After a discussion about famous Immortals, Cassandra tells her story about her time with Methos to Adam, for the official Watcher record. Later, while on the road again, Eadgils finally corners Methos and gets the answers to some of his questions about the eldest's relationship with Sue. Adam tells more than expected, and Sue will learn something about herself which will shake her identity to it's very soul.

Act II
Road Trip

Chapter Nineteen
On The Road To Yellow, By Another Name
by Dana Short

Adam had regained his composure by the time Sally joined the rest of the group inside the Motor Home. They decided to eat breakfast on down the road, and with Patrick driving the first shift, Adam taking Shotgun, Eadgils on the couch, and Cassandra once more sitting at the table, Sally took the opposite side of the table, and stretched out as well.

"So, Cassandra, who would you say is the most famous Immortal you ever met?" Sally asked, "Would it be Elvis?"

"I don't think so. He was famous, no doubt about that, but I think the most famous would probably be the one the most people knew was Immortal." Cassandra replied, her eyes seeing beyond the wall opposite her, and into the past somewhere.

"I wasn't aware there were any Immortals who were famous for being Immortal." Eadgils replied from his position opposite Cassandra.

"What do you mean?" asked Adam swinging his seat around to face the interior instead of the road. "I can think of several generally known Immortals. Achilles for one."

"Achilles?" asked Sally, "Homer's Achilles?"

"The very same one. One of the earliest recorded accounts of a known Immortal on record." Adam replied.

"I thought he was a Greek God or something." Patrick asked.

"Greek, no. He predated the Greeks by several thousand years. No Achilles was an Ionian Warrior." Adam replied

"I thought Achilles was only vulnerable on the heal? Aren't all Immortals vulnerable only in the neck?" Patrick asked.

"That was what he told the Greeks, so that the Trojans would waste their time shooting and hacking at his feet, about as far away from his neck as he could get them. Pretty clever if you think about it." Adam explained.

"Wow. So how did he die?" Patrick asked.

"The Trojans hired a Minoan Immortal who was a mercenary into their army, by the name of Paris. He killed Achilles, cutting off his head, and later claimed he brought him down with an arrow to the heal, figuring that if people didn't know how to kill Immortals, it was safer for him." Adam replied.

"That's all well and good," Sally interrupted, "But I was askin' Cassandra 'bout the moast famous n'mortal she knew."

"I'd say it was James. I met him during my visit to the U.S. in 1833 to see Duncan." Cassandra replied finally.

"Who was James?" Sally asked, intrigued.

Eadgils's ears pricked up at the mention of the name and date. "Bowie?" he asked.

Cassandra nodded. "Yes. I met him in New Orleans. I didn't like the man. It was not well known, but he was a student of Jean LaFitte the pirate. They smuggled slaves. He told me he took his first head in 1831."

"Who was this James Bowie, how was he famous?" Sally asked confused.

Eadgils in a silent explanation fished the Bowie knife out of the holster on his back, producing the blade as if from nowhere, and handing it to Sally. "This is known as a Bowie Knife. Legend has it that James Bowie saw a rock fall from the sky one day, and used it to make his knife. He called it a Bowie Knife. Truth is his brother made it, James was useless at metal smithing. Always burning himself and dropping things."

Sally examined the carbon fiber blade and plastic handle with rubber grips. "This is nae metal, 'tis some sort o' plastic, or glass!" she exclaimed.

"That one is, yes. I like to carry it because the size and weight make it easy to conceal, but it is big and heavy enough to be useful as a weapon if I get forced into a fight. And since there is no metal in it, it doesn't set off metal detectors." Eadgils explained.

Sally looked Adam in the eyes, and said "I see what ye mean tha she is qualified ta teach a n'mortal." Her voice slurring with her distraction.

"How is this James a famous Immortal though?" Sally asked, "I naeer heard of him."

"Believe it or not, they have documentation of him being shot, stabbed, and run through with a sword in a single fight. Each time the Spanish thought him dead, he would get up and fight again." Cassandra replied.

Eadgils had been fishing in Sue's memory, and asked Adam, "Did you ever hear of a chronicle on him?"

Adam who had been looking mystified the whole time, shook his head, and said, "No. As far as I know none of the Watchers ever identified him as an Immortal. I wonder why?"

"Probably because he died his first death when he was shot by some guy named Wright in 1826, who he killed in a fight a year later, after being shot twice, and stabbed several times according to the witnesses. He lost his head to the Spanish Immortal Juan Almonte at the Alamo in March of 1836." Cassandra replied. "And before you ask, Juan lost his head to Duncan in 1842. That's about all I know about it."

"That's pretty amazing itself, I mean an Immortal, who was known to be an Immortal in the nineteenth century, but with no chronicle, and who wasn't known by the Watchers as an Immortal." Adam responded.

"Yea. Prhaps the lass was right, me talking ta my n'mortal." Sally said, with a glance across the isle at Eadgils.

"I thought the Watchers always kept an eye on the Immortals?" Patrick asked from the driver's seat.

"Nae, we try, but thae have a tenancy tae dissapear when yaer loookin right aet em sometimes." Sally grumbled back.

Eadgils proffered, "Some times you need a bit of privacy."

