TITLE: Kisses in the Dark...

AUTHOR: Scorpio

EMAIL: LouisdPdL@aol.com

ARCHIVE: Yes to all. Please list as a Work In Progress...

FANDOM: The Sentinel/Highlander x-over

PAIRING: Blair Sandburg/Richie Ryan/Methos, Jim Ellison/Conner MacLoed/Duncan MacLoed, Simon Banks/Alex Barnes

RATING: NC-17 (not all parts earn the same rating - some parts are very mild, but the over-all rating for this story in NC-17)

STATUS: New. WIP,... this will not be posted in chapters, but in parts....

EPISODE RELATED: Sentinel too & Something Wicked...

DISCLAIMER: All things Sentinel belong to PetFly, not me. All things Highlander belong to... someone, I just can't think of who at the moment, but it isn't me. No infringement is intended and I am not making any money off this story. Sort of figures though,... Hot, eye-candy boyz are not mine - lame dialog and demented plot are...

WARNING: Angst. Violence. Language. Occasional beheading. Consentual sex between two or more men. Eventual het scene, mostly slash. No permenant death of major characters... *For Sentinel fans... Jim & Blair are not a couple through 90% of story...*

SUMMARY: Betrayal by those they trust and honor the most throw Richie Ryan and Blair Sandburg together, leaving Joe Dawson, Connor MacLeod, Methos & Simon Banks to fix the mess created by Jim Ellison & Duncan MacLeod...

Kisses in the Dark...
by Scorpio

"Sometimes you have to actively seek out and then enjoy the simpler pleasures in a long life filled with loneliness and fear. Like kisses in the dark, they are often times your only comfort."
- Methos, The Horseman of Death 1486bce



Cascade

Anger and pain surged through Jim Ellison in hateful red-tinged waves. His entire body shook with the effort to not kill Blair Sandburg, just as it took all of his strength to resist pulling Blair into his arms and never letting him go. His Guide had betrayed him. The world was an infinitely uglier place.

Haunted eyes silently pleaded with him. Every fiber in his body wanted to forgive so desperately, but he caged his heart in steal forged in the depths of blind hatred. Hatred for Alex Barnes. He refused to back down, to relent, to forgive...

He thought his soul would die when the light went out of those amazingly blue eyes. The eyes of his Guide, his partner, his best friend,... now, the eyes of a stranger.

Blair Sandburg turned and walked away without another word. There was nothing more to be said. The Sentinel watched in agony and a sleek black panther screamed it's denial.

Tears streaming down his face, Blair Sandburg left the only home he'd ever known in fear and loneliness...

Seacouver

Richie Ryan stumbled out of the dojo sore, bleeding, and horrified. Duncan MacLeod, his mentor, best friend, and the closest thing to a father he had ever known, had just tried to take his head. He would have succeeded if not for Joe Dawson. He felt a wave of giddy relief settle over him. He was so glad that Joe had long since abandoned his oath to never interfere in the affairs of Immortals.

As the young red-head staggered towards his bike, he felt the tingling sensation that told him his wounds had begun to heal. Richie fought back an absurd bout of hysterical giggles. He knew if he let them start, they wouldn't stop until they had dissolved into heart wrenching sobs. Betrayed...

Climbing onto his bike, Richie sped off into the night. He figured he could stop by his place to change and throw some things in a bag,...then he was leaving town. Tomorrow morning, as soon as the banks opened, he would empty his accounts. After that, Mac couldn't track him by a paper trail.

Tears streaking down his face, Richie Ryan left the only home he'd ever known in fear and loneliness...

Cascade

On his way to nowhere, Richie Ryan stopped in Cascade. He'd visited the bank and grabbed a bite to eat. Remembering something that Joe had told him once, he went to Rainier University to look up one of the Watchers that worked there. She could pass on a message to Joe for him.

Wandering the corridors of Hargrove Hall, Richie became lost. Hearing voices behind an office door, he decided to peak in and ask for directions to Jenny Marks office. Pushing the door open without knocking, Richie stepped into another man's nightmare.

A beautiful woman with a cruel smile held a gun, pointing it towards a frightened man with long brown curls. The man was trying in vain to talk her down.

"Alex, please,... you don't want to do this. Jim will hunt you down."

