Maura comes completely from this author's imagination and does not exist in Highlander canon (but I sure wish she did!). Any and all feedback is gratefully accepted and much appreciated.

HIGHLANDER: MAURA

By Susanna Reilly

Duncan MacLeod strode purposefully down the hall, checking the room numbers quickly as he passed each door. His class on ancient weaponry should have started five minutes ago and he was annoyed at being late on the first night. He had started out early, but heavy traffic, then a longer than expected discussion with the Dean had eaten away the extra time.

Despite his annoyance, MacLeod was glad to return to the classroom. He had enjoyed his brief stint as a college professor several years earlier when he'd been trying to rebuild his life after the loss of Darius and Tessa within a few months of each other. That time he'd been doing a favor for a friend, but he'd been pleasantly surprised to find that spending time with the young people, who were so full of enthusiasm for life and had such a thirst for knowledge, reinvigorated his battered soul. Being able to share with the students some of the knowledge he had gained during his 400 years of living had made those years seem worthwhile and had made those to come seem less daunting. After the stresses of the last year, he was looking forward to revitalizing himself again.

He finally found the room number he had been searching for, but as he opened the classroom door and started to enter, the unexpected sensation of an Immortal presence washed over him. He stopped mid-stride and shifted the bag carrying his demonstration weapons to a position where he could reach them easily if needed as he quickly scanned the room, hoping it was just Richie or Methos playing a joke on him. As his eyes passed over the rows of seats, he noted with surprise that at least half of them were occupied by young women, several of whom blushed and giggled to their seatmates as his gaze passed over them. So much for the Dean's praise of my teaching skills, he thought ruefully.

His searching eyes almost missed her because she looked so much like an ordinary college student. Dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, with her long, honey-colored hair pulled back in a french braid, she appeared to be in her early 20's, but the depth of knowledge in the intensely green eyes that met his showed her to be much older. A small smile crossed her lips and MacLeod allowed himself to relax. Maura. His heart ached as he realized that the last time he had seen her Tessa had still been alive. A dozen questions flashed through his mind but he quickly pushed them aside and forced himself to concentrate on teaching the class. He had a feeling that when it was over he would get his answers, whether he really wanted them or not.

But, to his surprise, she disappeared after class while he was talking to another student. She wasn't waiting at his car as he had expected, nor was she at his place when he got there. Sighing, he poured himself a drink, sat down in a comfortable chair and drifted into the past.

PARIS, 1992

MacLeod sat across the chessboard from Darius in the priest's private quarters in the church, studying the board intently, trying to figure out his next move. As usual, Darius had his pieces impossibly penned in and he would have to concede defeat soon. It didn't really matter though. His friend had been unusually animated and the chess match had been complemented by the easy camaraderie of two people with a longstanding friendship.

MacLeod glanced at Darius as he pondered his next move and was struck again by the quiet strength of this holy man who had once been one of the greatest warriors on Earth. Until he had met Darius during the French Revolution, MacLeod hadn't believed there could be a life for an Immortal that didn't involve war. And he still found comfort in the thought that if this man who had almost con­quered the world could be turned to peace, then anything was possible.

After all, peace was an elusive concept to an Immortal. Death might come harder to Immortals but it still could come, and many times the only way to avoid it was to take someone else's life. Darius had not done so in almost 1500 years, even though there were those intent on taking his. MacLeod respected the depth of Darius' beliefs and tried to shield him from danger as much as possible.

It had been almost two months since MacLeod had been forced to kill Darius' former friend and second-in-command Grayson, who had been trying to lure Darius off holy ground by attacking his student Victor Paulus. MacLeod was glad to see that his friend's initial sadness had passed and a great weight seemed to have lifted from his shoulders. Released from his concerns about who Grayson might go after next, Darius had become more light­hearted. MacLeod noted with satisfaction that the change suited him.

As they sat talking and laughing, the sensation of another Immortal presence reached them. MacLeod reached instinctively for the sword hidden in the overcoat he had tossed by his chair. Darius gave him a disap­proving look and said with annoyance, "You know, you are not my only Immortal friend. That is not much of a welcome for someone entering a holy place."

It was true that the church they were in was holy ground, which meant they should be safe. As far as MacLeod knew no Immortal had ever desecrated the sanctity of holy ground; but Darius, with his two millennia of life experiences, was a prize that might tempt any Immortal to break that rule.

MacLeod still held the sword, but in deference to Darius' obvious displeasure he held it behind him as he followed his friend into the sacristy. Darius stopped suddenly in front of him and just stared at the lovely young woman standing in the aisle, her head covered demurely with a soft silk scarf from which a few strands of honey colored hair had managed to escape. MacLeod's gaze reached her eyes and he was trans­fixed by the soft emerald glow of them. He heard Darius whisper softly, "Maura".

The note of wonder in his friend's voice broke MacLeod out of his reverie. He watched as Darius hurried down the aisle and embraced the young woman gently, and he heard her respond softly "Darius, I'm so happy to see you again."

The electricity between them was obvious and MacLeod suddenly felt like an eavesdropper. It was clear Darius had totally forgotten he was there and he didn't think the girl had noticed his presence at all. The last thing he saw before he withdrew was Darius taking her hands as he sat down beside her. MacLeod's eye was caught by a flash of gold from her left hand and he saw the look of surprise when Darius also saw the ring on the third finger of that hand.

MacLeod pressed his eyes closed against the pain of the memories. His questions about the girl had been dismissed with an evasive "she's a very old friend," so MacLeod had let the subject drop hoping it would come up again later. But fate and an evil mortal named James Horton had intervened. MacLeod still had nightmares about walking into the church and finding Darius' decapitated body, the awful guilt he had felt at having failed to protect his friend and the absolute rage that had filled him when he found out who had killed him and why.

Darius had been the most harmless of Immortals; despite his warrior past he had become a man of peace, and James Horton and his renegade Watchers had no reason to see him as a threat to mortals. But still he had taken Darius' head and, with no other Immortal there to receive the Quickening, all that Darius had been was lost. It had been such a terrible waste.

MacLeod got up from his seat and went to pour himself another drink. After a moment's consideration, he picked up the bottle, knowing he would need it to get through the rest of the memories. Stopping briefly at his desk, he pulled a large sketch pad from one of the drawers, then settling back into his comfortable chair, began flipping idly through the drawings as he let the past reclaim him.

FLASHBACK: SEACOUVER, 1993

MacLeod was helping Tessa set up a new piece of sculpture when the doorbell rang. Grateful for the interruption since she had already had him move the piece six times, MacLeod went toward the door. As he neared it, the sense of an Immortal presence swept over him and he reached automatically for the sword by the door. It might only be that Richie had forgotten his key again, but it was best to be safe. Opening the door cautiously, he was surprised to see a young woman standing there. It took him a moment to recognize her because the light had gone out of those beautiful emerald eyes.

He stood staring at her, momentarily overcome by the wave of grief that followed the memory of when he had last seen her. He remembered the joy on Darius' face that night and silently wished he could turn back the clock. But Darius was dead and the fact that it had been several weeks since MacLeod had finally gotten his vengeance on James Horton did nothing to ease his grief.

She looked at him through those sad eyes and asked tentatively, "Duncan MacLeod?"

It was a question, not a challenge, so he nodded and invited her in. Tessa came in from the other room and looked questioningly at him. She had learned to read his body language and knew instantly that the stranger was an Immortal. He shrugged his shoulders and indicated they should all sit down.

Maura glanced warily at Tessa and MacLeod responded to the question in her eyes, "This is Tessa. She and I have been together a long time and she knows all about us. You can speak freely in front of her."

Maura acknowledged the introduction with a tiny smile and a nod, then, looking back at him, said, "I realize this is all very awkward. I'm not sure if you even know who I am, but I've come to ask you a favor."

MacLeod felt like he was traversing a mine field. The intensity of the woman's gaze filled him with apprehension and he knew he wasn't going to like her request, whatever it was. "All I know about you is that your name is Maura and that you have some connection to Darius. I was at the church with him one night when you came to see him."

She nodded her head slightly, "Yes, I remember seeing you briefly and then you were gone. I'm sorry if we ignored you, but we had much to discuss that night. We hadn't seen each other in . . . a very long time." Her eyes went dark for a moment as she chased a memory, but then she continued, "First, I want to thank you for all you did for Darius over the years. I did my best to watch over him but I couldn't get too close while Grayson was still alive. It would have made it too easy for him having us together."

Noticing MacLeod and Tessa exchange puzzled glances, Maura smiled ruefully at Tessa and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, you must think me incred­ibly rude. I walk into your home, don't even bother to introduce myself, then sit here and talk riddles at you. My name is Maura and many, many years ago I was Darius' wife."

A shocked silence filled the room as Tessa and MacLeod looked at each other. Darius had never mentioned being married, but then he seldom discussed his "old" life at all. It had been very painful for him to acknowledge the hurt he had caused so many people during those years. MacLeod's eyes were drawn to Maura's left hand; the simple gold band was still there.

Maura smiled grimly as she followed his gaze. "He was so surprised that night that I still had this ring. He released me from our vows 1500 years ago when he entered the monastery." For a brief moment she drifted with the memories, but then shook her head to clear it and looked MacLeod directly in the eye. "I didn't come here to reminisce but to ask for your help. I know you were responsible for finding Darius' killer and making sure he got what he deserved. Now I'm hoping you will help us one more time."

MacLeod's sense of foreboding returned as he asked, "What is it you want?"

"I want you to take my head." It was a simple, straightforward statement, made the same way someone would ask you to pick up a quart of milk for them at the store. MacLeod felt a numbness growing inside him as the shocking nature of her request fully hit him. Maura allowed him a few minutes to absorb the shock before she continued, "I was hoping that Darius had told you something about me so that I wouldn't need to explain -- it's such a long complicated story -- but obviously he didn't, so I have no choice.

"I'm sure you already know that over 1500 years ago Darius led an army that seemed destined to conquer the world. . . ."

FLASHBACK: NORTHERN EUROPE - 393 A.D.

The town was buzzing with the news that Darius' barbarian horde had decimated the main army less than 5 miles away and was now headed toward the village. Maura's heart was beating rapidly as she put her few valued possessions into a small satchel. The men were meeting now to decide their fate -- a last ditch fight for freedom or submission to barbarian rule -- and either choice meant the end of life as she had known it.

"Maura, come help me, please," her mother called from the main room of the small cottage.

Maura cast a last glance around the small bedroom she and her husband had shared for the last five years. Philip was a good man and a good husband. Her only regret about their life together was that she had not been able to give him the children they both wanted so badly. He never complained, but sometimes she could see it in his eyes when they watched her brothers' children play.

"Maura," came a gentle voice from behind her.

Startled, she turned guiltily toward the woman in the doorway and responded, "I'm sorry, Mamma. I'm afraid I was woolgathering."

Her mother smiled in sad understanding and, hugging her tenderly, said, "I've told you before, your time will come. You're only 23. I was almost 25 before the gods sent you to us. Then they made up for lost time by giving us four boys in a row."

Maura smiled at the memory of the precocious bundles of energy her brothers had been when they were small. She allowed herself to drift for a moment with the pleasant memories evoked by the familiar smell of herbs and spices that always surrounded her mother. Finally, the older woman broke the embrace and said somberly, "Come now, we have to hurry. There is much to be done to prepare for the coming battle."

"Do you really think they'll choose to fight?" Maura asked.

"What other choice is there?" her mother responded. "To fall at the feet of barbarians? You've heard what they do to the people they conquer. Do you really think our men could stand by and watch as those animals take their wives and daughters? No, they will fight, and we must be ready to treat the injured. I've gathered all the medicines you have here, now we must go home and prepare for the worst."

As they left, Maura cast one last look back at the small cottage built by her husband, father and brothers, knowing in her heart she would never see it again.

Back in the home where she had grown up, Maura worked with her mother gathering and sorting the items they would need to tend the wounded. Waiting for the men to return was wearing on her nerves, so she tried to think about others things. But all that would come were thoughts of the children she had never had. Living with her own guilt about her childlessness had been hard enough without having to listen to the whispers of the more superstitious villagers about it being the sign of a curse or a bad omen. The coming battle would fulfill their worst fears and in the end there would never be any children to prove them wrong.

She was pulled from her dark thoughts by her mother's gentle voice, "Here come Marta, Leah and Hannah with the children."

Maura hurried outside to help her sisters-in-law, who were attempting to shepherd seven children, ranging in age from newborn to 4 years old. The women smiled gratefully at her as she took two of the squirming toddlers, but the lines of worry were clear on each of their faces.

"We had word the meeting was breaking up and thought we should all hear the news together," Hannah explained. "They should be here any minute."

They had barely shepherded all the children into the cottage when the men came into view. Maura noted the strain on her father's face and how unnaturally subdued her brothers Nicholas, Frederick, Victor and Alexander were. But it was the look of pain and grief in Philip's eyes when they met hers that confirmed her worst fears.

Nothing was said as the family gathered together in the main room, exchanging hugs and quiet expressions of love. Her father finally cleared his throat, signaling for their attention. Maura watched as the smaller family groups moved closer together: Nicholas and Marta with their three little ones, Frederick and Leah with their two sons and Victor and Hannah with their two daughters. Alexander's fiance Jenna had slipped in unnoticed and stood quietly beside him. Finally, her eyes turned to Philip, who had his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. He squeezed her gently against him and smiled reassuringly. She acknowledged the gesture with a slight smile, then turned her full attention to the head of the household.

"I won't keep you in suspense," Nicholas the elder said calmly. "The vote was unanimous that we fight the barbarians." A murmur of concern went through the room, and he paused for a moment to allow the shock of the announcement to pass before continuing. "A group of the older men will take all the women and children to the caves at the base of the mountain. Return home and gather whatever is necessary to sustain you and your family for at least a week. You have less than an hour to prepare."

Maura could not contain herself any longer, "But, Papa, this is madness. If a trained army could not defeat Darius and his men, how can a small band of farmers and shopkeepers expect to do any better?"

"Daughter," he responded gently, "we spent many hours discussing this and did not make this decision lightly. We will not submit to that barbarian scum and it would be impossible for all of us to hide in the hills for any length of time. We will stand against them or we will die trying."

The sounds of sobbing were clear in the background and Leah blurted out tearfully, "But, Papa, they say Darius is invincible -- that he has been touched by the gods and cannot be killed. I've heard stories about him being struck down in battle and then rising from the dead. How can you possibly defeat such an evil?"

"Those are just stories, child," he responded soothingly. "We will do what must be done, then we will come to the caves to bring you home again."

It was clear from the expressions on their faces that no one was fooled by that reassurance. Slowly the group dispersed as each family unit returned to its own home to prepare for the exodus. Finally, only Maura and Philip were left with her parents.

"Maura, please help your mother gather her things before you leave," Nicholas asked quietly.

"There is no need for that," Renata responded, "I am the healer for this village. I will stay and tend to the wounded."

"That is out of the question," Nicholas responded forcefully, "the women and children will need you if they are to survive."

She looked at him with knowing eyes and answered, "If the men fall, there will be no survival for any of us. You know that as well as I do. When they discover the women and children are gone, they'll search for them. If Darius is as smart as everyone says, he will find them."

Her unwavering gaze never left his and finally he averted his eyes, "The men guarding them have their orders if that should happen."

Maura felt the coldness seep through her at the import of those words. Struggling against the revulsion she felt she stated calmly, "If Momma is staying, then so am I. She has been training me and we'll have a better chance of being of real help if we're working together."

"Maura, no!" Philip exclaimed.

"You'd prefer that I cower in a cave waiting to be killed by my own people," she flung back angrily.

"It will be kinder than what Darius' men would do to you," he responded hotly.

Tears stood out in her eyes as she pleaded, "Philip, you are doing what you feel you have to do. Let me do what I feel is right, too. Please."

Finally, he nodded reluctantly, then wrapped her tightly in his arms.

The other women and children had left several hours ago with reassurances that Maura and Renata would join them shortly. Now it was time for the men to go and make their stand. As they prepared to leave, Maura hugged each of them tightly and kissed them good-bye before letting them go. Nicholas the younger, a carbon copy of his father; Frederick, the quiet one of the family; Victor, the outdoorsman, and Alexander, the baby of the family -- she could remember clearly the day each of them had been born and how she had helped her mother care for them over the years. It tore at her heart to watch them head off to what could only be certain death.

