"Joe, have you heard anything from Methos? I haven't seen him since that morning Amanda and I found him running through the waterfront half nude and that was weeks ago," MacLeod asked his Watcher friend. He wasn't too worried about the oldest immortal. He knew his friend's penchant for being a loner and accepted it. Mac knew that Methos would eventually appear wherever there was beer.

       "Yeah, Mac," Joe said without meeting his friend's eyes. Suddenly it seemed really important to scrub an invisible spot off the counter top. "I've seen him."

       "Really?" MacLeod asked curiously. "Where?"

       "Uh, here," Joe said sheepishly. He was scrubbing the paint right off the bar.

       "He's been here and you haven't said anything?" MacLeod was a little ticked.

       Joe didn't answer; he stopped scrubbing and looked at the floor.

       "Joe?" MacLeod queried, now more worried than curious.

       A battle was going on between what Joe wanted to say and what he knew could embarrass Methos. The battle was short. He saw that MacLeod's concern was obvious and he really needed help with this one.

       "Methos has been in here every night for two weeks, but it hasn't been for talking purposes," Joe said with regret. "He's been drinking heavily and not beer either."

       "No beer? Must be serious," MacLeod said sarcastically.

       "Hey, it is serious. I don't really know what to do with him, Mac. He's not acting like himself and he's been getting belligerent. Last night he picked a fight with the drummer we had here. If we hadn't gotten the two of them calmed down someone might've lost his head and I think we both know who's better with a sword, even drunk. I had to kick him out, Mac. Do you know what it feels like to have to throw a 5000-year-old man out of your bar? Damned weird if you ask me," Joe said emphatically.

       Now Duncan was truly worried and not just a little confused. First his friend was running around outside in his underwear and now he was starting bar brawls. What was going on?

       "Plus Mac, I don't think he's been sleeping," Joe said feeling somewhat relieved at having gotten his concerns off his chest.

       Duncan looked Joe directly in the eyes and, seeing his anxiety, knew that he had to find out what was going on. He set his jaw and without a word headed out the door toward his troubled friend's apartment.

       Arriving at Methos' flat Duncan could already sense that there was no immortal home. However, he couldn't overcome the urge to sneak a peek in through the windows. What he saw made him all the more concerned. The oldest immortal's normally spotless living quarters were strewn with beer cans and liquor bottles. Evidently the binge didn't stop at Joe's. 'What's he trying to do, drink himself to death?' thought Mac, snorting at the irony. He dialed Joe on his cell phone.

       "It's me Joe, nobody's home here. Could you send out some feelers for me?" Duncan asked, unable to hide his uneasiness. "Find him and call me back at my place."

       He knew it would be a long wait if Methos didn't want to be found. He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice a petite woman in a long navy trench coat watching him drive away. The woman stayed where she was for another ten minutes, all of her senses working overtime, just to make sure that no one else was around before crossing the street to Methos' door. Dusk was gathering as she pulled a lock picking kit from her pocket. She deftly inserted the utensil and within seconds had the door open. She looked around one more time then entered the cluttered flat. She didn't bother with lights as there was still enough light coming in through the blinds to see the mess in front of her. Her eyebrows were knit together with concern as she made her way through the bottles. Whiskey, Vodka, Jack Daniel's, it was like a tornado had hit a liquor store.

       "This couldn't possibly be his place. I've gotten it wrong," she said, her shoulders sagging with disappointment. "He wouldn't live like this."

       As she continued through the apartment she took note of the decorating. There were sculptures and paintings from all eras yet they seemed to fit together perfectly. There were ancient books lining the walls. As she rounded a corner into what was obviously the study she noticed a familiar book closed on the desk; a large, leather-bound journal. She touched the fragile binding reverently then gently opened to the first page. Tears formed in her eyes when she recognized the handwriting and the long forgotten language it was written in. Long minutes passed as her thoughts drifted into the past. She gave her head a shake and refocused on the present. 'This *is* his place,' she thought with relief. Closing the book she looked around again still not believing that he could live this way. She would wait for him. She took off her coat and her auburn, braided hair fell to the floor. She was wearing faded, loose-fitting blue jeans and an oversized off-white wool sweater. The sword halfway hidden in the folds of her coat glowed with unnatural light. She set the coat and sword down gently on the table and began working.