The curly haired man turned big blue eyes toward Richie, silently begging him to do something,... anything. Two things struck Richie at once. One, the man was stunningly handsome. Two, he was also a pre-immortal. The low-level buzz was a sure give-away.

The woman glanced over her shoulder at the young red-head and smiled with a psychotic delight. "Oh good... Another one." Then she glanced behind Richie and nodded. It was only then that Richie noticed the man standing quietly behind the door.

Richie felt a sharp pain against the back of his head as the handle of a gun cracked his skull. The last thing he noticed before the darkness reached out to claim him was the death of the curly haired man.

"Goodbye Blair." the woman said right before she shot him through the heart.

The brunette and the red-head slumped to the floor, dead.

Cascade

Richie drew in a shuddering gasp. Tingles flashed throughout his body, reanimating immortal flesh, pulsing life and energy through his veins once more. He opened his eyes and tried to place where he was and to remember what had killed him this time.

"...two dead bodies. Yes, one of them is Professor Sandburg. The other looks like a student, but I don't know his name."

The voice was not familiar to Richie, nor was the name Sandburg. He turned his head, wincing at the stiff muscles and residual pain from a crushed skull. That's when he saw him. The curly haired man named Blair. The pre-immortal...

Richie stood up and checked for his sword. Breathing a huge sigh of relief when he found it still tucked into his jacket, he began to think. They had to get out of here. The young woman outside the office was on the phone, probably with the police. It would be impossible to explain if Blair woke up perfectly healthy after being shot to death.

Richie was just trying to figure out if it would be possible to get himself and Blair out the window when the door opened. A young woman and a member of campus security stood there.

"But,... but,... you're dead." She whispered. Turning white as a sheet, the pretty young woman fainted into a crumpled heap on the floor.

Cascade

Richie watched in silence as the well orchestrated chaos of cops and EMP's danced around him. Part of his mind was churning, making plans within plans. Part of his mind was awash with sympathy and guilt. With a slightly masochistic need for pain to help him focus, Richie watched the emotional breakdown of a complete stranger. Detective Jim Ellison.

The big cop trembled violently as tears dripped down his sorrow ravaged face. His voice was a keening wail of denial. A dirge.

"No! Blair! God nononono."

Richie wanted so badly to comfort him. To soothe and reassure that all was not lost. To tell his secret,... Blair's secret. But he wouldn't. They called it The Game, but it was anything but. It was a matter of life or death... permanent death.

All the shock, pain and guilt combined with the need to figure out a way to snatch Blair's body before he resurrected caused Richie to miss one thing. One very important thing. The low-level buzz of another pre-immortal.

Cascade

Nothingness. Comforting gray mist. No thoughts. No memories. No wants and no pain. Nothing.

Then a touch. Warmth on a shoulder he forgot he had.

Voices. Vague and filled with sadness and pain. A name.

"Jim."

"Jim. Let him go, Jim."

The world rushed in again as the voice of Simon Banks, Captain of Major Crimes pulled him out of his zone. But that was wrong. Simon shouldn't be pulling him out of a zone,... Only Blair should. Blair...

Jim looked down into the face of his dearest friend. His Guide. Blair.

Pain and grief and anger washed over him in a wave that should have drowned him. Should have left him dead. Like Blair.

"Simon... What?... Who?..."

Confusion and sorrow laced his words. The tone would have moved anyone to tears if it weren't for the adamantine hard edge of cold anger behind it. Instead of filling it's listeners with sympathy, it chilled them with fear. It was the voice of a man getting ready to kill.

Jim watched Simon's face. He could easily read the doubt and worry. He watched in silence as it slowly changed to a hard look of determination. It was all the approval he needed.

"The boy over there was witness to most of it."

Jim turned to look at the young red-head, their eyes met and locked in place.

"He said he heard voices in here and stepped in to ask directions to another Professor's office. He walked in to find Blair being held at gun-point. He got hit in the back of the head by a second person, just as Blair was shot."

The Sentinel's eyes never left the young man as he started to walk over. Crouching down on the other side of Blair, the red-head finally looked away from Jim's eyes to glance quickly down at Blair.

"Are you Jim?"

"Yes."

