Why are we here?: This was originally written for the Highlander Lyric Wheel Watcher Challenge.  It's all Amand-r's fault!  In accordance with the rules of the Wheel this is not betaed.  I did do much obsessive editing on my own after the Wheel so I hope the big boo-boos are gone at least.  :-)

Who are these people?: Methos, OMC Gabriel Antonio Principe, small appearances by Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison from The Sentinel

What am I talking about?: Humor, romance, first times. This story is in the same universe as my second lyric wheel story, "Finally Pressed."  (This is my third.)  You do not need to have read that story to read this one.  All of them are written to stand alone.  All you need to know is that Methos is using the identity of Alain Andrews, a young ancient languages professor at Rainier University in Cascade, Washington. He occasionally does ride-along police work with Blair and Jim where he has more fun than one immortal should be allowed.

I'm talking about what!?!: WARNING, some mild m/m interaction and indiscriminate use of hors d'oeuvres.  Worth about a PG-13 to mild R, but since its slash you should flee now unless you're legally over 18.  But it's mostly schmoop.

Don’t hurt me!: The characters in this story who originated in TV shows are not mine and I make no money off of them. No harm meant. The original characters Gabe, Jovanna, et al are created and owned by me and also make me no money, despite my prodding.  Lazy bums.

Short and sweet: Thanks go to tarsh for the lyrics (bet this is not what you had in mind, eh?) and to plerk. You guys know who you are and why, wootiwootiwooti! Love you.

The gleaming sword swings mercilessly downward. Moonlight glints off of blade forged in steel.

Countermove parries. Weapons tangle, pull apart, metal squealing.  Booted feet shuffle closer.  Weary warriors circle, glare, prowl.

The attacker suddenly slashes, slicing up along ribs.  Blade tip, newly red, waves mockingly, hungrily. Come and get me, it seems to say, I know you. I own you.

Strong arms hammer down. The wounded defender drops, spins, kicks out.

Surprised grunt from above. Defender gains advantage, pressing with sudden action. Lunges, arm arcing, straining, sweeping.

Victory.

Methos falls heavily to his knees.

In a dark alley across the street from Rainier University, the Watcher quickly shot a roll of film of the quickening lighting the sky. It was impressively large. The Watcher expertly changed rolls and managed to get a few more pictures of the tail end of the lightning show. He tried to remember if he had ever heard of a quickening this huge and couldn’t. It was a good thing he was far away because there was no telling if something this powerful could short out a technical device even as small as a camera.

Despite the issue of his gear’s safety, it was really too bad he hadn’t been able to follow the immortal onto the campus. The large open grass areas with streetlights every 15 feet made stealth damned near impossible, even at one am.

The Watcher waited but there were absolutely no signs of life anywhere around, unless you counted the rat squeaking behind him. Two hours of waiting and a quickening later and it looked as if he still wasn’t going to know what his immortal had been up to these last few weeks. Of course, considering that he didn’t know whose quickening had just been taken he had a fifty percent chance of no longer having an immortal to call "his."

What would he tell the Council?

Two weeks later

It wasn’t even nine am yet and Gabe was already convinced it was going to be a record-breakingly awful day.

Gabriel Antonio Principe glared alternately at his portable coffee mug and the lighted numbers on the wall that claimed to know where the lift currently was. Of course, the lift was nowhere near the lobby floor and all of his glaring did not appear to be drawing it closer.

It dawned on Gabe that sheer force of will wasn’t doing a lot to summon him the elevator but it was having an amazing effect on summoning him a headache. He sighed and tried some deep breathing to relax. If only the lift would arrive in the next ninety seconds he could still be on time to his meeting with the Watcher Council that was supposed to start in, Gabe checked his watch, five minutes and forty-eight seconds. He tried not to dwell on wishing too hard for an abrupt change in his streak of bad luck.

Most of Gabe’s immediate problems could be directly traced back to his alarm clock not going off. This probably had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t actually switched it on after setting it for six am the night before. And it was not helping his mood to know that he had no one to blame but himself. So instead of getting up early and having three hours to prepare himself for this meeting, Gabe had leapt out of bed in a pissed off panic a grand total of fifty-three minutes ago. Just enough time to make sure he didn’t show up naked.

It wasn’t that Gabe was eagerly looking forward to this meeting with the top brass of the Watchers and just couldn’t wait to get here. Oh no, it was quite the opposite. Gabe had wanted to get up early so he could have plenty of time to dissipate the anger he felt over having to show up at all. He had wanted to arrive early, having had a nice long workout, time to iron his favorite suit, make his favorite brewed coffee and treat himself to a chocolate chip bagel at a bakery on the way. This would ensure that the Watcher Council would see a cool, collected Gabriel instead of the towering inferno he knew they were expecting and that he felt himself becoming with every passing minute that didn’t bring the bloody lift.

He hadn’t had time for any of the calming rituals he had planned, of course. Because he had no workout he was restless with energy. Because he had no time for ironing he was wearing the suit he hated because he felt the pant legs were too short for his six foot three inch frame. Because he had no time for brewing coffee or stopping by bakeries he was drinking luke-warm instant coffee and had practically inhaled the only breakfast he had had time for – an apple – in the cab during the headlong rush across London that he had paid the driver to take even faster than usual.

And to think, he was usually a morning person. Maybe that’s why the body count was still at zero.

The lift finally finally! arrived and Gabe stalked on board. He was privately convinced that with his luck it was going to take the better part of a decade to ascend the nine floors necessary to reach the inner sanctum of the Watchers’ London Headquarters. But that thought bordered on being a bit more childish than a twenty-seven year old could get away with, even in a temper tantrum, so he tried to mentally slap himself out of it. He was pretty sure that he knew what the Council wanted with him even if they hadn’t seen fit to include any details in their last communiqué. They were most likely going to ask a favor from him so there was no reason he couldn’t still have the upper hand in this meeting even if he hadn’t arrived early.

He turned for a last minute image check in the elevator mirror. With his height, lanky but not scrawny build and broad shoulders he filled out the navy blue suit passably well. He would be imposing despite the pant cuffs hovering defiantly above the tops of his black leather shoes. He tried to keep all mocking snorts at himself silent, glancing at his fellow lift-riders. No need to start rumors about his fragile sanity now.

He supposed that it would help his desire to intimidate the Council that some people found his appearance disconcerting anyway. He wouldn’t know everyone at this meeting and so he hoped that some of them would be enough thrown by his obvious and unusual mixed-race heritage that he could take the lead in the meeting immediately.

His features didn't surprise everyone though. They had never caused Jovanna even a second's pause. But then Jovanna was special in a lot of ways. He still missed her with every breath even after all this time. He also blamed the Council for her disappearance so if he wanted to maintain the tenuous calm he had almost achieved he was going to have to push away sad thoughts. Happy memories were fine, however.