"I soppose. But it maeks fer a hard time o keeping thae chronicles." Sally muttered.

Silence descended, broken only by the constant rumbling of the road beneath the wheels, and the whistling of the wind outside.

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

It was approaching ten thirty in the morning as Patrick pulled off the highway and stopped at a Denny's in Fort Smith for a late breakfast.

He had been driving the whole time, but the general consensus had been that cold dry cereal just didn't sound worthy of being eaten. Adam, who had forgotten to get milk, was the only one who actually considered trying fruit loops in beer.

They headed inside, and shortly were seated at a corner booth, having arrived between the breakfast and lunch crowds.

After the waitress had taken their order and gone back, Adam turned to Cassandra and said, "So Cassandra, is there anything you think you can add to the Methos records? I heard you knew him."

Cassandra choked on her water, and after spluttering for a few moments trying to catch her breath, she finally looked at him across the table, and said evenly, "Are you sure you would want what I would have to say in his record? Really sure?"

Adam looked her in the eye, and nodded his head slowly. "Yes. People change. But the records the Watchers have of Methos only go back to shortly after their founding, about three thousand years ago. Granted, your memories would only be able to add a small slice from before that time, but it would be a critical slice, and a slice which is NOT in the record at present. I think it needs to be, if for no other reason, than completeness."

Cassandra looked at him for a long time, her eyes studying his face. As she looked at him, the waitress came and went two times, laying out their food orders. Finally she nodded. "Ok. You're being honest. I don't understand the reasoning behind it, but you genuinely want me to tell my story to you. I can feel that. I suppose if nothing else, Sally here can add it to my own chronicle. Some sort of an appendix."

"Aye. I can do that. It would as good as anything show this was nae a waste of my time as well. I expect to catch eneaou grief from my Da when I get home. Prhaps a history o' Cassandra from afore there were Watchers would be enou tae get 'em off mae back."

"Ok then. I will start with the beginning. Some of this is already in the records somewhere, I am sure. But I might as well put it all down for posterity." Cassandra said, around a bite of grand-slam pancakes.

Sally pulled a PDA out of her purse, and set it to record audio, then put it down on the table, making eye contact with Cassandra, who gave her a smile and a nod.

"My name is Cassandra, and I am Immortal. I was found on the plains of the Arabian desert. Where I came from, no one could tell me, but the tribe's healer and wise man, Hijad told me he was led to me by the gods. He raised me as his own daughter, and schooled me in the ways of the shaman. I learned to commune with the world, and myself. I learned the arts of healing, and of touching the spirit worlds. I lived as his daughter for over twenty years, growing stronger and wiser. It was a happy life among the nomadic tribe I saw as my family.

"Then one day an Evil came. Our people, we didn't even have a word for Evil. But there was no missing it. It came in the form of another nomadic peoples, a plague, like of human locusts. They descended upon us and slew us all, including myself. I died in my Father's arms, holding his cooling body as a blade slashed savagely through my back, and into his as well before stopping. That was the end of my life, and the begging of my hell.

"I awoke later, tied up in a tent. There was a man there. He raped me first thing. He would do that a lot over the next hundred years. We didn't share language, but he taught me his name that night. It was a name I came to hate, and to love, but mostly to despise. Methos.

There were gasps from both Patrick and Sally. Patrick actually looked over at Adam, his face again draining of blood, as he inched closer to Sally, and away from Adam, despite the fact that Sue was sitting between himself and Adam.

"I was held as a slave in the horsemen camp for as I said almost a hundred years. Throughout that time, I was the exclusive property of Methos. He was not a kind master. Sometimes he would be downright cruel. Yet, over time, I convinced myself he cared for me on some level for some reason, and I for him. Often I would see him fight. He was savage and vicious. He was not the leader of the Horsemen, that was Kronos. But he was the brains, and the soul of the group.

"Over time, the others apparently grew jealous of his refusal to share me, and one night, Kronos came and took me to his own tent while Methos was away. That was the last time I saw Methos for a long time. In Kronos's tent, I was able to use a small knife to kill Kronos, and run away. It was about a month later that Eadgils found me, wandering in Eastern Europe," Cassandra said, looking this time not at Adam, but at Eadgils instead.

"He knew." Adam said softly.

"Knew what?" Cassandra asked sharply, looking back at him.

"That you had killed Kronos and escaped. He even knew about the knife you used, he had known about it for a long time. I don't remember where I read it, but he once told someone that watching you flee into the night was the hardest thing he had ever done. He could have stopped you with a single word to the guards, but he didn't. He let you go. Take it for what it's worth."

Cassandra froze again, and a single tear rolled down her cheek, before she reached up and wiped it away. "You believe what you say. That Methos could have stopped me that night, but instead let me go. Why would y-he do that?"

"Perhaps he thought you would be better off on your own, away from the rest of the Horsemen. Away from Kronos, Caspian, and Silas. Perhaps even away from Methos. He was not a very nice person back then." Adam replied softly while setting some money down to cover the tab, and sliding out of the booth to stand.

"'Tis a good thing he is dead then." Sally said, picking up her PDA and saving Cassandra's story.

"He's not dead." Cassandra said.

Sally dropped the PDA onto an empty plate, splattering boysenberry syrup across the table with a soft 'ploptk'. "He's nae?"