The red-head nodded and thought a moment. His face was grim. For just a second, Jim had the feeling that this young man, little more than a boy, had seen more than his fair share of pain and sorrow as well. A kindred spirit,... so to speak.

"He tried to stop her."

"What?"

"His last words."

The red-head swallowed a lump of pain in his throat and then looked Jim right in the eye. A connection of silent understanding was made. "He said, `Please Alex, don't do this. Jim will hunt you down.' And then she shot him."

Jim flinched at the words. Pain and guilt lashed through him. He wanted to die right then and there. But he couldn't. And all three of them knew why.

"I just thought you would want to know."

Jim heard Simon sigh with a mixture of sorrow and resignation.

"Don't say it Simon. I will avenge him."

Jim paused and locked eyes with the young man again. He knew that killing was something the boy understood. He didn't know how he knew this, but he did. It was something in the eyes. A predator could always recognize another predator.

"It was Blair's last request."

Cascade

Tingling worked it's way through his body. It felt as if everything had fallen asleep and now he had pins-n-needles syndrome from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. A convulsion ran through him and his body jerked once. With mindless need, he gasped in a deep draught of air and popped open his eyes.

He found himself staring into the half amused, half worried face of someone he didn't know, but who seemed oddly familiar. Where?...

Memory rushed in, quickly followed by panic. He struggled against cold plastic to try and sit up. He was horrified to notice that he was half-way in a body bag while sitting on a cold metal table in the morgue. He was shocked silent on the outside, but screaming on the inside.

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

"But, I'm... Oh shit man. I'm dead."

"No."

The red-head pulled a stack of folded clothes out of a small gym bag. He handed them to Blair and helped him climb out of the rest of the dark green plastic bag. Blair stared in fascination at the bullet torn bloody shirt and the unblemished chest it covered.

"Well, not any more. You're like me. Immortal."

"Wha... No way man. You're crazy."

"Look. We don't have time for this. I promise I'll tell you everything as soon as we're out of here. Just get dressed and we'll leave. Okay?"

Blair took the clothes and got dressed simply because he couldn't think of anything else to do. Can't leave the morgue naked or in bloody rags, now could he? He clamped down on a bout of hysteria at that thought. Once dressed, he turned to look at the other man.

"Oh, by the way,... I'm Richie Ryan. Welcome to The Game."

"Blair... Blair Sandburg."

Seacouver

Joe Dawson stared at the phone number scribbled on the sheet of paper in front of him. He had only made five calls so far and he had just, hopefully, tracked down Conner MacLeod. He also had people out looking for Methos,... although they thought they were looking for the Watcher researcher named Adam Pierson.

Joe sighed. This was not going to be a pleasant phone call. Picking up the receiver, Joe dialed in the numbers. His nerves wound tighter as he listened to the shrill ringing on the other end.

"Hello. MacLeod here."

For a second, Joe didn't say anything. He couldn't. The words had been spoken with just the faintest hint of a Baroque accent. So very much like Duncan.

"Conner. This is Joe Dawson... It's about Mac... "

"Joe. What is it? Is it bad?... Oh God. Did someone take his head?"

In an almost abstract way, Joe noticed how the Highlander's accent thickened as his emotions rose to the surface.

"No Conner. No one took Mac's head. In fact, I'm calling because of a head he took."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. What do you know about Dark Quickenings?"

London

Methos sat back in his chair with an odd look on his face. It would have unsettled anyone who knew him if they had seen that particular expression.

Methos was old in a way that only he could understand. At 5,000 years, Methos was the oldest living creature on the planet. Even the oldest trees were younglings in comparison to him. What was worse, he was sentient, while they were not.

Methos, no matter what name he went by, was known as a cynical and jaded man who lived by his wits,... and when necessary, by his sword. He was quick to anger or love and just as quick to forgive or forget,... it took too much energy to sustain any powerful emotion. But even still, mood swings aside, very little had the power to ruffle his calm.

He had simply seen too much, lived through too many good times as well as too many bad times. He didn't have to remind himself that things would work themselves out. He had a cellular understanding of the old adage,... and this too shall pass. He who had witnessed the fall of more than one empire that had been fated to rule for eternity, was a past master at adjusting to anything.

But this,... stunned him. A Dark Quickening.