       Forty-five minutes later the floor was cleared and mopped and the stranger was working on the dishes. She hummed songs from her youth as she worked. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and yet was light enough to be dismissed as coming from outside the apartment. Hours later a light could be seen coming from the study where the woman sat poring over the journal. Still more hours later the light was off and she drifted to sleep with her head on her arms.

       Amanda was having a hard time believing what she was hearing about Methos. Richie just looked thoughtful. Duncan had just finished telling them about his conversation with Joe and his subsequent discovery at Methos' flat.

       "5000 years old and he's picking fights with mortals? No way," she said incredulously. She tried to look somber, but the picture of this particularly old, powerful immortal falling down drunk was more amusing than distressing. However, looking at the other faces in the room Amanda realized that this was not the time for giggling. Why was it that she was always the only one in the room who found any humor in the situation?

       "Weird," was Richie's only comment. From his standpoint Methos was sort of an enigma anyway. Not that Richie didn't like him--it's just that he didn't seem to take the game seriously. However he did understand that this situation was serious. Methos' Quickening was highly sought and if someone chose to take advantage of his weakness at the moment it could all be over for his friend.

       Duncan was just sitting there with his chin on his folded arms. He was now lost in thought and completely silent.

       After a minute had slowly ticked by Richie interrupted Mac's brooding.

       "So do you want us to help you search for him?"

       "Yeah, but who knows what kind of shape he's in right now so be careful," MacLeod said soberly.

       They all agreed to meet back in two hours and were about to head out the door when they felt the buzz of another immortal near by. All three looked at each other and then Amanda went to the window. It was too dark out now to see if anyone was out there. A loud bumping noise on the step told them that the mysterious immortal was having trouble. There was a furious banging on the front door.

       "I'm 'ere for Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod!" a voice barked. "Come out 'ere and fight me if you 'ave the gutsh, you plaid pretty-boy!" The words were run together and slurred, making it hard to understand, but they knew whose voice it was.

       Amanda and Richie looked at Duncan who was looking disgusted.

       "Methos," MacLeod said flatly and set his jaw. He walked with deliberation toward the door, not eager for the confrontation to follow. He picked up his sword right before opening the door.

       Methos' sword came through the door first. Duncan easily deflected the inebriated immortal's first lunge, but the barrage that followed was surprisingly forceful. Amanda and Richie stepped backwards and watched with concern for both their friends. Methos was fighting like he really wanted MacLeod's head and Duncan was fighting like he really wasn't going to hand it over. The battle took only a few short minutes, but to the onlookers it seemed much longer before MacLeod finally disarmed his ancient friend. Standing there with his sword to Methos' neck the Highlander was a little confused as to how to proceed.

       "Take it, damn you," Methos spat at him through racking breaths.

       "I won't," an equally winded Duncan stated firmly.

       "You won, you deserve it," Methos said firmly. "I want you to take it."

       "No!" MacLeod practically shouted in frustration.

       "DO IT!" Methos shouted back, then softly he pleaded, "Please, I can't take this anymore." Then he passed out.

       Everyone standing around just stared in naked confusion. Hot tears coursed down Amanda's face as she sobbed into her hands in realization of how tortured her friend was. Richie shook his head in amazement and put his arm around Amanda's shoulders.

       "Help me get him to the couch," Duncan said putting his sword away.

       Despite his pumping adrenaline Duncan gently lifted the oldest immortal's shoulders and Richie took his feet. They laid him gingerly on the couch and tried to make him comfortable. Amanda wet a cloth with water and laid it over Methos' forehead. She sat for a long time holding his hand between hers and watching him carefully. Duncan took a seat across the room where he could keep an eye on him, but not too close, and poured himself a double of whatever liquid was closest at hand.