Cassandra looked again at Adam, and said with a sly smile, "No. The other three horsemen, they are dead. Sally, remember when I went to find Duncan, and ended up in Bordeaux?"

"Yea. Neither Joe or I could get ta ye."

"Well, it was the Horsemen. Kronos was reuniting them after almost three thousand years. But he failed. Methos, Silas, Duncan, Kronos, and Caspian fought. Duncan killed two of them, and Methos killed the other one. I had a chance to kill Methos, but Duncan asked me to spare him, and I did. I am glad I did." She said, her eyes still locked on Adam's.

Finally, she stood up, releasing Sally, who retrieved her sticky PDA and tried wiping syrup off with a napkin, before heading for the door in Cassandra's wake. Adam continued to stand where he had risen at the other end of the table, until both Patrick and Eadgils scooted around to exit from Cassandra's side.

He was still standing there when Eadgils reached the door, and stepped outside into the late morning sunshine.

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

Cassandra was seated behind the wheel, with Sally in the passenger seat, and Patrick already stretched out lengthwise on the couch by the time Eadgils stepped into the Motor Home, having waited at the door until Adam finally emerged from the Denny's and started across the parking lot towards them.

Eadgils took one of the benches alongside the table, as Cassandra fired up the engine.

Finally, Adam climbed in, pulling the side door closed behind him. Cassandra put the motor home in reverse, and backed into the parking lot, then headed back out onto the street, heading back towards the highway.

Adam looked at Patrick, then looked at Eadgils, and at the back room of the motor home. He said, "Would you like to join me in back? This seems to be a day for stories, and I have one I promised to tell you, and you owe one to me as well, I think."

Eadgils looked at him and considered it. He was still not thrilled about the idea of hanging around with Death. But Sue's memories showed him as a decent person, and there were questions which needed answers. Finally, he nodded.

Adam made his way to the back, and Eadgils got up and followed him, steadying himself with his hands against the RV's movements as Cassandra pulled onto the highway and changed lanes.

Once in the back, he settled himself on the rear corner of the bed, while Adam settled himself against the window on the opposite side of the bed. "So, are you really Eadgils in there? Or is it Sue? Or both of you?" he opened.

"Eadgils, but Sue is here somewhere, I just can't reach her, other than in the Dreamscape." Eadgils answered.

"Dreamscape?" Adam queried.

"When we sleep, sometimes, we are somewhere. Wherever it is, it isn't real. But we are both there. We can talk, I was even able to teach her to fight."

"I tried. I taught her fencing. She was ok, but she lacked the spark, no fire, no drive. It was like she didn't really take it seriously." Adam answered, remembering. "Patrick said she killed Cassandra. I find that hard to believe. Was that you?"

Eadgils shook his head. "I know. You gave the girl a good foundation. But it took a long time to build on that foundation until she could take my head more often than not. One thing we learned in the dreamscape, if you take someone's head there, all it does is hurt."

"She can take your head? After three days?"

"Years. At least, it seemed like years. Time is different there. It is hard to explain. Anyhow, I had to teach her how to handle a Katana, and how to FIGHT with other blades. You never taught the girl how to even throw a blade. But we had the time. I practiced with her that second night, and again last night. She was able to take Cassandra after the second night. By now, she might even be able to take you." Eadgils added, with a slight edge in his voice.

"If she had to, that is good. Why do I feel like you want to take my head yourself? What have I ever done to you?" Adam asked.

"You killed me, and slaughtered my tribe. And later, I believe you killed my Teacher, Ralas."

Adam suddenly froze. Then he closed his eyes and sank back on the bed, until he was looking up at the ceiling.

"Ralas. Yes. I killed Ralas. I took his head, and he saved, or perhaps gave me my soul."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Eadgils asked angrily.

Adam continued to lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. After a moment he spoke.

"It was a few years after Cassandra had left. I was becoming restless, and perhaps even more vicious because of it. Perhaps not, I can think of things I did for fun long before that time in looking back now that were crueler than anything I did then, but none the less, I was no longer satisfied with simply torturing and killing the petty Mortals of this world.

"One day, an Immortal openly approached our camp, and he called Kronos out. But Kronos was not there at the moment. I was however. I approached him, and told him that by coming here, he was seeking death. When he agreed, I introduced myself, saying 'I am Death. You can face me now, and if by some chance you survive, you can face Kronos later.'

"Oddly enough, I was more than half hoping he would take my head. As I said, I was bored and tired of it all. And when we met, I learned that he was good. Perhaps he was even better than I was, at least in an honest fight. But I wasn't an honest man, and I fought dirty. For that matter, I still do. In the end, I caught him with a deceptive move, and knocked him to the ground, my blade taking his head with the next swing. And then the Quickening began.

"I was hit with more force than I had experienced since my first Quickening, almost two thousand years before. I was out for quite a while afterwards, and when I was finally able to rise, I was still a jumble of thoughts and emotions. Had one of my fellow horsemen attacked me at that point, I would have surely been killed without a fight. I made my way back to my tent, and went to sleep.