He had heard myths and legends, but had never, in all his 5000 years seen one for real. Now it had happened. To a man that he secretly admired. It had caused him to attack his own student, a young boy he secretly lusted after. And it had broken the heart of a man that he secretly considered a friend.

Yes, Methos was stunned,... and something else he hadn't felt in centuries. Personally effected.

Joe's call for help would not go unanswered. Partly out of duty and respect, but mostly because, for the first time in a long time, Methos wanted to help... a friend.

Joe had said that Conner MacLeod was going to try and track down the missing Richie Ryan, and Joe would try and track down the missing Duncun MacLeod through the Watchers, so that left research into Dark Quickenings up to Methos.

Cascade

Simon watched Jim closely as they boarded the plane. It hadn't taken very long to track down Alex. She didn't even try to hide her trail. It was almost as if she was baiting them. Leading them to Peru...

Jim Ellison was as cold and hard as granite. His emotions were tightly closed off and only a frozen desire was left. Desire to see Alex dead. Simon had watched his friend and best Detective die a death of the soul, only to be reborn into the deadly, covert-ops trained assassin before him.

An insanely vengeful Sentinel was a frightening thing on it's own. Add to that the training and experience that had been lying dormant within Jim's mind these past years, and that Sentinel became a force of nature. A deadly one.

Simon watched with growing certainty that it wouldn't take much for him to lose the friend trapped inside the warriors hardened heart for all time. He fretted on what to do. How could he save Jim Ellison from Jim Ellison?

He was about to say something, anything to draw his friend out, when he looked into those flat steel-blue eyes. All he saw looking back at him was death. Alex Barnes death. A shudder ran through him before he could suppress it.

Tucker's Lake

Blair sat on the pier looking out at the clear blue water. The gentle waves lapping at the rocky shore was soothing. The light breeze was chilly, but not cold, and it carried the soft scents of the forest on the far lake shore with it. Blair breathed in deeply, enjoying the sensation of being alive.

He could hear Richie in the meadow behind him, practicing with his sword. Oddly enough, the sounds of the blade chopping off big slices of air didn't bother him. It was sort of comforting. Richie would fight, and kill, to protect their heads.

Blair considered his situation. Immortal. At first, he had been in denial. Emotional trauma and all the physical memories of his death had conflicted with what Richie and his senses were telling him. But after a serious breakdown that ended with Richie slicing open his own arm to prove his words had ended all of Blair's disbelief.

It was a shame it hadn't also ended his pain...

Once Blair had excepted both his and Richie's Immortality, the two young men had talked. About everything. From their childhood's - both of them had had less than a stable environment - to their finally finding a safe haven in the heart and home of an older man. Men who had turned and betrayed them.

Yes, they were alike in many ways. They genuinely liked each other and found comfort and kinship in each other. They both were bleeding emotionally, and together, they could heal. It would take time, but what is time to an Immortal?...

Jungles of Peru

Jim stared down at Alex Barnes. Her corpse lay crumpled before the steps of the Temple of the Jaguar. A red blossom of blood spread across her chest, silent proof of Jim's shooting skills.

Her trail had been frighteningly easy to follow. She hadn't tried to hide it at all. She had run straight to the Temple, seeking sanctuary. But she had defied one of the basic tenants of the Jaguar Spirits. Protect the Guide.

The Temple doors would not open to her touch. She was a rogue Sentinel and her spirit guide had spurned her. She was alone, something no sentinel was ever meant to be.

She had been left with no where to run, with had no one left to turn to. She was defeated. It would have been very easy to arrest her. To have her transported back to Cascade and face a trial for her crimes. So very easy...

Jim had looked her right in the eyes. Both sentinels knew what was coming. They knew she would not be arrested. Jim raised his gun and aimed it at her and Alex smiled.

"Jim... I just want you to know... if I had the chance to go back in time..."

"Yeah?"

"I'd murder your Guide all over again."

Jim's sentinel hearing had detected the exact instant that his bullet had ripped through her heart.

Watching her crumple to the ground, he did not feel triumph or satisfaction. No victory or closure. There was only a painful emptiness. A horrible sense of loss.

Blair...