       "Is it just me or does he look, you know, old?" Richie tilted his head to the side and spoke in hushed tones.

       "He looks exhausted. It'd probably be easier to just kill him so he could regenerate," Amanda said as she removed a lock of hair from his clammy forehead. "He smells like booze--and like he hasn't showered in weeks."

       "Let him sleep," was all Duncan could say. He was just as worried as his friends were.

       Amanda crossed the room to Duncan and put her arms around his shoulders. He needed the comfort as much as she did.

       "Do you want me to stick around, Mac?" Richie asked.

       "It's okay Rich," Duncan replied wearily. "We'll be okay. Thanks for being here."

       "If you need anything call or I'll call you in the morning," Richie said, and was gone.

       Duncan and Amanda took the overstuffed chairs facing their sleeping friend and eventually both drifted off to sleep themselves.

       Methos slept peacefully and dreamlessly through the night and well into the morning and then awoke to pain everywhere. His head hurt from booze, his arms hurt from the strenuous fight and his back hurt from spending the night on a couch. Unsteadily he sat up and looked around. He was in MacLeod's home. How he had gotten here was beyond him.

       "Good morning Old-Timer," MacLeod said without a smile.

       "How are you feeling this morning Methos?" Amanda inquired as she stepped into to room with wet hair and wearing Duncan's bathrobe. She walked over near him wanting to give him a hug, but not sure how receptive he would be.

       "Awful," the 5000 year-old growled. "How did I get here?"

       "Through the door," Mac said, not making it any easier.

       "Funny."

       "Do you remember last night at all?" Amanda asked with her eyes averted.

       "At this point I'm not sure I remember my own name," Methos stated sarcastically and stood up cautiously. His head was about to explode. "I'm not really in the mood for 20 questions right now if you don't mind."

       "Actually I do mind," Mac said with irritation. "You practically broke my door down last night and then proceeded to try and take my head." He strode up to Methos and shoved him back onto the couch. "So we're going to have a question-and-answer session whether you like it or not."

       "What if I don't want to play?" Methos said dangerously.

       "Then I'll take your head like you begged to do last night," MacLeod said, his voice ringing with truth.

       Methos blinked in disbelief and then it all came back to him. "I'm sorry," he said meekly and his head sagged to his chest. It was the first time he'd been anywhere near sober in two weeks and now he was dealing with the results of his binge. Of course it was also the first real sleep he'd had in two weeks as well. His head wasn't entirely clear, but at least it wasn't swimming in alcohol. He really wanted a beer, Amanda handed him coffee instead. They both sat expectantly staring at him.

       "Spill it," MacLeod said without preamble. "What's been going on with you lately? You look like you haven't slept since we saw you last and your flat looks like a liquor store is giving out your address as a recycling location"

       A deep sigh escaped the old immortal's lips as he let the words spill out in relief. He explained about the initial dream and the song that had sent him out in his underwear. He told about how he hadn't been able to sleep for two weeks without having the same dream and hearing the song everywhere he went. And he told them about Kiris.

       "Methos, who is Kiris and what was she to you?" Amanda inquired gently.

       "My teacher," Methos said almost reverently and tears appeared in his tired eyes, "and friend," then added in a whisper, "and my first love."

       Amanda and Duncan looked at each other with understanding. Even for an immortal the first love is always the most memorable.

       "What happened to her?" Duncan asked.

       "To tell you the truth I don't really know," Methos said. "I haven't seen her since she left me after I took my first head." He rubbed his face in his hands.

       "Could she still be alive?" Amanda asked hopefully.

       "I don't know. If she is than I'm not the oldest living immortal," Methos almost smiled, but his head ached too badly. "I guess I've just assumed that she's been dead for a long time." The coffee was extremely strong and warming. He was tired though, and he needed a shower.

       "Maybe Joe would be able to help," Amanda said.

       "Remember I was with the Watchers too and I never heard anything about her," Methos said with his eyes closed. 'Of course I wasn't looking for her either,' he thought to himself. He got up and walked toward the door.

