Finally Pressed: A Quieter Version of Seattle

by Nynaeve

nyn-tkd@usa.net

Crossover Lyric Wheel challenge response. My answer to the challenge was to cross Highlander with The Sentinel (and a tiny appearance by a character from another series as he might have been if he had lived in Washington but was still just as big a putz. If you can spot him and where he is from then go and buy yourself some celebratory Pop-tarts. Strawberry flavored.). Another useful tidbit: Peter Wingfield once guest-starred on The Sentinel and that episode ("Foreign Exchange", I think) is referenced here a few times, as is the episode "Waiting Room" where Jim helps a ghost solve her 50-year-old murder.

To Disclaim or not to Disclaim: Obviously I own no television shows or characters as they would be a whole lot more controversial if I did and then I wouldn't be writing fanfic for free. Duh.

Lyrics are listed at the end of the story and were provided by Selinthia, to whom I say, "Thanks!"

Warning: For this author's second ever fanfic she had a mild flirtation with PLOT. (Plot slapped her and sent her home to her mother, but that's another story.) You have been warned. Also, beware trying to figure out where this would fit in canon. It's after the end of the HL series, but that's all I'll commit to.

Rating: PG-13 for adult language. Discussion of m/m relationship. (Nothing graphic.)

"Hey Simon, is it just me or is Cascade the most dangerous city in America?" - Jim to Simon, "Dead Drop", The Sentinel

"Well, Mr. Andrews, I suppose that covers the necessary paperwork." The man who was speaking picked up a small stack of forms. He banged their edges against his desk more forcefully than neatness strictly required and then folded his hands on top of them. "It seems like a lot of bother but I'll have my secretary forward you the copies as you requested."

"Thank you Dean Snyder. And please, call me Alain." Methos eyed the small, self-important administrator sitting behind the hugely vulgar desk. He sighed in weary tolerance and tried once again to find a comfortable spot to slouch in the chair he had been ordered to sit in. Well, that was futile. He settled for flinging an arm over the back and resting one ankle on the other leg's knee and decided that there was no doubt, this piece of furniture had to have been designed by a Spanish Inquisitioner. He, at least, was willing to confess being all manners of sinful if it got him out of the damned thing any faster.

"Fine. Alain. What is that, French? You don't sound French."

Methos hid a smile by tilting his head downward for a moment until it passed. This middle-management worm had no social skills to speak of whatsoever. He was also clearly suffering from a Napoleon-like 'small man' syndrome, which probably wasn't helped by his balding head, ferret-like eyes and strange teeth. He rather reminded Methos of an alien he had once seen on a Star Trek episode. What were they called? Oh yes, Ferengi.

"I'm not from France originally, no. But as I'm sure you saw in my C.V. I have lectured in that country extensively." He was prevaricating and also pretty sure his non-answer would fly right by the dense little weasel. After two hours of mind-numbing torture in Snyder's company all he could bring himself to feel was a vague disbelief that this was the man that the University Powers-That-Be had assigned to meet and greet him. Bastards.

His obfuscation worked as the Dean blinked and said, "Oh, yes, right. Anyway, moving right along, I suppose I'll be the first to officially welcome you to Rainier University. I should also say that everyone in your department is very excited to work with you for some reason. I'm sure you won't be a waste of valuable University resources." Then the Dean grinned in a decidedly feral way, which Methos deduced was meant to be more of a warning than a welcome.

"How very comforting. I certainly hope to return full value of said resources. And on that note, I thank you again and will leave you to your work." As Methos spoke he scooted out of his chair-- Sweet manna, finally!-- and made for the exit before the Dean could process the remark and come up with another barb-riddled speech.

He just barely made it.

Methos indulged in a rare moment of smug satisfaction with his current life. He was standing at the window of his new office and waiting for the movers to bring in the last of his boxes. He felt in no rush to start unpacking. There really wasn't anything in them besides books as he didn't plan on staying for more than the one school year he'd been contracted for.

Technically the position he was here for was as guest lecturer in ancient languages. But his office was housed in the anthropology department's Hargrove Hall as a result of a space shortage. A school like Rainier really didn't have the funds for separate buildings for every single department. The languages people were already squashed in among linguistics and literature, leaving no room for an itinerant worker such as himself.

In truth, it was the very fact of Rainier's mid-ranged budget, mid-ranked unremarkableness that added to Methos's satisfaction. Sure, it was a good university, but not exactly in the center of the academic world. The chances of him drawing much attention, outside of the aforementioned professors who were purportedly excited to be working with a new face, were very low.

It was actually kind of nice to be beginning something new. Methos had decided almost a year ago that it was time to start over again with a different life. He had been getting bored, a very dangerous thing for him to do, he had learned. Boredom led to complacency; complacency led to making mistakes; making mistakes led to headless immortals, and certainly some serious suffering on someone's part. He had reflected sardonically that Yoda-styled lessons were far more applicable to his life than maybe he should admit, and then had laughed for about 5 minutes at the thought of casting himself in the role of a three-foot tall, sword-wielding swamp sage. Jedi Master Methos, indeed. He wondered if they had beer on Dagobah.

The final analysis was that Adam Pierson's life pretty much sucked. No one had asked his permission, but suddenly his nice safe world had become a world wherein people went around blabbing the truth about his immortality. He could no longer function - at least in any interesting manner. He couldn't publish anymore, he couldn't really travel safely, and Europe might as well be locked and barred against him. Hence Pierson's untimely demise (a homeless man - already dead, of course - taking a header off a cliff in "Pierson's" car all in the name of being neighborly to a friendly immortal in need) and Alain Andrews sprung like Athena, fully formed from Methos's head, into the academic world.

Methos always made a point of keeping contingency identities ready for just such occasions. From time to time he published academic articles under several names and in several disciplines, carefully making none of them really remarkable or unusually brilliant. Each of his identities had distinct lives and personalities as well, ensuring that none of them sounded like they could be the same person. Perhaps he went a tad overboard with his precautions, but why take unnecessary risks? It was hard to break a lifetime habit of paranoia when he had had millennia to get so good at it.

Ancient languages were Andrews's specialty. It had been a whimsical decision, becoming Andrews full-time. Andrews was younger and more playful than most of his other identities, and that contrasted nicely with his also being an expert in musty, ancient things. Methos would get to have a little harmless fun acting as young Andrews while slogging through some of his older memories of how to speak dead languages. Ironic, really.

After deciding who he was, he had then carefully planned where Andrews would like to settle for awhile. This Pacific coast city was a pretty nice place to live, even accounting for the climate. Allegedly there were actual rain-free days, but you couldn't prove it by him yet. It had poured steadily for the six days he had been here already. Despite his masochistic desire to whine in futility about the damp to all who would listen //as if whining will magically make your shower curtain unmoldy?//, and the city's not being a major hub for anything, there were still many bonuses to living here. There was good theater, great local music, wonderful local breweries (a definite plus), a rather good professional sports team, a strong economy due to technology, and as an added draw, it was not Seacouver. Most immortals who visited the area tended to go to Seacouver, Duncan MacLeod's hotbed of immortal activity that was also a good 50 miles to the north. And since immortals were not much for tourism, it was highly unlikely that they'd ever go through Cascade.

Methos turned back towards the door as the movers brought the last load in. Recognizing a particular box by the red magic marker he had used to label it, Methos snagged it from the movers' dolly and carefully hefted it onto the top of his bare desk. Pushing his sleeves up, he slit the tape and proceeded to meticulously inventory the contents while tuning out the activities of the movers.

This box was one that he really didn't want to take chances with. Inside were his oldest personal journals and a few of the books he would need immediately to teach his classes. The books for the classes were in there because he didn't want to slog around looking for them later. The journals were another story entirely. Others may have debated whether they were his most valuable possessions. Methos had no doubt. They were detailed accounts of his life from thousands of years ago. Even with his usually excellent memory there was no way he could replace what was in them. Money, rare antiques, expensive weapons - they were all things that he could find substitutes for. Memories, uh-uh, no way. Once he lost those he WAS lost. It's not as if there was a website he could look things like that up on. www.methos'sangryadolescence.com, yeah right.

Running his fingers over the spines he didn't even notice when another body slipped in the open door, around the mild chaos of the office, and right up to his elbow until the new person spoke.

"Wow, did the University get you movers? That is so not fair, man because I sure didn't get movers when I finally ranked an office."

Methos jumped several centimeters in the air and just barely stopped himself from doing something worthy of a lawsuit to the intruder. He had recognized a split second before inflicting violence that the person speaking was obviously not a threat.

"Good gods kid, give a guy a heart attack." He mimed holding his heart manually in his chest and took a deep breath. He also took that extra few moments to finish analyzing what his "fight or flight" reflexes had seen. The intruder wasn't really a kid, he decided, even if he looked it. The man was on the short side, about 5 foot 7, but with an athletic build. Shoulder-length, curly, brown hair; wide, blue eyes that were currently doing their level best to visually catalogue everything in the office at once; University-grunge styled clothes that consisted mainly of flannel and jeans; and hands that were having trouble staying still as he meandered as best he could around the interior of Methos's crowded, new office.

As Methos was recovering from his "heart attack", the other man drew his 30-second "grand tour" to a close and ended up at Methos's elbow again. This time he leaned over Methos's arm trying to see what was in the open box. Methos tried subtlety and shifted slightly, turning to face the shorter man so that his body was in the way. The guy took the hint and backed up - about 3 inches. Ok, so subtlety didn't work so well on his new guest, check.

"Oh sorry, you're probably wondering what I'm doing in here. I guess I should introduce myself. Blair Sandburg, Anthropology. I have an office just down the hall." He stuck out one hand while using the other to point vaguely with his thumb at one of Methos's walls, which Methos presumed he was to deduce was the direction of this Blair's office.

Methos accepted the shake and nodded a bit as he replied, "Alain Andrews, guest lecturer, Ancient Languages."