Seacouver

Conner MacLeod stepped into Joe's bar, his eyes momentarily blinded by the abrupt change in light. He turned his head in the direction of a soulful guitar rift and watched as his kinsman's watcher came into focus.

The music was sad and heartfelt. A flash of insight struck him and he was suddenly absolutely certain that Joe Dawson could have had an amazing career as a musician. Instead, Joe had devoted his life to the Watchers. Conner didn't know if he felt sorry that Joe had wasted his talent, or grateful that he was there to look after Duncun.

The last notes of the song hung in the air as Joe gently placed the guitar aside and stood up. He watched in silence as the mortal limped over to the bar and poured two beers. Slowly, he made his way over as well.

"Conner."

"Joe."

"I've got news about Richie."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

Joe paused a moment and looked him in the eyes. The pain and worry he felt simmered there. For the first time, Conner thought Joe looked old. Tired.

"He's not alone."

"What? What do you mean, not alone?"

"I mean,... he's traveling with an immortal. A newborn. Richie was there for his first death."

Conner took the information in and absorbed it quickly. Several things clicked into place immediately.

"One with limited training and one with none. They are walking targets Joe. Where are they?"

"The last contact anyone had with Richie and his new friend was in Cascade."

"What is the other one's name?"

"Blair Sandburg."

Conner quickly finished his beer. He placed the empty glass on the bar and looked back up at Joe. For a second he wished he knew what to say to comfort the man, but he realized that he couldn't,... not with words.

"Cascade, huh?"

Joe nodded.

"Thanks Joe. I'll be in touch."

With that, Conner turned and left the bar.

Sellersville

Blair stepped out of the motel bathroom in a cloud of steam. He was trying to convince a damp towel to absorb the water clinging to his curls. The drier and cooler air in the front room hit his warm, damp skin and he shivered. Boxers were not a lot of protection from a chill, but neither he nor Richie had very much. By necessity, they were traveling ultra light. There was simply no room on the motorcycle for two men and a lot of luggage.

A shrill metallic sound caught his attention and his head snapped towards Richie. The red-headed immortal sat, seemingly relaxed while he sharpened his sword.

"Hey Rich."

Blair walked over and sat down on the double bed. His years as a Guide and his limited training as a Shaman kicked in and made him want to draw out and comfort the silent and brooding man, even as the anthropologist in him found this whole situation fascinating.

Slowly, Blair reached out with one hand and gently tilted Richie's face up to look at him. For just a second, all the hurt, fear and loneliness Richie was feeling shone in his eyes. Blair recognized the pain. He shared it. Richie's was called Mac while his was called Jim. But a rose by any other name still has long sharp thorns.

Suddenly, Richie looked away and broke the moment. The connection, however, remained. Blair could feel it.

"Uh,... Blair, I... I've been thinking."

Richie flushed slightly, sparking Blairs insatiable curiosity.

"I hate to admit this, but.. We need help."

"What kind of help?"

"A teacher,... protector."

Blair met Richie's eyes again. They had both just suffered betrayal at the hands of men who had claimed to be just that. But Blair could not refute the truth of Richie's statement. They did need help.

Blair had no idea how to defend himself in immortal battle and Richie had admitted to only being partially trained. Then there was the whole other side of it. The need to reinvent yourself, a new life, a new name, a new history. Blair was a world traveler and could survive anywhere, but he knew nothing of creating a false identity.

"But who? Who would you... trust?"

The words, //after Mac's betrayal// were not spoken out loud, but they echoed in both men's minds.

Richie shrugged his broad shoulders. A slight physical movement to help push the painful memories aside.

"There are only three..."

"Yes?"

"Conner, Amanda, and Meth... uh, Adam."

Cascade

Simon Banks stared down at the detectives shield and gun resting on the top of his desk. A lump constricted his throat and a burning nausea tormented his guts. Tears misted his eyes, but he bit harshly on his cigar, forcing them back.

They had actually had to sedate Jim to prevent him from strangling the Medical Examiner when they had been informed that Blair Sandburgs body was missing. Simon had been forced to suspend Jim pending a mental evaluation. He was in no condition to be investigation anything, let alone walk around armed.

Simon sighed and picked up Jim's shield. He was very worried for his friend's sanity. Too much had happened in too short a time. Now this...