"My rest that night was anything but restful. I was visited by ghosts that night, for the first time in my memory. I saw the faces of the thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of people I had coldly killed. And with each face, I felt a stab of pain at what I had done, and a bit of horror at what I had become. I awoke in the morning screaming. And with a new emotion in my mind; remorse. I had never felt remorseful before that day. Even when I let Cassandra go, I was more upset for my own impending loss, not sorry for how I had treated her. Until I took Ralas's head, all I was concerned about was me. But afterwards, I realized that the others, they felt the same things I did. They counted as well. And that realization was horrible.

"I left the Horsemen that afternoon. I simply took my horse, my sword, and a light pack of belongings and rode away. I did a lot of things in the next few years, including founding the Watchers, to keep an eye on my fellow Immortals. Not so I could hunt them, but more so I could avoid them, without having to hide on Holy Ground."

"So you started the Watchers? What about the Hunters? Did you start them as well?" Eadgils growled.

"No. They started themselves, after one of our fellow Immortals killed his Watcher, and his son decided to get revenge. Actually, this is the fourth outbreak of them. The past three times had always been contained. Twice I had to step in, like I am doing this time, and the third time, the Watchers managed to police themselves, using the mechanisms I had installed after the previous two occurrences. Since I did start the Watchers, however, and the Hunters are a splinter group from them, then I suppose you could lay the blame for their existence at my feet. Including the deaths of almost a dozen Immortals, including Darius. But they were not my intent at any time, and I have always done what I could to contain the damage caused."

"So, you are saying that the last three times Hunters sprouted from your child you were able to prune them back, what went wrong this time?"

"Technology. As you recall, it used to take weeks, if not months to send a letter across the ocean. Ideas could spread no faster than horseback. And areas were more or less isolated. When a pool of Watchers were contaminated by a desire to kill Immortals, they were separated by time and geography from the other Watchers. It gave myself and the Tribunals time to find out about them and take action before they could spread their attitudes to their fellows. The very cell structure I had set up after the second such outbreak also helped to isolate them. But now days, an email can cross the world in moments, and my very cell design works as well against discovery as it does to isolate contamination. And these days, with globe trotting Immortals, there is so much cross contamination between Watcher Cells anyhow; that the cell structure really doesn't work for them anymore, but it does work well for the Hunters. Almost too well." Adam replied sadly.

"So what are you, or the Watchers going to do?" Eadgils asked Adam.

"I don't know. I do think that the first step though is to break down the barriers between Watchers and the Immortals they watch. It is harder to dehumanize someone you know than something you study. Joe and Duncan, or the new relationship I see springing up between Sally and Cassandra, may be one defense. Adding a more aggressive Internal Affairs division may be another. I haven't quite figured out how to fix the problem this time. I certainly can't kill all the affected Watchers and replace their records with sanitized versions designed to delete the concept of hunting Immortals. That was what the Watchers did in India back in 1894, and while it worked for them there, that seemed a bit extreme to even myself. However that was the order of the Tribunal. Tribunals were one of my attempts to fix the problem back in 1629. While it worked, it had adverse effects on the Watchers themselves. But whatever it is, something must be done."

"1894, and 1629. When were the other 2 outbreaks?" Eadgils asked coldly.

"It would have been around 410 AD, for the first one. Three Immortals were killed, and I myself killed the two Watchers involved. Two of the Immortals may have deserved it, one was about as bad as we come, he caught and killed his Watcher, but the Watcher's brother was also a Watcher. He found out what had happened to his brother, and who had done it, and he wanted vengeance. He involved another Watcher who also had a scumbag for a subject, and they steered their Immortals together, setting them up so they would go after one another's heads. When the winner was still recovering, they took his head as well. If they had left it at that, and resigned, then I could have lived with it. But they then went hunting. They tracked down another Immortal, and simply took her head. She hadn't even been involved in a fight in over 400 years according to the records. But her Watcher saw them kill her, and sent in an urgent report. I myself responded, and I tracked down the pair, and killed them both.

"The second outbreak was in 1629, in Spain. I didn't find out about it for almost a year that time. In the meantime we lost track of seven Immortals, and five Watchers. Two Watchers were confirmed dead, but the others were just gone. I gathered three of the more senior Watchers, including one who knew who, and what I was. We went to Spain to investigate. Once there, we picked up the trail of another Immortal who was trying to find what had happened to his friend, one of the missing seven Immortals. Shortly after arriving in Segovia, his Watcher was attacked by three other Watchers. The three senior Watchers, and myself stepped in, and captured the three local Watchers. I must admit, the inquiry raised by the Watchers was more inline with the Spanish Inquisition than a modern police interrogation. They determined that the local Watchers had decided that Immortals were agents of the devil, and led by a local priest, they had set about to exterminate them, sacrificing them on Holy Ground, and burying the decapitated corpses in unconsecrated earth behind the church's grounds. The Watchers who disagreed with them, were buried in the regular cemetery.

While Adam was talking, the Motor Home had pulled over to the side of the road, and Cassandra had traded places with Sally, who had resumed driving, as Cassandra headed towards the bathroom just outside the rear bedroom.