Jovanna had always said that he was too beautiful for his own good. Gabe still wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was obvious that having a mother who was three-quarters African-American and a blue-eyed Italian father had provided him with somewhat exotic features. His hair was loose, dark-brown curls that flopped around his forehead defying all efforts at neatness. His skin was a lighter version of his hair color, a café-au-lait. He had his mother’s full lips, but the rest of his features were from his father’s more angular European heritage. He had a narrow nose, fine cheekbones and a high, gentle brow line. He supposed that if he had to pick a favorite feature it would be his eyes. They were a classic result of racial blending giving him his father’s light blue color with slivers of his mother’s golden brown floating within. Jovanna had often pretended to be angry that such eyes were, "absolutely wasted on an oblivious man who wouldn’t know beauty from a kangaroo's ass." But of course that wasn’t true. He had known Jovanna, hadn’t he?

But she had been gone for over a year and a half now. Even Marco, her fiancé had learned to accept that, so why couldn’t he who had been her best friend? Gabe shook his head at himself in the mirror as the lift came to a halt with a quiet "ding." Perhaps if he could get the Council to admit that they had screwed up he could move on. Or maybe if he found her alive –

Luckily a secretary claimed his arm as soon as he stepped out of the elevator and immediately marched him smartly away from his thoughts and down the long hallway to the Council’s chambers.

"They’re all waiting for you Mr. Prince," the secretary chastised in a nasal tone.

"Principe," Gabriel corrected automatically, pronouncing it "Prin-she-pay" as it was supposed to sound in Italian and annoyed by her possessive attitude. He was not in a mood to be condescended to by a dyed-blond receptionist with pretensions, so he stopped before reaching the doors. Blondie tugged, but Gabe carefully removed his arm from her clutches, straightened his already perfect paisley tie, removed a non-existent speck from his light-yellow shirt and smoothed his un-smoothable hair. Then he deliberately turned and nodded to his keeper. He wasn’t sure but he could have sworn that she rolled her eyes as she took the extra step forward and opened the wooden double doors.

Ok, Blair Sandburg thought, maybe I have something contagious that I just don't know about yet. Wait, that wouldn't mean much to an immortal like Alain. Then what the hell is the problem?

Blair was staring at the phone in his hand. Alain had just refused to meet him. Again. Blair hadn't seen the other man in over two weeks and he was really starting to worry. Of course, it was normal for most professors not to see one another over the winter holidays due to frantic grading of semester exams and equally frantic attempts to get back in touch with family alienated during the busy school year.

But he would have liked to think that Alain had become more than just another colleague. In the six months since Alain's rather eventful entrance into their lives Blair and Jim had both spent a lot of time getting to know and like him. It had all started when Blair and Jim had insisted on treating Alain to a home cooked dinner to express their gratitude for Alain kick starting them on what Blair (mostly just to annoy Jim) referred to as the "Highway of Love." The three had ended up spending several evenings hanging out and sometimes, despite Jim's reluctance, doing some ride-along police work together.

But starting a few weeks ago, nothing. No returned calls, no replies to invitations, nada, zip, zilch. Jim had tried to drop by one morning to check on Alain, but a sudden, severe allergic reaction to an electric something had driven him away. Since Jim usually was able to feel Alain's presence through an electrical tingling along his skin this wasn't too odd, but the severity of his reaction this time was. Of course, Blair couldn't check this out since Alain wasn't being any too forthcoming, and this only added to his frustration. And now he couldn't even ask Jim to help him out in this, since he wasn't about to have Jim go anywhere that would screw with his Sentinel abilities.

Well, Blair had never been the type to sit idly by in the face of frustration. It was high past time to subject Alain to a big dose of Sandburg Charm (patent pending).

Gabe strode a few cocky steps into the room and paused to let all eyes focus on him. He tried not to squirm as the realization settled in that everyone really had been waiting for him. Every seat at the long polished table was filled, except for a few empty chairs with their backs to the door. All the better to see you with, my dear. He desperately tried not to let even a giggle leak out.

"Ah, Gabriel. Right on time. So glad you decided to join us today." The speaker was an older woman at the center of the table facing the door. Maybe in her fifties but probably in her sixties, she was the type of woman referred to as "well-preserved." Gabe had always thought of it as "expensively camouflaged." He tried to ignore the familiar feeling of needing to wash his hands before sitting at a table with her.

He reminded himself that he knew very well how Priscilla Spender worked. "Were you worried, Priscilla?" he drawled. He sauntered over to the table and tossed himself into one of the chairs directly across from her.

"Well, Gabriel, you haven't been such a good listener over the last eighteen months. There was really no reason to think you'd start behaving now." Priscilla's dragon lady red nails tapped the table top in a light, clicking tattoo.

"Oh no?" Gabe's tone of voice shifted from bored to incredulous. "No reason for me to pay attention this time? You want to send me to the hot zone, don't you?" His gaze swept challengingly along the silent bureaucrats. "It's the only logical conclusion from the pathetic message you sent to entice me here." He held up his hands as if framing the words in the air. "Please attend meeting Monday at nine. Discussion of situation in Region One."

He dropped his hands onto the table with a loud "thwap!" "Region One." He bit the words off with ferocity. "You must be really desperate to talk to me to wave that red flag in my face. No Watcher in recent memory has ever refused being assigned to the American northwest region and you know it." He used his forefinger as if trying to jab his point into Priscilla's smooth forehead.

Priscilla arced one sculpted brow as she flashed an amused glance around the table. No one else met her gaze. All eyes were fixed on Gabe's entertaining form. It was as if they were all rubber-necking at a traffic accident named "Gabe" and couldn't look away.

Priscilla returned her look to Gabe and slowly shook her head. "Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel," she tsked. "You've been here for less than five minutes and already you want to skip to the end. Young men. Always so quick to get to the big finish." Her voice was a sultry sounding drawl. "There are procedures to be followed, you know this my dear boy."

"I just don't see the point in wasting time."

"Are we wasting time? Have you decided to be reasonable and come back to us? Or is this only another exercise in theatrics?"

"Theat-!" Gabe deliberately stopped the explosion before it could really get started. He didn't want to lose what tenuous control he had over this situation. Priscilla was only being the silk-covered battle-ax she was. Just doing what was expected of her. But this was going almost too low, even for her. "I think I am entitled, don't you? What about Jovanna?" His voice was rising so he paused and took a deep breath.

He began again. "If you are implying that my behavior has been unreasonable for the last year and a half, then I suppose that's your prerogative. But I, on the other hand, view things differently. I think that it's my prerogative to be a little angry with people whose carelessness led directly to the disappearance and possible death of the finest woman ever to walk this planet, present company included." His cool, light eyes bored into the dark gray across from him.

Priscilla briefly dipped her heard in a gesture that could be interpreted as both an acknowledgment and an indication that he should continue. "You all know what I'm talking about." He thought he heard some fidgeting around the table. "When members of the Watchers are picked for training in the Special Assignment division we are taught two things right away." He held up fingers to tick the points off. "One, how to handle ourselves in extreme situations. Two, to have absolute faith in the information provided to us by the hierarchy. You people dropped the ball in a big way on number two. Big. Huge. And now Jovanna is by all indications dead because of it." His clenching jaw could have shelled walnuts. "I am here today, ladies and gentlemen. I am here in the very room where the decision was probably made that sent Jovanna to the wolves. I think that says a lot. I would not be here if I were not at least prepared to listen to what you have to say. So now forgive me any theatrics I might display. I tend to get a little antsy around people who might one day slip up and send me to the same place Jovanna is right now."