London

Methos sat sprawled in an overstuffed chair, beer bottle held lightly in one hand. Silently, he contemplated the latest phone call from Joe.

Methos found himself caught in the midst of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He agreed that Richie and his new friend needed to be looked after, but he didn't know Conner MacLeod except by reputation. Granted, Conner's reputation was a good one. Honorable man, excellent swordsman...

Still, this wasn't just anyone they were talking about here. This was Richie. Innocent and cocky. Rash and cheerful. Unrelentingly beautiful. Richie Ryan, object of an old man's lust and desire.

Methos finished his beer, and rose unsteadily. With the rolling grace of an experienced drunk, he slowly made his way to his darkened bedroom. With a sly grin on his face, Methos prepared to replay his favorite `Richie does Methos' fantasy in his mind.

Cascade

Jim Ellison sat in his darkened loft on the couch staring at the gun in his hand. He spared a moments thought for Simon. His friend had taken his police issue gun, but he hadn't done a sweep of the loft. Even Blair hadn't known where all of Jim's weapons were stashed.

Searing pain flashed through Jim at the thought of his Guide. It was unbearable. His grief was like a living thing. Malevolent and razor sharp.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Blairs face. Those big blue eyes pleading with him. Begging him to understand, to forgive... He could still hear Blairs voice as he tried to convince Jim to let him stay... Stay in the loft, stay in Jim's life.

In a jealous rage, Jim had spurned those heartfelt pleas and turned away from his Guide. He had sent Blair away in anger and Blair had paid the price for his foolish insecurities and twisted pride. He had paid that price with the ultimate currency. His very life...

Now, a sick twist of fate had arranged things so that Jim could never say goodbye. Never gain forgiveness or be granted closure. Blairs body was gone. As if he had never been...

Jim glanced around the empty loft once more. All the places that had once held a treasure belonging to his best friend stared at him accusingly. All that was left to remind him of Blair was a quickly fading scent.

"Hold on Blair... I'm coming Chief."

Jim lifted the gun and cocked it. With slow, careful movements, Jim raised the gun and placed it in his mouth. The taste of cold steel and gun oil exploded on his tongue, focusing his attention and pulling him down into a zone.

Cascade

Conner MacLeod drove through the early morning looking for Prospect Avenue. The local papers had reported the death of Blair Sandburg as well as the disappearance of his corpse, but there was few real details to lead him to the location of his kinsman's student. Conner hoped that Blair's roommate could help.

It didn't take the Highland Warrior long to find the street and then the building. Three flights of stairs later found him knocking on the door at #307.

No one answered. Conner was about to turn and leave when he felt it. The low level buzz of a pre-immortal. It was coming from inside the apartment.

He knocked again. No answer. Glancing around quickly to make sure he was alone, Conner tried the door. Unlocked... Slowly, he turned the knob and stepped inside.

The pre-immortal sat on a couch with a gun in his mouth. Conner was stunned for a second from walking into the middle of a suicide. In his shock, the door slid from his fingers.

The harsh echoing bang of the door shutting caused the Immortal and the pre-immortal to flinch. The man on the couch turned slightly. His haunted eyes locked onto Conners and a single tear traced a path down his cheek.

Conner MacLeod watched in silence as Jim Ellison pulled the trigger, ending his own life.

"Damn! Damn, damn, damn!"

Glancing around quickly, Conner spotted the phone. Annoyance radiating with every movement, Conner snatched up the receiver and punched in a number.

The other end was picked up after a few rings. A sleepy voice spoke quietly.

"Hello."

"Joe. This is Conner... I have a problem."

"Huh? Ahh,... what's wrong?"

"I can't go after Richie and Blair."

"What! Why?"

"I just found my own student."

Sellersville

"No! Oh God, Jim! NO!"

The scream ripped Richie from his sleep and brought him to his feet, sword in one hand, gun in the other before reason had returned to him. Glancing around quickly, he realized there was no one else there. Only Blair.

The young college professor was sitting up in the bed, his wide eyes streaming tears. Tremors rocked his body and he clutched at the sheets. His chest gleamed with sweat and his breaths were desperate gasps.

Richie put his weapons down and climbed back onto the bed and sat next to his friend. He reached out and gently placed a callused hand on the shaking shoulder.

"Blair?"