       "I'm tired and filthy and I'm going home."

       Amanda walked to him and hugged him fiercely. When she pulled back she looked directly into his tired and watery eyes, "If you need to talk…"

       "I'll call," he promised and was gone.

       She stood there watching the door for a minute after the oldest immortal was gone.

       "Do you think he's going to be okay?" she queried.

       "Yeah, but I'm going to call Joe and ask him to search for Kiris," MacLeod said with determination. He was worried about Methos and didn't even bother trying to hide it.

       Back at his flat Methos stepped into the shower to wash off the last few days' grime. It was just after noon when he entered his bedroom. Instead of immediately climbing between the sheets he walked to the far side of the bed and knelt down. His hands searched blindly for something under the bed frame and finally found it. He set a wooden box on his mattress and lifted the lid. There in the box lay a long braid of auburn hair wrapped in plastic and underneath was a parchment letter. Methos gingerly held the braid in his hands for a moment before bringing it up to his cheek. He closed his eyes and remembered when he had found it.

       The year was 3009 BC and the young immortal was fighting for his life. In the distance his teacher watched anxiously yet confident of his ability to defeat his opponent. Sparks flew as their blades met over and over again. Blood dripped down his shoulder, but Methos was concentrating too hard to notice the pain from the wound Chalmet had inflicted. The area they were fighting in was thick with brush that made footwork difficult. Still they fought. Methos advanced again forcing his opponent to retreat quickly. Chalmet's ankle caught an exposed root and he went down hard. Methos struck quickly and a moment later stood staring at his handiwork. When the Quickening hit him he fell down on all fours to ride it out. Kiris watched as he experienced the pain and pleasure of this first time. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the charge in the air around her. Methos felt like exploding as the current flowed through him. Then as quickly as it had started it ended and he collapsed on the ground. Kiris walked slowly toward him as he sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. He was shivering. She knelt down in back of him and wrapped her arms around his midriff.

       "Are you okay?" she asked softly in his ear.

       "I think so," he said in a tiny, far away voice. "I'm bleeding," he stated as he inspected his wounds. His tunic was a mess.

       "You'll be fine in a few minutes," she said. She stared at him intensely for a moment. "How do you feel?"

       "A little shaky," he admitted.

       "This too shall pass," she said with a smile and held him tighter. They sat like that for a long time, not speaking. His breathing returned to normal and she felt him relax against her. He looked over in the direction of the dead immortal's body. Methos looked around and saw the damage done to the trees from the Quickening. He chuckled absently--no wonder it had stung a little.

       "What happens to him?" he asked curiously.

       "He'll get buried," she said "You need some rest now."

       "Okay," he said not arguing at all. They got up and walked back to the camp. He pulled his blanket closer to the fire and then collapsed. She made sure that he was settled and then moved away.

       "I'll go take care of him now," she said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

       "Will you come back?" he asked softly. She turned to look as him, but he couldn't see her face. He thought he saw her eyes glistening, maybe with tears.

       "I'll be back in a few minutes," she chided gently. "Sleep now, Methos, you need rest." She walked away with her long hair swaying softly around her ankles. His eyes were already shut tight and soon he was fast asleep.

       The morning song of the birds awoke him the next morning. Methos thought about what had happened the night before. It seemed like it had happened long ago and he wondered why Kiris had let him sleep so long. As he opened his eyes and sat up he felt something fall from his chest. Looking down he discovered a long braid of hair. Kiris’ hair. Something in him started to panic. He grabbed the braid and searched the small camp and then went to the grove where the fight had taken place the night before. A shallow grave was all that was left of Chalmet and on top of the grave lay a piece of parchment. In his heart Methos already knew what it had to say. Kiris had told him that she would make sure that he had the proper training to survive in the Game. She had never said she would stay after that. He had proved himself last night and now there was nothing left for her to teach him. He knew she was right, but as he read the letter though he felt only the pain of loss. An hour later the fire was out and the camp deserted. The braid and letter were safely rolled up in his blanket and Methos, with sword in hand, started on the long journey to the next town.