There was a moment of silence after Gabe had finished and he held himself still, breathing steadily. Finally, Priscilla took back the ball of discussion that Gabe had slammed her way. "Jovanna is missed, Gabe--"

"You bet your Versace covered ass she is," Gabe cut in.

"She is missed," Priscilla continued to grind out. "But I think I speak for everyone here when I say that a situation has arisen that calls for our attention to be fixed firmly forward. We do indeed have a problem in Region One."

"I said I was here to listen," Gabe prompted, calming a little with his forced, steady breathing.

"Then let me slow down and give you some background." Priscilla settled back, sensing Gabe's acceptance that she continue. "About seven months ago activity occurred in areas we watch on the Internet indicating that someone was creating identity papers in Washington state, the kind of papers that immortals usually make for themselves. The identity seemed to already exist but was being fleshed out, so to speak. And rather quickly too."

"In the hot zone."

"Indeed. See? You are doing so well already, Gabriel. We were on enough of an alert to send an agent out. A new face showed up at around the same time on the staff of Rainier University in Cascade, one Mr. Alain Andrews. Since this seemed like far too much of a coincidence we directed our agent Kimball to focus on Mr. Andrews. A problem occurred when Kimball turned out to have more enthusiasm than intelligence. He broke into Mr. Andrews's office and stole a large amount of valuable property."

Gabe's eyebrows shot up at that remark and he let out a low whistle. Priscilla nodded and looked briefly heavenward. She continued, "The local police worked extremely quickly on this case and Kimball is now an ex-convict of the state of Washington. He got out of prison about two months ago. We subsequently received information from the Region One bureau chief that indicates Mr. Andrews was not an immortal after all. The information went on to cast doubt on there being any immortals at all in the city of Cascade, Washington."

"So I am here because..."

"A quickening was taken on the Rainier University campus fifteen days ago."

"Right then. By whom?"

"We don't know. And that's the problem. What we do know was reported by the Watcher assigned to Mikhail Borshile. Paul, our Watcher, followed Borshile to Cascade about a month ago. Borshile is known to headhunt on occasion when he gets bored. He increases the entertainment value by stretching the process out and stalking his intended victim. We can probably assume that he bit off more than he can chew this time because he hasn't been seen since the night of the quickening."

"His Watcher didn't observe the confrontation?"

"He was too far away. He got some excellent photos of the quickening. Quite impressive really, by the way."

"The body?"

"Cleaned up and gone by the time Paul dared to move in."

"And since then?" Gabe was trying to contain his impatience about the lack of information. After all, that's what Watchers trained for Special Assignments did. When formal Watching procedures failed to turn up the necessary information about immortals, someone with Gabe's training was sent in undercover to try and ascertain what was needed. No obvious tattoos (though Gabe had to fight to get that procedure implemented. He couldn’t understand how someone was supposed to go undercover with such a bizarre and easily identifiable body marking. He conceded to a smaller version of the tattoo on his right shoulder blade.) And none of the low profile skulking. Gabe's department's job was to hide in plain sight and use detective skills to pick up what was needed from daily interactions and, ideally, better access to information the targeted immortal (or possible immortal as the case may be) might come into contact with.

"Nothing. Since it is close to the Christmas holiday the Rainier campus has effectively shut down. And before you ask, Paul has absolutely no clue as to who Borshile was hunting."

Gabe let out a frustrated gust of air. Now that information gap was ridiculous. "What was this guy? An amateur?"

"No, actually. Paul is a field operative with more than twenty years of experience. He's never dropped the ball before."

"And what does our friend Kimball think about all this? Did he get any clues before being hauled off in shackles?"

"Interestingly enough, Kimball remains convinced that Andrews is our man. His exact words to describe Mr. Andrews were 'nightmare' and 'terrifyingly awful.' However you can take that as you like because a) Kimball had just stolen from Andrews so he had a right to be angry and b) Paul was able to observe Andrews somewhat while following Borshile around the campus area. The only things he had to report about Mr. Andrews that weren’t boringly normal were his apparent offbeat sense of humor and a penchant for going on Police ride-alongs, which appears odd considering that there seems to be very little an ancient languages professor could learn from the Police."

Gabe nodded slowly, intrigued in spite of himself, his piercing eyes focused inwards. "So now you're turning to Special Assignments," he mused. "Specifically, to me."

"Considering the academic arena that all of this action is occurring in, naturally your name came up right away for the job."

"Oh, I'm sure it did. I knew that becoming a teacher on the side would lead me to all kinds of trouble. Let me guess," Gabe couldn't keep the sarcasm from fairly running down his words, "you already have a cover prepared for me. I'll bet you even have an apartment arranged. What am I? A visiting professor? Do I get to guess my field of study too?"

Priscilla smiled, her thin lips stretching crimson across large, gleaming teeth.   Predator's teeth.  "Well, now that you mention it, I believe something like that has been arranged, yes. And you get the field for free -- archeology."

"Perfect, just perfect," Gabe muttered. "You know that I'd be passing up a trip to Barcelona for this? The cruise ship I lecture on is leaving port tomorrow evening. The Captain was talking about throwing a party for the staff when I left yesterday. All expenses paid."

"Oh, you don’t have to make those pretty lips all pouty, Gabriel. We'll make this well worth your while. Double bonuses, expense account, blah blah..."

Gabe sighed. "Very tempting indeed." He refused to make this easy on them.

"So your answer is yes?"

"Has any Watcher ever turned down the chance to work in Region One in the last twenty-five years?"

"No."

"Well, then. Why break with tradition?"

"You leave in fourteen hours." Priscilla was almost glowing with triumph. As much as an animated mannequin could glow anyway. Gabe's teeth ground a little harder together. Oh yeah, just perfect.

Two days later

If you ignore something for long enough its supposed to go away. Am I right? Isn't there some kind of theorem that supports this? Methos was asking himself these deep, philosophical questions while turning another page in his journal and continuing to write.

The person who had been pounding on his door for the last several minutes chose that moment to stop.

Methos raised one fist in the air. "I rule!" See? The theory works outside of laboratory conditions. Hooray for science.

Methos's one-man celebration broke off when he suddenly heard suspicious sounding scratching noises coming from the vicinity of his lock. A moment later the door swung open to reveal a kneeling, smug Blair Sandburg, lock-pick still in hand.

Methos glared.

Blair grinned.

"Blair, you are not the Grinch and I am not a Who of Whoville. Go find someone else's chimney to sneak down."

"Aw, but Cindy Lou, you look no more that two. Honest."

"I'm not kidding Blair, go away. These hands are lethal." Methos waved said hands over his head.

Blair ignored him and kicked the door closed as he hopped into the room. "Look Pa, aren't you proud of me? My first successful breaking and entering. Well, in front of witnesses at least." He set the lock-picks down on Methos's desk with a little bow and a flourish of his hands.