Philip took her in his arms and held her tightly against him. Tears fell down her cheeks as they kissed one last time. Finally, he let her go and took her hands in his. "I love you, Maura, and I always have. Take care of yourself and the others. They will need your strength to get through this." His voice choked for a moment before he continued, "If it is the will of the gods, I will be back with you soon."

Struggling against her tears, she nodded and replied, "I love you, too, Philip and I'll be waiting for you."

He pulled out a leather sheaf containing a gleaming dagger and handed it to her. "Take this and be ready to use it if you must."

She blanched as he pressed the deadly weapon into her hand, but, bracing herself, she looked directly into his eyes and responded, "I will do what I must."

Her father's gentle voice interrupted the intense moment. "I must speak with you for a moment, daughter."

She tore her eyes reluctantly from her husband's as he went to say goodbye to her mother. "Oh, Papa, why is this happening to us," she asked through her tears.

"It is not our place to question the gods," he said gravely. "I know this day has been difficult enough for you, but I must place another burden on your shoulders."

"What is it Papa," she asked fearfully.

He bit his trembling lip, and she could see his struggle for control. "Your mother is too old to be a slave," he said. Her heart raced with fear as he added intently, "If we cannot stop them, you must not let them take her. Do you understand what I mean."

"Oh, Papa, please don't ask me to do that," she sobbed, "I couldn't."

"These are hard times, daughter. We all must do things that are difficult. I leave your fate in your own hands, but you must allow your mother to die an honorable death, untouched by those vermin. Then she will be safely in the hands of the gods. You owe her that much for all she has done for you."

"I'll try, Papa. That's all I can promise."

"I know you will do what's right, my child," he said soothingly. "Remember that no matter what happens I will always be with you and I will always love you, my precious daughter."

"I love you too, Papa."

"Now we must go."

Maura and her mother stood in the doorway long after the six tall figures had disappeared from sight, unwilling to turn away because they knew it would be the last time they ever saw them.

When Darius' army reached the town and the men attempted to make their "stand," it was a rout. As the defenders fell, Darius' men swept through the village taking anything they could put their hands on and killing anyone who resisted. From inside the cottage Maura and her mother watched with stunned horror as the wave of invaders came closer and closer.

Frozen in terror, Maura clutched the dagger in her hands, unable to take her eyes from the horrifying view as several of the invaders reached the cottage. Before she realized what was happening, her mother let out a shriek of rage, ran outside, and started beating the closest attacker with her small fists.

Without considering the consequences, Maura gripped the dagger tighter in her hand and ran outside to help her mother. The brute she had attacked had thrown her to the ground and had his sword raised for the final strike. Furious that he would kill a defenseless woman so savagely, Maura struck him from behind. She felt a small measure of satisfaction at the scream that came from him as the knife entered his lower back. But the satisfaction was short-lived as another man grabbed her and a sword penetrated deep into the delicate skin of her chest. She slumped to the ground, feeling her life drain away with the blood gushing from the wound in her chest. Then there was only darkness.

Grayson, Darius' second-in-command, strode impatiently down the road, sword drawn and ready, his mind focused on the task at hand. Not that overseeing the subjuga­tion of this miserable little village was difficult, but he liked to be thorough. He had wanted to kill them all as a lesson to anyone else who dared to defy their army, but Darius had insisted that the women and children be spared. Those that might be useful to the army would be kept, the others would be sold into slavery. It was a compromise Grayson could live with, but he couldn't help thinking how much different things would be if he were in charge.

The thought brought a slight tinge of guilt at the disloyalty it exhibited, but Grayson would not give in to that weakness. Certainly, he was grateful for all that Darius had done for him -- teaching him about his Immortality and giving him a trusted place at his side, as well as his friendship -- and he intended to repay Darius with his loyalty for as long as was possible. But the reality of their lives as Immortals was the mantra 'There can be only one,' and Grayson had every intention that, in the end, he, not Darius, would be that one.

For now, though, there was a world to be conquered and Grayson knew he could not do that alone. Darius was the one the men trusted with their lives. They were attracted by his personality and charisma, but they stayed because of his incredible strategic abilities. It was impossible to count the number of times Darius had pulled victory from the jaws of defeat by seeing an opening or a weakness no one else would have detected. Knowing he did not yet have the force of personality or the skill to engender such loyalty, Grayson was willing to accept his place as second for the time being, watching and learning from the master. The time when he and Darius would need to face each other was far off and, in the meantime, they would continue as they had been for decades now, comrades and friends united in one goal -- conquest of all that came before them.

Grayson's thoughts were interrupted by the thrumming sensation that warned of another Immortal nearby. It was very weak though, indicating one who had not yet died the first time. He looked around quickly and was caught by an amazing sight. One of his men had an older woman down on the ground and was getting ready to kill her. A young woman came running out of the cottage behind him and plunged a knife into his back. Seeing what had happened, another soldier ran over and stabbed her through the chest. As she collapsed onto the ground, there was a subtle change in the intensity of the Immortal presence Grayson was sensing, and he realized that she was the one he had felt.

He scanned the area quickly and, seeing no one else close by, moved toward the dramatic scene. The older woman had dragged herself to the younger one and was sobbing over the lifeless body. The young soldier who had struck the girl was standing there looking perplexed, while the one who had been stabbed lay moaning on the ground with blood spurting from the wound in his back.

Grayson gripped his sword tightly. If he decided to keep this Immortal woman, there could be no witnesses to her "resurrection". He strode up to the confused young soldier and without uttering a word ran the sword through him. The young man's expression changed to one of shocked horror as he realized what had happened, and an instant later he fell to the ground dead. Grayson quickly dispatched the older woman and the wounded soldier and went to the girl.

He was annoyed to see that blood was still pouring out of the wound in her chest. The blood itself didn't bother him since he already had a great deal of it on himself from the battle, but he couldn't allow anyone to see her with such an obviously mortal injury. After wrapping her still body in some blankets he found in the cottage, he hefted the awkward bundle over his shoulder and strode purposefully back toward the base camp. Since the cleanup opera­tion appeared to be going smoothly, he had no reservations about leaving the field. The "resistance" of this measly little village had been little more than an annoyance, but at least finding his prize had made it worth the time.

As he entered the camp with his bundle, several young men stood at attention. Without preamble he barked, "Status report." The one in charge responded, "Everything is going smoothly, sir. All sectors have reported in and the bulk of the fighting is over. There are a few minor skirmishes still going on, but we expect that to end within the hour. The base camp is fully operational and teams have been sent out to begin collecting the spoils."

Grayson gave a curt nod and said, "Excellent. Keep me posted on any developments. Where is Darius?"

"In the command tent sir. He came in from the field about 15 minutes ago."

Grayson felt a brief surge of annoyance. He would have liked to have had some time to examine his prize alone, but it was of no conse­quence. He shifted the bundle absently and the young man spoke up quickly, "Can I help you with that sir?"

"No, I've got it," he replied more sharply than he'd intended and strode away, ignoring the relieved looks on the young men's faces.

As he entered the command tent, Grayson could hear Darius issuing orders to the men clustered around him. Noticing the awkward bundle he was carrying, Darius lifted an eyebrow quizzically. Grayson glanced at the others and said sharply, "Leave us. Darius and I have an important matter to discuss."

Darius frowned but said nothing as the young men filed out quickly. "You've found another Immortal," Darius said once they were gone, the question of why this was so important coming through in his tone.

Grayson couldn't help smirking like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar as he laid the still body on the pile of sleeping furs in the corner. "Yes," he responded with evident pleasure, "but this one is a little different than we're used to."

Without another word he pulled back the edges of the blanket and let Darius see his prize. A look of surprise crossed the older Immortal's face as he gazed at the still form. "A woman," he said wonderingly. "I have not seen an Immortal woman in many years. Where was she?"

"In the village," Grayson responded disdainfully. "She attacked one of our men and another one killed her before I could stop him. This is her first death," he added absently as he stared down at her.

Darius moved closer and looked down into the still face. She was rather plain looking except for the long, honey colored hair tumbled haphazardly around her face. What little of her body was visible seemed firm and properly proportioned. Dried blood was caked around the area where she had been stabbed, but the wound itself had almost completely disappeared. After all the times Darius had seen it, the miraculous healing power granted by their Immortality still amazed him. He noted idly that if her healing progressed normally, she could wake up at any time.

As if on cue she let out a little gasp and her eyes flew open.

Maura returned to consciousness with a jolt. Slowly her muddled senses began to function again and she realized she was lying on something soft and there were voices coming from somewhere close by. Panic flooded her as her brain registered that her body hadn't been re­ceiving enough oxygen. Her eyes flew open as she gasped for air and she looked up -- into the most beautiful pair of gray-green eyes she had ever seen. Still confused and disoriented, it took her a moment to remember what had happened and her hand instinctively rose to the place on her chest where the sword had penetrated and her blood had been gushing out.

Confused by what she felt there, she reluctantly pulled her eyes from his and saw that, although her dress was torn and covered with dried blood as she had expected, her chest was somehow whole. She looked up from the bloodstained dress back into those wonderful eyes, and as she took in the rest of his face, she realized who he was. Not taking her eyes from his, she whispered timidly, "It's true then, not only can you not be killed, but you can bring others back to life as well."

Darius laughed delightedly and looked up at Grayson whose hand was reaching for his sword as if prepared to strike. "Isn't she delightful! You won't need that today, my friend, I think we shall keep her." Maura noticed Grayson's set expression as his hand moved reluctantly from the sword, but Darius' word was law and he obeyed.

"From that point on my life changed dramatically," Maura said softly. "The electricity I felt when I looked into his eyes had not been one-sided and before long we were lovers. That probably seems strange to you, that I could love the man who was responsible for killing most of my family. I'm not sure I can explain it myself except to say that he won me over. He could be incredibly vicious and cruel to other people, but he was always kind, gentle and under­standing with me. And incredibly patient." She smiled ruefully at the memory, "He could have forced himself on me at any time but he didn't. He waited for me to accept what was between us and to come to him willingly. And eventually I did. I didn't find out until much later why that was so important to him."

Maura seemed lost in her memories, and Tessa broke into the uncomfortable silence, "You said he was responsible for killing 'most' of your family. Did the women and children escape?"

Haunted eyes turned to her as Maura responded grimly, "That depends on your point of view."

FLASHBACK: NORTHERN EUROPE - 393 A.D.

Grayson's dark eyes were flashing with anger and frustration. "The women and children are all gone. We can't find them anywhere."

Darius responded disinterestedly, "They couldn't have disappeared off the face of the earth. They'll turn up."

"We look like fools because we can't find them. Do you want people talking about how the mighty Darius was outwitted by a bunch of ignorant farmers?"

The attack on his vanity had its desired effect and Darius' expression tightened. "Perhaps our new friend will help us with this little problem."

Maura had been watching the exchange from her place in the corner, huddled on the sleeping furs. It had been two days since her capture and she was still struggling to adapt to her new situation. Having to be in close proximity to Darius was not making it easy.

The man was an enigma -- seemingly indifferent to her whenever anyone else was around, but showing gentleness and compassion whenever they were alone. Despite her terror, she found him intriguing and that filled her with self-loathing. What's wrong with you. He killed them all, her inner self screamed in horror, but then her eyes would meet his and that sense of 'connection' would override everything else. Refusing to look at him had worked for about an hour, but she had soon found he was a man who would not be ignored.

"What about it, friend," Grayson said, the last word dripping with sarcasm. "Where are they hiding?"

She glared at him defiantly, cold hatred coursing through her, and said nothing. She didn't remember clearly what had happened after she'd been stabbed, but she knew instinctively he had been there. And as far as she was concerned that made him directly responsible for her mother's death. A wave of guilt washed over her at the memory of how she had frozen in fear at the sight of the approaching invaders. Her father had counted on her and she had let him, and her mother, down. She had no intention of betraying the rest of her family.

He stepped toward her threateningly and growled, "Would you like to find out what it's like to be dead again?"

She fought the shiver of fear that passed through her, but remained silent and kept her cold gaze locked on his.

"That's enough," Darius said with irritation. "She is not like the others. She is one of us, and you will treat her as such."

Grayson looked at him, disbelief clear on his face. "You can't be serious. She may be one of us, but she's still a woman. What good is she."

"We have female warriors among us," Darius responded. "Once she is properly trained, she will be just as useful as the others."

"The others came to us already trained. Why should we waste our time teaching her."

Darius frowned and responded coldly, "Because I said so."

Grayson was visibly stunned by the rebuke and he responded through clenched teeth, "As you wish. It's your time to waste. I want nothing to do with it. What do you want me to do about the women and children."

"A good question. What should we do about them, my dear," he asked the figure huddled in the corner.

Maura looked at him, surprise evident on her face. Unsure of the answer he wanted she brazened the truth, "Leave them alone. They've done nothing to you."

Grayson laughed viciously, "They dared to defy us and they must pay the price. Your men are all dead and we demand our spoils."

"They are women and children. What possible use could they be to you."

"The women have their obvious uses," he responded cruelly, enjoying the pain that flared in her eyes, "and the children will bring us much gold when they are sold as slaves."

"Bastard!" she screamed at him, as she jumped up. "Isn't it enough that you've destroyed our lives and killed our fathers, brothers and husbands." Tears slid down her cheeks at the memory of her loved ones, but she brushed them away angrily. "Leave them alone!"

Eyes blazing with fury, he pulled his arm back as if he intended to slap her, but Darius grabbed him. "Do not ever lay your hands on her," he said, his voice full of ice. "She is mine and I will decide what is to be done with her."

Trembling with fury, Grayson lowered his arm and stepped back, "Then deal with her. This insolence cannot go unpunished. If she is to stay, she must learn her place."

"I will deal with her in my own time," he responded coldly.

Grayson pulled himself to his full height and stated just as coldly, "You made me your second because you believed I deserved that honor. I have worked hard for many years to gain that place of trust by your side. Unless you intend to remove me from that position, I must insist that my authority not be undermined."

Darius held his gaze for a moment, recognized the determination there, and relented slightly. "I chose you as my second because you are the only one daring enough to tell me when I am wrong. Of course I do not intend to undermine your authority, but this is an unusual situation. I will deal with it, my friend. You have my word. There is no dishonor or disrespect to you intended."

"And what of the women and children?"

"I will leave that in your capable hands. Search for them if you must, but they are of no consequence." He turned his steady gaze toward the trembling figure still standing defiantly in the corner, "We already have what the gods sent us here to find."

Maura returned the gaze, surprise and confusion evident on her face.

Grayson stared at each of them in turn, and a look of disgust crossed his face as he turned away, "Then I shall return to my duties. Do you have any suggestions as to where I should start the search."

Darius' eyes never left Maura's as he responded, "No, I'm sure you can handle it. But remember, we must leave here in two days whether you are successful or not."

Grayson nodded curtly and strode from the tent.

Darius continued to stare at her thoughtfully for several minutes after Grayson left. She met his gaze, although it took all her self-control not to tremble under its intensity. Finally, he said thoughtfully, "Let's hope our friend doesn't think to look in the caves in the mountains."

She gaped at him, speechless.

"You think you have family there and you want to protect them," he responded with a hint of compassion. "That is very noble and I have done what I can to help you. One day you will understand that your family is here. The mortals you left behind are insignifi­cant. We will outlive them and many generations of their descendants. We are destined for greatness and I want you there to share it with me. I will kill you if I must, but that is not my desire. Think about what I have said. Your fate is in your own hands now."

With that he turned and swept out of the tent. Maura stood as long as her trembling legs would hold her, then she slipped back into the warmth of the furs, trying to absorb this latest turn of events.

"On the last day, Grayson found one of the caves. Everyone inside was dead. I don't know if any of my family was there or what happened to the others. Darius refused to wait for them to search further, saying it was a waste of time if it only meant finding a pile of dead bodies."

"I convinced myself that if I stayed alive, I could eventually escape and return home; but I knew even then, deep down inside, that wasn't true. I was grateful for what Darius had done for my family, but I was also intrigued by him. When he finally told me about Immortality and insisted that I learn to defend myself, I thought he was insane. But after he gave me a small demonstration, the reality of what I was finally set in.