       He reread the letter before putting it back in the bottom of the box. He shut the lid after replacing the fragile braid. Still kneeling beside his bed Methos put his forehead down on the rim of the box remembering the ache he had felt that morning when he realized that she was gone. How could the pain still be so real after so long?

       "Kiris," he moaned hoarsely, willing her to hear him.

       After replacing the box under his bed he slipped between his covers and drifted off to sleep within seconds. Something struck him as odd right before he lost consciousness; the sheets were crisp with freshness. It didn't matter though; he was too far gone. As his breathing became slow and deep two eyes peered around the door frame to his office.

       The woman's heartbeat was beginning to get back to normal. She had pressure marks on her cheek from the arm she had fallen asleep on. She had been awakened by the buzz of another immortal approaching and hadn't had time to find a place to hide. But he hadn't felt her and within a few minutes was showered and fast asleep. She had heard him say something, but was too far out of earshot to be sure. After he was asleep she watched him from the doorway for a long time and then took her place in the chair next to his bed. She was just feet away from him. How long had it been since she'd been this close to him? Too long, but she could wait until he was rested. She slipped her shoes off and moved to the floor. Then using the seat of the chair to rest her head the woman kept watch for a while, but eventually succumbed to sleep.

       Joe hung up from his conversation with Mac. Nothing thrilled a Watcher more than the prospect of an unheard of immortal, especially one that would be older than Methos if she were still alive. He was doubtful that she was still alive, but considering that Methos himself had stayed relatively anonymous for nearly 5000 years it was a possibility.

       He went straight to his computer and did a search through the Watcher files for any mention of a woman named Kiris. He tried every spelling he could think of and then started searching for any female immortal with a 'K' name. Later he moved on to unknown immortals and unclaimed kills. There were several unknown women and many heads that had been taken anonymously over the years. To search them all could take days for one person, but Joe really didn't want to bring anyone else it on this one. He would quit after a few hours and go to the bar to mingle. His thoughts though were preoccupied with how he could get more information on this mysterious woman who was the teacher of the oldest known immortal living. He felt a little guilty that he wasn't more concerned about his friend Adam Pierson a.k.a Methos and was instead looking out of selfishness, but consoled himself with the fact that if he found Kiris, Methos would also be glad.

       Late in the day Methos woke out of a very deep and still dreamless sleep. He rolled over onto his back without opening his eyes. His head had finally cleared, but he wasn't prepared to rejoin the world yet. He thought of his conversation with Amanda and MacLeod that morning. He didn't know if it felt good to finally talk about Kiris or if he should kick himself for saying anything about her. He'd never told anyone about her, why now? The dreams were the most obvious reason. Maybe his subconscious was finally punishing him for burying her memory for so long. He opened his eyes and looked around.

       That's when he spotted the small person resting on the chair beside his bed. He rolled over to the side of the bed for a closer look and propped himself up on his arms. The woman stirred and turned her face toward him. Her eyes opened slowly and she found him staring at her. He knew exactly who she was and that he was obviously dreaming again. But it felt so real and this was a totally new dream.

       "Kiris?" he croaked incredulously.

       She smiled in confirmation. He slid out of bed to sit on the floor with his back against the mattress. Their feet were only inches apart, but they didn't touch. She sat up straight and looked directly in his eyes.

       "Am I dreaming again?" he asked cautiously in ancient Greek.

       She shook her head slightly.

       "Are you really here?" he asked not knowing what to say through the cascade of emotions.

       She nodded again.

       "I don't believe it," he said with conviction.

       She closed her eyes and sighed. On the outside of his mind he felt a tickling as she let him feel her presence. His eyes widened as the reality hit him. Suddenly he couldn't catch his breath.

       "Hi," she said, in English. He knew that voice so well. He inhaled viciously.

       "Hi?" he mimicked incredulous. "I haven't seen or even heard of you for 5000 years and all you have to say is 'hi?'"

       "Well, if I had started with 'goodbye' the conversation would be over by now and I don't think either of us wants that," she said matter-of-factly. He noticed that her hair was braided and that he couldn't see the end of it.