Blair turned and looked at Richie and for a second there was no sense of recognition. Then, without warning, Blair threw himself at Richie and clung to his shoulders.

A little startled and unsure at first, Richie wrapped his arms around Blair, trying to comfort him. He could feel hot tears falling onto his shoulder and chest.

"Blair shhhh, what's wrong?"

"A dream. Oh God, a horrible dream."

Richie rubbed small circles on Blairs back and began to rock them slowly. He understood. He had relived Duncun's Dark Quickening in his nightmares several times.

"Shhh... You're safe now. She can't hurt you anymore."

"No, it wasn't about Alex. It was..."

Blairs voice cracked and he had to take a deep breath to continue.

"It was Ji... Jim. He was... He was dead."

Cascade

Mild tingles, slowly growing in intensity. Building. Spreading. Like a low level electrical tingle.

Pain. Vulgar, obnoxious pain. He could feel the shattered bone of his skull knit itself back together.

A tremor ran through him violently. Tingles traveled up his spine in waves only to concentrate inside his head. The massing pressure triggering another tremor.

With frightening suddenness, sound returned. The shifting, regenerating mess inside his head echoed loudly in his sensitive ears, almost deafening him. Just as that horrifying noise started to fade, his heart began to beat once more.

The thudding sound startled him and he gasped his first breath in over five hours. With that rush of oxygen, true consciousness swept over him.

One by one, his senses came on-line once more. They pounded at him in terrible disorienting waves. The pain in his head made it difficult to dial them down, but after several attempts, he was finally able to.

A tall man with dark hair and ancient eyes stepped into his field of vision. The man was a stranger, but he recognized the loft all too easily.

"Blair... Where is Blair?"

"He's not here Jim. I'm,... I don't know where he is."

"No!"

The newborn Immortal threw himself up off the couch and dashed across the room in a panic. He flung open the glass french door to a small and empty room. Glancing around in horror, the big cop crumpled to his knees in abject dismay.

"I've died and gone to Hell."

Paris

Methos didn't have very many morals. Most of them had been patiently worn away by time and atrocity, desire and need. One by one, until he was left more with a sense of not offending others with his actions, as opposed to a set of standards regarding the rightness and wrongness of said actions.

So, while he personally had no problems with going through the relics left behind by his friend Darius, other than a dull ache of loss, he tried to be... discreet about it, so as not to offend the delicate sensibilities of the priests. He was certain that not everyone would regard his pilfering with altruism and while being on Holy ground would protect him from other immortals, it wouldn't protect him from the priests calling the police. Eternity in a prison cell didn't sound like much fun...

It took him most of the day before Methos finally found the loose stone in the wall that had once been a part of Darius's private study It took another three hours to read the ancient tomb that he had found hidden behind it. And it was after still another hour before he could pull himself back together again.

He needed to call Joe Dawson. Darius's diary held the cure for a Dark Quickening. Joe needed to know... He needed to know that the cure was worse than the disease. Then, after the call, Methos planned to get falling down drunk.

Los Angeles

Richie stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees while he watched the man walk away into the night. He reached his hands into both front pockets of his jeans. He pulled a single ten out of one and added it to the growing billfold from the other.

Traveling was expensive. Gas, food, shelter... His savings was quickly dwindling away and Blair had left Cascade with nothing but the clothes on his back and a broken heart. They needed money,... badly.

Turning, Richie walked on, looking for another trick. It was still early enough in the evening, especially with the weather being so nice. He could still earn a few more bills.

While the hunting grounds were different here, the rules were the same. It was hard not to let his memories of his time before Mac rush in and take over. He had to stay focused, just concentrate on getting through this. Shame, fear, and self doubt would only make it worse. It was the money that was important now.

Turning another corner, Richie came across the buzz of an immortal and a sight that stopped him in his tracks. Blair, his new friend and traveling companion was huddled in the shadows giving some stranger what looked to be an expert blow-job. Richie was stunned. Blair seemed like a pretty open minded guy, but he would never have pegged the ex-police observer as someone who would hustle.

Suddenly, another man walked out of the darkness and over to the two men. He pulled out a twenty.

"I'm next."

Shaken out of his reverie, Richie walked over to them and grabbed the twenty. Startled, