He killed six of us, Adam did. I'd never believed what they said--that he was Methos. Not Adam. I knew Adam.

Knew. Past tense.

He came in, bold as you please, and put a gun to Jim Cleary's head. "I am here for MacLeod's sword," he said. "You will take me to it."

"Like hell," Jim said, and Adam turned the gun around and clubbed him with it. Hard. Blood spattered over the table and Jim dropped to the floor.

"I'll take you," I said, and Adam's eyes flickered to me.

"Fine. Move."

I moved, keeping one eye on the gun. The others trailed us to the archival area. There. The katana--both MacLeods favored katanas over other weapons.

It had already been packaged and neatly labelled for storage.

"Take it out and give it to me. Don't touch the blade with your hands." He shifted his gun to his left hand so quickly that I barely saw the motion.

I took the sword out and offered it to him, carefully. He laid his hand on the hilt, and that's when the guys jumped him from behind.

A mistake.

He moved so fast--so fast. He fired three times and the sword blurred in the air, and at the end of it, there were two decapitated bodies and three shot through the heart.

And me, with a gun to my forehead. "I wouldn't try anything, if I were you," he said, and the snarl in his voice was like nothing I had ever heard from Adam.

"Methos?" I asked, and he laughed.

"Methos," he agreed. "You should have more faith."

And then he hit me. They told me he hit me with the gun, but I never saw it coming. I just--I woke up with Karen Callahan--no, not the field worker, the archivist--touching my face. She told me Jim died, too, from when Methos hit him.

She told me I was lucky.

She told me--she told me there might be a war again. Between us and the Immortals.

And all I could see was the look on Adam's face--

I told her we'd lose.