       "How did you get in?"

       "I picked the lock," she answered slightly embarrassed.

       He turned his head. Unsure of what to say neither of them spoke for long minutes. She slid her feet forward a few inches so that their toes were touching. He shut his eyes. He didn't want to know that she was real. If she was real then he had to accept that she hadn't contacted him in 5000 years. Part of him wanted to punish her for letting him think she was dead for so long, but the other half couldn't stand the thought of being without her again. Too much emotion flooded his brain so that he couldn't think. He felt her move and opened his eyes to find her kneeling in front of him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

       "I've missed you Methos," she said in his native language and drew her fingertips down his cheek.

       He sighed and gave in. Almost without his knowledge he put his arms around her waist and buried his head in her neck. They held each other for a long time before moving to his couch. Sitting on opposite ends, facing each other, they began the long process of catching up on the last 5000 years.

       When dawn came they made breakfast together and continued their respective histories. Anyone listening would've had a hard time identifying their language, but their communication was perfect. Later she sat in a chair opposite him in the study as he read to her excerpts from his journal. Her legs rested on the arm of his chair and he fingered the end of her braid as he read. She watched his mouth with a smile as he spoke and when he caught her staring she blushed slightly, but offered no apology. He smiled for the first time in weeks and kept right on reading.

       Joe was giving a report to MacLeod over the phone. The bar was full and loud. He'd searched for 48 hours and had finally come to the conclusion that Kiris no longer existed. He was as disappointed as Mac was.

       "Hey Joe," the bartender yelled over the din, "your friend Adam is here."

       Joe looked toward the tables and saw Methos pushing in the chair for his young, female companion.

       "Mac," Joe whispered loudly into the receiver, "he's here. With a woman fitting the description he gave you."

       "Is she immortal?" MacLeod asked without thinking.

       "Not one that I've ever seen," Joe said, "and I can't exactly tell the way you can."

       "How does she look?" Mac asked with curiosity.

       "Young," Joe said honestly. 'Silly question,' he thought, but didn't say it out loud.

       "We'll be right there," Mac said and hung up.

       Joe was too curious to wait for the Highlander. He strode over to the table. Methos saw him coming and waved him over.

       "Joe," the ancient immortal said "let me introduce you to an old friend."

       Joe turned to the woman as Methos said "Joe Dawson this is…"

       "Eve. Eve St. Just," she interrupted before Methos could give away her real name and shook Joe's hand. "It's nice to meet you Joe." She spoke in low tones and with a slight accent that sent chills down his spine.

       "The pleasure is definitely all mine," Joe said and gave her his most charming smile. He had taken notice of how she had interrupted Methos before he could say her name.

       "Joe, I have to apologize for the other night," Methos said humbly, "I wasn't exactly myself."

       "No permanent damage, buddy," Joe said with a smile, but he wasn't really paying attention to Methos. He was instead staring blatantly at Kiris.

       Methos patted Joe on the back and chided him in a mock whisper, "Have a seat Joe and you might want to wipe that drool off your chin. It's unbecoming." Kiris looked at the floor and smiled. The band changed tunes to a slower rhythm as Joe sat down opposite the happy couple. He still couldn't take his eyes off her. Methos sat there highly amused.

       "So Eve, how long have you known Adam?" Joe asked innocently.

       "About half my life," Eve replied honestly.

       "How long has it been since you've *seen* each other?" Joe asked desperate for more information.

       Before she could answer him one of Joe's regular customers came up and interrupted them. While Joe talked with his customer Kiris looked at Methos and mouthed 'Adam?' incredulously. 'Eve?' he mouthed back. She bit her lip not to laugh out loud. Just then the buzz of another immortal hit them both. Duncan, Amanda and Richie came walking in.

       "Friends of yours?" Kiris asked cautiously and slid her hand closer to her sword hilt.

       "Yes, good people," Methos said quietly.

       The trio approached the small and suddenly crowded table.