Methos turned his glare from Blair to the lock-picks. "What would your mother say?"

"She'd probably wonder why you had gone to all the trouble of installing a lock in the first place."

"Haven't you heard? The United States recently passed this thing called the Bill of Rights. And what do you know? There's a whole amendment against unlawful searches and seizures."

"I haven't seized anything yet but maybe you'd better call your lawyer because you are coming with me tonight whether you like it or not."

"I am a lawyer. And what if I said not?" Methos leaned back in his body-conforming desk chair and looked up at Blair from under his bangs.

Blair hesitated and lost some of his bounce. "I'd really rather you didn't, Alain." He quickly turned and paced a few times around the room. "Look. Jim and I are really worried. You dropped off the face of the Earth with no warning whatsoever. You even missed scrabble night, for like the first time ever. Even Simon asked where you were last week when you didn't come to the station for the Tostini bust. That was a shocker. And we tried to check on you, but then Jim had this weird reaction..." he trailed off and looked around the room for a few moments. Methos waited. "I bet you're dealing with some secret immortal business or other," Blair waved his hands around, "some life and death mumbo-jumbo. But honestly Alain, I don't care. I don’t! Stop looking at me like that!"

Methos couldn't help himself and he started laughing. Poor Blair didn't always realize how transparent he could be, especially when his legendary curiosity got the best of him.

Blair growled a little. "Ok, so it would be nice if you'd tell me. But you don't have to. And we really just miss you. And there's this great party tonight. And I'd really just like it if you came." His eyes were really big now and Methos could just feel himself weakening.

But not yet.

Blair sighed. "I don't understand why it's important for you to be alone lately, but it's almost Christmas time. Wait, I know you probably don't celebrate Christmas...do you?"

"Not in this lifetime."

"Ok, well maybe some other mid-winter holiday then, man. Solstice Night. That's cool. Anyway, it doesn't matter." He jabbed his thumb at himself, "I want my friends and family around this time of year. And I think that its about time you realized that the day you teamed up with us was the day you got yourself two people who don't let you get away with just picking up and leaving whenever you friggin' well feel like it. Not anymore."

Methos was startled but didn't let it show in his casual tone. "Leaving?"

Blair turned to face him completely, narrowing his eyes. "Yeah. No more leaving. You're thinking about just taking off aren't you?"

Methos sighed. He hated confrontations. Truly he did. Why did everyone these days think it would all be better if every little issue was hashed out within an inch of its life? What was so great about clean mental health and a spiffy aura anyway? Well, he supposed it didn't really matter anymore since he had already decided to stay. "No Blair, I'm not. I'm not going to leave."

Blair perked up again. "You're not?"

"Not anymore. I'll admit though that I was thinking about it."

Blair wilted a little.

"Come on Blair, give me a break. I was attacked. I wasn't thinking straight.  Blair? Sandburg, come on guy, sit down before you fall down. And stop spluttering. I dealt with it. Wait! Let me finish. Yes, it was immortal business. No, you and Jim can not get involved. No, I'm pretty sure the guy will leave me alone from now on. Which is one reason I decided to stay."

Blair could only gape.

"And the other reason did have something to do with you and Jim, I will admit it. Also the fact that this was a real anomaly for the Cascade area. I didn't think any other immortals even knew this city existed." He was mostly muttering to himself now as Blair had started beaming after the first sentence.

"So, yes, I was in danger. Big danger. Huge danger. But I'm better now. And all done moping too, apparently. I really appreciate you coming to check on me. It's actually kind of nice for a change. You don't glower nearly as much as MacLeod used to. Did you say something about a party?"

Blair blinked.

Gabe was really, really tired and fast approaching dangerous levels of caffeine induced-wiredness. And it wasn't likely that he was going to see the inside of his new apartment anytime soon, either. He had gone right from the Cascade International Airport to the Rainier campus following strict Watcher instructions, and his own instincts, to get directly to work.

For some sadistic reason the Rainier administration felt the need to acknowledge his arrival as a member of their staff at the yearly Faculty Christmas party being held tonight. So now he was expected to show up at a gaudy hotel ballroom at nine p.m. sharp to be "officially greeted" by a roomful of drunk geeks and the stuffed suits that they worked for.

Hallelujah.

If they started singing Christmas carols he was out of there. Assignment or no assignment no one should have to put up with that.

Since he had to meet everyone for the first time all at once in just eight hours, this meant doing all of his background snooping this afternoon. Right after getting off an international flight. Gabe gripped his jumbo espresso a little tighter and thanked the coffee gods that the Starbucks girl had made his stuff as strong as she had promised. He had used her apparent weakness to his "adorable" British accent shamelessly, getting her to fill a regular sized coffee cup with pure espresso. He pretended the shaking in his hands was normal reaction to a tasty beverage and tried not to spill on his tie.

First, the Library.

The man sitting behind the information desk didn't look so good. He was sweating and his eyes kept darting around the room. He resembled a panicked deer more than just a little. Gabe shrugged and for lack of a better plan, approached "Bambi."

"Hi." Just to be on the safe side he also waved to get the guy's attention. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

The man behind the desk had appeared to be ignoring him but trembled a little upon hearing Gabe speak. "Why should I? This is the information booth isn't it? Its not like I can stop you."

"Uh-huh. Do you know Professor Alain Andrews?"

The man's eyes finally settled on Gabe. He stared. "You're with them aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You think I don't know who you are. You men in your fancy ties and foreign accents. Coming in here. Asking me questions."

"Like you said, this is the information booth. Is there a better place where I should go?"

"No, no. Go right ahead. Ask away." The man had grown noticeably damper and his voice noticeably squeakier.

Gabe wondered if he should pursue this or call someone to get help for Bambi before he collapsed. Nah. He dug out a publicity photo from when Andrews had joined the Rainier faculty. "Dr. Alain Andrews? A professor here?" He put the photo on the desk and decided to continue with his story. "See, I'm a new professor on staff and just wanted to track Dr. Andrews down to ask him some work related things."

"I've seen him." The man grudgingly admitted. Then his eyes narrowed to slits and darted back and forth again. His voice lowered and he leaned forward. "What did you do with him?"

"Pardon?"

"You don't have to play games with me. A few weeks ago one of your fellow 'agents' came in here asking about him. Dr. Andrews hasn't been back since. What did you do with him?" The man had leaned further over the desk and his voice was now a throaty whisper.

Gabe was confused. He was fairly sure he knew whom the last man asking about Alain Andrews would be -- Borshile. But how did this all fit together? And what the hell is up with Library Bambi?

Before he could process everything the scary info man continued. "It's ok, you know. You can tell me. I know how this works. I read. I subscribe." Now Gabe was a little appalled. The man had just winked at him and was waiting expectantly. What to do?

Play it out of course.

Gabe leaned towards the man and lowered his own voice. "What do you know?"

This was apparently the right response because Bambi brightened before covering his reaction by pretending to be cool. "I know what this place really is. The center of world power. The hub of all information flowing through the front of the University system and Out. To. The. People." His finger poked the desk with each emphasized word.