"The Watchers cleaned their own house that time, although I assisted where I could. They called in assistance from several different areas, and went hunting the Hunters. They included the priest and the local bishop on their game list, because both were involved. Eventually though, they believed they had successfully cleaned house. Most of the local records had been destroyed, so the three senior Watchers went ahead and burned the rest of the records, along with what had been the local Watcher Headquarters to the ground. They established strict punishments for any Watcher who would so violate their oath as to harm an Immortal deliberately, noting how since Watchers swore their life, should they violate that oath, their life was the logical forfeit.

"That was the birth of the Tribunal system of Watcher Regulation. I think the time has come to modify that system somehow. But for the life of me I can't figure out what to do."

Cassandra emerged from the bathroom, and leaned against the wall, looking into the bedroom. "Methos, what exactly happened to you? You are not like the man I once knew, and yet you are still him in many ways."

"I told Eadgils when we came back here a couple of hours ago, but I guess I owe it to you to repeat myself. I killed Ralas. And his Quickening helped me to see the horror and futility of my actions. I hadn't understood what had happened myself back then. But about fifteen hundred years ago, I ran across Darius again, however he was no longer the war leader who I had met before."

"When had you met him before?" Cassandra asked.

"Summer of 410, in Rome. I met Alaric, Athaulf, and Darius, along with his assistant Grayson and Grayson's new student, Callestina. They were in the process of sacking Rome at the time. The whole band was very reminiscent of my days with the Horsemen. I tried to convince Callestina she would be better off with myself as a teacher, but she was in love with Darius and wouldn't leave him.

"The next time I came across him, it was in Paris, in 585, he was a priest living in the Basilica of St. Julien. The man I met that evening was as different as can be from the war leader I had met in Rome. I asked him what had happened, and he told me he and Grayson had marched on Paris, and there they had encountered a single Immortal, a holy man who set out unarmed to stop an Army, and much like Ralas and the horsemen, lost his head, yet met his goal. Darius took his head, and when he awoke, he was filled with such a different perspective that he dismissed Grayson and the army, and himself took up residence in Paris, later taking vows and becoming a Catholic Priest. Darius and I talked for hours that night. He called the event a Light Quickening."

Cassandra nodded, and turned back towards the front, saying over her shoulder, "We will need to talk later, Methos. I still have many questions, but I meant what I said this morning about being glad now that I spared your life, despite the misgivings I suffered afterwards."

=================== ====================

Eadgils watched as Cassandra made her way to the passenger seat, then glanced at Sue's watch. It was already well past 1 in the afternoon. He and Adam had been back here talking for over two hours, and he still hadn't gotten the answers he himself had wanted, specifically what was Adam's involvement in Sue's life. "So Adam, I know I'm not really Sue, but you promised to tell what you knew of her father, and your involvement in his life when you were not on the phone. Will you tell me?"

Adam looked at Eadgils again appraisingly, then nodded. "It was the second time I had been living in California under the name of Dr. Robert Helm. The first time had been back in 1820, when I met my sixty eighth wife, Maria Teresa Alvarado. It was kind of a private joke to use the same name and in a way it was also to honor poor Maria's memory."

"Sixty eighth?"

"Yes. She was a wonder. She could take me with a sword, she was so good. You may not believe it, but the Zorro legend, it's based on her. Gods, I miss that woman."

"You were married to Zorro?"

"No, I was married to Maria Teresa Alvarado, but she was a fighter against the Spanish oppression in California in the early 1800's. She drove the local government's corrupt officials insane, because they couldn't believe a woman could best them, and at the same time they couldn't even figure out who she was. Over time, the legend became one of a man they could neither identify, best, or catch. That was the core of the Legend Of Zorro. But Maria, she was all woman, trust me.

"But that was almost two hundred years ago. This time it was the early 1980's, and I was working at Memorial Hospital, in Gardena California. I was working as a General Practitioner, but two days a week I also covered the Emergency room and Trauma Center. It was a small hospital, only about 175 beds, and the work was interesting, and made me feel good. Trust me, finding something interesting to do that gives you a worthwhile feeling is one of the most important things in the world."

"Um, Methos, I WAS almost four thousand years old, I knew that. Sue may be but a youngling, but I well know how boring it can be to live a life without purpose. I learned that long ago."

"Sorry. I forgot, I keep looking at you, and I see Sue. Damn, I hope she doesn't end up like Rojor did. I'd never forgive myself. It's my fault she was a Watcher, you know. As I said, I was working at Memorial, but during the rest of the week, I was in private practice. I had an office in the Medical Center across the street. Two of my patients were Peter Danning, and his young, pretty, and very pregnant wife Shelly."

"Sue's parents." Eadgils said, an image of Sue's dad floating in his mind's eye, along with that of a picture of a pretty redheaded young woman smiling from the mantle place in the living room.

"Yes. Peter and I were friends. He had no idea I knew about Immortals, or the Watchers. He claimed he was a courier, but I knew his tattoo. It was like a joke to me, that he was one of the senior Watchers in the Los Angeles area, and I, the oldest known Immortal was his physician, and friend. And he never suspected me. Not even afterwards.