"Yeah, I knew that. Everyone knew that we were getting a new body today. It was kinda the talk of the faculty. When I saw the movers I decided to see if you were him. And you are. Serendipitous, huh? Well it was for me anyway since I was spending the afternoon in my office for once and now I get to meet you first. I like to make people feel welcome, you know? Settle into new surroundings, get comfy, be at one with the Hargrove vibe, all that. Are all of these boxes yours? It's going to be murder to unpack them all. I could help if you need it." His hands wandered vaguely over the boxes in question.

Methos smiled in the face of Blair's friendly chatter. Even though his visitor had to be close to 30 his enthusiasm made him come off as somewhat younger. He wasn't hyper in a little-kid way, but he definitely exuded energy. His hands still seemed to be almost itching to get into Methos's boxes, but it appeared to be innocent curiosity.

Methos shrugged, "Yeah, they're all mine. Being a supposed 'expert'," here Methos made exaggerated air quotes with his fingers, "in languages I have to keep up appearances by lugging around a positive elephant load of books. No one believes the get-up otherwise but sometimes it's almost more trouble than it's worth."

Blair nodded and grinned, "Yeah, 'expert', I get it, I get it." He copied Methos's air quotes. "A cover."

Methos decided he was starting to like the kid already. He actually reminded Methos of a better-educated Richie, which was nice in a nostalgic way. He leaned a tad closer to Blair in a conspiratorial manner, "If you really want to know the awful truth, I have to admit that they're not all for show. I have a few here that might actually be useful for the classes that I'm supposed to teach, heavens help me. Originals from the era of the languages and so forth."

Blair seemed delighted at this. "You're kidding! You have original copies?"

"Yeah." Methos pulled one of the books he had brought for the courses out of the box that was behind him on the desk and held it in Blair's direction.

Blair took it reverently and his palm hovered over the cover in an awestruck way. "Wow. Are all of the books this old? Are they valuable? This is amazing." He had quickly recovered his nerve, opened the book and now actually seemed to be trying to decipher the Aramaic inside.

"Well, I suppose they might be extremely valuable to anyone who appreciated their true worth. But since those people are few and far between the answer would have to be not really. The value is mostly in the information inside."

"And you have lots of books like this?" Blair was carefully turning the pages at this point and had devoted all of his considerable attention to the activity.

Methos crossed his arms and leaned against the desk, enjoying the exchange and Blair's visible adoration of books. "I brought my own because I wouldn't want to put an unnecessary drain on Dean Snyder's 'resources' by requisitioning such things from the University, now would I?"

Blair laughed at this, closed the book slowly and reluctantly handed it back. "I see you've met our oh-so-very-charming Prince Snyder already. And lived to tell the tale too! I'm impressed."

Methos nodded sadly. "It was a near thing." He feigned melancholy for a moment longer and then said, "Actually, it was more a matter of if the Dean was going to make it out alive at one point. How do you put up with having to deal with him all the time?"

"Hiding the body, even in several messy pieces, would be more trouble than he's worth," Blair quipped. "And besides, I'm friends with WAY too many cops to get involved in a life of crime at this point. Say, if you had to put up with that today AND move into your office you really need a break. You're new in town, right? How 'bout I treat you to lunch? I was supposed to meet my partner, Jim, but he had to cancel at the last minute - something about dealing with hostile witnesses or something, I dunno - and I haven't eaten yet. Wattayasay?" Blair paused and looked up at Methos expectantly.

"Lunch sounds great. Just let me close this box back up and we can go." He replaced the book they had been looking at, folded the sides of the box together and lifted the box onto a stack next to his desk, the magic marker side out so he could find it again with a minimum of frantic searching. "Let's go. Do you have any good Tibetan places around here?" He grabbed his coat and started pulling it on as they moved to the door.

Blair grinned. "If its exotic cuisine you want, I'm your man."

As they were exiting the office Blair started chatting again. "So, Alain, tell me. If you study all of these dead languages, do you study the cultures of the people who spoke them too? 'Cause, it seems to me that if you really want to know the nuances of speaking in day-to-day life you would really need to..." The office door swung shut behind them and Blair continued to entertain Methos as they headed down the hall together.

*~~~~*

The door opened with a soft click and the shadowy figure slipped into the room. He was mildly disappointed that all he could see were plain white boxes. No open clues laying about, no key that would magically tell him what he needed to know about this immortal.

Suddenly he froze. Someone was coming!

But he couldn't just leave empty-handed. He eyes darted about but all there was to see was boxes, boxes and more boxes.

There was nothing to it then. He grabbed a box off the top of the stack he was standing next to and darted back to the door. Listening carefully he slowly cracked the door and peeked outside.

The man whose office he was in was heading back towards him with the smaller man he had left with earlier. Shit!

Fortunately, at that moment they both looked down at some paper the immortal was holding in his hand. The thief seized his reprieve and slipped away.

Methos looked up suddenly. "What was that?"

"What was what, man?" Blair absently looked up as well.

"I thought I saw someone coming out of my office. Wait here." Methos picked up his pace and walked past his door to the branch in the corridor that was just beyond it. He carefully looked both ways. "I don't see anything now though. No one around."

"Maybe it was just your imagination. I tried to warn you that the local beers are brewed a lot stronger than you're probably used to." Blair grinned.

"Not likely," Methos drawled, wandering back to his companion. "I've had beers in Egypt that would choke a camel. Today," Methos waved his hand dismissively, "that was just tap water in comparison."

"So you said, man. But I still thing you need to come to the Brewfest with us next week." Blair pointed to the flyer that he had given Methos. "There we'll see if your camels are so tough after all."

Methos laughed and they both entered his office.

Methos went suddenly very, very still. Something was definitely not right. Someone had been here. Paranoia, his constant but usually silent companion, was jabbering away as he slowly swept his eyes over the room. He vaguely registered that Blair was talking to him, but he already knew that Blair wasn't a threat. There was another danger here. What was it?...

And then he saw it. Or rather, didn't see it.

His box was gone.

"Alain. Come on, how can you be so sure that one box is missing? You have dozens here."

Methos was sitting in his chair now, trying to bring himself back under control. When he had seen that someone had taken his box he had run out of his office so fast that he had knocked Blair back against the doorjamb. He wasn't entirely sure that he had a plan of what to do when he caught the box-snatcher, but he had plenty of weapons on his person. He had room to be spontaneous.

It had been futile. Hargrove Hall was so deserted one would think that there had been some sort of fire drill that no one had told him about. Or free doughnuts in the Science Hall.

Either way, he was back in this damned office now, empty handed and being hovered over by Blair.

To whom he owed an apology.

Sighing he looked up. "Blair, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go bonkers on you back there. Are you ok?" Blair nodded, so he went on. "You're just going to have trust me, my box is gone. Really gone..." He shook his head, trying to shake off the sudden panic at the thought of someone taking his private journals. It was really unlikely that anyone besides a languages expert such as himself could read them since they were so old, but that was very little comfort at the moment.

"This was a very particular box. You know how you asked me earlier if any of my books were valuable? And then I said they were only to certain people?" Blair nodded again. It seemed that he could indeed be quiet when the occasion called for it. "Well, let's just say that the books in this box were very, very valuable - to me. I had them in a specially marked box, the one we were looking in before. And it is no longer in this office. I just know." He shivered a little, unknowingly looking lost.

He knew that he was behaving strangely, reacting in ways he really shouldn't. He tried to pull the mantle of Alain Andrews over his shoulders like a blanket. He could feel himself still losing it so he concentrated on moving everything but the young scholar persona to the back of his head. He could let Methos deal with this later, but now he had Blair to think about too. He comforted himself with the thought that there really wasn't anything he could do about his journals until he could get some privacy and make some calls.

When he looked up again he managed to have his mask a little more firmly in place. "I thought that Cascade was supposed to be a safe place to live - relatively crime-free. You know, a quieter version of Seattle?"

Blair blinked at him and then did something really, amazingly out of place in Methos's line of thinking. He started to laugh.

He kept laughing. Methos was tempted to hit him, but doubted that was something Alain would do, so he settled for scowling. "Just WHAT is so damn funny?"

Blair just howled a little harder, before gasping for breath and quieting a little, holding his stomach with one arm. "I'm sorry, Alain. Sorry, sorry." He sighed, settling down. "Please, don't be angry. That was more hysterical reaction than anything."

Methos stopped scowling. Blair was hard to be angry at. Annoyed at, yes, but really he wasn't the one Methos was angry with. "Care to explain?" he drawled.

"Yeah, ok. It's just this project I'm working on for my thesis. I work really closely with the police, see, and you wouldn't believe the things that have happened to my partner and I over the years. Cascade has WAY more crime than you would think it should. We're like Gotham, man. We seem to attract all the really psychotic criminal masterminds."

"Well that's just...great," Methos muttered. Apparently Cascade also attracted half-deranged immortals with paranoid tendencies because here he was. At least he knew he wasn't the only crazy person in Cascade now. What comfort.

"Tell me about it. It was a huge shock for me, too. This was not something that I was raised to expect, I don't know about you." He shook his head.

Methos wisely decided not to go into how he was raised and settled for grim silence.

"You know, Alain. You kind of remind me of this really whacked-out Australian terrorist that tried to rob the federal mint here one time."

Methos couldn't resist a weak laugh and a snort. "Blair do I sound Australian to you? Besides, I swear that I haven't been a terrorist for at least two thousand years."

Blair grinned at that but just then someone knocked on the door. Methos rose to answer it, but Blair beat him to it.

"Jim! Boy am I glad to see you, man." Blair backed away from the door allowing a tall, well-built man with a strong jaw and icy blue eyes to enter Methos's office. It was getting decidedly crowded in here.

The man entering the office jerked to a stop and turned his head slowly to stare at Methos. He twitched a few times as if something was itching him and blinked uncomfortably. He didn't say anything, just kept staring at Methos.