Ooohhh-kay. "World power?"

"Yes! Knowledge is power. You don't think I know that by now? I'm not stupid!" Bambi's voice was cracking and he looked desperate. Gabe decided to put him out of his misery.

He leaned across the desk even more and beckoned the man closer with his finger. The man was so eager that he zoomed over the desk, bonking their two heads together. Gabe flinched and the man giggled a little hysterically, wiping at Gabe's forehead. Gabe smoothed out his features and dove into insanity. "You were right about us."

"I knew it!" the man breathed.

"You were hand-picked for this position from the start. We've been watching you...testing you."

"Really?"

"Yes," Gabe hissed, making a show of furtively moving his eyes around. "And you've passed. You're in. Be at the corner of Pine and Second this afternoon. Wear a red cape and carry a frozen turkey. A man will approach you. He'll say, 'Who doesn't love Queen Mary?' You're to say, 'I want all the bees for myself.' He'll take you to our Headquarters. You'll be indoctrinated. It could take weeks. Tell no one."

The librarian could hardly contain his gratitude and excitement. "I'll never forget this!"

Gabe looked away and muttered, "I just hope I can." By the time he had looked back Bambi had picked up his coat and was already heading for the exit. So much for the free flow of information.

The canapés were fresh.

That was about the only good thing Methos could find to think about this party. That and the fact that they've only played "Y.M.C.A" twice so far. It could be worse. Nine-thirty and he had already plotted all of the escape routes.

Methos wanted to scowl, say screw protocol and just flee but then his eyes moved over the dance floor and he couldn't help but grin at the sight and be reminded of why he hadn't left yet. He was really glad someone was having fun.

Blair wasn't just having fun. He was having a one-man Mardi-fucking-Gras out there. He was boogying. He was shaking it. He was burning down the house.

At least Jim could enjoy the view.

Jim had just seemed to be glad to finally see Alain again. He was mercifully asking no awkward questions. Not even about the reaction that Blair had said he'd had trying to come to Alain's apartment. This was good because Alain was not looking forward to having to explain the exact reason behind quickenings and the absorption of another person's power.

He smirked a little at Sandburg's current dance-floor antics. Blair and Jim appeared to have as solid a relationship as Methos had hoped they were having because Blair was not boogying solo. No he was not. There were women lining up to dance with Anthropology Professor Casanova. But Methos didn't miss the steamy looks Blair was directing over the shoulder of his latest bump-and-grind partner at the big cop leaning against the buffet table not far from Methos. Jim appeared unable to move and Methos grinned into his toast-point. Jim's pants looked mighty painful.

"I didn't know Blair knew the Lambada."

Jim tried to speak, had to stop and clear his throat and then try again. "Sandburg knows everything."

"Yes," Methos mused. "Especially, as is evident, the Forbidden Dance."

Jim chuckled a little unsteadily. "You oughta see his salsa."

"Hm, I do not enjoy the salsa myself, but I bet Blair makes it look fun."

"You have no idea."

It could be worse, Methos thought again. Even if Jim doesn't actually look at me when we're talking, at least there's someone here who's actually interesting to talk to. He shuddered at the memory of the strange, paranoid librarian who had tried to monopolize his time at the last University function. Thank the gods for small favors and for Blair, who had rescued him.

Methos turned to refill his miniature paper plate. "Jim have you tried the crab--" He stopped speaking, his eyes riveted to the door just beyond the buffet area. "--puffs," he whispered.

Jim's eyes tore slowly away from the view he had been enjoying. "Alain? What about the crab puffs?" He noticed Methos's distraction and followed the path of his gaze. He grinned, but Methos didn't notice. Methos wasn't noticing much of anything, not even the helpless crab puff that had rolled out of his loosened grasp, across the buffet table and on to the floor. He wasn't noticing anything except the unfamiliar man who had just walked in.

Have mercy, Methos sighed quietly to himself. Alert the heavens. An angel just walked into the Faculty Christmas Party From Hell. Devils beware. Ok, mental note, higher brain functions unavailable just now. This was about the best his stunned frontal lobe could manage under the circumstances. The man standing in the entranceway to the hotel ballroom was almost painfully beautiful. Quite possibly the best looking thing Methos had seen in years, and that was saying a lot. Regardless, Methos wasn't too sure where the angel comparison had come from because he almost never fell into such rhapsodic mushiness, but there it was. He wondered vaguely if this was what gibbering was like.

One thought that was clear as a bell: Stop the presses, who is that?

"I don't know. But I think we're about to find out."

Methos hadn't been aware he had spoken out loud. But his gaze followed as the tall, dark and handsome man made eye contact with Dean Snyder and walked over to the stage area to speak with him.

"He can't be the new professor we're supposed to be getting, can he? The gods aren't usually that kind."

Jim smirked at him and made a "tsking" noise but didn't speak because the Dean and the stranger were mounting the stage and heading for the microphone.

"Oh boy."

Oh boy, Gabe thought as Dean Snyder made a snide comment about him being late, unceremoniously cut off the D.J., snapped into the microphone to get the crowd's attention and thrust the tool at him. Here goes nothing.

He stepped forward, took a nervous swipe at the curls brushing his forehead, drew a deep breath and went for it. "First off I'd like to thank Dean Snyder for his incredibly gracious introduction." The crowd laughed nervously at the joke at the expense of their notoriously rude Dean and Snyder scowled. Dangerous, mocking the boss, but Gabe needed to be noticed right away and it wasn't like he was worried about job security. He had a case to solve.

"I've never felt more welcome. I suppose I should start by introducing myself. I'm Jules Verne." He waited and sure enough, the tipsy crowd was an easy mark and the listeners howled. "You don't believe me? Would you believe Richard Gere? No? Well, good. I heard that you guys worked at a school after all. Seriously though, I'm Gabriel Principe, visiting professor of archeology, King's College, London. I'm so happy to have been allowed to come here to sunny Cascade." The crowd laughed harder. Cascade hadn't seen a sunbeam in a month. Umbrellas could melt in the almost constant winter downpour it was so bad. "What? What's so funny? I was promised palm trees and beaches. Was I misinformed?" He grinned and continued. "Well, despite the weather, which is rather reminiscent of home actually, I am looking forward to getting to work. Pushing up the old sleeves, hitting the books, go go go! Archeology is such a speedy science, you know, almost as fast-paced as Paleontology. It's so hard to keep up. But I look forward to working with you once the new term starts and feel free to drop by my office anytime...once I actually get one that is. For now the cardboard box outside the Registrar's Office is where you can find me. No matter, I heard rumors that the bar's open, so I'm off. Without further ado, please return to your regularly scheduled party mania. Happy holidays!" And with that he tossed the microphone to the startled Dean, hopped off the stage and prepared to mingle.

He had seen a familiar face in the crowd. It was time to get to work.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"He's pretty great."

"Yeah."

Higher brain functions still appeared to be off-line.

"Nice smile too."

"You noticed?"

"No, I noticed you noticing."

Methos flashed Jim a sharp look.

"C'mon, Alain, you're not that inscrutable.  In times of trouble you're an open book. And crab puffs never lie." He gestured with his head to the lone crab puff now littering the floor in plain view of their buffet vantage point. Methos blinked guiltily down at the plate he had previously been bent on filling, and at his empty hand hovering over the betraying puffs.

Well, despite that gauche give-away, Methos was glad Jim was agreeing with him. But he didn't want it to be too obvious that he was already completely gone over this new professor that he hadn't even spoken to yet. But the way the man's eyes sparkled startlingly light out of his smooth brown skin, and the way his hair flopped teasingly over one of those stunning eyes when he moved around on stage, and the way he was so easy and confident in that glowing skin of his. All of it went straight to Methos's core. And his core was very interested indeed. Down, boy!

He had to talk to Mr. Jules/Richard/Gabriel and he had to talk to him soon.

"Excuse me?"

Methos froze, burned and melted all in the space of a heartbeat. The voice...it was him!

He turned at the slight tap on his shoulder and looked straight into the light, swirling blue eyes that he had just been pondering. "Er, ah, Hello." Oh yeah, he was cool personified. No ripples in his pond, no sirree. He put out his hand. "Welcome to the club Mr. Principe. I'm Alain Andrews. Ancient languages," he added the last as an almost afterthought. He had to remind himself that they were in a somewhat professional atmosphere. They shook. Methos tried to pretend the burning sensation in his palm was ordinary and couldn't.

"Yes, I recognized you, Mr. Andrews. And please, call me Gabe of course."

"Call me Alain." He had shaken himself a little more awake by now. "Recognized me? How odd. I'm hardly famous." How would this guy have known of him? It's not like Methos had made Alain Andrews into any kind of highly visible figure. The goal was to stay unnoticed after all. He subtly tried to peek at Gabe's wrists. Well, he couldn’t see any tattoos from here, but there was no point in letting himself get too comfortable. He didn't know what he had been thinking by getting so carried away in the first place. Well, it would help if you would funnel some blood back into the important brain, halfwit.

"That's as may be, but I knew you from across the room. In fact it was very startling to look up from the stage and see you standing here. This is so odd, but I was doing some research today on the myths of Shangri-La and I came across an old article you once wrote. 'Voices of Mist: Postulated Languages of Ancient Shangri-La.' There had been a picture of you included in the author's note. I can't believe that I would run into the very author himself right here at a University Ho-ho-hoe-down."

Methos smiled, completely charmed, his newly rebuilt inner resolve weakening. What could one fling with this professor hurt? The guy did live in London, after all, and Methos was now based in Cascade, well out of danger range. "Oh, didn't you hear? Holiday office parties are all the rage this year. Cheap booze is in."

Gabe looked stricken and groaned theatrically. "The booze here is cheap? That's criminal!"

Methos was no fool. He recognized an opportunity when it jumped on his face. "Why Gabriel. That's no way for you to be talking about your new employer. I must make it up to you. I can't have you go back to England with nothing good to say about Cascade liquor. Let me take you somewhere to get some real beer."

The back of one hand rested against a handsome brow. "Alain...my savior. Did you ever know that you're my hero?"

Methos's latent gaydar was pinging like sweet music in his ears. Oh, it was a Merry Solstice after all. He shook his finger under Gabe's nose. "Now, now Gabriel. 'Tis the season to not be singing Bette Midler songs. Get into the spirit, if you please."

"Would you prefer 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus?'"

"Well, that might be an improvement, I guess, except it's never the right season for that song." He gingerly put one hand on Gabe's strong back and guided him towards the door. "Happy, happy Solstice," he murmured out loud. Jim caught his eye and winked. Methos tried not to smirk as he and his prize walked past the crab puff, now a little worse for wear, still on the floor.

Gabe was getting nervous and not a little upset. Who was this guy? He wasn't what he seemed, that was for sure, but that also didn't prove he was an immortal. Yet.

For a moment Gabe felt himself wishing insanely that Alain wasn't the immortal he was looking for. At least if he was just another mortal there was a chance they could meet again someday and could actually have a real date. But right now he shouldn't even be considering such a thing.

I'm on a case, on a case, on a case. As if chanting it would drive the belief into his brain.

He had recited the first two rules of becoming a Special Assignments agent to the bureaucrats at Watcher Headquarters. Rule number three was the normal rule number one of all Watchers-- never, NEVER get involved. Special agents had to be able to move among people that might or might not be immortal, but they were definitely not allowed to involve any form of personal emotion.

He of all people knew that to be a rule based in good reason. He may blame the Council for Jovanna's disappearance, and it was true that their team had received poor advance information, but Jovanna hadn't been the very picture of a modern Special Agent either. Gabe had noticed that she seemed to be developing a personal attachment to one of the people on the list of possible targets and had warned her that it was dangerous, but she hadn't listened. He hadn't really pursued it because Jovanna was engaged to Marco and Gabe didn't think there had really been anything for Jovanna in the target but a form of curiosity. He still didn't know what had happened, but he was pretty sure Jovanna letting down her guard was a factor in the whole mess. The dangers of being a Watcher were sometimes more real than others. Carelessness was never a good idea.

So why had he been so flummoxed to meet Mr. Alain Andrews? It should be a simple target contact like many others he had made in his on-and-off career with the Watchers. A good agent didn't meet another man or another woman when making a contact, they met a target. Regarding them as a regular person was not good policy. Sure, many immortals were harmless and some even wonderful, but many others would slice a Watcher's belly open before breakfast and then sit back for a cup of morning coffee. Trying to distinguish between the types was too unreliable. It was far safer to rely on the K.I.S.S. principle and keep procedure simple and consistent. Think but don't experience emotion.

Gabe had almost talked himself back into the proper mindset when Alain caught his eye across the table. He calmly set down his mug and smiled at Gabe through a beer foam mustache. Then his pink tongue swept out and over the ridges of his upper lip before disappearing back into his mouth, foam cleaned away. A wave of warmth and lassitude flowed through Gabe's limbs as he tracked the motion.

The sensation you're feeling is an emotion.

Shut up!

Denial is not just a river in Egypt.

Stop it! Great, now he was arguing with himself and he wasn’t even bothering to be clever about it anymore.

He racked his brain to remember what they had just been talking about. Alain had taken him to nice, cozy bar almost two and a half hours ago. Since then they had consumed a large amount of beer and an equally large number of conversational topics. Both were proving to be his undoing. The beer was making his eyes want to glaze over and the conversation was making the metaphorical high bar of his guard droop lower and lower. Alain was brilliant, charming, coy, sarcastically funny (but in a good way) and this was all wrapped up in the general air of a simple enjoyment of life. It was as if someone had taken every item on Gabe's list of a perfect mate and blended them into Alain.

Then there was Alain himself. Gabe was amazed that this vibrant, shining man across from him was the same one gazing blearily out of the publicity photo he had been carrying around all day. Alain's hazel eyes snapped with a golden fire, when he grinned it was with a slow, open warmth, his hair was a chocolate wave that tended to fall into his eyes. He needed a haircut but Gabe even managed to find this charming. Woah. That's not good. And his body...Gabe shivered. The man was in absolute and unquestioning control of his body. His every move seemed calculated from the relaxed sprawl he was in now to the prowling way he had maneuvered around the crowded room to get the new round of beers they were enjoying. He is so damnably hot.

Gabe was fighting a losing battle. He already knew that he felt closer to Alain than he had to anyone in a long time, save maybe Jovanna. And he had never had physical chemistry with her. With Alain he fairly sizzled. And he found himself sharing pieces of his soul that hadn't seen the light of day in years. He had even told Alain about his friendship and subsequent loss of Jovanna, in highly edited form of course. He usually never talked about that.

And Gabe was also fighting off misery. Because if he was honest with himself, many of the cues Alain was giving off were typical signs of immortality that he had been trained to spot at the Academy. The body control was a sign of an experienced fighter. The alert eyes could also be eyes used to tracking predators. The wide-ranging knowledge could just be accumulated through years of living.

Gabe now remembered what conversation they had been on because Alain had started speaking again. Right now Alain was proving that he was even more perfect because he even knew most of Gabe's favorite movies by heart. But this could just be more 'proof' of immortality in the form of long-trained recall ability. Gabe wanted to weep.

"And what about the part where Zero Cool made the buildings light up to say 'Crash and Burn?' It may sound sappy but I thought it was romantic. That might just be the beer talking though."

Hackers, Gabe thought morosely. He even liked Hackers. I thought no one else liked that movie. And Alain didn't seem at all drunk even after the small lake of beer he must have consumed by now. Another suspicious quality.

"I laughed most of the way through that movie." Alain suddenly sobered and fixed him with an intense look, green-flamed eyes meeting warm blue and gold. It was the kind of look that would make week-old drier lint sit up and take notice. "'Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night.'"

Gabe's eyes moved down to Alain's lips, fixing onto his fuller lower one. "Ginsberg. Nice," Gabe murmured. And now Alain was leaning...leaning. Warm breath gusted over his skin. Nearness penetrated his awareness as a soft, burning hot pressure settled onto his mouth. Softness swept a light friction. Nerve endings whimpered at the stimuli. Gabe gasped, breaking contact.

"Who are you?" he whispered into Alain's lips.

Alain leaned a little bit away to make eye contact, settling back onto the bench seat of the dark booth. "Who do you think?"

"I don't know," he confessed desperately. "I don't know what to think. Beneath the visions and daydreams, I suspect. But I could just be fooled. Fooled by alcohol and by now. By emotion and by you in the way you look."

Alain had looked confused for a moment but now his eyes were sad in the darkness. "And who are you to be suspecting anything?" He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "This whole night is like a dream." Then, moving with a speed that Gabe could only gape at, Alain's arms whipped out and grabbed both of Gabe's hands. He moved very swiftly, but with care, not roughly at all. Dragging them towards himself, he gripped first one hand and then the other. Shoving at Gabe's sleeves, he exposed the inner wrist and slumped a little when he found nothing there. Gabe's eyes filled at this final evidence of Alain's otherness, rendered undone by alcohol and dying buds of emotion. The truth. Isn't that what I'm here for? And why, and why? Why am I here to rip open this man's life? Now am I just supposed to leave? Scamper back to London and air Alain out to that gaggle of morons? They don't deserve to know him. Alain kept hold of Gabe's hands as he spoke, addressing a neutral spot in the middle of the table, "What do you know?"

Gabe couldn't stop gazing into Alain's face though Alain wouldn't look at him. He felt something cracking within him and was mildly shocked to discover that he was whispering. A little profanely, too. "Fuck immortality and fuck voyeurs. I'm so goddamn sick of needles and pins, secrets and lies. How can God save those born to die? It's all of us you know. Whether we burn out, fade away or end lives with swords and knives." Alain's gaze turned inwards at these cryptic non-sequiturs but he didn't release his grip on Gabe. Gabe used their joined hands to lever Alain up, out of the booth. "Come with me." Alain wasn't resisting him yet. Gabe chose to take that as a good sign.

He led Alain into the water closet, hiding their joined hands behind his hip. Glancing around at the few men using the facilities he acted quickly. Speaking loudly he said, "I don't know how they can stay in business if they start giving every third beer away for free like that. And the good stuff too." He watched in satisfaction the results of his subterfuge, quick zipping motions and loud, startled conversations as the room cleared out.

Alain pulled his hand away from Gabe now. "Congratulations." He turned away and looked around the paper-strewn room. "Now what?"

Gabe leaned over Alain and tossed the lock on the door over. "Come in here," he said, going into the handicapped stall. When Alain just looked at him as if he were crazy he rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you Alain. I doubt I even could. I just want to show you something."

"Don’t be so sure," Alain muttered, but he moved into the over-sized stall anyway and shut the door.

Gabe tried to smile reassuringly but doubted it was working when Alain's expression remained impassive so he settled for a simple, "Trust me," and started to strip.

Alain eyebrows almost climbed off his forehead as Gabe started unbuttoning the tan dress shirt, but he seemed to force himself to relax and he waited in silence. Gabe flipped his shirt over the stall's wall and turned around. "Look," he ordered.

He knew Alain's eyes would go right to the tattoo. It was unusual and stood out starkly in the otherwise smooth light mocha of his skin. Bingo, he thought when he felt Alain's fingers brush the area of his right shoulder blade. What he didn't expect was Alain's apparent fascination. His fingers ran over and over the area, tracing the lines of the stylized symbol of the Watchers. "Explain," he ordered curtly, but he never stopped touching.

Gabe tried to ignore the soft fingers exploring his shoulder. "I was sent here." Alain snorted. "Well, duh, yeah. But it wasn't like I was assigned to you. I was sent to investigate who beheaded Mikhail Borshile."

"Let me save you some trouble. That would be me." He pinched at the tattoo once, then went back to lightly brushing.

Gabe shivered and tried to pretend that it was normal to have a conversation with the wall of a toilet stall while having one's shoulder fondled by an immortal. //Not bloody likely.// "I'm part of the Special Assignments division." The shoulder-fondling immortal froze. "Ah, you've heard of us. I wasn't expecting that."

"I have some Watcher experience. I make it a habit to know things."

"Interesting. That fits with how I see you though. You are so careful."

"I thought it might be a good plan to have influence with people who could in turn influence my life. Watchers want to have their cake and eat it too. 'Know where they are but don't let them know where we are.' They don't seem to realize how dangerous it could be to know where all immortals are at all times -- for the immortals. I thought it would be better to try and ensure that nobody could ever know where I was."

"You meddle in your own Chronicle?"

"I prefer to think of it as mystifying the past." He restarted his study of Gabe's back. "Well you found me, Mr. Principe. What are you going to do with me now? Go running back to the Council?" His hand stilled again, resting warmly on Gabe's skin, covering the tattoo.

Gabe's head dropped down, exposing the nape of his neck to the man behind him. "I don't want to," he whispered.

"Why?"

"I don't think I can. Because of this." Gabe turned in the small space, dislodging Alain's hand. He raised one of his own hands as if to touch Alain's cheek, the hand hovering just over the skin, sharing warmth but not contact. "Because...because then I'd have to go on like it never happened. I'm not exactly behaving professionally here. I didn't plan on this. I'm not trained for this. Suddenly it's up to me, just me. Not Watcher Gabriel, and not Jovanna's Gabriel. Just me."

"Alain's Gabriel?"

"My that does sound good. Maybe. Someday. I don't know." But his hand seemed to know just fine what it wanted and it settled onto Alain's cheek, sliding softly down the side of his neck and around the back of his head.

"If we do this you can't be a Watcher. Or at least a Watcher that knows my little secret." As Alain spoke his eyes grew darker with promises.

"I can't help but be a Watcher. It's part of me. But I'm no slave to the man. I think I can fudge things a little. Are you worth it?"

"What do you think?"

Gabe took a half step closer to Alain, his hand cupping Alain's neck and pulling the other man the rest of the way, their chests now brushing together. Gabe gazed into Alain's eyes as their heads moved, lips meeting in the middle. His eyes slid shut and he just...absorbed the experience.

Once again Gabe felt the burning heat of pressing lips. But almost immediately Alain opened his mouth and demanded more. Gabe gave without hesitation. And gave and gave. Alain was a hungry kisser, mouth moving, moving. Gabe, half naked, quickly grew overwarm, flushing in the heat they were creating together. Suddenly Alain's hands were involved again, beginning at Gabe's waist. Backs of fingers ran up Gabe's ribs, palms cupping under and over his pectorals, smoothing down his belly. Gabe wrapped Alain in his arms and shifted their weight, embracing the other man with his whole body. Their limbs tangled more and they were making out with a vengeance. It was tongue and rub and scratch and nibble and press and sigh and lick and suck and consume.

Gabe wasn't entirely sure what they thought they were doing or how long it had been when a banging noise burst into their mix. Gabe was so startled that he stumbled a little and threw out a palm to catch them on one of the blue metal walls. Alain snickered into Gabe's neck.

"Hey!!" An outside voice. "Open the fuck up!"

Gabe pondered the situation. "How long do you think that door will hold them?" His hand strayed down to Alain's tight behind.

"Not long once the manager brings the key." Alain pushed with his hips, moving against Gabe's hand.

"There is that. Pragmatist."

"Realist," Alain corrected, reaching over and snagging Gabe's shirt for him.

As Gabe was doing up his buttons, Alain spoke casually. "You know, I've never seen that approach before. Emptying out a public bathroom and just stripping down to get my attention."

Pausing in dealing with a cuff Gabe glared a second before recovering. "You liked it? I can arrange it again if you did."

"Nah, too dirty," he said, looking pointedly at a pile of tissue in one corner.

"Give me a break. I didn't have much to work with."

"Good seducers plan ahead."

"Good seducees are grateful for what they get."

They moved out of the bathroom together, disheveled and puffy. But still bickering like everything was normal and ignoring the small but angry crowd outside the room.

"You don't think I could do better?"

"You could try but you'd never get quite the shock value that this had."

"Ooo, I love a challenge..."

Epilogue

Resting in Alain's bed early the next morning, Gabe marveled at what they had created together. They had both tried to cover these feelings up, but it had been futile. The feelings were bigger than either of them was separately. Now that the two of them were together they were fertile ground. He could sense the emotions growing, pushing tendrils through any remaining barriers and spreading warmth and life as they went.

They lay on their sides, facing each other. Hands traveled in lazy appreciation over hips, arms, faces. They had been resting for awhile after completing spectacularly what had begun in the dirty pub bathroom.

Gabe was positive he had never felt so right or so happy. Serendipity at its finest.

There was just one more thing he had to talk to Alain about before making his official report. They had already worked out the details of how to explain the Rainier quickening and would implement them over the next few days. That was fine, but he wasn't sure exactly how to say what he needed to say. So he stalled, naturally.

"Its lucky that you have friends who can help us out. The head of Region One in on this...it's hard to believe."

"Yeah. Joe is a great detail man. And Duncan MacLeod is the perfect embodiment of a champion. I think that's even written down somewhere official."

"And he won't mind taking the credit for Borshile's beheading?"

"Not a chance. He takes so many heads, what's one more?"

"It's a head, Alain."

"And he would have killed me, Gabriel."

Gabe sighed. There was that. He should know better by now. "I know babe, I know." He shifted over and kissed Alain gently, then nuzzled his ear. Alain hummed a little in response.

Gabe pulled back. "We'll get confirmation from Blair Sandburg that Borshile had been following him around to get to MacLeod since they're friends and it will all fit together."

"Gabriel," Alain cut in. "What is bothering you? We worked this all out an hour ago." Alain caught and held Gabe's gaze.

Guilty. "I guess I'm just having trouble accepting all of this. A day ago I was just pissed off because I had to leave my job and go to work for the Watchers again and now I've found you."

Alain's eyes dimmed a little and a line appeared between his brows. Gabe would almost be willing to say the man looked...worried. "You do feel it don't you? How right this is?" He spoke without his usual sureness, eyes searching Gabe's face.

Gabe's face smoothed into a slow smile. He nodded gently, watching with joy as Alain's eyes brightened again. Alain raised a hand off of Gabe's hip, fingers settling over Gabe's lips, touching his smile.

Reaching his own hand up, Gabe kissed Alain's fingers and moved them down to his chest. "But I do want to be clear on one thing. I won't abandon my travels all together. I want to be here with you and I know you have a job, but I need to be out there sometimes."

"You're still looking for her, aren't you? You didn't tell me everything, and you don't have to, but I know you still miss her."

"Yes, in a way this is about Jovanna. I keep thinking one day that I'll find her again, even when the rest of the world is sure she's dead. Lecturing on cruise ships is how I've made my living for the last year and a half so that I could search all over the world whenever we were at port. But honestly, all my life I've felt the need to move around a lot. It probably didn't help that I was raised between Britain, Italy and America, but I also always felt like I was looking for something else. Since I've met you though I feel like I finally found it, whatever it was. Maybe you're my answer. But only time can tell us if this love is enough to make things better."

"Time, huh? Time I have. And right now, it's all for you." This time Gabe didn't even get a chance to smile in response before Alain's hot lips were covering him up again. Covering and smothering (but in a good way!) and nurturing him in their heat. As the product of their love blossomed in Alain's bed, Gabe was sure that he had finally found out all he needed to know.

endendendendend

Swords and Knives
By: Tears for Fears

A waking world of innocence
So grave those first born cries
When life begins with *needles and pins
*It ends with Swords and Knives

Oh dangerman, oh dangerman
Your blade fits like a glove
*When forged in steel
Time cannot heal
That blood red bond of love

*In times of trouble you're an open book
With the change in *the way you look
And its sad love's not *enough to make things better

Turn the tables, we'll burn the fables
*Lies beneath the visions and daydreams
*Fooled by now, we mystify the past
*Like a dream, like it never happened

When life begins with needles and pins
It ends with Swords and Knives
*God save those born to die

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