"His wife was due any week, and he was looking forward to meeting his son. Even though they hadn't wanted to hear the results of the tests, he was certain he was going to have a boy. It was one of the things we would joke about. Every week I would give him and his wife a wrapped box, with some clothes for the future Danning baby. And they would stack it into the pyramid in the baby's room, which he had painted a pretty sky blue. And only I knew that the boxes were all little frilly dresses, or shirts with butterflies and flowers. Of course, he thought they were baby sized baseball uniforms, or little boy shirts and pants. He pictured blue shoes, to match the walls, not pink ones.

"He doted on Shelly. It would be fair to say she was his life, and the greatest joy of it was the gift of the new Son she would be giving him. The living symbol of their marriage made flesh, as he once told me.

"One evening, as I was making my rounds before starting my shift I the Emergency ward, I felt the tingle of a pre-Immortal. I was in the nursery, and there, amongst all the other babies, was a genuine 'Jane Doe'. Her mother had apparently abandoned her in the dumpster behind the hospital earlier that evening, and walked away. I knew the truth was probably much stranger, but even I have no idea where we come from. I gave up trying to figure out long ago.

"It was that night as I was covering the Emergency patients, putting casts on broken bones, and sewing stitches in gashes and cuts that an ambulance rolled in. Trauma case, a car crash with a pregnant woman. The woman was bleeding badly and the ambulance people didn't expect her to make it to the hospital even, but they were hoping to save the baby.

"Imagine my horror when they rolled Shelly into the Trauma center. She was bad. It really was a miracle that she had made it this far. But she was alive. And awake. She looked into my eyes, and said her last words. 'Save the baby, Please Rob, for Pete. I don't think I will make it, and he...' she died. Just like that, her last words never finished.

"I did an immediate emergency c-section, to try and excise the baby, but it was too late. Probably it had been too late in the ambulance. There wasn't anything wrong with her, not a bruise on her, but all the same, she was dead. And, I realized so was Pete's life. He had just lost his wife, his daughter, and his future, all in one swoop. I knew what Shelly had been trying to say, what her last words would have been, I could hear her voice in my head, haunting me, '...and he needs something to live for.' Because, Shelly was Pete's life. She was his universe. And without anything else, anything more, he might well just give up and die. I had seen it before.

"There was one other person in the room with me, Nurse Hammond. She and I had dated off-and-on a couple of times, once we even had dinner with Pete and Shelly. She looked at me, tears coming from her eyes, and said, 'It's ok, Rob. There wasn't anything more you could have done. You can't blame yourself.'

"I looked again at Shelly, and at the still form of the baby in the bassinette. And I came to a decision. I looked up at Kelly, and I said, 'There is one thing. It is wrong, and illegal, but in this case.'

"She didn't understand me, 'What are you saying? What more can you do?'

"I then told her, 'There's a Jane Doe, up in the nursery. Someone abandoned her outside just this evening. I know, it's wrong, and as I said, certainly illegal, but, what if Baby Doe were to die, and Baby Danning went home with Pete?'

"Kelly looked at me, and at the dead baby, and her mother. She looked again at the baby, then she looked up into my eyes, and said, 'What if the baby's mother comes back?'

"I knew that wouldn't happen, but there was no way I could explain my reasoning to Kelly. Instead, I told her. 'Then she will be given the sad news that by dumping a new born baby in a trashcan outside at night in April, that she killed her daughter. I would rather give a man I know would make a good loving father a reason to live, than return a baby to a woman who could throw a child away like it was a piece of un-needed furniture. I know it is illegal, but I can't do it without your help. You know Pete, remember when we met them?' I asked, looking again at Shelly's still form.

"'Yes', she said, her eyes following mine. 'I remember. And I remember how much he doted on Shelly, and couldn't stop talking about the baby. I remember.'

"'Well?', I asked her.

"There was silence for a long time. I could hear the water drip in the sink, and the sweep hand click on the clock over the door, the one by which I would have to record the time of death, or falsify the time of birth. Finally, she looked away from Shelly, and again met my eyes, avoiding looking at the bassinette. 'Ok' she said faintly, then with more volume she went on, 'How can we switch them?'

"I thought about it for a moment, then I pulled out the paperwork, and marked down the time of death for Sally, setting it five minutes from the current time. I took the dead baby, and cut and tied off the chord, then wiped off the fluids, washing the tiny, still warm body in the sink until it was clean. She would have been a beautiful baby.

"We took her body, and wrapped it up in a blanket, then Kelly proceeded me out of the Trauma room, and into the hallway. We made our way to the elevator, and up to Maternity on the second floor. Kelly then headed in to talk to Nurse Jacobson, the Nurse in charge of the Nursery, while I made my way down the rows of babies, stopping before Baby Doe. With a glance to insure Nurse Jacobson was thoroughly distracted by Kelly, I quickly picked up Baby Doe, pulled her ID bracelet off, and slipped it over the still arm of the dead infant. I then cradled Baby Doe in one arm, and arranged the body in the crib, so it looked like it was sleeping. Another glance at the desk to insure that Nurse Jacobson was still distracted, and I slipped out the door, and back to the elevator.

"I carried Baby Doe back into the Trauma room, and proceeded to weigh her, recording her stats, hand, and feet prints for posterity, as the child of Peter and Shelly Danning, born at 10:28pm, on April 14th, 1984."

"You swapped babies, traded lives with the dead infant and the baby pre-Immortal?" Eadgils asked

"Yes. And it was worth it. Pete showed up at a bit before three that morning. I had to tell him about Shelly. 'I'm sorry Pete. She was dying when she came in, there was nothing I, or anyone could have done. Her last words, were about you, and the baby.'

"Pete collapsed into one of the yellow plastic chairs. 'Dead?' was all he said, his face crumpling, and tears welling from his eyes.

"'Yes, I'm so sorry.' I told him.

"'What, what about my son, the baby?' he asked, sobbing.

"Kelly had headed up to Maternity as soon as Pete had some in, and I saw her coming out the doors from the elevator even as he asked that, a squirming bundle in her arms. I looked back at him, and smiled, and said, 'Well, there is a slight complication there'

"He shuddered, and looked up at me longingly. If I had any doubt about what we had done, it fled in that instant, and I think Kelly would agree. Later she hit me for being mean to him then, and she hit me HARD! I looked over and waved Kelly forward with her burden, and told him. 'SHE's just fine, but I somehow don't think Jacob will be a very good name for HER.'

"Kelly gently placed the baby in his arms, and he looked into her small face in wonder, then he looked up at me and said, 'She, she's got her mother's eyes.' And you know what? She DID have the same light green, almost gray eyes as Shelly had had.

"Kelly looked over at me sharply, and I just shrugged. A few months later, when Kelly and I were out on another date, she opined that perhaps it was meant to be. That somehow God, or an Angel or someone had sent Baby Doe that evening specifically for Pete. I agreed with her, and I still do. There are greater forces than Man at work in the world, I have seen them myself, and I know it's true."

"What happened to the real baby?" Eadgils asked.

"The morning nurse found her dead at the start of the shift. The body was cold, and stiff. Since she had been left outside for an unknown amount of time, and had no real identity, there was no autopsy done, it was ruled natural causes, possibly aggravated by exposure. The mother could have been charged with the death, had she later turned up, but no one really looked. I made arrangements for her to be buried with her real mother though. I had to pay off the mortuary, to let me slip her into the coffin with Shelly, but it makes me happier to think of them still together."

The RV had pulled off the highway again, and was now driving on surface streets, somewhere. Eadgils told Adam, "I'm not sure if you did the right thing or not, or what Sue will think of this, but at least it answers several questions I had. Thanks Adam."

Eadgils climbed off the bed where he realized had been sitting for almost four hours, and headed towards the front, where he pulled Patrick's feet off the couch, dropped them on the floor, and sat down where they had been. "Thanks Patrick." He said.

Turning to Sally, he asked the back of her head, "Where we at?"

Sally turned left, onto another street, and answered, "Someplace called Hydro Oklahoma. I'm hungry, and so were Cassandra and Patrick, so we are following a billboard to someplace called the Graffiti Grill."

Patrick spoke up from beside her, where he was now sitting up, "It said they had pizza, sandwiches and homemade desserts. The picture looked downright tasty."

"Ok. I suppose I could stand to eat before it's my turn to drive." Eadgils said, looking back as Adam came up and sat at the table across from him.

Patrick looked nervously at Adam, as Sally pulled off the road and into a parking lot.

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They piled out of the Motor Home, and straggled into the classic Route 66 dinner.

Obtaining a table, they were seated, and put their orders in.

Finally, Patrick spoke, "Cassandra?"

"Yes, Youngling?"

"What makes you a witch?"

Adam interrupted at that point, "It's obvious, Patrick. She weighs the same as a duck."

Cassandra rolled her eyes and Sally snorted, then coughed, as she had been taking a sip of water when Adam spoke.

"A duck?" Patrick asked, looking over at Cassandra, then back at Adam.

Sally was grinning now as she answered. "A Duck. It is quite logical, you know. Witches burn. So does wood. Wood floats, and so do Ducks, so if she is a witch, then she must weigh the same as a Duck. Put her and a duck on a balance scale, and if it stays level, then she's a witch."

Cassandra was now looking askance at Sally. Patrick was still staring at Cassandra, as the food came.

Finally, after eating half of her sandwich, and noticing Patrick hadn't touched the pizza before him, she spoke, "It is not my weight, Youngling. Though at times I wish I was as light as a Duck. It is my Avocation, and partly my religion, though I am no more a Wiccan than I am a Christian."

"What do you mean?" he asked, finally moving towards his food.

"When I was young, I was trained to be a Healer. In those days, the Healer was not a doctor, though that was one of her primary tasks. She was also the equivalent of the wise-woman, shaman, or priestess. We didn't have any Gods we worshiped, though we acknowledged the existence of forces far greater than ourselves. But my learning was to study things as different, yet intertwined as what today is called Psychology, Biology, and parapsychology. Reading of emotions was a Talent I was given. Reading of minds is also possible, though not in the look into someone's eyes and listen to their words in your head as they are thinking, much of thought is in images not words, and an even greater part is in neither.

"But I was taught how to meditate, and in such a meditation, to bring my mind into congruence with that of another, allowing our thoughts to flow together, as essentially one mind. There were other techniques I learned, such as The Voice, a particular way of both speaking and thinking which can compel others. Then there was the Herbal Lore. Which plants did what, and how to use combinations of them to do anything from cure diseases to making people sleep, to killing or causing injury.

"I learned how to do all these things, and to touch my own spirit, and the spirits of the world around me. 'Mother Earth' or 'Gaia' as some would call it. I learned the ways of the spirit world, and some of the beings which inhabit it. Some are called Gods or Demons by various peoples. Ghosts, fairies, sprites. I learned what our people knew of them all, how to contact them, to bargain with them, to fight them if need be.

"When I was first living in Donan Wood, and the local people came across me, they found I was a healer. They were very happy to have someone knowledgeable in the arts living near by. But as the years passed, and they noticed I was not aging they began to fear my power. As Christianity came to the area, I was considered a Witch, and given the title, 'Witch Of Donan Wood', not as an honor, but to brand me as an evil to be frightened of. But I took their title, and I made it my name. Never did I cause harm, save to those who came to cause me harm themselves. When once a party came to burn me, for example, I admit I sprayed powdered pepper into the mob, blinding their eyes, and putting a stop to the whole lot of them. But I also led them back to the village one at a time, and washed their eyes out. That was the only time a concerted effort to 'deal with the witch' was made.

"Eventually, they came to accept me. These days I am a local legend, not really believed in by anyone who knows better. Sometimes one or two people will seek me out, ask me to help in some way, or to place a curse on someone. Those seeking curses, I simply send away, but those seeking aid I do my best for. My cottage is on Holy Ground, a blessed circle, so I need not worry for my head at home, and the woods are familiar to me now, after over a thousand summers and winters. Donan Wood is my home, and Witch is my title. Does that answer your question, Youngling?"

"Yes. I suppose so."

"Was there something else?" she asked.

"My, well, the Curse you said I have. What is it?"

"I mentioned the beings who live in the sprit realm? Someone has marked you. They have made a deal, or in some way compelled some of the nastier beings to cause you harm. It has more the feel of a voodoo curse, which is based on a bargain or an exchange, then a Gypsy curse, which is a compulsion, done as a favor for the cursor."

"So, someone asked these spirit thingies to kill me?"

"No, Youngling, far worse than that. They asked them to destroy you, and THEN kill you. Which they have done. I am wondering if the entities are starting to regret their pact yet."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it takes energy for them to affect the physical world. For them to influence events requires an effort. The amount of effort and energy depends on the type and amount of influence they exert. Beings like these, call them Loa, they will strike a bargain for some amount of energy, or something else they want, and in exchange they will accomplish a task. Usually, the payment they demand is based on the effort they will have to expend. A small life-force, in exchange for pushing someone at the right time to make the fall down some stairs, for example."

"So?"

"So, after they finished destroying you, they were supposed to kill you. Which they did. But, unfortunately for all the other parties involved, you didn't quite stay dead, now did you?"

"You mean, because I'm Immortal?"

"Yes. Tell me, how many times have you died in the past few days?"

Patrick flushed red. In the ensuing silence, Eadgils offered a reply for him, "He was shot, fell down the stairs, was electrocuted, and pounded by a pole. Four times."

Patrick shook his head, "No. Six times. I drowned in the bathtub last night, and slipped in the shower this morning on a bar of soap."

Cassandra nodded. "So, what they bargained to do, and thought would be done by now, they have had to go back, at least five more times to do the dead, and STILL you walk the earth. I think by now they are getting pretty upset with whoever commissioned them for this task."

"So, what happens? Do I just keep getting killed for the rest of my life?" Patrick asked.

"No, Youngling. I must find these entities and 'Call off the hit' so to speak. If they learn that they have been set an impossible task, they may well turn on the one who set them to it instead. Or, perhaps I can simply persuade them that they DID accomplish their task, that of making you die. That all the extra effort they have expended since then is just a waste of time and energy on their part, and they may as well report back, 'mission accomplished'. It really depends on which specific spirits, and types of spirits are after you, and who and how they were commissioned to this task."

"So, you can stop it, sometime soon?" Patrick asked. "'Cause I'm really getting tired of dyin'."

Standing up from the table, with the check in hand, she replied, "I can try, Youngling. I can try."

The rest of the party shuffled out to the RV while Cassandra paid the bill, and Eadgils settled in behind the steering wheel to take his turn at driving.

Once Cassandra had joined them in the car, Adam in the Passenger seat, Patrick and Sally on the couch, and Cassandra sitting at the table, Eadgils fired up the engine, and made his way back to highway 40, west.

He drove on into the afternoon, crossing the border into Texas, and finally pulling over in Shamrock for Gas, and to trade places with Adam.

Once the tanks were refilled, for the rock-bottom cost of only $145, Adam pulled them back out on the road, and headed off into the sunset, then the night beyond, finally coming to a stop at a Howard Johnson's in Amarillo Texas for the night at eight thirty that evening.

Everyone headed into the hotel, where Eadgils was again able to get a separate, but connected room for himself and Patrick, while Adam, Cassandra, and Sally were able to get their own rooms as well.

Eadgils carried in his laptop, which he hooked up, dialing in to check on his various accounts, and send messages to his various trustees to let them know he was still around, something he found ironic considering the fact that he was really already dead, and likely buried by now.

After a quick shower, he lay back on the bed, watching TV, until he finally drifted off to sleep.

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