Blair looked really concerned and put a hand on the guy's arm. "Jim, hey, are you ok?"

Jim must have been too distracted to answer, because he didn't. A muscle in his jaw was jumping spasmodically for all the world like it was an Olympic hurdler, and for a few moments he didn't look like he was ever going to speak at all.

Methos was more than a little nervous at the man's reaction to him. The guy certainly wasn't immortal, but until he pushed his sleeves up there was no way Methos could be sure he wasn't a Watcher. But his reaction seemed more physical discomfort than the nervousness that came when Watchers were in the same room as immortals.

Finally the newest addition to their little party seemed to shake off whatever was bothering him as he stopped twitching, turned, and responded in a low voice to Blair's ministrations, "Chief, I was coming to pick you up but when you weren't in your office I thought I heard you down here."

"That's fine, that's fine." Blair looked very relieved that Jim had snapped out of whatever was bothering him. Then he flashed Jim a look that said they needed to talk. Jim nodded sharply and Blair spoke again, "Jim, I want you to meet Rainier's newest professor Alain Andrews. Alain, meet Jim, my partner."

Methos was relieved too that Jim wasn't going to either collapse of nerves on the spot for talking to him or pull a gun and start shouting James Horton nonsense like that immortals were abominations. He smiled tightly and put out his hand.

Jim reached out to return the gesture, but as soon as their hands touched he jerked away gasping. Jim stumbled backwards and Blair lunged forward to help him.

"Jim! Hey, big guy, talk to me. What's wrong?" Blair yanked over Methos's chair and helped Jim into it, his face creasing in worry.

Jim heaved in a big breath and rubbed his hand. "I...dunno, Chief. I just felt like I had been touched by a live electrical wire or something. It was...weird." Methos really had to agree there. He hadn't felt a thing.

Blair looked around the room and his eyes settled on Methos. "Uh, did you feel anything, Alain?" The way he said the question made it seem like he already knew that Methos hadn't.

Methos frowned. "No."

"Oh. Well, Jim, how are you feeling now?"

Jim seemed to take stock of his condition and then answered carefully, still rubbing his hand, "Better. My hand still tingles though. And I feel like something's itching my skin."

Blair's mind was obviously working to come up with an explanation, his eyes darting around the room. "Maybe you just got a huge charge of static electricity off the carpet or something. There've been movers wandering in and out of here all day." He turned to Methos and smiled apologetically. "Jim has really strange, severe allergic reactions. Can't even take cold pills. Never know what's going to set him off."

Methos nodded sharply. He could tell that none of them was satisfied with that theory. But really, what could they do?

Blair made an abrupt attempt to normalize things by going back to the topic they had been concerned with before Jim's grand entrance.

He started speaking as he helped Jim out of the chair. "Jim, Alain has been here, like, less than a week and you'll never guess what's happened. Someone broke into his office. In fact it happened today while we were at lunch."

Jim looked critically at his friend, "Spreading around a little of your famous 'Sandburg luck', Chief?" Apparently he was also trying to move past the strange episode by ignoring it. "Because if that's the case you're lucky the place hasn't exploded yet or something." He had addressed this to Methos.

"Naw, Jim, this had nothing to do with me this time, I swear. But it's great that you're here because maybe we can help Alain out. The stuff that was stolen was really valuable. Alain, Jim is a detective. He can help you if anyone can."

Jim sent a sharp look Blair's way and then shifted his gaze to Methos. "Valuable? How much are we talking here?"

Methos sighed silently. It was a really bad idea to involve the police, but he didn't want to offend his new acquaintances. Especially police-type ones who may or may not have been Watchers. "It was a box of books that was taken. Just the one. There were approximately 20 to 25 books in it ranging from about 500 years to about 4,500 years old. I honestly have no idea what the monetary worth might be as I never had any intention of trying to sell them."

"Books. Chief, you know that's not a Major Crimes case. This is something that Robbery should handle." Jim appeared ready to pass on making good Blair's offer of help, which was just fine with Methos.

Blair wasn't ready to give up the ghost yet, however. "Come on, Jim! Alain is new in town. This is giving him a totally bad welcome to Cascade. All you have to do is check around for him a little. Use those magical detecting skills of yours. Find out if there's any psycho, black-market book dealers in town."

"Psycho book dealers, Chief?" Jim and Methos both raised an eyebrow at the smaller man.

Blair barely flinched at the other men's amusement. "Well, see, this is why you're the detective here, not me. But you have to admit, its pretty weird that someone broke into Alain's office at the only time that we weren't in here this whole afternoon - and we weren't even gone that long. AND they did it on the very day that he moved in. Then this person only takes one box and it just HAPPENED to be the box that meant the most to Alain." Blair was really warming to his topic now. "Now, come on, the more you think about it, the more it's starting to sound like our type of case. Someone had to have been targeting Alain."

Jim looked slightly startled. "You know, when you put it like that it does sound pretty suspicious. Alain, do you have any enemies that you know of in the area?"

Methos almost groaned. Just his luck to run into two helpful men who were just intelligent enough to get in his way. "Uh, no, not that I know of. The only people I know in this area live about 50 miles away. And they're really more friends than enemies. Guys, really, I'm sure that this isn't some conspiracy. Probably just some deviant student curious about the new professor."

Jim didn't look convinced at all. "Maybe. But just to be on the safe side, can you give us a list of names of people in the area that you know and any enemies that you know of, even if they don't live in the area? And also a list of what's missing - titles, authors, descriptions. Anything you can think of that would help us out."

Methos gave up trying to distract the other men because another, more distracting thought had just hit him. He walked towards the door and made motions like he was wrapping their meeting up. "Sure, Jim. I'll do that and give it to Blair tomorrow. Any help you can give me on finding my books is really appreciated." He tried to smile.

Blair looked from him to Jim and seemed to come to a decision. "Jim, why don't we try to get started on this today. That way whoever stole Alain's books won't have time to get rid of them before we find him. It's still early in the day. You can go back to the station and get the check started on anyone who may have an interest in ancient books. I'll stay here and help Alain check to see if anything else is missing."

Methos was startled. He had been planning to get rid of both of his guests so he could freak out in peace and quiet and then get started on his own investigation, but apparently he wasn't going to get the opportunity immediately. He opened his mouth to counteract Blair's plan when Blair cut him off at the pass again.

Blair took Jim's arm and moved them both to the door. "I'll walk you out Jim. Be right back, Alain!" And then they were gone.

Methos didn't understand how he had been outmaneuvered but it was a very unfamiliar feeling. How interesting.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Blair whirled around and confronted Jim. "What the HELL was that all about?"

Jim had been expecting something like this and leaned back against the wall behind him and crossed his arms. "What, exactly, are you talking about, Sandburg?"

"What am I talking about? The zone-thing. The senses thing. The f---ing electro-shock SEIZURE you just about had! What did you think I was talking about?" His hands were flying in Jim's face like two pterodactyls trying to help him make his point.

"Calm down, Chief. You don't usually get this upset about a senses thing. Right about now you should be dragging me down to a lab or something, not flipping out. What's really wrong?"

Blair took one long, deep breath. Then another. "You're right, I know." He groaned and covered his face with his hands for a moment. "Ok, sorry. It's just that you don't normally do something like that with a total stranger around, you know? Usually, it's Simon or Megan, and that's fine. Even the other guys on the force know that you sometimes work...strangely. I guess I just got nervous. It's been awhile since I've had to worry about your abilities being found out."

"Yeah, no kidding." Jim snorted softly. "If you really want to get into this now, can we sit down or something?"

"Sure, good idea. Let's go to my office. I'll just tell Alain that I had to get a file for you or something."

When they got to Blair's office Jim sat down on the couch. Blair perched on his desk and got right to the problem. "So tell me."

"I don't honestly know what it was, Chief. It was like some sort of electrical storm was happening in that office. I think that's the best way I can describe it. The only thing I can be sure of was that it was coming from your new friend there."

"Coming from Alain? What do you mean?"

"When I walked in there was this...buzzing in the air. It was, I dunno, itchy. I wasn't entirely sure but something made me think it was coming from him. But when he shook my hand there wasn't any doubt." Blair chuckled ruefully, able to see the humor now, while Jim rubbed the hand again and clenched his jaw. "It's like he zapped me, but I know he didn't mean to. It wasn't like anything I've experienced before. About the only experience I can really compare it to was that time with Molly."

Blair jumped a little. "Molly? The ghost who wanted you to solve her murder? That is too weird, man. There is no way that Alain is a ghost. For one thing, I can see him this time."

Jim looked exasperated. "Duh, Chief. I know that. I was trying to make a comparison here. When Molly was trying to communicate with me there was something that seemed to point me in the right direction. Some vibe my senses were picking up on that was too sensitive for any other person. This is just sort of the same feeling. Something was emanating from that guy and I felt it."

"Emanating? Woah, big word there Jim. Don't hurt yourself."

"Very funny. Go ahead and mock, Darwin, but Mr. Alain Andrews is not your normal, friendly neighborhood professor."

"You really think there's something weird about him? Do you think it could mean he's evil in some way?" Blair looked a bit upset at that thought.

"Naw, Chief. I didn't get that from him at all. He looked just about as harmlessly nerdy as you."

"Ha-ha, you're a laugh riot today, Ellison."

"Thank you. Now, can I get to work? I want to run that check on the book dealers, but I also want to start checking out our newest mystery man."

"You're going to run a background check on Alain? I thought you didn't think he was a bad guy."

"I thought it might be wise since we already know there's something he's not telling us. Besides, didn't he kind of remind you of someone?"

Blair rolled his eyes. "Jim, we are the kings of having something that we don't tell everyone. That really doesn't mean a whole lot. And yeah, he did kind of look like that terrorist that Megan followed here from Australia, but I already asked him about that. He thought it was funny."

"Oh yeah, it was real funny when the guy blacked out half the city and then broke into the mint. Anyway, I'm gonna be going."

"Yeah, see ya, big guy...Wait!"

Jim turned around from the door. "What?"

"When you were in Alain's office did you pick up on anything that would help us find the thief?"

"I already thought of that, Chief. Besides you two guys there were about four other people in that office today and with all of the interference from 'Alain the lightning-rod' I didn't pick up anything useful."

"Ok, right. Good try anyway."

Jim turned to go again. "Sure thing Chief." Then he hesitated. "Be careful today, Sandburg. We don't really know what's going on." He flashed Blair a warm smile.

When Blair answered, his voice was softer, more wistful. "Of course, Jim."

*~~~~*

As soon as the other two men left his office, Methos turned and kicked a box.

//Sweet Sephrenia, how in the seven hells could I have been so stupid?//

He had known that it was a really bad idea to let the other men get involved in this, but now he had already made a major mistake. He had told them that he knew people in the area. At the time he had been thinking of Duncan and Joe, but Alain didn't know them, Adam Pierson did. And Pierson was dead.

If Jim did any digging Methos was going to have to hurry and brief his Seacouver friends on how to cover for him. It wasn't like he couldn't fix this, but just the fact that he had made the mistake showed that he really didn't have his head in the game. How amateurish to stumble in front of a detective like that. He might as well take out an ad in bold print that announced he wasn't who he said he was.

And then Methos calmed down. He had gotten his anger out. It was done. Time to move on. He just had to make sure that he never let his personal upsets throw him off like that again.

Blair wasn't back yet. He and Jim had seemed to have something they needed to talk about. That meant he probably had time for some preventive planning. He needed a hell of a good way to throw the other men off a bit and he thought he might have just the thing.

He also needed to make a phone call. Joe would understand his predicament. Oh, he would tease like hell, but he would understand. And he also had the connections to help Methos track down the son of a three-headed goat who stole his books. Methos smiled a wicked smile and picked up the phone.

*~~~~*

Methos set down the phone and rested his head on his arms. Then he groaned. Loudly.

Blair walked in and heard him. "Woah, buddy, what's wrong with you?"

Methos lifted his head and blinked at Blair. "Oh nothing that a hit man couldn't cure." In Methos's opinion Joe had taken an obscene amount of pleasure in Methos's flub up. Revenge was definitely called for. After Joe helped him track down the thief, of course.

At Blair's slightly shocked but amused expression Methos relented. "I just got off the phone with a friend that is being entirely too witty for his own continued health, if you know what I mean. I just had to ask a favor of him and I don't think that I'll enjoy having to repay it."

"Sure, I understand. He teased you for it, right? Jim does that to me all the damn time, the schmuck."

That reminded Methos of the other plan he had made and he smiled to himself. He had to work carefully, though. His new friends seemed rather clever and he didn't want to make them more suspicious than they already were.

One piece of good news that Joe had been able to pass on to him - after he had quit with the hysterical laughter - was that there was no Watcher assigned to the area by the name of James Ellison. And Methos figured Joe ought to know since he was in charge of the region. But Methos wouldn't feel completely safe until Joe had checked with Headquarters, and Joe had promised to do so. //Great, another favor.// Methos sighed and contemplated how Joe would react to being suddenly enrolled in 2,000 Columbia House Music Club memberships. Petty revenge could be fun.

Blair, in a move that he swore had nothing to do with wanting to snoop through Methos's books, got them both moving on unpacking the boxes. He had declared that this was the only way they could be sure that nothing else was missing. Methos didn't want to tell him that other than the few boxes containing the rest of his journals he was really rather fuzzy himself on what all he owned. But he went along with it because the task lent itself to free-flowing conversation and this was what he wanted.

After they had been working for about an hour he began on his chosen topic. "So, Blair. You said that you and Jim are partners. I know you're not a cop so I assume you mean life partners, right?"

The affect on Blair was profound. He turned an incredibly deep shade of red and gaped at Methos. Methos knew he was being unnecessarily cruel, but he figured it was all for the greater good.

He also knew that Blair and Jim were not involved. There hadn't been that wavelength coming from their interaction at all. But he would be willing to bet all of his frequent flyer miles under all of his aliases that both men were dying for their relationship to move in that direction. He had seen some definite signs of deep caring. It also helped that Blair had been completely transparent while he had been taking care of Jim earlier. His heart had leapt into his eyes at Jim's first sign of distress. So, Methos planned to help these two along whether they wanted him to or not.

He just hoped that Blair didn't pass out first. Methos didn't think Blair was breathing and decided that it was awfully good that Blair was already sitting on the ground.

"Blair? You ok?"

"Uh, yeah. Um...It's just...I just...What did you say?"

"I'm sorry. Did I hit on a sore topic? I just thought that since you and Jim seemed so close and that you called him your partner..." Methos prodded.

Blair fidgeted, tucking his hair behind his ears and staring at a book he had in his lap. "No, its ok. We're not, of course." Blair stumbled over his words a little and kept his eyes on his lap, avoiding Methos's gaze. "Life partners or anything. We do work together, but...I don't mind you asking, but just don't let Jim hear you talk like this. Please! I'd die, I swear." Desperate now.

Methos pressed ruthlessly. It turned out that he was having fun baiting the young anthropologist. "Wow. It's not often that I'm wrong about these things or I never would have said anything. You just acted so much like a couple in love..." Blair seemed to be on the verge of a stroke at this point, his breathing coming awfully fast, so Methos backed down a tiny bit. Not that he was done yet. "Oops, I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again, I swear."

"Really, its ok." Blair spoke quickly.

Methos bent down and put his hand on Blair's arm as if he was offering comfort. In actuality he was preparing for the final volley in his first-round effort. "Blair? You sure you're ok? You look a little upset. Did you want to talk about it? Do you have feelings for Jim or something?"

Blair sprang into action, scrambling to his feet.

"Uh, Alain, I think we can stop working now, right? I need to get home and I don't think you found anything else missing. So, I'll just..." He backed up pointing at the door over his shoulder.

"Sure, Blair. Thanks for the help." Methos held up a hand in a friendly wave and Blair was out the door like a shot.

Methos smiled smugly and prepared to go home for the day himself.

The next afternoon found Methos working at his desk on syllabi for the 3 courses he would be teaching. He had cleared a space of the books that he and Blair had left lying around the previous evening and settled in. Finishing the unpacking interested him about as much as one of MacLeod's favorite operas. If he had his way it would probably get done about the same time he needed to pack it all up again, so why bother? He was saving steps, really.

About four p.m. he heard a knock on his door. Turning down the Goo Goo Dolls song currently playing on the portable radio he had brought in, he called, "Enter!"

Blair came into the room looking a lot more composed than he had the previous evening, but not exactly happy either.

"Hey," Blair said waving and pointing at the radio. "Good song. 'Ain't That Unusual', I have this on their cd."

"Yeah, 'A Boy Named Goo'. The whole thing's great."

They both listened for a few more moments before Blair shook himself, drew in a breath and looked at Methos. "I guess that takes care of pleasantries. I think I owe you an explanation."

Methos switched off the radio. "No, Blair, you really don't. I put my rather large nose in where it doesn't belong and it upset you. I should've known better, but like I said, I'm not usually wrong about those things so I didn't think I'd be hurting anything."

"And you weren't wrong this time either." Blair looked around, didn't see a chair, and settled himself on a small stack of boxes. "I do love Jim."

"That's great! Wait, you don't look happy. Why isn't it great?" Methos already had a pretty good idea, of course.

Blair rolled his eyes, mocking them both. "Come ON, Alain. Look at me. Look at Jim, for that matter. I'd be taking both our lives in my hands if I went there." He started ticking points off on his fingers. "One, Jim's former military, two, Jim's a police officer, three, he's got a pretty active dating life already, four, the man is the master of fear-based reactions, five, again LOOK at him." Blair let his hand fall back in his lap and all of the air seemed to go out of him.

Methos put on his most serious expression. "Blair, don't you think Jim loves you too?"

Blair barked out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Love? Sure he loves me. But do you ever think in a million years that I'd be doing us any favors by questioning the nature of that love? Life is NOT kind to people who take that step. He'd probably end up pounding me, then killing himself in remorse over ever hurting me. You don't understand the way things are between us. He once threw me out of his house and tried to never see me again in part because he had a NIGHTMARE about causing my death. It only took me actually dying and him saving my life for him to forgive either of us for it coming to that."

Methos was a little taken aback, but never thought of backing down. "Blair, just think a second..."

"THINK? Of COURSE I've thought about this! Only every night for the last 2 years. It took me our first 2 years together to admit to myself how gone over this guy I was, but by then I knew enough to face reality and have been facing reality ever since. If Jim didn't end up killing the both of us and we actually managed to start something, how long do you think we could hide what we were to each other? You knew us for what, an hour before you knew how things stood with me? What if this got out at the station? The thin blue line is very particular about what they allow to cross it. Its not like anyone would actually SAY anything, it is the twenty-first century after all and they all know Jim is their best detective, but they wouldn't have to. More than anything else in the world I don't want Jim to be hurt. If he one day looked at me with even the smallest amount of regret in his eyes, I'd die. What would I say then? 'Oops. Never meant to go there. Forgive me for ruining your ENTIRE LIFE!' Yeah, that'd go well, I'm sure."

For a minute Methos regretted stirring up this monster of a hornet's nest, but then he got over it. This young man was being entirely too melodramatic. Sure, he had some good points, but Methos was never one to let something like that get in the way of true love. He had once taken a sword in the gut in the name of playing Cupid; he could face this kid's pain no problem. Even if he wasn't being paid a barge for his services.

"Blair, listen to me for a second. I'm a lot older than you." He waved a hand at Blair's protests. "Please, you're going to have to trust me on this one. I look really good for my age. But my point and it's a good one so just LISTEN for once. My point is that I agree with you. In a very limited way, you are right. Yeah, you and Jim would probably suffer a bit for your love. But the occasional nasty look from a co-worker or the promotion that came a few years later than it should is nothing, NOTHING compared to carrying around regrets. Just imagine for a second if you really had died, and Jim never saw the look in your eyes that I saw when you thought he was in pain yesterday. If Jim never got to see your face when you said the actual words." Methos shook his head. "Honestly, Blair. And you claim you don't want to hurt the guy."

Blair looked outraged, but Methos wasn't worried. Blair was a smart guy; he would get the point in about twenty more seconds. Sure enough his face was already draining of its color and the understanding was just beginning to dawn when the phone rang.

Methos picked it up still looking at a dumb-founded Blair. "Andrews here."

*Hello Andrews. It's Jim Ellison.*

"Jim, what can I do for you?" Methos watched in amusement as Blair's face flashed red again and then went back to pale.

*Is Sandburg there with you?*

"Yes, he's right here. Did you want to talk to him?" Methos had to stop himself from laughing at the frantic look on Blair's face.

*No. Well, yeah, in a second. But first I wanted to ask if you would like to come to dinner at our place tonight. I have something that I'd like to talk to you about.*

Methos started focusing more on the conversation when he realized that Jim sounded even more formal than he had yesterday.

"That wouldn't be a problem. My evening's free. What time?"

*Will seven work for you?*

"Seven is fine. I'll get directions from Blair."

*Good. Can I speak to him now, please?*

"Just a second." Methos fought laughter again as he held the phone to Blair and the younger man stared at it for a second like he didn't know what to do with it. He finally took it and started speaking quietly to Jim.

After Blair hung up, he smiled at Methos. "Jim wants me to go to the station for a bit before dinner."

Methos smiled back. "That's good. Do you have any idea what he wants to see me about tonight?"

Blair frowned briefly. "Not exactly. Jim didn't come home last night and I was sort of worried that it had something to do with me. I know he didn't have a date. When I called the station this morning I couldn't reach him because he was in the basement doing some research. The receptionist said she had heard that he'd been at it all night. I guess that's what he wants to go over with me now."

Methos found paper and had Blair make him a map to the apartment Jim and Blair shared before leaving for the police station. Methos felt smug that Blair left looking a lot lighter on his feet than he had coming in. And he had never been quizzed about anything sensitive either. His mission was successful so far.

He decided to call Joe and see how things were going on that end.

Seven p.m. and Methos was in his car trying to follow the map Blair had made. The anthropologist had the handwriting ability of a drunken monkey, so it wasn't easy. He was going to be late, and was having a devil of a time finding the right street. It didn't help that all he could be sure of was that it started with a 'P' and had an 's' somewhere in the middle. Methos gripped his steering wheel a little harder and decided to make another loop around the neighborhood. Damn Blair and his scrawl anyway.

Methos found it more than a little odd that he was going to such lengths for two strangers he had barely met. He had spent an hour this afternoon puzzling over the nebulous halfway trust he felt in them, but had finally had to just accept it. He had had this happen before - instinctively knowing when someone meant him no harm. Hadn't he done just that with MacLeod?

Prospect? Could that be it? Methos made the turn and sure enough, there was building number 852. It had to be the one.

He was curious about what Jim would want to talk to him about, but not overly worried. It's not as if Jim could have found out anything too dangerous to Methos. Methos was naturally by now extremely confident in his ability to obfuscate and cover his tracks. So much so that he didn't even have to think about it anymore. And there was also that mysterious trust he was almost willing to rely on.

Joe had reassured him that there was no Watcher by the name of James Ellison anywhere in the Organization. This was good news. The other piece of news was far more unsettling, but not something Methos was willing to dwell on during dinner tonight.

Joe had followed up on his promise to look into the book theft. He had searched through his old bookstore connections and found out nothing useful. What he had found from another source was that there was a Watcher in town that he had never been told of. This Watcher did not fall under his jurisdiction and in fact was apparently in Cascade on secret assignment for the powers that be. Not good news at all. What other group of people had more reason to need information on an apparently unchronicled immortal than the Watcher Council? If there was a better suspect in the book theft, neither Methos nor Joe could think of one.

Methos had no idea where to start with dealing with this Watcher. In these days of high-tech crime fighting one didn't just go and bump off inconvenient people anymore. Not if one had plans of staying inconspicuous. Not that he was the sort of person that would do that anymore.

Probably.

On the other hand he was pretty angry about the theft.

Methos shook the thought off and forced himself into the Alain Andrews persona again. He wondered what Blair was doing about his moral dilemma. He probably wouldn't have said anything to Jim yet, but Methos knew the anthropologist well enough by now to know that he was unpredictable.

He located apartment number 307 and knocked.

Blair answered looking grave. Methos tried to smile and just got a, "Come on in, Alain," in response.

Now he was puzzled, but figured that he had been invited there for dinner. The rest would either become clear or it wouldn't and by the way something in the kitchen smelled really good. Eat first, think later.

Jim came down the stairs from the loft part of the apartment and greeted Methos. "Alain." Jim nodded once as he spoke but didn't offer to shake hands. Methos didn't blame him because the man was looking itchy again. "Would you like a beer?"

Methos smiled. "Always."

Jim brought him the beer and they sat down on a couch. Jim made some idle conversation about the local basketball team. Methos had the impression that whatever he needed to discuss would wait until dinner was done.

A few minutes later Blair set a final dish on the table and they sat down to eat. Dinner was nice, if not completely comfortable. Jim and Blair had picked up some Chinese take-out on their way home. Once again conversation was light. Methos complained mildly about the weather, to which Blair added his whole-hearted agreement. Jim talked about his and Blair's latest fishing trip. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except the slightly formal way Jim was behaving and Blair's lowered volume of happy energy.

After dinner was done Methos watched Jim and Blair cruise around the kitchen cleaning up. It was amazing the way the two moved together, floating in and out of each other's space, yet never seeming to get in each other's way. Blair may just have to face facts that if anyone else saw them this way, their feelings were already well out in the open. He was probably already fooling himself trying to keep anything secret.

Blair wrung out the dishcloth as they were finishing up, and Jim came over next to him. Jim put his hand on Blair's arm and the two men's eyes met. Blair nodded and they turned to face Methos, who had stayed at the table with another beer.

"Alain, why don't you join us in the living room?" Blair said and Jim went upstairs again.

Blair and Methos sat down on opposite couches and Jim came back down carrying a file folder and joined Blair on his couch.

Methos's paranoia was beginning to yell a little now that the two men were continuing to behave a bit oddly, aligning themselves opposite him. But he ruthlessly pushed it down and leaned back casually, ready to listen. Blair took a deep breath and started explaining. "Alain, first of all you should know that neither Jim nor I are accusing you of anything."

"Well, that's a relief seeing as I haven't done anything." Methos smirked and leaned back further in the couch cushions. He could tell he was reacting defensively, but something about this whole situation was beginning to make him a little nervous. //Trust, don't forget that something elemental is telling you to trust in this.// But it was hard because that was asking an awful lot of his ingrained reactions.

Blair looked down for a moment and then said, "Maybe it would be better if you just let us explain a little first. This is a strange situation, and Jim and I are trying to handle it in the best way for everybody."

Methos nodded once slowly.

Blair continued, "I guess in a show of good faith we'll tell you something that only a few people know, and we consider a very important secret, for obvious reasons. Jim has some...abilities...that are very rare. He can sense certain things that are beyond the range of a normal human."

Methos quirked an eyebrow. "You mean psychic abilities?"

Jim chuckled a little and answered that one, "Not hardly."

Blair shook his head and smiled a small smile. "It's nothing like that. We've been able to pass what he does off as psychic before, but its much more, well, mundane seems like a bad word, but it fits. He has the same five senses we do, just way more advanced."

Jim leaned forward towards Methos. "Trust me, you do not want Dr. Blair here to get started on what I do. Just trust that I was able to use my senses to tell that something was different about you."

Methos had definitely not expected anything like this, but decided to hear these guys out. Jim had used the 'T' word twice, and so far these two men seemed to mean him no harm. He hoped it stayed that way.

"What do you mean?" he asked casually.

Blair picked up the tale again. "He sensed an electrical field of some kind emanating from you. It was obviously a very strange thing to sense from another human. To be honest, we still don't know what it is or what it means, although I can make some guesses. Jim, are you still feeling the energy coming off of Alain."

Methos could have told them it would be the same, but Jim nodded. This was absolutely incredible. It couldn't be possible that a mortal could sense the power of a quickening, could it?

"It's the same, Chief," Jim confirmed. "Now, Alain, please try not to be upset at what I'm going to say next. I am working here as a police detective, someone trying to solve a case on your behalf, and as, well, what I am and needing to put all the pieces of the picture together." He rubbed the top of his head. "What I'm trying to say is that I did a background check on you."

Methos nodded again, his eyes fixed on the ice blue eyes across from him. At least he had expected this. He hadn't even given the list of names to the detective yet, but Jim had already got to work. This fit with Methos's impression of Jim being a take-action type of guy. Besides, what else could a background check show but what he had put there to be found?

Jim broke his gaze long enough to reach into the file folder and pull out some blown-up pictures. He handed the first one over to Methos.

Oh. Gods.

It couldn't be.

It was a picture of him at that stupid game show tryout. Wheel of History, that's what it was called. Yup, there he was, grinning at the cameras like a grade-A idiot. And right below his waist high contestants-podium was his name strip with "Adam" printed across it in nice red letters.

Blair cleared his throat. "I guess now would be a good time to clear something up. Remember when I told you that Jim was ex-military?" Methos stared levelly at him, not reacting and still holding the picture. Blair forged bravely on, "Well, what I didn't say was that he had training in Black Ops. Counter-intelligence, that sort of thing. When Jim does a background check it can turn out to be a lot more thorough than your usual job."

Methos blinked. "Now you tell me."

Blair chuckled nervously. Jim just handed him another picture. This one was of him in 1975. He knew that for two reasons. One was because he had long, ugly sideburns and was wearing polyester. The second was because he was standing with a group of fellow students in front of a sign that said "Congratulations Graduates of 1975". He had gotten a master's degree from a small English University and had decided to go with the flow and actually attend one of the graduation parties. At the time he had been Alex Adamson and of course he looked exactly the same as he did today, 25 years later.

Methos looked at Blair, "Told you I look good for my age." No one laughed this time.

Jim leaned back and said, "When I ran the initial check it didn't pull up anything outstanding. Oddly, that's what made me think something was wrong with it. There was hardly anything there at all. I dug a little deeper and made some calls. I found out that you had done most of your work in Europe and eventually got a hold of a pleasant librarian at Oxford. She didn't know anyone by the name of Alain Andrews but she agreed to look at a picture if I faxed her one. She still didn't know a Mr. Andrews but she swore up and down that there was some mistake. Because the picture I sent was of Adam Pierson, a quiet student who used to come in all the time and there was no way that nice Mr. Pierson would be mixed up with the American police."

"You spoke with Mindy, I guess? I never thought she noticed me much."

Jim smiled tightly. "As you can probably guess the rest, I'll be brief." He handed Methos a third picture. It was fuzzy and hard to make out details, but it was another picture of students. They were all lined up in 3 rows looking very stiff and formal and the person in the middle front was holding a plaque that stated, "Medical Doctors, Certificated 1904". "I had a contact in the NSA run your photo in their computers and pull up anything that was a physical match. There weren't many, but I found a few that told me some very interesting things."

Methos spoke faintly, still staring at the old picture, "I try not to be photographed very often. You are welcome to guess why."

Blair finally couldn't hold himself back and leaned towards Alain. "That picture was real fuzzy, but Jim saw you in the back row right away. Did you stand there on purpose?" Methos nodded, not feeling up to speaking right then. "Jim's friend found a few other pictures too. There's one of you shaking the hand of a some businessman in 1925, there's a blurred one of you walking down a New York street in 1963 that was printed in the paper along with a story about city growth." Methos jumped. "Guess you didn't know about that one." Methos shook his head slowly. "There's some more present day ones, usually from when you were going by the name Adam Pierson. A security camera at an Eastern European insane asylum took one in particular of you with two other men. Very...strange."

Methos blanched.

"Now, Alain. We have some facts here. We have some guesses. I even have some books on historical oddities with stories about the undead. What we don't have is an answer that makes sense."

Methos swallowed a few times before regaining his poise. It had been a very, very long time since he'd had to tell this tale to someone who had no connection to the immortal world. These two blundering mortals had fell onto the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough to get into some serious trouble if he didn't make sure to explain correctly. Especially with Jim apparently able to go around pointing out immortals at will. That could be very, very bad.

Trust. //Trust.// Five little letters...he gulped in a breath and made some quick decisions. He always was good at improvisation.

He smiled at Blair as he relaxed his body back into the cushions. "Now do you believe me that I'm a lot older than you?"

Blair stared for a minute before laughing a nice, open laugh. "And you do look damned amazing for your age, whatever that is."

Jim laughed a little too, but the two men quickly quieted down and then watched Methos expectantly.

Methos sighed and got on with it. "My real name is not Alain Andrews of course, or even Adam Pierson, Alex Adamsom, Benjamin Adams, or any of the others. I'd rather not say what my real name is for reasons better left unknown by as many people as possible. Please keep calling me Alain. It's who I am for now."

Methos shifted a bit and then asked for another beer, which Blair quickly got for him.

He sighed in gratitude, taking a long pull and continued. "I'm not sure what you might have guessed about me, but I'm not undead." He shot a mock-offended look at Blair who held his hands up defensively and grinned. "I am immortal." He waited for reaction.

He was mildly disappointed when Blair and Jim just looked at each other for a moment before turning back to Methos.

He rolled his eyes. "You're really not making this easy on me, you know. You could ask questions, or something. I'm not used to having to explain this...oh gods, you're not going to make me convince you, are you?" He looked nauseated.

Jim glanced at Blair again before looking apologetically at Methos. "It might help, actually."

Methos rolled his eyes, "Snakes, but I hate this part. Can I just do a small healing demonstration or are you going to need the whole shebang?" He looked pleadingly at the other men.

Jim hesitated and said, "Uh, just a small...demonstration...will do. Help to dispel any lingering amazed disbelief, you know?"

"As you like." Methos got off the couch and walked into the kitchen, followed by Jim and Blair. He got a knife from the holder and held his hand over the sink. He pushed his sweater sleeve up. It was green and wool and no way was he going to ruin it if he could help it. He looked a final time at his hosts. "I really hope you appreciate this." With that he sunk the knife deeply into his wrist, shaking just a little. He drew the knife all the way across the wrist and dropped it into the sink. With quick, precise moves he grabbed the dishcloth and wiped away the initial welling of blood.

Blair had gasped and Jim had winced at his first cutting, but both just gaped now as the blood stopped flowing almost immediately and a blue light ran across the length of the wound, leaving it closed. After a few moments, and a few more wipes of the cloth, both men weren't about to doubt what they had seen.

Which was lucky for Methos, who was looking distastefully at the cloth in his hand.

"Sorry about that. It's not nearly so impressive with blood dripping everywhere."

Jim just stared at him, still a bit stunned. "No, I would guess not." He turned his eyes on the cloth. "Just leave it in the sink for now. I think we need to talk some more before anything else." He turned back to the couch and they all sat down again.

Blair's energy had returned in spades and he dove right in as soon as all three were settled again. "This is just...so..." He waved his hands searching for the right superlative. "I believed in some amazing things, of course, growing up with a mother who tries out all things supernatural and now working with Jim. But I can easily say that that was one of the most incredible things I've ever seen in my life."

Methos settled back. This was a reaction he could deal with.

Jim, on the other hand, was back to being quiet, letting Blair use his natural energy to do the processing.

"So now I've got, like, a million questions." Blair seemed to struggle to come up with the first one. "So, uh, when were you born?"

"I don't know."

"What?"

Methos sighed. "I don't know. And even if I did, frankly I'm just not sure how much to tell you. There are a lot of dangerous aspects to being immortal, and I hate to say it, but the less you know, the better."

"No way, man!" Blair cried in dismay. "This is an incredible discovery for me! I'd really like to be able to ask you some questions. This would make a great paper topic. Of course I wouldn't use your name-"

"Blair! Blair..." Methos cut Blair off, rubbing his nose for a moment. "Immortals have been around for a long, LONG time. Don't you think there is a very good reason why they are not widely known about? Why science doesn't have an explanation for this?"

"There are other immortals?" Blair blinked as his quick brain sorted through the implications of that discovery.

"Yes, quite a few actually. Sometimes I feel like I'm fairly stumbling over them." Methos's mouth twisted wryly. "Ok, the best way for me to put this, I guess." He paused, then nodded to himself. "The Spiderman epiphany."

Blair and Jim stared at the crazy man sitting in their living room. "Spiderman." Deadpan.

"Didn't you boys ever read comic books?" Methos eyed them sadly. "Wonderful sources of character development and moral struggles really. Anyway, back to my point. Spiderman. In the story Peter Parker had an epiphany after his Uncle Ben was killed and he did nothing to stop it. He realized that he had a great power. And with great power comes an equally great responsibility." He shrugged. "Heavy stuff for a comic character, yes, but go with it. It works well for my purpose. Immortals have a lot of power. We realize that the human race, the mortals anyway, are not ready to understand that power. They would fear it, try to contain it and study it. You would consume yourselves with gibbering panic over something you didn't understand and ultimately couldn't control. By keeping ourselves secret we are not only protecting our own existence, we are protecting yours."

Blair was nodding. "Yeah, this is sort of the same reason why we can't say anything about Jim. The primary reason is that Jim would be in real danger if his abilities were known, but also the world just isn't ready for the idea of a Supercop."

"And the world isn't ready for the idea of immortals."

They nodded at each other, sharing the understanding.

Then Blair looked away and back shyly. "Does this mean I can't ask you any questions?"

Methos grinned. "Ok, but just a few. And I reserve the right to not answer."

"No problem! Oh wow." Blair got up off the couch and started pacing in the small open space in front of the wood burning stove. "Ok, you say you don't know when you were born. Can you give me an idea of how old you are?"

"That is a secret that I guard very carefully, but you are allowed to guess."

Blair stopped moving and looked at him. "Ok, tell me if I get warm?" Methos gave him a shrug that could mean anything, but Blair soldiered on. "I already know you have to be at least 120, so 150?" He looked at Methos but got only an amused look in return. "200? 300?" He put his hands on his hips and glared a little. "Help me out here, Jim."

Jim finally spoke from his spot on the sofa. "You're on your own, Chief. You're the researcher here, not me. Besides, isn't asking a person's age supposed to be rude?"

Now Blair was glaring at both Jim and Methos. Methos nodded his head from Jim to Blair as if to say, "See?"

"You aren't going to give me any hints?" Blair pleaded.

"It's better for both of us if you don't know, honestly. I'm not trying to be mean...for once. I will say one thing if you promise not to ask anything else about my age or who I originally was." He paused and waited. Blair finally nodded reluctantly. "Your guesses were off by a factor of ten."

Blair's mouth dropped open and he started making animal noises. Jim, from his silent place on the couch, didn't look much better.

Methos looked nonchalantly from one to the other. "Now that I've told you that much, I have to get very, very serious for a few minutes. Please pay attention." He waited until the glazed look went out of the men's eyes. "Who I am is a very big secret. I told you as much. I also told you that there are other immortals around. Not all of them are as...nice...as me." He shifted a little in his seat. More uncomfortable with that description than he would like to admit. "Being immortal means that you get to be who you are for a very long time. This seems like a no-brainer, but my point has to do with the years boiling down the spare parts of your personality. Time passing leaves you more elementally YOU than you could ever imagine. For example, I have a friend who was raised to be a clan chief. Now he can't be that anymore so he goes around protecting and rescuing his adopted family, his 'clan', from all manners of danger. He is a protector and hero right down to his mitochondria. Now imagine how someone who is basically evil behaves after a few hundred, or a few thousand years."

Now Methos waited until the light of horror and understanding lit his friends' faces. "There is one, and only one, way to kill an immortal. And no I'm not going to tell you how. But there are immortals that have a blood lust for killing their own kind. Every immortal is in danger of being hunted down by them. And some of them consider me to be their biggest prey." Methos wanted to pat himself on the back for this one. He had handled this whole situation rather well, if he did say so himself.

Jim looked at him. "Is that why you're carrying weapons?"

"..."

You could have knocked him over with a twig, he felt that flabbergasted. Hadn't he had 5,000 years experience in carrying weapons? Shouldn't he be really, really good at concealing them by now?

Blair seemed to shake off of the inner contemplation that Methos's revelations had pushed him into. "Don't mind Jim. He can just sense that sort of stuff. Something about the slide of cloth over metal sounding different than it does over skin. Right, Jim?" Blair then slipped back into his thoughts.

Jim cocked his head to one side and looked at Methos. "Don't worry. I'm not going to pat you down or anything. I don't know why, but something is telling me that you are no danger to us. And I really would rather not get into the middle of anything that you just described to us."

Methos let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Good. I hadn't got yet to the part where I asked you to stay out of immortal business, but it's nice to hear that we are on the same page." He leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees and looking up at Jim. "Jim, this talent of yours. Do you think you could sense another immortal the way you sensed me?"

Jim pondered for a moment and then said slowly, "I don't know, Alain. The first time I ever felt anything like it was when I walked into your office. I don't imagine I would forget feeling something like that. Does the feeling really have something to do with your immortality then?"

Methos clasped his hands together between his legs. "This is a more mystical part of my story, so I won't try to confuse you with details. But the answer to your question is yes. We call the energy, the power that makes us immortal, the quickening. I believe that is what you are sensing from me. Immortals can tell if there is another immortal nearby by feeling a 'resonance', if you like, of the other's quickening. I have never before heard of a mortal who could do the same thing. And it's entirely possible that you couldn't feel all immortals. Maybe just the older ones..." He trailed off and sucked in his cheeks for a moment, thinking how much to tell Jim. How much he needed to scare the big detective. "Jim, you could be in danger."

Once again, Jim pleasantly surprised Methos with his level-headed reaction. He nodded and said, "I already thought of that. When you were explaining about the less pleasant side of being immortal. If one of these head hunters," and here Methos startled a little at Jim's description, "finds out that I can spot immortals from mortals, they might want my help."

"Or your silence." Jim nodded solemnly. "Not all immortals are as ok with being found out as I am." He chuckled ruefully. "To be honest I'm not usually ok with being found out either. I spend a lot of time trying to be invisible. But I agree with what you said earlier. I feel the urge to trust you, and as of yet you haven't proved that wrong." Methos locked his hazel-gold eyes on Jim's light blue ones.

Jim answered in the same tone Methos had used. "And we won't." He shared a look with Blair. Methos understood that they had just confirmed that they both were willing to allow Methos into their circle. Methos felt pleased for some reason, and that surprised him. It wasn't often that a wanting to belong surpassed his loner tendencies, but there it was.

Suddenly all three men felt the need to break the mood. Methos shifted to sprawl back in his nest of cushions again, Jim stood up and announced he needed a beer and Blair followed him halfway towards the kitchen to receive his own drink that Jim fetched for him.

"So Alain," Jim began. "What are we going to do about catching your thief? Somehow I got the impression that you aren't telling all there either." He grinned a little to show that he didn't mind.

"Well Jim, you could be right." Methos drawled.

The three men settled back in their spots and Methos proceeded to fill them in on what he knew of the mysterious Watcher, if not all the details of whom the guy was working for. Those parts he left vague with ideas of just another bad guy hunting down a hapless immortal by stealing his personal things to get the upper hand.

"So the missing books are really your diary?" Blair's eyes were burning at the thought of it.

"Some of them. Honestly Blair, there is no way that I'd let you read them even if you did understand hieroglyphics."

"I could learn man, I could learn." Suddenly a thought occurred to Blair. "Woah, didn't you tell Jim that some of the books missing were 4,500 years old?" His eyes began to goggle as Methos mentally smacked himself once more for ever letting his guard down around this bright, young thing.

"Don't go there, Blair."

Blair visibly reigned himself back in. "Sorry." But his eyes were shining with new knowledge.

Methos sighed.

*~~~~*

Jim had quickly cadged together a plan of how to help Methos catch the nosy thief. And it was even legal. Methos was more relieved than he would have been 200 years ago, but that was ok. Fitting in didn't seem to be so bad after all.

Blair and Jim were more than good company. The bond between the three had gone up as quickly as Jack's magic beanstalk, twining them together with the vines of shared secrets. Jim had even begun explaining a little more of his heightened senses to Methos. The need had come up so that Methos could trust the knowledge that Jim seemed to pull out of the very air. Perhaps that's what he did at that.

Joe had reluctantly provided a picture stolen from a Watcher database of the suspect, who's name turned out to be Kimball, and Jim had used it to come up with areas the man might be found. So now Methos found himself sitting with Blair in his car outside of an older office building. On a stakeout, no less. How exciting.

Methos was getting into the mood. He remembered with fondness succumbing to the same feeling in the car with Joe on that infamous race to save Amy. "This is so cool."

Blair looked at him with bored eyes. "If you say so, man."

Methos made his voice a secret, breathy sound. "We're undercover." He paused as an idea struck him. "We should have a code word for when we spot the stool pigeon."

"Weren't stool pigeons another word for informants?"

Methos shot him a look. "Whatever. Maybe we can call him 'Rosebud'." He mimed holding a walkie-talkie to his mouth. "This is Baker two-three-zero. We have Rosebud in our sights. Over." He bounced a little in his seat, twisting towards Blair. "Come on Blair. Go with it. I'll be Tango, the stylish detective, and you can be Cash, the cutthroat rebel." He mused quietly to himself, "Or was it the other way around?"

Blair turned to stare at him openly now. "What?"

"Tango and Cash. Didn't you see that movie? There was a really great prison-break scene where they had to slide down this electrical wire-"

Blair held up a hand. "Stop," he pleaded. "I can't believe it. I'm actually starting to understand how Jim feels sitting stakeout with me." He shook his head in mystification. "I'm gonna call him again, see if he has a better lead on this guy yet." He picked up the cell phone.

"Roger that, Agent K."

Agent K? Blair sighed.

When he got off the phone Blair was able to report that Jim had spotted the suspect at another likely location they had scouted out. He was currently in quiet pursuit as Kimball was apparently headed towards Rainier. Jim hadn't advertised himself yet. They wanted to be able to catch the guy in some sort of act.

Blair couldn't help heaving a sigh of relief as Methos started the car and moved to meet with Jim if it turned out that the guy really was going to the U. "Finally!"

Methos blinked. "What? Weren't you having fun?"

"You call sitting in a car in the pouring rain for four hours fun?"

"Didn't you when you were on your first stakeout?"

Blair thought back. "Oh yeah."

"Well, there you go then. You are turning into a cop yourself Mr. Sandburg if you've gotten so blasé about police work." Blair blushed.

They drove in silence for awhile and then Blair started fidgeting. "Alain..."

"Yup?"

"I wanted to talk to you about, you know, what we talked about before?"

"Which before is that?"

"About Jim. And me."

"Right! So have you decided to make a move on your Titania yet, Oberon?"

Blair snorted. "You keep that up and I'm gonna start calling you Puck."

"I don't mind, do your worst." He adopted a singsong voice. "Look! Look how I go! Swifter than an arrow from a Tartar's bow!" He stepped on the gas a little harder. Blair squeaked a little laugh and grabbed the car's armrest.

"Ok! I give! No way can I argue Shakespeare with a guy who probably knew him."

"Never had the pleasure," Methos said pleasantly. "We really didn't travel in the same circles. He put on too many airs," Methos confided. "Now Lord Byron on the other hand..." He winked at Blair.

"You're kidding."

"Nope. We had quite the, um, adventures together. And those parties with Mary and Percy Shelley." Methos shook his head and grinned. "You'd have loved them, Blair."

"Now I know you're kidding." Blair made a small sound of dismay. "But how on earth I'd ever prove anything, I'll never know."

"Believe what you like. But I see we have gotten rather far afield from what you wanted to talk to me about. So have you or not?"

Blair's hands moved agitatedly over the dashboard. "Said anything to Jim? Not yet. And that's what I wanted to tell you." Blair took a deep breath. "I'm going to. Tonight, probably. If we manage to break this case today then we'll have all day tomorrow off. This way I can either have time to pack my stuff and get out or..."

"Enjoy the spoils of your labours?"

Blair barked a nervous laugh. "Something like that!" He quieted for a minute and then said, "I also wanted to thank you. For everything, for your advice. After you told us the truth about you I couldn't help hearing everything you said over again. And suddenly it all became way more profound, now that I knew you were speaking from experience. You don't want me to have any regrets or to die wondering 'what if', and you are so right, man. Everyone thinks that it would be nice to live forever, but if I have to live with never knowing that I might have been able to have Jim and I was too scared to try...you might as well just kill me now."

"Blair..."

"No, I'm dead serious here. I don't know much about what's going to happen tonight. I know that Jim loves me, I'm just not sure how much. And I'm definitely not sure about if he'd even want to give us a go, what with everything you and I talked about before. Jim is NOT the type who just up and makes life-altering changes. He has always been way more willing to do so with me than with anyone else, but I'm not sure how far that will stretch. No, I'm really, really scared. But the not ever knowing...that is the Marianas Trench of fear compared to my little valley of self-doubt. So thank you for kicking me in the right direction."

This touched Methos on one hand, even if on the other he was sniggering at Blair's regard for his supposed "wisdom". "Blair, if you want to give me the credit for your decision, you're welcome. But I really think that you should consider that you came up with this on your own. I was just playing the Devil's Advocate here. Although what I said about regrets is true. They can be very painful. I'm glad that you will never have to find that out through your own experience. Good luck."

They were pulling into a parking lot at Rainier, so all Blair had time for was a nervous smile as he picked up the cell phone again to find out where Jim was.

It turned out that the suspect had indeed ended up at Rainier. Blair and Methos had been closer and had arrived at the University just ahead of Jim, who tracked their prey into the parking lot next to Hargrove Hall. Jim pulled around to the next lot over where Blair and Methos were and all three got out.

They quickly decided on a course of action. Jim had established that Kimball was heading straight for Hargrove. Blair and Methos would head in the back entrance and eventually end up at Blair's office, a safe distance down the hall from Methos's, by taking the long way, while Jim took the more direct route in and used his senses to find out what Kimball was up to.

Simon, Jim's Captain, had grudgingly allowed Jim to check out some communications gear and both Jim and Blair put on headsets so they could keep in touch.

Methos, despite a somewhat primal urge to be in on the hands-on capture of his thief, felt quite all right with taking the back seat on this. Jim was a tough guy, he could handle it.

Blair was understandably a bit more nervous for the big cop, and his heart was again in his eyes as Jim crept up to the building's entrance and slipped inside.

After that it was all very anti-climatic. Jim came up on the floor of Methos's office just in time to see the bad guy jimmy the lock Methos had had installed. Blair only jumped a little when Jim's shout of, "Cascade Police! Freeze!" came over the radio. He and Methos got to the area as Jim was already sitting on Kimball's back and putting the 'cuffs on.

The guy had never had a chance. Methos didn't feel sorry for him at all though, as he leaned in to get a better view of Jim's deft movements. Jim snapped the 'cuff's in place with one hand. Methos smiled at the view he had of Kimball's Watcher tattoo, now sporting a fetching silver decoration.

Kimball craned his head back to see who was watching. He was panting already from the minor manhandling Jim had given him on his way down to the floor. But he stopped breathing completely as his eyes fell on Methos. "You!"

"Greetings, dirtbag," Methos purred in the voice he had used in his Horseman days. He added to the effect by showing his teeth.

As Jim hauled the guy to his feet he had to support the dead weight as Kimball's knees buckled. The thief shivered and kept his eyes on Methos. "How did...I can't..." he trailed off helplessly, choking on his words.

Methos leaned closer and grinned wider, his face inches from Kimball's. "I'm going to use small words and you are going to tell me everything I want to know, got it?" Methos nodded his head in a helpful movement and Kimball's head helplessly moved the same way. "Where. Are. My. Books?" He enunciated each word and kept his tone level, which he had found to be a good tactic to use on someone who was already scared of him.

Kimball paled completely and Jim had to support him even more as the man quailed in the face of Methos's cold rage. He finally pulled his tongue off the roof of his mouth and started babbling. He told everything he knew from the instructions he had been given to the location of the books. He never once took his eyes off of Methos.

*~~~~*

"I can't believe that this was all just to find out more about you, man." Blair was repeating himself for about the fifth time as they watched the uniformed officers load Kimball into the back of a squad car. "Haven't they heard of the Internet? And what did they think they were going to get out of your diaries anyway? Do any of these mysterious people even know any of those languages?"

"Blair, I am going to give you some advice. Listen to your elders and learn." Methos cleared his throat and Blair raised his eyebrows, ready to soak up the knowledge. "Never..." he paused. "...never try to understand the motives of crazy people."

Blair groaned. "Shit, man, I knew that." He rolled his eyes and Methos and Jim laughed.

Methos decided to try and explain again. "Blair, I honestly believe Kimball when he said he was just grabbing something random. He wanted to be able to prove to his bosses that he was following orders and getting something on me. He was probably just going to ship the whole mess back to France and move on to the next assignment. I doubt he ever knew the significance of the 'dirty old books', as he said. I'm just grateful that he never had the chance to get the things in the mail." He sighed happily as he watched more officers load the books into another squad car. They thought they were locking up evidence retrieved from Kimball's hideout and confirmed by Methos. Methos was already making plans for a midnight raid on the Cascade Police Evidence Room.

Jim caught his eye. "Don't worry, Alain," he said seriously. "I would never do this under ordinary circumstances, but I understand that you are unique." He looked at Blair. "We'll figure out a way to get you back your books, I promise."

Blair's eyes got big and wet as he kept his eyes on Jim. "Yeah, Alain. We'll do it."

Methos looked from one to the other, once again amazed at the understanding of his friends and their supreme ability to muck up his plans. "Guys, really. You don't have to..."

"Yes, Alain, we do. We barged into your life, wormed out your secret and now we'll do our level best to see that it gets put back into your hands again." Jim was still looking at Blair and Methos looked away to hide a smile.

"Can we go yet, guys?"

Jim glanced around and seemed satisfied with the wrapping up taking place. "Sure. Come on, we'll walk to the parking lot together."

Methos grinned as they moved out together, Jim and Blair a little more together with each other than they were with him. "You know, guys. I think we made an excellent team. This could be the beginning of something big."

Blair looked quickly over at him. "Don't you even say it!" Methos drew in a breath. "Jim! Make him stop! He's going to do Bogie on us!"

Jim looked on in confusion as Methos hopped away from Blair's flying hands. Hands that weren't getting anywhere near the mouth they were trying to cover as he managed to get out, in a terrible Humphrey Bogart impression, "I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

Collapsing against Methos, Blair groaned out, "He did it." He straightened up. "Alain, I don't know where you get all these terrible movie references. Don't immortals have anything better to do with their time than watch TV?"

"Well, if you're worried about saving me from cultural hell, you could always get me an in with Jim's Captain."

"What?" Simultaneously from Jim and Blair.

"Like I said, I thought we made a good team. I'd like a ride-along pass like Blair's. Imagine what the three of us can get done together. You know, I was once a private detective. And another time I was an Emperor's Guard..." As he rattled off the list of jobs he'd had that involved public safety and welfare, Jim and Blair exchanged a look.

Jim, not liking what he was seeing in Blair's eyes burst out, "No! Oh no. Don't even think about it, Chief."

"But Jim, you know how much help I am. Imagine what Alain can offer! And you won't even have to worry about him getting hurt! Not for long anyway." He trailed off, and then added, "Please? Just every now and then?"

Jim looked a little like a trapped animal as his eyes moved from one set of puppy-dog eyes to the other. "Ok," he relented. But he quickly added when he saw the looks of triumph on the other men. "But I can't promise anything. And, Chief, you know Simon would never agree to another access I.D. like yours. It would probably only be every now and then, or one of the standard 90-day passes."

"That's fine, Jim," Methos said, feeling a quiet excitement. "I'll take what you can arrange for me. And even if I can't get damaged permanently I'm not usually the type to rush into physical danger. I doubt you'll ever have to worry about me like you do with Blair 'Evel Knieval' Sandburg here. And the gods know that I'd never want to horn in on your guy's partnership in any way." He had to fight back a grin at the self-conscious looks on Jim and Blair's faces.

Then, ignoring the glare that Blair flashed him when Jim had looked the other way and unlocking his car door, Methos made his escape. "Well, guys, it was nice fighting evil with you. Until next time. Oh, and Blair," the shorter man looked up from the gravel he had been inspecting. Methos gave him a wicked grin. "Enjoy your day off tomorrow."

Blair flushed about 25 shades of red and Methos laughed, closing his door and driving off.

*~~~~*

Blair was still listing the types of donkey Alain's mother must have been when Jim looked over at him in confusion.

"What was that about, Chief?"

Blair thought carefully about his answer. "Alain was just helping me with my plans for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Is there something special about tomorrow?"

Blair grabbed his courage by its lapels, turned and looked directly at Jim. He spoke in a low voice, imbuing it with a little extra feeling. "I don't know yet, but I hope so."

Jim's breath caught loud enough for even Blair's normally-powered ears to hear. "Would these plans happen to include me at all?" His voice shook, belying his casual words. But his eyes. Oh, what Blair could see in those normally ice-cold eyes...

Ice? They were lasers, searing Blair with their heat. The heat of JIM and all of their shared history together. Suddenly it all made sense to Blair. Every little thing Jim had ever done for him, Blair had already known was fueled by love. But this was LOVE. Capital L. O. V. E. //and not a little lust// a voice whispered in his heart.

Blair wanted to shout. He wanted to scream, break something, kiss Jim, run after Alain to say that it was working, cry a little, and most of all, go home.

With Jim!

"That depends Jim, that depends."

"On what?"

"On what you have to say once I finish saying what I have to say."

Jim's lips quirked up a little. "Sandburg, that sentence almost made sense."

Blair just sent him a small, exasperated eye-roll. He was still quaking inside from what he was already beginning to think of as "The Moment". The Moment where Jim had first looked at him That Way...Blair sighed and lost himself in the view that was Jim.

"So, am I going to hear this or not?"

Blair jumped a little, pulling himself back from the fascinating observation he was making of Jim's chin. "Well, yeah..."

"Yeah, but..." Jim prompted.

"But first," and here Blair reached out a slow, careful hand and crept his fingers around Jim's unresisting ones, "Take us home, James."

Endendendendendend

Theme from Cola
By Moist

Ours is the legacy of waste
Waste all the things we turned to dust
Simple if we would like to find
Punished by words I'm takin'
Finally pressed you'd like to know
Known for the trip unfolding
Pleasantries building as we go
Timid the way I'll take it

Chorus:

Now memory is over memories over
Are you still remembering
Never meant to go there
Are you still remembered

End chorus

All through the dress I like awake
Tearful as I've been binding
Only in your mind to make
Helpful or not I take it

Chorus

Page created August 29, 2000 by Alice in Stonyland