"In a way it was liberating to find out the truth. I finally knew why I hadn't been able to have children. And why I looked so little like the rest of my family -- my mother always said I resembled her family and I never doubted her. And why whenever she talked about my birth, she always described it as 'when the gods brought you to us.' She never used the word 'born', although she always used it when talking about my brothers.

"At first I felt like such a fool because the truth seemed so obvious, but I know they truly loved me as if I were their own. I never forgot them, or stopped thinking of them as my family, but once I accepted that I had been a foundling, it was easier to accept that now my place was with my own kind -- with Darius.

"At first I learned to fight just to please him, not really expecting to have to kill anyone. I certainly couldn't imagine ever being able to cut off someone's head. I learned soon enough, though, what the penalty was for not taking my lessons seriously.

"One day while Darius and Grayson were away from camp one of the other Immortals tried to seduce me. When I refused his advances he challenged me. If he hadn't been drunk, I would have lost my head that day. And if he had stayed down when I warned him, he might have kept his. I didn't really want to kill him, but when he got up and came after me again, I had no other choice.

"Even though I was shaken by what had happened, I still didn't like the thought of having to kill; but after that Darius wouldn't back down. He kept pushing me to learn more and I know he was upset at my lack of enthusiasm. That all changed, though, the day he was almost killed by a mortal who got in a lucky shot. If the sword had hit another inch higher, Darius would have lost his head that day. Instead, it hit his collarbone hard enough to fracture it. He 'died' in my arms from shock and massive blood loss and it took several days for him to fully recover.

"Grayson said it was my fault, that Darius had only been hit because he was distracted worrying about me. I realized then that I had been selfish to expect that by staying out of the fighting I would be out of the way, so from then on I threw myself into my lessons."

Maura's eyes blinked rapidly like someone coming out of a trance, and she shook her head as if to clear it. "I'm sorry," she said, "I got carried away and now I'm rambling."

"No, you're not," Tessa said gently, taking her hand. "This is fascinating. We'd like to hear more if you don't mind talking about it. When did you and Darius get married?"

Maura smiled softly as those memories came flooding back. "Darius and I had been together almost 5 years, when we came across a female Immortal named Cassandra." Neither of the women noticed the startled look that crossed MacLeod's face at the mention of the name, as Maura continued, "She and I became the best of friends and I learned a great deal from her. But the best thing about her being there was that it distracted Grayson.

"You see, he was the one who originally found me, and I always sensed that he was not happy that I ended up with Darius. Of course he never said anything, but the undercurrents were always there. I was surprised that Cassandra agreed to be with him because I didn't think she liked him any more than I did; but the one time I asked her about it, she made an offhand remark about keeping him too happy to make trouble. I thought it was a strange answer but I didn't have time to think about it because that's when Darius asked me to marry him."

Maura's smile widened as she lost herself in the pleasant memories. "We were married three weeks later in a simple ceremony on a hillside overlooking a valley bursting with springtime flowers. Standing there in the glow of the afternoon sun, Darius looked like one of the gods just come down from Mt. Olympus. When he put this ring on my finger," she said softly, looking down at the gold band, "and I put the matching one on his, I couldn't imagine ever being happier in my life.

"Cassandra and Grayson were there and so were several of Darius' most trusted officers. We declared a brief holiday from the fighting and there were several days of feasting and celebration before we went back to the serious business of conquering the world."

Maura went silent, lost in thought. It hadn't really been that simple, of course, not any of it, but she wasn't sure enough of her audience yet to share a lot of the important details. They would most likely send for the men in the white coats if she told them about the con­nection that had existed between her and Darius from the time she had first opened her eyes and looked into his, or how she had felt the pain from miles away when he had been injured, or how she had always known what he was feeling. If it hadn't been for Cassandra she never would have learned to understand and control those abilities.

Her reverie was broken by MacLeod's asking in a gentle voice, "Would you like something to drink? You must be thirsty after talking all this time."

"A glass of wine would be nice if you have any," she responded with a grateful smile. Tessa nodded her head in agreement.

When MacLeod returned with the drinks and they were all comfortably settled again, Tessa asked compassionately, "Is it helping you to talk about this?"

Maura smiled sadly and responded, "I suppose it does a little. I think about it a lot, but it feels different actually talking to someone else about it -- especially someone who knew him." She took a sip of her wine and, gazing absently at the ring on her finger, asked tentatively, "This is where it gets difficult. Are you really sure you want to hear more?"

"Absolutely," MacLeod said at the same time Tessa said, "Oh, yes -- if you don't mind talking about it."

"OK, you asked for it," she said with forced lightness. She closed her eyes for a minute, deciding where to pick up and finally continued, "The weeks following the wedding were the happiest of my life. It would be at least a month before we moved on to our next battle. Grayson had his own Immortal woman who was older and wiser than I was, so he was more than happy to leave us alone. Darius and I were finally able to spend time alone together and enjoy our newlywed status.

"But, all good things come to an end, and shortly before we were to move on to the next engagement, Cassandra told me it was time for her to leave. I was heartbroken, but knowing that Grayson would never allow her to leave if he found out her plans, I helped her plan her escape. We said our good-byes secretly and she disappeared without a word to anyone else. Grayson ranted and raved at first, claiming he'd search the four corners of the earth until he found her. In the end there was nothing he could do, but her desertion changed him for the worse. He never allowed any woman to get close to him again after that."

"Cassandra had taught me what I needed to know to fight more effectively as a woman, but despite all I learned from her and all the training I received from Darius and the others in camp, he still wouldn't let me go into battle with him. I had to stay with the force defending the base camp where he thought I would be safe. It was especially frustrat­ing because the only reason I pushed myself to learn was so I could help protect him. Then one day the base camp was attacked. I had to take over when the leader of the defense force was killed, and we pushed back a force almost three times greater than our own. After that Darius had no more excuses for not letting me go with him.

"Over the next few decades most of Europe fell before us. Grayson was in his glory. He lived for the violence and the destruction, but as time went on Darius and I began to tire of the constant warfare.

A sad look crossed her face as she mused, "I sometimes wonder how different things would have been if we had simply stopped there. We had helped Alaric defeat Rome and had moved on to take control of most of northern and central Europe. There was more than enough treasure to keep everyone happy for several life­times. Maybe if we hadn't been so greedy, so power hungry. . .," her voice trailed off and tears filled her eyes.

"In the beginning it had seemed so simple -- we would fight and keep fighting until we reached the sea. Then Darius would rule it all and there would be no further need for wars. Somehow it made perfect sense when he talked about it, even though so many others before him had had the same idea and failed. But they had been mortal, and he believed his Immortality would provide the stability needed to maintain peace. Of course, we couldn't explain that to the people we were trying to conquer, so there was plenty of resistance.

"There were brief respites, especially in winter when the weather made it difficult to campaign. I was so tired of all the death and destruction I sometimes think those breaks were the only thing that kept me sane toward the end."

Maura smiled softly remembering the wonderful times they had spent together during those times. Darius had been an entirely different person when they weren't in battle. The people they conquered may have considered them barbarians, but anyone who knew Darius would not have used that term. It was true that he could be ruthless and brutal with his enemies, but he could also be incredibly kind and generous to his friends and allies. He had an incredible mind and was interested in history, poetry, music and philosophy.

In the 400 years he had lived before they met, he had developed a passion for learning and he had passed that gift on to her. They had spent many hours together discussing important issues, listening to the bards and musicians that entertained the troops from time to time, or making love and talking about anything that occurred to them. But those respites never lasted long and too soon the time would come for them to move on.

Maura felt Tessa squeeze her hand reassuringly and realized with a start that she had forgotten they were there again. Steeling herself for the hardest part of the story, she took a deep breath and continued, "Darius and I had some of our happiest times together during those breaks. When it became apparent I had a gift for music and for languages, Darius encouraged me to pursue those interests. He also spent a great deal of time teaching me about history and philosophy. Grayson thought it was a waste of time to encourage a woman to learn anything, but luckily for me Darius ignored his opinion on that issue."

She paused for a moment and added softly, "I wouldn't be the person I am now if it weren't for him." A soft smile crossed her lips, but the pain of the memories was reflected in her eyes, as she continued sadly, "Then Darius decided it was time to take Paris. . . ."

FLASHBACK: PARIS, 457 A.D.

Maura shifted uncomfortably on her horse and warily scanned the area around them. Instead of easing with each new victory, her nervousness had only intensified the closer they got to Paris. Every instinct she had was screaming at her to stop before it was too late, but looking at Darius and Grayson she knew they would not listen to another word of protest from her. Grayson had convinced Darius that if they took Paris the rest of Europe would fall, and Darius was not willing to back away from that opportunity on the basis of her intuition alone, no matter how many times it had been right in the past.

She glanced back at the huge army following them and marveled at how the sunlight glit­tering off swords and shields sur­rounded them with a unearthly radiance, as though they had been touched by the gods. She almost convinced herself in those few seconds that everything would be all right, but as soon as she turned around, the spell was broken and her apprehension returned.

When they finally reached the city, instead of the defense force they expected to find, there was a lone monk standing in front of the closed city gates. As they rode closer, it became apparent that monk was Immortal. Maura looked at Darius, concern evident on her face. His expression had hardened with anger and he addressed the monk in his most commanding voice, "Move from the gates brother; I do not want to harm a man of God, but you will not stop us from taking this city."

The monk stood firm and proclaimed, "I will not allow you to take this city, Darius. It is of no use to you, and I will not allow you to shed any more innocent blood. The only way you will get through these gates is by killing me, and you know the only way you can do that is by taking my head in front of all these people. I will not resist. I challenge you to do so if you dare face the wrath of God!"

The troops behind them murmured in apprehension. Maura felt a knot growing in the pit of her stomach. The monk was deliber­ately baiting Darius, putting him in a position where he had to take the monk's head or lose the respect of the troops. They would never tolerate a leader they perceived as cowardly and nothing could be more cowardly than backing down from an unarmed monk.

Grayson also felt the danger in the situation. In another time he would have taken the monk's head himself and accepted Darius' anger afterward. But the injuries had piled up over the years -- he had grown tired of hearing how great, powerful and mighty Darius was, he was angry about the time he wasted studying the arts and music when there was a world to be conquered, but most of all he couldn't bear the thought of Maura in Darius' arms when she should have belonged to him. So he did nothing and waited to see how the situation would play out.

Grayson had taken advantage of Darius' preoccupation with other interests to strengthen his own position with the troops. If Darius backed down or if something happened to him, Grayson was prepared to take total control of the army. Then he would take everything else of Darius' that should have been his, including Maura. And if fortune truly smiled on him that might even include Darius' head.

The challenge hung dangerously in the air and Maura's heart raced at the look of rage on Darius' face. Gripping her sword tightly, she quickly slid from her horse determined to take matters into her own hands. She heard him alight from his own horse and, glancing quickly at him, she was frozen in place by his angry glare. The anger softened as he looked into her eyes and saw the fear there.

Striding quickly past her to the monk, sword gripped tightly in his hand, he thundered, "I will give you one more chance brother. No one needs to be harmed this day, especially a man of God. Move from the gates!"

The monk replied, "You cannot have this city," then stood and stared at Darius, a look of gentle serenity on his face.

Maura saw Darius' sword rise and she wanted to run forward and stop him. But it was too late. One clean stroke separated the monk's head from his shoulders. In the ominous silence that followed, no one moved or spoke, even as they felt the electrical energy building around them. The sky darkened, then came to life with the brutal power of the Quickening.

Maura had witnessed or experienced many Quickenings over the years, but this time it was different; as the lighting flashed and slammed into the earth all around them she felt as if her insides were coming apart. Her head screamed in agony as she felt the connection she had known from the moment she had opened her eyes and looked into Darius' being torn from her. She screamed his name and clutched her head as her legs buckled under her.

Grayson had been transfixed by the scene like everyone else but he recovered quickly. Sensing the panic sweeping through the crowd behind him, he gauged that this was the perfect opportunity to take Darius' head. The superstitious idiots behind him would thank him for saving them from the wrath of God and his own Quickening would be lost in the final rumblings of Darius'.

Grayson's hand tightened on his sword as he started to move forward, when suddenly Maura began to scream. He saw her grab her head and start to fall and, without thinking, he reached out to catch her. She fell into his arms, sobbing and moaning, and then slipped into unconsciousness. He held her tightly against him, disconcerted and distracted by this sudden change in the situation. Before he could recover himself, the savage storm faded and was gone.

Grayson assessed the situation quickly. Darius was down on the ground, unmoving, his sword clutched in his still fingers. The men had begun to break out of their shocked silence and a soft murmur was moving through the crowd, growing in intensity. Knowing he had to take control of the situation quickly, Grayson stood and began shouting orders before the men could fully recover their wits, so naturally they obeyed without question. Knowing the mortals would be too terrified to go near Darius, Grayson had two of the Immortals carry their fallen leader to a hastily erected tent. Grayson lifted Maura in his own arms and carried her to another tent. She felt so light, so weightless in his arms that he felt a stab of irrational fear that she might actually die.

Maura drifted in the darkness for a long time. Every time she tried to pull herself out of it, the pain forced her back down. Something important was missing but she couldn't figure out what it was. Her mind reached out for the comfort and protection of his along the tiny thread that still connected them but she ran into a wall. As she realized that what was missing was him, she forced herself through the darkness and the pain to the surface of consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open as she cried out "Darius," and they met another pair of eyes staring down at her.

A flicker of anger shot through those cold dark eyes, as Grayson's face hardened with suppressed fury. He looked away for a moment, then took a deep breath and looked down at her again. "He's still alive," he said neutrally, allowing her a few moments to absorb those words before saying anything else. Relief washed over her, but the look in Grayson's eyes stilled the rush. "He's been unconscious, though, and shows no sign of waking. I have people watching him and they will let us know if there is any change."

Maura struggled to get up, wanting only to get to her husband as soon as possible. Grayson anticipated her and gently pushed her back down. "You've been through a terrible ordeal. I don't understand exactly what happened out there, but it's obvious you are much too weak to be getting up yet. You can't do anything for him in your current condition. Just lie down and rest until you regain your strength."

Maura felt a flash of anger as a sense of helplessness settled over her. She was still struggling to remember exactly what had happened. But Grayson was right about one thing, she was incredibly tired. Her exhausted brain decided it couldn't hurt if she went back to sleep for a little while. Her last thought as she slipped back down into the warmth of the blankets was that maybe she would wake up to discover that all of it had been a terrible dream.

-------------

When Maura woke up again she felt stronger. As she sat up tentatively and glanced around the tent, she noted with relief that Grayson was not there. She didn't intend to argue with him this time, she was going to Darius no matter what. The servant working at the back of the tent turned at the sound of her movements, and Maura was relieved to see it was her trusted attendant, Lani. The woman rushed over to her immediately and with tears in her eyes cried, "Oh, Lady Maura, we've all been so worried about you -- and Lord Darius."

From the frightened look in the woman's eyes Maura knew Darius' condition must be very serious and she began to pull herself up. Lani's eyes widened and she almost shrieked, "Oh Lady Maura, please don't try to get up. I have to get Lord Grayson. He'll be very angry if I don't tell him you've come back to us."

Maura shook her head firmly. "No, Lani, I'm going to Darius now. You may tell Grayson to meet me there."

She pulled herself fully upright and tentatively began moving her stiff muscles. They responded sluggishly but they did respond and she began moving purposefully across the tent. With a wail Lani flew from the tent and disappeared in search of Grayson. Maura followed her as far as the entrance and looked out over the makeshift camp. There were several guards stationed around the next tent which meant Darius had to be there. She quickly located her sword and picked it up, hoping she wouldn't need it but knowing it was better to be prepared.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she left the relative safety of the tent and strode briskly across the open area. The guards at the front of the tent looked at each other with alarm when they saw her. Finally, one, an Immortal named Corin, step­ped forward blocking her way. "Lady Maura," he said gently, "you should go back to your tent. This is not a good time for you to see him."

Although he was twice her size and towered over her, Maura stared up at him defiantly and said intently, "My place is with my husband, now stand aside."

Corin met her steady, determined gaze for several seconds, realized she was not going to relent and stood aside. Grayson would be furious, but he did not care. He had grown to respect Maura over the years and was not prepared to harm her; and it was obvious by the look in her eyes that that was the only way he could stop her. The others fell back as well, and Maura stepped into the tent.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, then she saw him lying on a cot in the center of the room. His eyes were closed, his face was very pale and his breaths were so shallow she couldn't even tell at first that he was breathing. All else was forgotten as she crossed the room, sat down beside him and took his cold limp hand in hers. Tears filled her eyes as she looked down at him. She leaned over and, kissing his pale cheek, whispered, "Darius, I'm here with you. Please hold on. I love you and I'm here waiting for you. Please come back to me." There was no response, not even a stirring from that dark sleep.

Maura felt a cold, empty darkness enveloping her. She had accepted that one day she would die, but she had never imagined that anything bad could actually happen to Darius. Because of his fame, the possibility of an Immortal trying to take his head was one they had both had to live with daily, but she had always believed he would be the last of their kind. Now he was lying here, helpless, and she didn't know what to do or who to trust. Remembering the look on Grayson's face when she came out of her own dark sleep, she was very afraid he couldn't be trusted any longer.

As if summoned by her dark thoughts, Grayson swept into the tent. Maura braced herself emotionally, gripped her sword tightly and stood to face him, looking him straight in the eye. He was angry and it took visible effort for him to bring that anger under control as he registered her defensive posture.

"Maura, what are you doing? You've been through a terrible shock and you should be resting. Darius is safe here. We are protecting him." His voice lowered and took on a note of compassion as he continued, "You know he wouldn't want you to see him like this. Why don't you go back to the other tent and try to rest. I swear to you that nothing will happen to him."

Maura wanted to believe that more than anything in the world. They had been part of each other's lives for so long that such trust should have been automatic. But she could see what was in his eyes and it belied his words. She responded evenly, "My place is with my husband. I vowed to stand by him through the good and the bad and I do not intend to desert him now. Anyone who wants his head will have to take mine first." Her eyes bored defiantly into his as she uttered the last, challenging him to act.

Grayson looked back at her, matching the intensity of her gaze and she saw the anger flare in his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous Maura, no one here intends to harm Darius." He paused for a moment before adding, "And they all know that anyone who harms you will answer to me."

It was the closest he had ever come to speaking his feelings for her out loud and it made her even more uneasy. He had to be very sure of his position to so openly extend his protection to her after all that had happened. She didn't doubt that many of the super­stitious among the troops would be just as happy if Darius were to die, since they probably considered his current condition to be a punishment from God for killing the monk.

She said without hesitation, "I do not need your protection. I am the wife of Darius and anyone who attempts to harm me will answer to him when he recovers."

Grayson recoiled as if he had been struck. "You are obviously very upset," he said, his voice extremely controlled. "Cer­tainly you may do as you wish." He paused for a moment, then con­tinued, "Under the circumstances I felt it necessary to take control of the army until Darius recovers. If you need anything, send Lani to me and I will see that you get it." He turned and strode angrily out of the tent.

Maura stood for a moment longer then slowly sank back down beside her husband. She wished she could lay down beside him and fall asleep with his arms around her more than anything in the world, but that was impossible now. Grayson meant to kill Darius, it had been there in his eyes. And she wasn't sure she would be able to stop him. But she would try to her dying breath.

------

As Grayson strode from the tent he felt the anger that had been growing in him reach boiling point. All of their carefully laid plans were falling apart and he had no idea how to stem the tide. Several dozen troops had fled immediately after the Quickening and more were disappearing every hour. Others were biding their time, waiting to see what happened to Darius.

And most frustrating of all was the realization that, after all his years as Darius' second and all he had learned during that time, he still could not do it alone. He had perhaps 1,000 soldiers who would follow him, but that was nowhere near enough to take the world, especially since none of them were Immortals. All the Immortals in their band had been handpicked by Darius, and despite Grayson's efforts over the years to win their favor, they all remained steadfastly loyal to him and were among the number waiting to see what happened to him. Winning Maura to his side might have changed that, but now she had dared to defy him too.

Fresh rage tore through him at the memory and he did nothing to suppress it, allowing its fire to burn through to his soul. He wanted to kill someone, anyone. But not from afar with a sword; no, he wanted to wrap his hands around someone's throat and squeeze the life out of them. The fact that Maura's face kept floating to the front of his mind as that someone frustrated him even more.

How dare she! he thought incredulously. How dare she stand up to me like that. The arrogant bitch! If it weren't for me she'd be nothing! If I hadn't found her in that miserable little village she would have lost that brainless head of hers long ago!

Grayson remembered how close he had come to taking Darius' head that first day as he watched their eyes meet and saw the undeniable attraction that passed between them. Luckily Darius had mistaken his movement toward his sword as defensive and made some offhand joke about it. Grayson had never forgotten any of it and as the years had gone by he had never stopped wanting Maura for his own or thinking that she rightfully belonged to him.

Now the time had come for her to take her place at his side and she had dared to rebuff him. Well, Darius would die, that was certain, and if she chose to die with him Grayson would accommodate her. But somehow he doubted it would come to that. He felt confident that in the end she would choose to be with him. He would have all that had ever been Darius' just as he deserved, there could be no other outcome.

-----

Maura awoke with a start. It had been three days since Darius had been carried from the field unconscious and he had not stirred since then. She felt what little hope she had left slipping away. As an Immortal he could not die, but was it possible he could stay in this state indefinitely? Or at least until someone managed to get past her and take his head while he lay there defenseless?

The last possibility frightened her more than the first. She could not stay awake forever and she found herself dozing off more fre­quently. The lack of sleep was affecting her and she wasn't sure she'd be able to hold off an attacker even if she was awake when he came. The only other option was to find holy ground and get Darius there. At least they would both be safe from Immortals until he had time to recover. And if it looked like he would not recover . . . her eyes moved unwillingly to her own sword, but her mind forcibly pushed away that thought. He would recover and everything would go back to normal. Except that they would have a long talk about Grayson. He had become much too dangerous to ignore.

As she sat there thinking, his hand suddenly clenched hers tightly. Her eyes darted quickly to his face and what she saw there sent her heart racing with fear. His eyes were finally open but instead of the calm, reassuring gaze that usually met hers, his gray-green orbs were a sea of confusion.

"Darius," she whispered softly. "Darling I'm here. . . It's Maura, I'm here with you."

His confused eyes settled on her face and he suddenly looked away, an expression of horror crossing his face. "No," he whispered hoarsely, "Oh dear God, what have I done."

Maura was shaking with terror. She tried to reach her mind across the invisible thread that still connected them, but she saw him physically recoil from the gentle touch as she felt a door in his mind slam shut against her. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she reached out to touch him physically, trying to reassure him, and herself. He stiffened at her touch, then his body went still and she saw that his eyes had closed again.

In those few seconds came the certain knowledge that the life she had known was gone, and that when he woke up again it wouldn't get any better.

Her worst fears were realized over the next few days. Darius was more coherent when he woke again the next day, but his eyes were dark and haunted and he had trouble looking directly at her. Every time he tried, he ended up turning away with an anguished look on his face.

Her already frayed nerves were stretched to their limits when Grayson strode in unannounced to assess the situation. The fact that he left several minutes later with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, confident of his position because it was obvious Darius was in no condition to command himself let alone a vast army, did little to ease her concern. Her sole comfort was that Grayson seemed to lose interest in killing Darius immediately. Letting the men see him as he now was would solidify Grayson's position more effectively than killing him ever could. And that at least bought her a little more time to decide what to do.

-----

Over the next two days Darius' physical condition improved considerably, but he was still unnaturally quiet and the haunted look still filled his eyes. He spoke to Maura only when she addressed him and he did it without looking directly at her. She knew he was struggling with something but had no idea what it was. She tried to capture images from her own distorted memory of the Quickening, but what little she could grasp faded before she could focus on it. Most of her energy had been concentrated on maintaining the mental link between them and now she found it frustratingly difficult to capture any of the images that had passed through that link.

Maura concentrated on an image that danced at the edge of her consciousness as she played with the food on her plate. All the stresses of the last few days had gathered in a knot of worry that sat in her stomach like a stone. She had barely eaten anything in the last three days and only Lani's impassioned pleading forced her to do so now.

The sound of someone entering the tent brought her to her feet instantly, the forgotten plate of food falling to the ground at her feet. Corin entered the tent, obviously very disturbed, but he stopped immediately when he registered her defensive posture. His frown deepened as he looked into Maura's pale face, her normally sparkling eyes cloudy and surrounded by dark circles that betrayed how little she had been sleeping.

"Lady Maura," he asked uncertainly, "are you all right?"

She smiled tightly as she sat back down and responded heavily, "I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping very well lately."

Unsure of how to respond, he simply nodded. "I'm sorry to trouble you further, but there are several monks outside who wish to see Darius. I told them to leave, but they refused to go unless I told Darius they were here. Their leader, Brother Timothy, says they will leave only if Darius himself asks them to."

"Darius is resting and cannot be disturbed," she responded coldly, "least of all by any monks. Their kind has done enough to him already."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked. "Considering our present situation I thought it unwise to harm any of them."

Picking up her sword, she replied angrily, "Don't worry about it. I'll deal with them."

"What are you doing?" came a soft voice from behind her. Darius was awake and was staring at her, or through her, she couldn't be sure anymore.

"Taking care of a problem," she responded soothingly. "It's nothing for you to be concerned about, you should be resting."

Ignoring her comment he turned his gaze to Corin, "Did you say something about monks?"

Clearly uncomfortable, the blond giant responded, "Yes. There are several outside and they want to speak with you."

"Then bring them in. I must speak with them."

"No," Maura interjected immediately. "They can only be here to cause more trouble. I don't intend to give them the opportunity to harm you any further. I will deal with them myself outside."

As she turned to go, she was shocked to find a hand gripping her sword arm tightly. She turned back to see Darius' anguished face as he knocked the weapon out of her hand. Looking directly into her eyes for the first time in days, he said vehemently, "No! There will be no more killing here." The forceful words reminded her of the old Darius, but the eyes that met hers still looked lost. "Let them in," he pleaded. "I must speak with them."

The desperation in his eyes was like a knife through her heart, finally forcing her to break the gaze and nod to Corin. She glared coldly at each of the monks as they entered, causing them to cluster together nervously. Darius gave her a pleading look, but she ignored him and continued glaring at the assembled clerics. Finally, their leader spoke up timidly, directing his words to Darius.

"I am Brother Timothy and the others are Brother Thomas, Brother Michael, Brother Martin and Brother John. You, um, . . . met another of our order, Brother Francis, a few days ago." He glanced nervously at Maura to gauge her reaction but quickly turned back to Darius when he saw the look of barely contained fury on her face.

Darius said nothing, simply nodding acknowledgment, as the monk continued, "Brother Francis was one of our most revered elders, but we thought he had gone mad when he told us he intended to stop you at the gates of the city. But it happened just as he foretold it, including the display of God's wrath."

All the monks made the sign of the cross and bowed their heads in supplication. It took all of Maura's self-control not to laugh in their faces, but Darius remained silent, listening intently to the monk's words.

"The last thing Brother Francis told us before he left was that, if you killed him, we had to come to you and offer you asylum in the monastery. That is why we are here today."

Maura listened incredulously and had to restrain herself from laughing out loud. If they thought she would trust Darius to the friends of the man who had almost destroyed him they were mad. But Darius took the decision out of her hands by saying, "If that was his wish, then I shall go with you."

Maura tried to protest, but he silenced her with a sharp look, then turned back to the monks and added, "I have some business to finish here. Come back for me tomorrow and I will be ready to go with you." Brother Timothy agreed and the monks filed out, leaving them alone.

Maura was still trying to absorb the shock of what had just happened when Darius turned to her, his face a mask of agony and grief, "I know this is difficult for you. I cannot explain what is happening because I do not completely understand it myself. Everything I have ever believed in has been turned upside down. I look around this camp, at all these people I've known for so long and ask myself why are we here. What is the point of what we have been doing?

"So many people have died for no reason that makes any sense at all to me anymore. I look at you and I see images of all the people who died in your village. I remember all the times I held you in my arms as you 'died' and I can't help thinking, what if you had been mortal? You would have been gone forever and I never would have known the joy of loving you. How could I have been so blind to the pain and misery my actions have caused?"

Maura's chest constricted as if she had been struck. Breathing was difficult and she felt like she was going to faint. Her overloaded system simply couldn't take any more. But she held on, trying to focus her thoughts and come up with a coherent answer to what he had said. Finally she managed to force out, "You're right, I don't understand what's happening and I'm very afraid -- afraid of what's happening to you, to us and to the world around us. I agree that you need to be somewhere safe, preferably holy ground. But one of those monks is responsible for what happened to you and I don't believe you are safe with them. As your wife it is my duty to protect you to the best of my ability, and I am not going to stand quietly by while you walk off with people I believe intend to harm you!"

Darius absorbed her words thoughtfully then said gently, "I brought you into this terrible life of fighting and death. You are not responsible for any of what has happened. I insisted that you learn to fight, that you be able to defend yourself, because I loved you and could not bear the thought of losing you if I was not there to protect you. My arrogance is to blame for our current situation. That monk had no choice but to do what he thought best to protect his people.

"We came sweeping in here, swords drawn, certain we were bring­ing a better life for these people, without bothering to look at the life they already had. Brother Francis decided to show me how wrong I was in the only way he could -- by making me see his world through his eyes. Now I see the pain, suffering and fear that are required to fulfill my dream. The people who fell at our feet did so out of fear, not because they believed that we were right and deserved to rule them.

"I can't go on like this, Maura. I don't know how to go on from here, and the only place I can even begin to think of finding an answer is with the monks. In spite of what I've done, they are willing to help me. And I intend to go with them."

Giving in to the numbness that was spreading through her, all Maura could think to say was, "And what about me, what am I supposed to do now?" She feared his answer more than she had feared anything else so far.

A look of confused helplessness crossed his face as he responded, "I don't know, Maura. Obviously you can't come to the monastery." He paused for a moment, struggling for control, then continued, "I love you and I will always love you, but I can't be with you right now. I don't know if I can ever be with you again."

He paused again, searching for words to comfort her. Finally he looked directly into her eyes again and said, "You are an extra­ordinary person, and I know you will have a wonderful life without me."

Maura felt like she was dying inside. The pain was incredible. She finally understood how it felt to have your heart ripped out, but she held on to the words that mattered most. He had said he loved her and always would, just as she would always love him and that was what kept her from collapsing. Tears were streaming down her face, but she faced him squarely and, drawing herself up to her full height, said, "I do not want a life without you. You are my husband and my place is by your side, no matter what. I did not protect you all this time while you were defenseless and there were those just waiting to take your head so that you could abandon me now."

He saw the tears and her struggle for control and he longed to take her in his arms and tell her it would be all right. But it wouldn't and he couldn't lie to her -- not now. He struggled with the words that he knew would break her heart, but they had to be said. "I appreciate what you did to protect me, although maybe it would have been better for both of us if you hadn't."

The shocked look on her face almost stopped him but he struggled on, "Neither one of us could have foreseen anything like this happening. When mortals marry, the lifetime commitment they make lasts only a few decades, which is not much time in the greater scheme of things. For Immortals to make such a commitment is different and must be treated differently. We have been together for over 60 years, joined as husband and wife for most of that time. That is longer than anyone could ever have expected." He paused again, obviously struggling for control, before finishing, "Considering our present situation, there is only one thing I can do for you. I release you from your vows."

Maura's face turned white as a small gasp of shock escaped her. The world turned gray then faded away as her overloaded system finally gave in and her body crumpled. She was unaware of the strong arms that caught her before her body could hit the ground, or the tears that fell on her face as he gently laid her down and wrapped a warm fur around her still form, or his gentle kiss on her cheek before he finally withdrew.

-----

When she came to, Maura had no idea how long she had been unconscious, only that there was a dull ache in her heart that wouldn't subside. She rubbed her eyes with her left hand and, as the glitter of her wedding band registered through the haze, memory flooded back, bringing with it a fresh rush of pain. He had released her from her wedding vows, invalidating their marriage with those few words as if it had never happened. All the years together, all they had done together, learned together, been together and all that could ever be for them gone in those few seconds.

She heard angry voices outside the tent but didn't even try to focus on them. Lani came in then and rushed over to her. "Oh, Lady Maura, what are we going to do? I can't believe Lord Darius is leaving us. And the things he said to the men. Lord Grayson is so angry I thought he was going to kill him then and there."

Maura didn't want to hear any more. She didn't want to have to cope with another thing, but she asked anyway, "What are you talking about Lani, what did Darius say?"

Lani gaped at her mistress in shock. She had assumed that Maura knew what was happening -- Maura always knew exactly what Darius was doing and why. "He called the men together without Lord Grayson's knowledge and told them that the fighting is wrong, that he is leaving to go to the monastery tomorrow to find peace with God and anyone who wants to go with him is welcome, and that the others should go home."

Maura almost laughed. The entire situation was so ludicrous, of course Grayson would be furious. If he had been mortal he probably would have had a heart attack by now. Then the emptiness engulfed her again. Darius was leaving for the monastery and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She wasn't even sure she wanted to any more. The comfortable, safe world she had known was gone forever. Nothing could change that now.

Grayson stormed into the tent, shattering her contemplative mood. She looked at him dispassionately and said nothing as he approached. She could tell he was angry beyond reason, so she didn't resist as he grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her to her feet. When Lani began shrieking hysterically at his rough treatment of her mistress, he quickly pivoted and slapped her to the ground, screaming at her to shut up and get out.

As the terrified woman crawled toward the entrance, he turned back to Maura and, still gripping her arm tightly, shook her and growled angrily, "Do you know what your precious husband has been up to?"

She gazed back at him disinterestedly as she responded, "Lani was just telling me what Darius has been doing, although it really isn't any of my business since he divorced me this morning."

It took several moments before the words sank in and a look of astonishment slowly crossed Grayson's face. "He did what?"

Maura swallowed back the tears that were threatening and repeated tersely, "He released me from our wedding vows." She could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he digested this unexpected piece of information. She added bitterly, "After all, he can't very well take me to the monastery can he. I don't think he'd be able to hide me under his cot."

Grayson looked at her sharply and for the first time realized how drawn and pale she was. He'd been told when she collapsed earlier, but, assuming it was from exhaustion, had not looked into it any further -- there had been too many other things to worry about. But this information opened up a world of new possibilities. She was vulnerable now, her protector had abandoned her and she was at his mercy. He rather liked the feeling but decided not to press his advantage yet. She might still be too shaken by what had happened to realize how precarious her present position truly was.

"I'm sorry, Maura. I realize this is very upsetting for you," he said in a gentler voice. "I hope you know that you are welcome to stay here -- with me. You will always have a place here -- by my side."

Maura had to fight to restrain the shudder that went through her at the prospect. She did recognize how precarious her position had become and knew she would have to tread carefully in dealing with Grayson. She forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes and responded as graciously as she could, "That's very kind of you. I haven't really had time to think about what I'm going to do now. Everything has happened so fast my head is still spinning. May I have some time to think about it?"

Grayson had hoped she would assent eagerly but saw the fact that she did not decline his offer out of hand as promising. "Very well," he replied, "we will be leaving here by the end of the week. These superstitious fools refuse to move against Paris because of what hap­pened to Darius, so we will be moving on. Let me know your decision before then." He turned to go then paused for a moment before adding, "If you decide to stay, we will, of course, need to discuss the terms under which I can allow it." Then he strode out.

Maura sighed. It was typically Grayson to reduce human relationships to terms and conditions. He would expect a complete surrender on her part to any demands or conditions he came up with and she had no doubt what the biggest condition would be. It could only increase his status to be able to claim Darius' wife as his own. It would be seen as the ultimate coup -- Darius left cowering in a monastery while Grayson walked away with his army and his wife.

The lack of viable choices gnawed at her. Too many things had happened too quickly for her to even consider making a clean break. Stay­ing with the army would allow her a familiar haven to get used to her new situation; but she wasn't sure she could live with Grayson's "terms," and she knew he would not allow her to stay, or perhaps even to live, any other way. The only other possibility was to stay in Paris near Darius. She tried to convince herself that someone needed to be there to protect him, but she knew in her heart that it was only because she wasn't ready to let go yet.

----

Maura strode briskly through the camp heading toward the command tent, greeting those she passed with a smile. It had been three days since Darius and a small group of his most loyal followers had left for the monastery. Three days of misery and heartache that she never wanted to repeat again. But she had finally come to a decision and that in itself had boosted her morale considerably.

The first day had been the hardest. She had refused to say goodbye to Darius and had remained in her tent for several hours until she was certain he was gone. They had been miserable hours, spent immersed in self-pity, feeling totally alone and friendless, not knowing if anyone would care what happened to her now that Darius had deserted her. But one by one those she had befriended over the years had come to offer their support. They had also brought the surprising news that, despite his confident air, Grayson's position was as precarious as her own.

There were many who were tired of the constant fighting and were only too happy to follow Darius' last "order" to go home. Already almost one-quarter of the troops had disappeared and more were preparing to go. The news that many of the others were waiting to see what she planned to do had left her speechless. But it had not taken her long to realize the implications of that news. Grayson needed her to hold things together and that was the bargaining chip she needed to work around his "terms." She knew her arguments would have to be phrased very carefully to allow him to save face, but she was confident she could handle it. After all, she too had learned from the master.

She felt confident and in control as she walked up to the tent, so she was surprised and a little disappointed when she did not sense his presence there. "Where is Grayson," she asked one of the guards lounging by the side of the tent.

The man jumped up guiltily and responded, "Beg your pardon, my lady. I'm not certain where he's gone, but he said something about saying goodbye to an old friend."

A shiver of fear went through her at the words. She knew instinctively who the "old friend" was and was barely aware of the guard's concerned look as she murmured "thank you" and turned away. Her thoughts were in turmoil as she made her way through the camp. What could Grayson possibly want with Darius now? Had he decided he couldn't let him live after all? She made her way to her horse and set off at a gallop. She had no thought of what she would do when she got the monastery, just that she had to make sure Darius was safe.

-----

As he rode toward the monastery, Grayson felt on top of the world. The tide had turned and everything was falling into place perfectly. His confrontation with Maura several days before had been a watershed, the turning point in this insanity. Five words had kept reverberating through his head, If I hadn't found her. Then the dream had come and everything became crystal clear. Not exactly a dream, he amended to himself, but a long forgotten memory, it was only now that he understood its true import.

FLASHBACK: NORTHERN EUROPE, 394 A.D.

"I don't understand why you tolerate her insolence," Grayson complained bitterly as he and Darius took their nightly inspection tour of the camp. "You have never allowed anyone, even another Immortal, to speak as freely as she does." He paused for a moment before continuing reluctantly, "Some of the men are beginning to talk."

They had stopped on a small hill with a clear view of the full moon surrounded by glittering stars. Darius frowned, but remained silent for several moments, before responding absently, "It was a night very much like this one."

He lapsed into silence again and after waiting a few moments, Grayson interjected impatiently, "What do you mean."

Darius looked at him speculatively and finally responded with obvious hesitation, "There is something I have not told you, my friend. But I realize it is time that I must, even though I risk you thinking me an even greater fool."

Grayson opened his mouth as if to protest, but Darius waved aside his objection. "It is important that you understand so that we can stop arguing about this. I will leave it to you to handle the opinions of others as you see fit."

Surprised by the hesitation in his usually self-confident commander's voice, Grayson leaned closer in anticipation.

"Do you remember when we lost Jason and Gregor?" Darius asked.

Confused at what seemed to him to be a total change of subject, Grayson simply nodded. Jason had been a brilliant strategist, almost equal in intellect to Darius himself. Despite the fact that he was mortal, his brilliance had earned Darius' respect and along with it the coveted position of third in command. Gregor, also a mortal, had been one of the finest warriors they had ever seen. Grayson knew that Darius had taken the loss of both men in what should have been an insignificant battle very badly.

"The night we buried them, I went off alone. I was furious -- at myself and at the gods -- for allowing such a thing to happen. I stood in an empty clearing under a full moon and a sky full of stars remarkably like this one and raged at the gods. Not the pathetic gods of these mortals, but our gods, the ones who created us to bring order to this wretched world. I screamed at them that I was fulfilling the destiny they set out for me and I would not be trifled with. Then I commanded them to give me a sign if they had altered that destiny.

"The next day we had our vengeance against those who had killed our brothers. But before the last one died, he told us of a village nearby where we would find plenty of spoils. Do you remember?"

Grayson was staring at his commander, mesmerized by the intent look on the man's face as he related his story. Darius had never spoken of gods except with derision and it was a shock to realize this incredibly powerful, self-confident man believed in such things. He realized Darius was staring at him, waiting for an answer, so he nodded.

"We took that village easily and as we gathered the spoils, you brought something to me -- the sign I had asked for from the gods."

"Maura?" Grayson asked, perplexed.

Darius smiled bemusedly and responded, "Yes, Maura. Let me ask you a question, my friend. What will happen when we conquer it all?"

"I don't understand what you mean."

"What will happen when the fighting is over and we possess everything. It should only take a few more decades -- a drop in the bucket for us -- what happens then?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," Grayson admitted, "there is still so much more to do before that time comes."

"If you want to be a great leader you must always think about what comes next, no matter how far away it may seem," Darius chided. "I have spent many sleepless nights wondering about such things. When it comes time for me to rule, what kind of ruler should I be? Who besides you should I trust by my side. And most importantly, what should I do about a queen. To choose a wife from one ally or another would cause jealousy and intrigues, especially since mortals die so easily."

Darius watched the light come on in Grayson's eyes as he finally realized where this was leading.

"Maura," he said with wonder.

"Maura," Darius repeated with conviction. "She was sent by our gods to show their favor. They gave me my queen, one who can rule by my side forever.

"That is why I treat her with greater deference than any other, and that is why I must ask the same of you. I have not told her any of this yet, and no one else can ever know. It is a secret I am entrusting to you and you alone. Will you do as I ask?"

Grayson stood silently for a moment looking out at the moon and stars shining so brightly overhead as he tried to absorb the import of what he had just heard. Whether or not he truly believed in what Darius had said was irrelevant. Darius obviously believed it and, more importantly, had trusted him with this great secret. And he was waiting for an answer as to whether that secret would be kept.

"I will honor your wishes as I always have, Darius. There is none more loyal to you than I, and what you have just told me will go with me to my grave."

Relief washed over the other man's face and he relaxed visibly. Clapping Grayson companionably on the shoulder, he said with a wide smile, "Excellent, my friend. Now let us go back and find some entertainment. It is too beautiful a night to be wasted."

Grayson smiled at the memory. Maura's coming had indeed been a sign -- a sign that Darius had badly misinterpreted. If I hadn't found her, the words danced through his head again, their meaning now so crystal clear, he could only marvel that he had not realized it from the beginning. Darius was not being punished by the gods for killing the monk, for killing each other was what Immortals were destined to do. No, he was being punished for defying the gods, for stealing the gift they had sent to another.

Maura is destined to be a queen. He thought triumphantly. My queen! That truth had been a catalyst, burning all the confusion and frustration away, leaving him with a sense of incredible power and a certainty that he could not fail. The change in his attitude had been noticed, and many who had previously looked at him with disdain were now standing at attention when he walked by. The few times he had seen Maura since Darius left for the monastery, she had been subdued and polite, her earlier arrogance and hauteur com­pletely gone. There was no question in his mind that she would stay with him, and he was equally certain that her calming presence would end the trifling problem of the deser­tions. His smile widened at the thought of what he intended to do when he caught up with those who had already betrayed him.

The decision to visit Darius had been made on the spur of the moment, fueled by his desire to prove to his former commander once and for all who was the better man. He especially wanted to see the look on Darius' face when he learned Maura was now his. Just the thought of that moment caused him to push his horse into a gallop.

Grayson's good humor increased when he arrived at the monastery and the monk at the door told him that Brother Darius was praying. He had a hard time restraining his laughter at the thought, but managed a solemn voice to inform the monk that he was leaving shortly and simply wanted to say farewell to his old friend.

He could barely contain his impatience as he waited in the small receiving room; but, as soon as his former commander entered the room, Grayson knew the time had not been wasted, for his victory was now complete. Darius was wearing a simple monk's robe, and had a troubled, contemplative look on his face. A flicker of surprise crossed his features when he saw Grayson, and he asked tentatively, "What can I do for you, my friend? Is it too much to hope that you have come to join me?"

Grayson laughed and responded haughtily, "I have an army to run. I don't have time to waste on such nonsense. I came to say good-bye and to give you one last chance to change your mind. Come back with me. We can still rule the world together as it was always meant to be. Of course, things will have to be a little different."

Darius looked at him sadly and said, "The world is not ours to rule, either of us. We have caused enough pain and grief already. Lay down your sword and let there be peace."

Grayson laughed harshly, "You once said there is no such thing as peace. The time between wars is simply a prelude to the next war, a chance to rearm and build numbers. Has your opinion really changed so radically?"

Darius winced at the memory and answered sadly, "I realize now how incredibly foolish I have been. I was so wrapped up in my plans for victory that I didn't see the toll those victories were taking on everyone involved -- so many dead or seriously injured -- for what? To be able to say that I ruled that land? And what kind of ruler was I? Were those people any better off under my rule than they had been before?"

Grayson shrugged impatiently, "What difference does it make? They are mortals. Why should we care how they live their pitiful little lives. We will go on long after they and their children and their children's children are dust. We are Immortal, that gives us the right to rule them."

Darius looked at him in horror. For the first time he truly saw the man he had trusted as his second in command and realized what that man was capable of. Regaining his composure, he responded forcefully, "We have a responsibility as Immortals not to waste the precious lives of mortals for our own selfish ends."

Giving his former commander his best condescending shrug, Grayson retorted, "Obviously we disagree, so, since we have nothing more to discuss, I shall be on my way." He turned as if to go, then added smoothly, "And I will be sure to give your regards to Maura since she has decided to come with me."

Darius stared at him in shocked surprise for a moment, then quickly moved to stop him. "No," he said in a panicked voice, "you cannot let her go with you. She doesn't belong there anymore."

Grayson whirled on him, eyes blazing, and shouted, "You dare try to tell me what I can and cannot do? The army is mine, Maura is mine and your life is in my hands. I can kill you or have you killed any time I choose, so do not try to give me orders."

He gathered control over his anger and continued in a steadier voice, "You deserted Maura, and now you dare try to dictate what she does with her life. You are a fool! You had everything and you threw it away. But that is the destiny of thieves and liars."

At Darius' surprised look he sneered and continued contemptuously, "Did you really think me such a fool that I'd never discover your treachery. I was the one who found Maura. The gods sent her to be my queen, not yours! But you stole her from me. And I was foolish enough to allow you to do it. I know the truth now and we will go on to fulfill our destiny together. Without your interference.

"You cannot know how much it disgusts me to look at you. You were once the greatest warrior ever known and now you cower on holy ground. I challenge you to leave this place and face me man to man. At least you will die like an Immortal, not a coward."

Darius pulled himself to his full height and the war raging within him showed briefly on his face. His inability to accept the challenge hurt almost as much as the knowledge of how deeply he must have hurt Maura that she would choose to go with Grayson. "I will not fight you, now or ever. If you want my head you must take it here and now."

Grayson's hand reached for his sword. The temptation was so great -- even knowing it was holy ground almost didn't stop him.

-----

When Maura reached the monastery, the monk at the door refused to let her in. She pushed him aside angrily, determined to search every room until she found them. Luckily she heard the raised voices almost immediately and was just in time to hear the last exchange and see Grayson's hand reaching for his sword. Fury coursed through her at the thought that he would take the head of a defenseless man; and, all thoughts that they were on holy ground forgotten, she pulled her own sword and leapt at him.

Both men sensed her presence at the same time, but it was too late. Grayson found himself on the ground with her blade at his throat. All the rage, pain and fear she had been suppressing burst forth and she screamed at him, "You lying bastard, I can't believe I ever con­sidered going with you. You belong in Hell with the rest of your kind!" as she raised her sword for the final strike.

Darius grabbed her from behind and pulled her off him crying frantically, "No, stop this! For God's sake, Maura, this is holy ground, what do you think you're doing?"

She struggled against him and managed to tear loose from his grip with her sword still in her hand. But Grayson had taken advantage of the brief opportunity to regain his feet and he was furious.

"You bitch! I gave you the opportunity to rule the world by my side and you chose to defend this man who deserted you. Well hear this and hear it well. I will see you both dead by my hand and I intend to make sure you get to watch him die first. But not now. No, I want you to have plenty of time to think about the foolishness of what you have done and to realize the enormity of the mistake you have just made."

He paused to calm himself and glaring at them both, continued steadily, "Know that I will be out there watching and waiting for just the right time to take you both." With that he turned and stalked out of the room.

Maura moved to follow him, but Darius grabbed her again and refused to let her go. "Maura, stop this. You are out of control. You won't accomplish any­thing except getting yourself killed."

She turned on him in fury and screamed, "I could have killed him here and now if you hadn't interfered. Haven't you done enough already. All of this is your fault. Why didn't you just let me take that monk's head like I wanted to, then everything would be fine now!"

She was still gripping the partially raised sword tightly in her hand and he could see that she was trembling. "Would it make you feel better to take my head," he asked softly.

As those terrible words penetrated the blanket of pain and fury sur­rounding her, she slowly lowered the sword and, sinking to the ground with her head in her hands, began to weep uncontrollably. He put his arms around her and held her close, but she felt no consolation from his touch. The Darius she loved was gone. This person who held her was just a stranger with his face. But she let herself cry in his arms anyway, because she couldn't hold in the pain any longer.

Finally the weeping subsided and she pulled herself out of his arms. Brushing the tears from her eyes she said weakly, "I should go now. I imagine I'm creating a scandal simply by being here."

"Are you all right?" he asked miserably.

She laughed unsteadily, "I haven't been all right since this thing started but I am functional for the moment. I seem to have burned my bridges quite well as far as the army goes, so I need to decide what I'm going to do with myself now. But that is no longer your problem."

He remained silent but there was incredible sadness in his eyes. She felt a twinge of guilt but brushed it away. This was another bridge that needed to be burned although she couldn't bring herself to burn it all the way down. She took a deep breath to steel herself, then turned and walked out of his life.

"Grayson took what remained of the army and left the fol­low­ing day. I knew I had pushed him too far this time, so I stayed hidden until I was sure he was gone. Lani managed to slip out of camp with a bag of jewels Darius had given me over the years, so we didn't have to worry about starving. I was still trying to decide what to do when Corin first came to me offering his help." She smiled ruefully at the memory.

"Since I knew Grayson had been serious about his threats, I was afraid to trust anyone connected with the army, so I refused his help. I traveled a great deal, revisiting some of the places Darius and I had gone and exploring some new ones. I tried many different lifestyles and occupations, but it always felt like something was missing. I felt I should be doing something more with my life.

"That was around the time Grayson first started attacking Darius' students. One day Corin appeared out of the blue and suggested we join forces to protect them. I couldn't be very visible because that would only have provoked Grayson further. However, I had learned enough about strategy from Darius to be able to give some helpful advice when needed. Grayson wasn't stupid and he eventually figured out what we were up to. I think he must have been the one who coined the phrase, 'Don't get mad, get even,' because he went after us with a vengeance. But he didn't settle for just us, he moved against everyone around us. A lot of good people died for no reason."

She closed her eyes against the painful memories and Tessa put an arm around her to comfort her. Maura wiped her eyes and with a tight smile, said "It's all right, I'll be all right."

Tessa flashed a concerned look at MacLeod, who shook his head indicating they should let her go on. But he got up and poured them all another drink before she continued.

Maura accepted the glass with a grateful smile and after taking a sip continued, "We played this cat and mouse game for centuries. There were many small victories, but always at a price. And then finally Grayson decided he'd had enough and was going to get rid of all of us once and for all. While you were busy protecting Victor Paulus and Darius, Corie and I were on the run. Grayson had sent some of his mercenaries after us to keep us out of the way while he dealt with you. I had to go over a cliff to get away from them. It took several days for me to recover and find Corie. By the time we got back to check on Darius, Grayson was dead.

"At first I couldn't accept it was true. I thought it was another one of Grayson's tricks to lure us out of hiding." She smiled ruefully before admitting, "I'm afraid all of us underestimated you."

He gave a weak smile in return, "I wasn't so sure how it was going to turn out myself."

Tessa squeezed his hand in reassurance as Maura nodded understanding and continued, "It was so hard to believe that 1500 years of constantly looking over my shoulder was over. I don't know if you can even imagine what it felt like to finally be free of him."

"It must have been terrible for you all those years," Tessa broke in sympathetically. "I only met him once, but I could tell right away he was a horrible man."

Maura smiled sadly at her and responded, "Yes, he was. But I vowed to myself long ago that not only was I not going to let him destroy me, but I was going to have a life worth living. Even though I had to keep moving, I never stopped learning new things -- music, philoso­phy, religion, handcrafts, languages. I took something new with me from every place I ever visited, along with some wonderful friendships. After Grayson died I could finally pursue my real dream and I started working as a teacher at an elementary school. I've always loved working with children, but while he was still alive I couldn't take the chance of putting them in danger."

Maura took another sip from the wine glass, then stared pensively at the glittering sparks of color created by the light reflecting off the delicate glass and the liquid inside. The silence stretched on for a few minutes before MacLeod finally asked, "What made you decide to go see Darius?"

She stared at the glass in her hand a moment longer, then reluc­tantly put it down. Looking at the ring on her left hand, she absently brushed the fingers of her right hand across it. "While Grayson was still alive I could delude myself that it was better not to see Darius because it wouldn't be safe. Once he was dead and I realized seeing Darius was a possibility, I got scared. Although I had seen him from a distance occasionally, I hadn't actually spoken to him in over 300 years. I wanted to see him, but I wasn't really sure he would want to see me. It will probably sound silly to you, but I had never gotten over the feeling that he left me all those years ago because I was somehow evil -- tainted by how well I had learned the lessons of war. After all, it takes a special kind of evil to kill on holy ground, and I would have killed Grayson that day in the monastery if Darius hadn't stopped me."

Tessa took her hand and squeezed it reassuring. Embarrassed by her confession, Maura blushed and looked away before continuing. "Then one day I was talking to one of my students about a problem she was having and I told her the best thing to do was to face it head on and deal with the consequences of her actions. It sounded like such good advice that I decided to take it myself. After all, the worst that could happen would be that he'd tell me to leave. So I went."

She looked at MacLeod shyly, "That was the day you saw me. I was so nervous, I was shaking like a leaf when I walked down that aisle. Then when I saw him. . . ," the words trailed off as she remembered how her heart had almost stopped beating when he appeared in the doorway. Their eyes had met and locked and he had whispered her name with such wonder. She had barely noticed MacLeod standing behind him because she had been hypnotized by those incredible gray-green eyes just like the first time, when she had woken from death to find them looking down on her.

Then he had been with her, hugging her and telling her how glad he was to see her. As they sat in the front of the church talking, she had been struck by his sense of peace and his strength. His faith in God had been genuine and had sustained him through all those difficult years; and she had found herself wishing she could have found something she could believe in so completely.

They had talked about so many things, sharing their adventures, their dreams and their fears over the long chasm of their separation. She remembered how he had held her hand and run his finger wonder­ingly over the wedding band. He had smiled in understanding when she explained that wearing it helped calm her when she was nervous. There had been no need add that it was a bridge to a time when her life made sense and she felt like she had some control over it for she had seen in his eyes that he understood that too.

She would never forget her own surprise when he had word­lessly reached up and pulled a chain out from under his cassock. On it had hung a gold wedding band, almost identical to the one on her hand. As she had looked at it, then up into his eyes, the tears had come -- tears of joy that he still remembered and of sorrow for all the time they had lost.

The sting of those remembered tears filling her eyes brought her back to the present. "I'm sorry," she murmured with embarrassment. "I seem to have drifted off again."

Tessa smiled at her reassuringly and said, "It's all right. We understand. Take your time." MacLeod nodded agreement.

Maura gave them a small smile of gratitude and continued, "It was so wonderful to see him again. In some ways it was almost like we had never been apart, but there was also so much lost time to catch up on. We sat there talking all night. We were so wrapped up in our conversa­tion that we didn't even notice the sun come up. And we would have kept on talking for hours more if people hadn't started to arrive for the early morning mass." She smiled softly at the memory as she absently twisted the ring on her finger. Then her smile faded as she continued sadly, "I was so happy when he asked if I would come see him again. I had no way of knowing that was the last time I would ever see him alive."

She pressed her eyes shut against the painful memories and pushed back the new wave of tears that threatened. Tessa said compassion­ately, "If this is too painful, you don't have to talk about it now. There's plenty of time." As soon as the last words were out of her mouth, Tessa realized her mistake and wished she could take them back.

Plenty of time. The words echoed in Maura's mind. She said softly, "That's what I thought, too. But there wasn't then and there isn't now. So, if I'm going to finish this I guess I'd better do it now."

She closed her eyes for a minute and took a deep steadying breath before continuing, "We talked on the phone a few times and made plans for me to come see him again. The last time we talked he seemed distracted, but I didn't worry too much about it. I assumed he was as nervous as I was about our visit. I was on my way to the church when it happened . . .

FLASHBACK: PARIS, 1993

Maura felt her excitement building as she drove into town. In their last conversation Darius had mentioned that it might be time for him to move on again. He had said he wanted to continue a religious life but had added ten­tatively that maybe it was time to try a different religious order. Her heart had leapt at the possibil­ities such a choice would open up, but she had tempered her enthusiasm and responded carefully that it was an idea worth exploring.

1500 years was a long time. So much had happened to both of them during that time that she didn't know if they could be together again. But looking at the ring she had not taken off her finger since the night she had seen him, she felt hope and the promise of a happiness she had not known in many, many years.

A light flashed on the dashboard and she realized with annoyance that she had forgotten to get gas. Luckily there was a service station just ahead and she pulled up to the self-service pump. As she got out of the car, another car pulled up behind hers. Before she had time to react, a man jumped out of the car and shot her with a tranquilizer dart. She didn't even have time to cry out before darkness engulfed her.

-----

The world slowly swam back into focus as Maura awoke with a gasp. Once the dizzying aftereffects of having been dead subsided, she focused on her surroundings and discovered she was lying on a narrow cot in a small cell. What little light there was came from a larger room outside the cell. The entire place was dank and had an earthy smell -- probably a basement or subbasement.

A wave of dizziness and nausea passed over her as she struggled to sit up, and she realized with concern that the drug they were using had to be very strong for her to still feel this bad. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the other side of the door across the room from the cell -- cells she realized as she noted that the side of the room she was on was lined with several of them. Hers was in the center and the others were unoccupied. A shiver went through her as she wondered who else they were meant to hold.

When the door opened, she took advantage of the added light from the hallway to assess her prison -- no windows, only the one door, four other cells besides her own, the outer area held only a round table with three chairs haphazardly placed around it. The young man who entered had a tray of food in his hands. He seemed startled to see that she was awake and nervously placed the tray on the table, then stood staring at her uncomfortably. She returned the gaze with a steady, assessing one.

She knew that if she could get out of the cell she could take him easily, but of course that was the purpose of having the cell between them. As the silence stretched interminably, she lost patience and, trying to maintain an innocent facade, said to him in a tremulous voice, "What's going on? Why have you brought me here?"

The young man nervously wiped his suddenly damp forehead with the back of his trembling left hand, allowing Maura a glimpse of the strange tattoo on his wrist. It looked oddly familiar but she couldn't place it.

"They told me you would be unconscious several more hours," he said weakly, obviously unsure of how he should respond. His manner gave her some reassurance. Obviously he had only been intended to watch over an unconscious prisoner and that gave her an edge she could use to her advantage.

"Well, obviously they were wrong," she responded evenly. When he continued to fidget nervously and didn't respond, she said with a quavering voice, "Please tell me what's going on. Why have you kidnapped me? If it's money you want, there's no one to pay a ransom for me."

The young man looked startled at that and she was pleased to see that the frightened little girl act was working as planned. "We don't want money!" he said sharply. "We're only trying to protect ourselves from your kind!"

Maura's heart skipped a beat at that. Your kind, she needed to know what he meant by that, although she was afraid she already did. He was obviously not Immortal, but she had an uneasy feeling he knew she was. How he knew was the million dollar question. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her best frightened little girl look. "What do you mean 'my kind,'" she asked in the same quaver­ing voice. "I'm just an ordinary person, like you."

"Mr. Horton says you're one of them -- an Immortal -- and that you're all trying to take over the world and enslave us."

She gave him a perplexed look and stammered, "I don't know what you're talking about. Do I look like someone who is capable of enslaving anybody?"

He looked confused for a minute then said, "I know you're an Immortal. You were dead when they brought you in here and now you're alive again."

She looked at him assessingly. He was getting over his initial nervousness by falling back on whatever doctrine had been preached to him by his 'Mr. Horton.' It would be difficult to overcome that kind of fear and hatred.

"How do you know about us?" she asked gently, hoping to glean a little more information.

"I'm a Watcher," he said hesitantly, "part of a secret society that has watched Immortals and recorded their lives for centuries. We were told that our job was important so that the stories of all the Immortals that were incorporated into the last one would survive. They told us the last one would bring peace and prosperity to the world." He hesitated a moment and absently touched the tattoo on his left wrist as if to draw courage from it, then looked at her defiantly, "But Mr. Horton found out the truth. Your kind doesn't intend to bring us peace; you want to make us your slaves!"

Maura was stunned. That this secret society could have survived so long, watching them without being discovered was surprising enough. But that they had decided that all Immortals were evil and wanted to enslave them was frightening. Her attention was drawn again to the tattoo on the young man's wrist and it suddenly came back to her where she had seen it before. Several people in their camp 1500 years ago had sported similar symbols, including her servant Lani, who had once told her it was a good luck charm. A nervous shiver went down her spine at the thought that someone so close to her had been some kind of spy and she had never realized it.

With effort, she forced her mind back to the problem at hand. She needed to know what these so-called "Watchers" intended to do to stop the Immortals they feared. "You and your Mr. Horton are wrong," she said quietly. "I have no desire to enslave anyone. It's true there are evil Immortals just as there are evil mortals, but you are in no danger from me." She paused a moment, then asked gently, "Do you intend to kill me?"

He looked unsettled at the direct question. "Mr. Horton will deal with you when he gets back," he replied hesitantly. "He went to take care of another one of your kind."

She felt another nervous quiver down her spine -- who were they after? She had to know. Swallowing the lump that was forming in her throat, she asked with a quavering voice, "Who is it, who are they after?"

He looked at the floor as he responded, "Someone named Darius."

"No," she whispered as her legs gave way and she half fell onto the edge of the cot, "they can't. He's a priest, for God's sake. How can you kill a priest!"

The young man responded defensively, "We know he's only pre­tend­ing to be a priest. He tried to take over the world before and failed. It's disgusting that he's violating the sanctity of the church to hide on holy ground! But that's your stupid rule and it won't stop Mr. Horton."

Maura couldn't breath. Her face went white and the young man looked concerned at her stricken face. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she pleaded with him, "Please, you have to stop them. He really is a priest. He realized 1500 years ago that what we tried to do was wrong and he has spent all this time trying to make up for it. He has done so much good. Please don't let them kill him!"

"Why do you care so much?" the young man asked, perplexed. "You're all supposed to kill each other anyway. It'll make one less that you have to worry about."

She looked at him in amazement. How could he not know? "Before he turned his back on war and entered the monastery, he was my husband," she responded numbly.

He looked at her in shocked surprise. "Nobody told me that," he stammered confusedly.

She responded through her tears, "It seems there's a great deal they didn't tell you. How can you condone killing someone when you don't know anything about them. Are you really so naive as to take someone else's word that a human being deserves to die?"

He didn't respond and she continued angrily, "Do you have any idea what Darius has done with his life for the past 1500 years? He has been teacher to some of the greatest peacemakers on this planet including Francois Delacroix and Victor Paulus."

The young man looked stunned. "I didn't know," he repeated numbly.

"Please," she implored him, "you have to stop them, or let me out and I'll stop them, but you can't let them do this." She struggled against the tears then continued, "Darius is a man of God now. He won't even try to defend himself."

Obviously confused, he looked into her tear-filled eyes and said nervously, "I have to go, but I'll be back in a few minutes."

As he turned to leave she asked, "What is your name?"

"What?" he asked in surprise.

"I'm Maura," she responded, "What is your name?"

He looked at the ground uncomfortably and responded, "Francis."

A chill went through her as it registered that his name was the same as the monk's who had changed her life so drastically so many years ago. "Please hurry, Francis. His life is in your hands," she said intently.

Unsettled by this sudden responsibility, he rushed from the room.

Maura began pacing the small cell agitatedly. She had to get out somehow and warn Darius but she couldn't figure out how. Wait, warn him -- maybe there was still a way she could do that from here. She sat down on the cot and closed her eyes, trying to will her mind into a calm, meditative state. Slowly she reached across the mental bridge and reached the door on his side that had been closed against her for so long. Please hear me and let me in, she begged silently as she envisioned a fist reaching out to knock on the door, Please!

-----

One hundred miles away Darius was bustling around the church trying to keep his mind occupied. Maura was supposed to come by later and he smiled at the thought of seeing her again, even though he was beginning to think he should have postponed their visit. Her return had left him unsettled, bringing to the surface memories and desires he had thought he had left in the past.

Time was what they needed most right now, but he worried that it was a commodity that was in short supply. He was concerned about the rumors of problems in the Watcher organization, but he was most concerned about his recent premonitions of his own death. He considered for a moment calling Duncan MacLeod, but he wasn't ready yet to talk about Maura, the Watcher problem was still too nebulous and MacLeod had already dismissed his concerns about the premonitions.

Suddenly he felt a soft brush against his mind. It was a feeling that was familiar, yet unfamiliar, something remembered from long ago or perhaps from a dream. He shook his head to clear it as a shiver of apprehension ran down his spine. Unable to shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen, he went into the rectory and sat down at his desk trying to decide what he should do. As he pondered the situation, he was startled by a noise from the church and his eyes were drawn to the doorway.

Maura concentrated as hard as she could but she couldn't break through. It had been so long since he had allowed her to touch his mind that his defenses were automatic; he had learned to block out her silent calls from his conscious mind. The frustration welled up in her as her mind screamed, I have to do something!

As soon as the men entered the rectory, Darius knew they were up to no good. When James Horton faced him and told him who they were and what they were doing, he felt a numbness envelope him. It was over. There would be no tomorrow, no future with Maura. He refused to tell them where he had hidden the Watcher Chronicle and when they dragged him into the church to take his head, he fought valiantly against them to keep them from defiling the church. But there were too many of them and he had been out of the Game too long.

As the pain from the electrically charged dart Horton had shot into his chest forced him to his knees, he remembered where he had felt that soft brush against his mind before. Seeing Horton raise his sword for the final strike, Darius murmured a soft prayer and reached out his mind to her, wanting only to share the last precious seconds of his life with the only woman he had ever loved.

Maura stopped pacing as she felt the soft brush against her mind. She sat quickly and, pressing her eyes closed in concentration, opened her mind to him, hoping to warn him before it was too late. But it was already too late she realized as his thoughts reached her. Maura, darling, I love you. I always have and I always will. It's time for me to leave you now, but I will always be with you in your heart. You must go on living -- for both of us.

Darius turned his face away from Horton, not wanting his last sight to be the look of maniacal pleasure on the other man's face as he brought down the sword. His battered body ached and he was exhausted. Suddenly, the scene around him changed and the pain seemed to melt away. He was standing on a hillside above a valley bursting with springtime flowers and as he looked around him in wonder, he realized Maura was beside him. She looked at him with joy-filled eyes and the radiance of her smile reached all the way to his soul. He looked at the ring on her finger and remembered placing it there as he promised to love her forever. He had never broken that promise. Taking her hand in his, he looked up at the sky and said through tears of joy, "Dear God, thank you."

Horton paused for only an instant when his victim unexpectedly raised his head and with a look of awe on his face gave thanks to God. Horton's face contorted into a mask of rage as he brought the blade down.

For a brief moment Maura found herself standing beside Darius on the hillside where they had been married. He was holding her hand and the look of joy on his face transfixed her. Then she was back in the cell, reaching only for empty air. As she felt his life draining away she captured one last thought, Dear God, do with me as you will, but please keep her from harm, before she was overwhelmed by a barrage of images. A wave of dizziness and nausea swept over her as the deluge continued -- scenes of battle, monks praying, a child being taught to read, and so many more. Some scenes were familiar, others were not -- parts of his life she had not shared.

When the barrage finally ended, her head was aching and she was exhausted. It had felt like a Quicken­ing, although the number and clarity of the images had been more intense than she had ever experienced and there had been none of the physical manifesta­tions of a Quickening. She struggled through the maze of images for her own memories and when she finally found them she reached out her mind desperately for his. But he was gone, and this time so was the tiny thread that had linked them for over 1500 years.

Maura laid still on the cot allowing waves of misery to wash over her as she realized that for the first time since she had met Darius she was truly alone. She couldn't believe he was really gone, not now. It just wasn't fair. She didn't even hear the door open when Francis returned, and was startled by his concerned voice.

"I looked into some of the things you told me," he said humbly. "I'm not sure exactly how much of what you say is true, but I know they haven't been telling me the whole truth. And if they're lying to me I don't want to be responsible for your death or anybody else's, so I'm going to let you go."

She looked up at him miserably and said flatly, "It's too late. My husband is dead."

He looked stunned and stuttered nervously, "How . . . how do you know that?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but didn't know how to explain it. Since it didn't really matter, she just buried her head in her hands and began to sob uncon­trollably. She wasn't even aware of him opening the cell door, but suddenly he was beside her, holding her and trying to comfort her. She pulled away from him and, wiping the tears away, she backed against the side of the cell. "If you're going to kill me, you might as well get it over with," she said miserably. "I have nothing left to live for anyway."

Whatever doubts the young man might have had dissolved as he looked at her stricken face. His own face set determinedly and he said, "I'm not going to kill you, and I'm getting you out of here before anyone else can."

Without moving, she responded flatly, "They'll kill you when they figure out what you've done."

"I'll take my chances," he replied, "besides they'll have to find me first."

"With Francis' help escaping wasn't very difficult," Maura said softly. "I didn't dare go back to my apartment, so I went looking for Corin. I was so afraid they had gotten him too. He's been my best friend for over 1,000 years and I don't think I could have made it this long if I had lost them both on the same day.

"Luckily we had many years of hiding from Grayson to fall back on, so I knew exactly where to look for him. Thankfully he was there, looking haggard and unkempt, but at least he was alive." Her voice trailed off again as she got lost in the memory.

She still remembered the relief on his face when he saw her and the devastating grief in his eyes as she acknowledged what he already suspected, "Darius is dead."

His eyes had filled with tears as he replied, "I was afraid of that. After I escaped from the men who attacked me, I went to the church to warn him; but he wasn't there...and we both know he's always there." He had already been planning his revenge against the Immortal who had staged the attacks on them and had been totally devastated to learn the truth.

Realizing she had drifted away again, Maura pulled herself back with effort and continued, "Corie knew a great deal about you from his talks with Darius, so we decided to try and find you. We knew that if anyone else would be searching for Darius' killer it would be you." She swallowed back fresh tears and, smiling with effort, said softly, "we were there for your little memorial service, standing on the dock far enough away that you wouldn't feel our presence. I didn't want to intrude on your grief and I needed time to deal with my own. It was a nice ceremony," she added softly, "he would have appreciated it."

MacLeod acknowledged the compliment with a nod, blinking back his own tears at the memory of that sad night.

"I followed some leads of my own," Maura continued, "and by the time I finally went to talk to you a few days later, you and your friends had disappeared. Not knowing where you had gone, we followed our own leads for awhile, but they all dried up. We were finally able to track you to the United States, but by the time we found out exactly where you were, Horton was already dead."

"I stayed with Corie and his wife for a few days, but it just seemed to magnify the grief for both of us. There were so many memories. So I left them and have been trying to figure out how to build a new life for myself. But everything seems so flat and dead. I thought about going back to teaching, but the thought of being with the children only made me sadder. Even my music has no meaning anymore -- all the joy is gone."

She was so sad, so lost. MacLeod didn't know what to say to comfort her. He had known and lost many loves in his much shorter lifetime and the grief had been terrible each time. But he had managed to live through it and somehow keep his sanity. He knew Immortals who had not been so lucky. He wished there was something he could do to help her . . . some­thing other than the one thing she had asked. He knew he could never bring himself to kill a defenseless person under any circumstances, especially not a woman. And he knew that Darius would never forgive him if he did it. In fact, if there were such things as ghosts, he was sure Darius' would haunt him for the rest of his life if he killed this very special woman.

Tessa had been silent through the entire story, totally engrossed in the tale. She had a faraway look in her eyes that concerned MacLeod. When he reached over and took her hand, she started as if coming out of a trance. She squeezed his hand reassuringly then put her arms around Maura and held her as she cried.

Finally the sobbing subsided and Maura pulled herself together with effort. She looked at MacLeod and said softly, "I can't go on like this any more. I have no doubt that the next Immortal who finds me will take my head. I no longer have the will to fight for my life. But what that person doesn't know is that he or she will get more than just the essence of my life and the lives of those Immortals I have killed. You see, Darius and I had a very special bond, one that I can't explain other than to say that it just was. When he died there was no Immortal at the church to take his Quickening, but all that he was is not gone. I don't know if what I experienced in that cell was a true Quickening, but I do know that part of him still exists -- in me. And I want you, more than anyone else, to have it."

MacLeod felt his heart almost stop at the words. His grief at Darius' death had been intensified by the thought that the essence of all that his friend had been was lost forever. Now she was telling him that wasn't so, that part of Darius still lived. He took her hand and, feeling as if he were walking on eggshells, said gently, "Don't you see, Maura, that's exactly why I can't do as you ask. Darius would not want this. He loved you more than anything in this world and he would not want you to give up like this."

He paused, gathering his thoughts, then continued, "I haven't lived as long as you have, but I have suffered my share of losses. It always hurts to lose someone you love, but you can't stop living, or loving." He paused again trying to push back his own grief as the face of his first love, Debra Campbell, flashed across his mind. "As Immortals we carry with us the essence of all the Immortals we have ever killed, but we also carry the memories of all the mortals we have ever known and loved. As long as we live and remember them, they have their own immortality.

"The love you and Darius shared was very special, but you carry more than that with you. You carry the memories of all the people whose lives you've touched -- for good or for bad -- over the last 1500 years. And you carry all that you've learned over that time. You have so much to give to so many people, you can't just throw that away."

She didn't look at him, she just sat staring miserably at the gold wedding band on her finger. Jolted by a sudden memory, MacLeod got up and went to the desk on the other side of the room. He rummaged through the drawers and, finally finding what he had been looking for, returned to her with a small pouch in his hand. As he opened the pouch and dropped an object into her hand, he said gently, "This was still around his neck when I found him."

Fresh tears streamed down Maura's face as she looked at the simple gold band so much like her own suspended from the chain in her hand, and she remembered how Darius had wordlessly pulled it from its hiding place in his cassock to show it to her the last time she had seen him. The silent proof that he still loved her as much as she still loved him. She knew MacLeod was right, that it was wrong to give up, and that she needed to keep living for both of them; but it was so hard.

Then Tessa spoke up, "Grieving is natural. You have suffered an incredible loss, one that most of us could never comprehend. You have to give yourself time to work through it. Duncan and I will help you. You don't have to be alone. You can stay with us as long as you need to."

Maura wiped her eyes and said, "That's very kind of you, but I don't want to intrude."

"Nonsense," Tessa said forcefully, "It's not an intrusion, we would be happy to have you. Besides, Duncan is still working through his own grief about Darius' death and I'm sure it will help him to be able to talk to someone who knew him. I only met Darius a few times myself, so I can't be of much help to him that way. But you can."

So she had stayed. The three of them (and Richie, once he discovered an attractive Immortal was staying with them) had spent many hours talking and reminiscing -- Maura sharing stories about the old Darius that MacLeod had never heard and he in turn sharing with her the Darius he had known. Tessa and Richie had sat and listened attentively, occasionally filling in details of the stories they had been involved in. Slowly the gray funk that surrounded Maura had begun to lift. She had started smiling again and occasionally even laughed as the stories they shared went from the serious to the more amusing ones that Darius might not have appreciated other people hearing.

It had been three weeks before an urgent message from Corin's wife caused her to leave. They had exchanged a few phone calls and letters, but then Tessa and Richie had been killed in a senseless act of random violence. Richie had come back, as MacLeod had always known he would, but Tessa was gone forever. Shrouded in his own grief, MacLeod had packed up his things and moved away, trying to leave all the painful memories behind. He had not heard from Maura since, but he hadn't exactly made it easy for her to find him either.

Coming out of his reverie, MacLeod looked again at the sketchbook in his hands. Tessa had made drawings of most of the events Maura had told them about. Looking at the sketches always sent a chill down MacLeod's spine because they were so detailed, almost like Tessa had seen the events happen. When he had asked her about it, she had said that Maura's descriptions were so vivid she had almost felt like she was there. What he had never told her was that the drawings matched down to the last detail what he had envisioned as Maura spoke.

Sighing, he closed the sketchbook. Maura's sudden reappearance had left him unsettled. She looked well, perhaps even happy. Her emerald eyes had danced with mischief when his eyes met hers in the classroom. Why was she here? What did she want from him this time? And why did her reappearance have to reawaken the painful memories of Tessa he had been trying to suppress.

Joe Dawson might be able to fill in some of the blanks but MacLeod dismissed the idea immediately. Although he was a Watcher, Joe had become a good friend, but they avoided the subject of Darius by unspoken agreement. Darius' killer had been Joe's brother-in-law and the anger and guilt they both felt about not being able to stop Darius' death made it a delicate subject. So they rarely spoke of it or any of the events that had come from it. MacLeod also wasn't sure what Maura's reaction would be if she found out about Joe's connection to Horton and the Watchers, so he felt it best to keep his friend out of things for the moment.

She had never asked for details about Horton's death during her stay with them and he had not volunteered them. At the time her emo­tional condition had been so fragile that he had believed the details could only cause her more pain. Her one concern had been that Horton was dead and, believing at the time that it was true, he had reassured her.

Horton's reappearance several months later had been an incredible shock to him and finding out Joe Dawson had helped save him had almost destroyed their burgeoning friendship forever. MacLeod could never forget Horton's return with the evil Immortal Xavier St. Cloud as his henchman or the terrible trick Horton had played on him with Tessa's double. Many good people, mortal and Immortal alike, had been lost, but in the end MacLeod had finally gotten Horton -- with Joe's help. MacLeod wasn't sure how much he should tell Maura about any of it, if in fact she didn't already know. He hoped her sudden reappearance had nothing to do with vengeance.

-----

MacLeod had a hard time waiting until the next class for his answers. He deliberately arrived 15 minutes early to make sure he had time to speak with her. Unfortunately his first night's deliberately graphic lecture on what some of the medieval weaponry could do had only scared away one or two members of his "fan club" and he was immediately surrounded by flirtatious coeds who wanted to dis­cuss the reading assignment.

Maura didn't arrive until right before class started. Crossing the room to her seat, she smiled mischievously and rolled her eyes at him when she saw the starry-eyed group of girls clustered around him.

MacLeod tried to hide his annoyance during the class but he made a point of directing a lot of tough questions at the offending girls. He caught Maura trying to suppress a smile several times. She made no effort to hide her expertise in the weapons area and even managed to catch him up on his facts once or twice earning approving looks from the now much less enamored females in the class.

MacLeod was pleased to note that his tactics had been successful when most of the offending girls trooped out at the end of class mumbling under their breaths. Several other students stopped to speak with him and he anxiously looked around to make sure Maura wasn't going to sneak out on him again. He was relieved to see she was still seated at her desk looking through her notes to respond to a question from a besotted looking young man. It amused him to see that she had found her own fan.

The students who had stayed behind were well versed on the subject matter of the course, and MacLeod was pleasantly surprised when Maura suggested they all go for a cup of coffee at a local cafe to continue the discussion. Four hours later, when the last straggler had gone off, they were finally alone.

MacLeod re-assessed Maura in light of what he had seen during the intervening hours. He was amazed at how knowledgeable, articulate and intelligent she was. It was more obvious to him than ever what Darius had seen in her, for he had possessed the same qualities. Tessa had called them "soulmates". Looking at Maura he couldn't help thinking about Tessa -- his own soulmate -- for she had been such an important part of their last visit.

The silence dragged on and when Maura showed no intention of breaking it, he finally said, "I was very surprised to see you last week. Why did you run off so quickly?"

She met his gaze and replied hesitantly, "I knew you'd want to know why I came and I didn't really have an answer for you."

He absorbed that thoughtfully and responded, "Do you have one now?"

She broke away from his gaze for a moment as her hand moved absently to the necklace at her throat.

Looking at it, MacLeod realized with surprise that it was made up of a gold chain intricately woven through two gold rings. No one who wasn't aware of the history would recognize the rings for what they were -- the two wedding bands.

She noticed him looking at the necklace and, smiling gently, she said tentatively, "I've been working as a grade school teacher in a small town about an hour from here, so I get notices from a lot of colleges about continuing education programs. One day a schedule came from here and there was your course. It seemed like a sign that it was time to look you up and thank you for all that you, and Tessa, did for me after Darius died." Pausing again she added sadly, "I also wanted to see if there is anything I can do to help you now. I'm so sorry about Tessa."

MacLeod acknowledged the sentiment with a nod of his head, and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Noting his discomfort, Maura continued in a lighter tone of voice, "Besides, I thought you might need some advice from somebody with a little more experience in the weapons area." She switched to a high-pitched schoolmarm voice to continue, "After all, we don't want you filling the minds of these impressionable youngsters with a lot of nonsense."

MacLeod couldn't help laughing and the smile he got in return relaxed the situation. They talked for several hours about their lives, present and past, including reminiscences about Darius and Tessa. She shared with him her love of music and of teaching and told him some hilarious stories about her experiences with both, including some escapades as a backup singer with a girl group in the 50's. He saw the lighthearted side of her that had only just begun to emerge at the end of her last visit, and he thought wistfully of how much Tessa would have enjoyed seeing her this way. When they finally parted it was close to midnight and MacLeod went home with a sense of peace he hadn't felt in a long time.

-----

The next class day began similarly, but when they were alone Maura finally asked about Horton. Reluctantly MacLeod told her the whole story, including his meeting Joe and the friendship that had blossomed, then almost been destroyed, by Horton's treachery. She was shocked to learn of Horton's "resurrection," and MacLeod was grateful she had not been subjected to a return appearance as well. Despite his reassurances that Horton was definitely dead this time, Maura was silent and withdrawn when she left that night. MacLeod was concerned when he didn't hear from her before the next class and that concern grew when he noticed how distracted she was in class and at the cafe.

At last the rest of the students were gone, and he could finally ask, "What's on your mind?"

"Just some ghosts flitting around haunting me," she replied sadly.

"Are they good ghosts or bad ones?"

"I suppose that depends on your perspective."

MacLeod nodded thoughtfully. He made a quick decision and said, "I know a place that will cheer you up. They have great live music and the owner's a friend of mine, so we'll get the best seats in the house."

Maura paused to consider a moment, then smiled softly and nodded her agreement.

The sign outside said Joe's. Maura tried to calm the butterflies still fluttering around in her stomach. MacLeod had mentioned that Joe Dawson owned a club, so it hadn't been hard to figure out where he intended to take her. It was time to face down one of the ghosts.

The butterflies started up again as they entered, but as soon as she saw the inside she felt better. She had been in many bars and clubs during her various musical careers, but this one had an air of wel­coming that was palpable. Since it was still early, there were only a few patrons at the tables strategically placed about the room. None of them were Immortals, although MacLeod had told her the place was some­­thing of a meeting place for him and his Immortal friends.

The irony of that hit her and a small smile curved her lips -- a club run by a Watcher that catered to Immortals would make the Watchers' jobs much easier. The smile faded at the thought of a certain former Watcher who would have appre­ciated having all of his targets congregated so conveniently together.

MacLeod took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly as he led her to the bar. Behind it was a man in his mid-50's with graying hair that somehow made him look even more distinguished. He had well-defined features that melded into a kindly face with eyes that she knew would sparkle merrily when he laughed. She had steeled herself not to like this man but the goodness and warmth that radiated from him washed away her appre­hension.

Joe had been talking to a patron at the bar when they came in and had only briefly glanced at MacLeod to acknowl­edge his entrance. He turned to greet them as they reached the bar, but when he saw Maura he stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open. She smiled at him as they sat down and MacLeod covered the awkward moment by mak­ing intro­­ductions. "Joe Dawson, I'd like you to meet my friend. . ."

"Maura," Joe finished wonderingly.

MacLeod continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, ". . . Maura Darius". Joe gave him a sharp look at the mention of her last name but MacLeod continued smoothly, "Maura, this is my good friend Joe Dawson."

Maura extended her hand and said warmly, "Mr. Dawson, it's a pleasure to meet you. Duncan's told me a great deal about you."

Joe looked uncomfortably at MacLeod who nodded his head in answer to the unasked question. He looked at the proffered hand dumbly for a minute then, breaking out of his daze, took it and shook it gently. "Please call me Joe. It's a great honor to meet you. I'm sorry it couldn't have been under different circumstances."

She looked at him intently and said gently, "These are the only circumstances we have and we must make the best of them. None of us is responsible for the choices other people made that may have brought us here."

The simple absolution of his guilt by this woman who had been harmed more than anyone else by his brother-in-law's treachery moved Joe deeply. He swallowed a lump in his throat that threatened to choke him and, smiling softly to acknowledge her kind words, he quickly turned to get them some drinks. She saw him brush at his eyes under cover of bustling around the bar and she turned to see MacLeod smiling at her with warm approval.

"Thank you for doing that," he whispered softly.

She shrugged and, looking directly into his eyes, said gently, "It really isn't his fault . . . or yours."

MacLeod paused a moment then nodded his assent. When Joe came back with the drinks, MacLeod raised his glass and said "To Darius."

Joe glanced quickly at Maura and when she smiled approval he gladly joined in the toast. Then Maura raised her glass and, smiling at both of them said, "To friends--old and new." Both men smiled and joined in.

-----

Joe Dawson was tired but happy. It was late and he performed the nightly closing routine automatically. It gave him time to think about the incredible events of this day. When MacLeod had walked up to the bar with Maura, Joe had thought he was going to have a stroke. After Darius' death he had thought of her often, wondering how she had been affected by that terrible loss. Or if she was even alive to know of it. There had been several times when he had opened his mouth to ask MacLeod about her, only to close it again, not willing to break open that old wound again just to satisfy his own curiosity.

As MacLeod's Watcher, Joe had memorized his Chronicles and he knew there was no record that MacLeod had ever met Maura; yet they had walked in together like old friends. Well, Duncan MacLeod was full of surprises, he should have gotten used to that by now.

Joe smiled to himself as he thought about her kindness. He still had night­mares about all the people Horton had killed -- mortal and Immortal alike. He lived with the guilt of having brought his brother-in-law into the Watchers in the first place and then saving him from death the first time he and MacLeod had gone up against each other. So many had died because he hadn't recognized from the beginning that James didn't have the proper emotional makeup to be a Watcher. And then more had died because he hadn't had the courage to kill James himself when it might have made a difference.

So many deaths -- and the worst had been Darius, who had been a shining beacon of hope to the Watchers, a symbol of what Immortality could mean. Many had hoped he would be last, then one of their own had destroyed that dream.

And now the great love of Darius' life was here and Joe wished he knew more about what her life had been like for the last 1500 years. Of course, he had read her Chronicles. The story of Maura and Darius was legendary among the Watchers, especially since the time they had spent together was so well documented. There had been several Immor­tals in their camp, and consequently several Watchers, so very little of what had happened during that time had been lost. One of the more artistic Watchers had even made some drawings that still survived.

After Darius' death Joe had spent a great deal of time re-reading the Chronicles and looking at the pictures, hoping that by memoriz­ing all of it, he could somehow save something of Darius' life. Because James had arranged it so there would be no Quickening, Joe did not even have the comfort of knowing that the essence of that incredible life had been passed on to an Immortal who might one day be the last.

After she left Paris, Maura's Chronicles were spotty. She was one of the few Immortals who had been extremely difficult to track throughout the years. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of Methos who had hidden so successfully under their noses for so long. Her need to hide from Grayson and his minions made her secretive and suspicious when it came to strangers, and she seemed to have a sixth sense about when she was being followed.

If some of the stories he had heard were really true, what she had was much more than a sixth sense. Joe had seen enough strange things in his lifetime not to discount psychic ability and, if even half of the stories were true, this woman had it. Having looked into those hypnotic emerald eyes, he had no problem believing that.

And with Grayson after her, Maura had had very good reason to hide. Grayson's Chronicles indicated he had not taken the events in Paris well and had spent the next few years exorcizing Darius and Maura from his life. No one was allowed to speak of them in his presence at the pain of death. Having walked away with what was left of the army, he could be considered the victor and he took the victor's liberty in rewriting history. He hadn't managed to write Darius out of it completely but he had done his best to exorcize Maura from the official histories as though she had never existed.

But the Watcher histories still existed and her contribution to that time was safe there. And as elusive as she may have been over the last 1500 years, here she had been not three hours ago sitting right in front of him, smiling her sweet smile and telling him it wasn't his fault that one of the wisest, kindest and gentlest Immortals ever to have lived had been killed by his fanatical brother-in-law -- his head taken in the sanctity of a church.

Joe knew he was brooding. His thoughts were running around in circles and he didn't know how to stop them. He was startled out of his reverie by a knock on the door. Having learned his lesson from several painful previous experiences, he went over cautiously and looked through the glass. Surprised to see Duncan MacLeod standing there, he quickly opened the door.

"Mac, what are you doing here. I thought you went home with . . . I mean, when Maura did."

MacLeod caught the slip and smiled ruefully, thinking that sometimes his reputation as a ladies man could be irritating. "We're just friends," he chided. "We took a walk by the river and talked, then I walked her back to her car. I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep, and I figured you'd still be up brooding so I thought I'd come back here."

Joe gave him a sheepish grin and replied, "You know me too well my friend. Come in and have a drink."

When they were both seated with a drink in front of them, Dawson asked the question that had haunted him all evening. "OK, spill your guts. How do you know her?"

MacLeod feigned surprise and said with amusement, "You mean, O great and all knowing Watcher, you don't know?"

Dawson seethed a little then admitted grudgingly, "We can't track you every instant of the day."

MacLeod responded with a smile, "Well, that's a relief. I'd hate to think I'm not even alone in the bathroom."

Dawson laughed, then chided, "Come on, give an old man a break."

MacLeod grinned then turned serious, "She came to see me after Darius died to ask me a favor."

Dawson nodded, "That explains it. We had to keep a lower profile at that time. What was the favor if I may ask?"

MacLeod was silent for such a long time that Dawson thought he wasn't going to answer, so his jaw dropped from shock when the answer finally came. "She was grief stricken about Darius and was having a hard time getting over it, so she asked me to take her head."

"My God," Dawson whispered, all the color leaving his face.

"Don't take it so hard, Joe," MacLeod said gently, "As you can see, we talked her out of it." At Joe's confused look he added, "She and Tessa spent a lot of time together. They became good friends." Joe nodded in sad understanding. "Anyway," MacLeod continued, "as you can see she's fine now, so don't go getting another attack of the guilts on us, OK."

"It's hard not to, Mac. James caused both of you a lot of misery."

MacLeod went silent again as he struggled against the painful memories James Horton's name invoked. He looked assessingly at his friend, trying to decide if it was really necessary to add to his pain. Knowing it was possible Maura might tell him herself, MacLeod decided it was better for him to be forewarned. "There's something else you need to know, Joe," MacLeod said uncomfortably, staring deliberately at the liquid swishing around in his glass instead of at his friend.

From the expression on MacLeod's face and the way he avoided looking at him, Dawson knew it was going to be something very bad, and he braced himself for the worst. "What is it, Mac?"

MacLeod was silent for a moment, struggling with how to say it. Finally he said solemnly, "The day Darius was killed. . .," he stopped for a moment to force back the emotional response those words still roused in him, then continued, "Horton's men had her. He was going to kill her too, but she managed to escape before he got there."

Joe's face had gone chalk white and MacLeod was worried he might really have a heart attack. Tears filled Joe's eyes as he ran a hand nervously across his chin. "That lying, conniving bastard," he finally spat out with a venom that startled MacLeod. "I can't believe I was taken in by him for so long. He was my sister's husband and my niece's father, but I also considered him a friend who was almost like a brother to me. I trusted him with my greatest secret and he twisted it into something so evil. How can she ever forgive me?"

MacLeod responded gently, "Neither of us blames you for what he did. Once you found out what he was really doing, you did your best to stop him; and you were there to help me when it really mattered. Besides, Maura has a gift for seeing people for what they really are, and for some reason she genuinely seems to like you." His voice took on a teasing note as he added, "She told me she thinks you're a good person, although personally I don't know where she'd get that idea."

Joe smiled weakly at the joke, but he was still deeply troubled by what MacLeod had told him. This was definitely going to be a sleepless night.

MacLeod was silent for a few minutes then he said solemnly, "There's one more thing, Joe. I need to ask you a favor."

"Well, as long as it doesn't involve taking anybody's head, you know I'll do anything I can for you, Mac," Dawson responded grimly.

MacLeod smiled briefly at the feeble joke, then continued, "Don't talk about Maura in your Watcher report. I don't want them to know that she's here. She had to spend the last 1500 years looking over her shoulder because of Grayson. After everything she's been through the last few years, she deserves some peace."

Dawson was quiet for a few minutes. "I was thinking about that right before you got here. I've got a responsibility as a Watcher to keep the Chronicles as faithfully as possible. In spite of everything that's happened the last couple of years, I still believe that what we're doing is important and worthwhile."

Thunderclouds were forming in MacLeod's eyes and Dawson hurried to continue, "But I don't see how it makes any difference one way or another that Maura just happened to be in my place tonight. I mean, it's not like your showing up with another girl on your arm is so unusual I'm going to spend pages on it -- unless of course Amanda happened to walk in at the same time. I'd have no choice but to report the fireworks that would cause."

MacLeod relaxed visibly and even smiled at the image Joe had con­jured up. He would definitely have to talk to Amanda before something like that could happen. But he needed a little more from Joe than that. "I'd like to be able to bring her back again, Joe. Is that going to be a problem for you?"

Dawson looked troubled for a minute, then shook his head determinedly and answered firmly, "No, it's not. After what Horton put her through, keeping quiet is the very least I can do for her. In any event, she hasn't been seen in so long that the powers that be have pretty much decided she's dead anyway. Who am I to argue with them?"

At MacLeod's look of relief, Joe continued thoughtfully, "Besides, I'd really like to get to know her better myself. I regret that I never got to meet Darius. Their story is legendary among the Watchers and it's not often you get to meet a living legend."

The two men sat talking for several more hours and the sun was just struggling over the horizon when they finally left the bar. As the rays of golden light transformed the otherwise dingy street, Joe Dawson felt his melancholy mood drain away and his spirits lift. Maura was alive, and as long as she lived Darius was not really gone, just as Tessa still lived in MacLeod, Alexa lived in Methos and Lauren lived in him. With that thought a large part of the guilt he had carried since Darius' death seemed to dissolve in the warmth of the golden rays of light. Glancing at his friend, who was also gazing appreciatively at the glorious sunrise, Dawson couldn't help thinking to himself, If I have anything to say about it, all of them will live on for a very long time.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

DEDICATION

This story is dedicated to the memory of Werner Stocker who created in Darius an unforgettable character of quiet strength, nobility and courage. Duncan MacLeod may be the heart of the Highlander universe, but Darius will always be its soul. Although he was only with the show for one season, his influence is felt through the following five seasons and he is sorely missed by all of us. May both the man and the character rest in peace forever, perhaps on a hillside overlooking a valley bursting with springtime flowers, forever free of the cares of this mortal world.