       "Can we sit with you?" Amanda asked sweetly.

       "By all means," Methos replied even more sweetly.

       Now there were a total of four people staring at Kiris in open curiosity. Knowing that Joe would be recording every word, Methos made the decision not to tell any of them that she was an immortal. They could be properly introduced later, for now he introduced her as Eve. He was anxious for them to know her, but he was a patient man. Everyone noticed the special look he had in his eyes when he made introductions.

       "Eve" was having a hard time not staring at Richie as he sat down beside her. She couldn't believe how young he was. It had been a long time since she had been introduced to such a new immortal. She was fascinated.

       "So Richie, tell me what you do," she said suddenly and leaned forward on the table.

       Richie was so taken aback that he blushed bright red. When he regained his composure he was talking a mile a minute.

       "I race motorcycles!" he said a little too enthusiastically. He was really glad for the dim lighting.

       "Wow, that's kind of dangerous isn't it?" she asked with genuine interest.

       "A little, but I'm pretty careful," he said proudly.

       "I can tell you're obsessed with it, aren't you?" she queried.

       He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

       She asked competitions he had been in. He couldn't believe she was at all interested. Now he was completely absorbed. Methos was amused. She could charm the horns off Satan.

       "I won a competition, but had a bad accident and had to leave," he said with regret.

       "I know about accidents," she said knowingly. She could definitely identify with having to leave a place because everyone thought you'd died.

       The conversation moved on to other topics and everyone joined in. When the band really got going they all went back to Methos' flat to get out of the noise. They had all been told that Kiris was staying in Methos’ spare bedroom. Evidently he didn’t want her out of his sight. She served drinks to everyone and they sat around the dining room table. Methos discreetly told Joe to turn off his tape recorder. Joe just smiled innocently and then conceded. It would be enough to have the knowledge. Duncan finally said what they were all thinking.

       "Adam and Eve, huh? Cute."

       "Fitting don't you think?" Kiris looking straight into his eyes and everyone knew the truth.

       "So you are Kiris," Amanda said with awe.

       The older woman smiled at her new acquaintance. No one knew quite what to say. The silence dragged on, but it didn't seem to bother her.

       "So, you're older than Methos?" Joe asked openly. "You were his teacher?"

       "Yes," she said plainly.

       "But you look so young," Richie said innocently.

       "Thank you," she said brightly and looked pleased. "Would you like to know how old I am?"

       When Richie nodded Kiris replied "I was born at the end of the last Ice Age over 10,000 years ago in the year 8059 BC. The island now referred to as Atlantis was where I was born and raised." 'No point in beating around the bush,' she figured to herself.

       Joe was floored. Amanda’s jaw dropped. Duncan was skeptical.

       "Doesn't it seem a little impossible that no one has ever heard of you?" he asked with conviction.

       "It's easy to hide when no one is looking for you, Duncan," she replied honestly and looked at Joe with a smile, "and it's harder to spot my kind anyway."

       "Your kind?" Richie asked, confused. "Aren’t we all immortals?"

       "We are all immortals, yes," Kiris began, "but my race is different in many ways. I'm from the original line called the Prime.

       "The Prime were the very first of the immortals, the true ancients. Over time the race has changed and lost parts of its former power. For example: I am able to control whether or not other immortals of the newer race can feel me coming. However, another of my race would be able to feel me just the same as you can feel each other. Also I can't die unless my Quickening is taken by another immortal of either race meaning that, even if decapitated, a Prime cannot be killed by a mortal."

       "How many of you are left?" Joe asked.

       "Including me?" Kiris asked with a smile.

       "Yes," He said a little impatiently.

       "One," Kiris replied softly.

       "Must be lonely," Amanda said with sympathy.

       Kiris bowed her head.

       "So you're the last of the Prime?" Amanda asked

       "Yes," Kiris replied, "I killed the only other over 1000 years ago and got out of the Game."

       "You mean you haven't taken a head since that time?" Duncan asked in amazement.

       Kiris nodded. There was an awkward silence, which was broken by Methos.

       "How’s your sword?" Methos asked acidly.

       Kiris laughed and got up to fetch it. The sword she laid on the table was like nothing anyone had ever seen. The hilt and the blade looked like they had been made of a single piece of smoky blue-gray crystal. Along the blade ancient runes were carved. Upon closer inspection one could see that the runes were actually along the inside of the blade. It glowed ominously. Duncan touched the tip, but immediately withdrew his hand in pain. Blood dripped from his finger. The blade was incredibly sharp. His touch had confirmed that it was actually made of metal not crystal as it appeared.

       "Would you mind if I tried it out?" Richie asked meekly.

       "I don't mind," Kiris replied, "although she might." She glanced at Methos who gave her a conspiratorial smile and raised his eyebrows as he lifted his glass to his lips.

       Richie reached over to the sword and grabbing the hilt tried to lift it. It didn't move at all and Richie ended up pulling himself into an awkward position across the table. He didn't quite know what to make of it so he tried again this time with both hands. The sword would not budge. It was as if it were part of the table. Richie frowned.

       "Heavy sucker," he said, bemused. "What’s up with that?"

       "My sword is very loyal," Kiris replied. "She knows her owner and doesn't respond well to others. Her name is T'sigh."

       "Your sword has a name?" Amanda asked amusedly.

       "That sword has a *life* of it's own," Methos said a little disgusted. "It took me 200 years of sucking up just to get it to let me lift it a few inches off the ground." Kiris chuckled with remembrance.

       "They have quite a history," Kiris said amused. "He’s used some amazingly colorful phrases to describe her."

       "My vocabulary has expanded since then," Methos said dryly.

       "It’s amazing," Duncan said in awe. "What type of metal is that? Is it as old as you are? Where did it come from?"

       "It was forged for me by my teacher just after I became immortal," Kiris explained. "The metal was exclusive to Atlantis. I’ve never seen it anywhere else. Everything there was made of this metal. It’s certainly held up through the years."

       "It’s—she’s beautiful," Amanda said admiringly.

       "Watch this," Kiris said proudly. She moved her chair away from the table and held out her hand. "T’sigh!" she commanded. Instantly the sword responded. It moved like the wind and was in her hand faster than anyone’s eyes could follow it.

       "It’s like a pet!" Richie exclaimed. "Cool."

       "Much the same," Kiris said softly smiling, "very loyal and quite stubborn. Methos is the only other one she will respond to."

       Methos snorted and shook his head.

       "So have you actually been haunting Methos for the last few weeks?" Joe asked.

       "Haunting?" Kiris asked in confusion looking at Methos for an explaination.

       He explained about the song and the dreams. Kiris looked at him with wide eyes.

       "I don’t know anything about the dreams," Kiris said, "but I sing all the time. I didn’t realize you could hear it." Then she looked sheepish, "I kind of hoped you could, but I didn’t mean to cause you to lose sleep. I’m really sorry. I just…wanted to find you."

       "I’m glad you did," Methos said, bringing her hand to his lips.

       The conversation continued until deep in the night before the group finally disbanded. Kiris knew about the Watchers already, but had never met one. She had as many questions for Joe as he did for her. The women, having become fast friends, made a date to work out and spar together the next afternoon. After the others left Methos turned to Kiris.

       "So, why were you so anxious to find me? Why are you really here?"

       Kiris didn’t look at him. She started collecting glasses and loading them into the dishwasher. After a minute she sighed deeply and said just one word.

       "Cassandra."

       Cassandra spit on her blade and continued sharpening. She had a wild look in her eye that made her more terrifying than beautiful. Her hair was dull with grime and pulled back severely in a sloppy ponytail.

       "Soon," she cooed lovingly, "soon you’ll get to sail through her neck. Be patient. We still have one more before Kiris."

       She ran her finger down the blade and was rewarded with sharp pain. She licked the blood off as her finger healed instantly.

       "Perfect," she whispered and giggled maniacally. Her eyes were vacant and the smile she wore held no warmth. She grabbed her coat and headed out the door into the night.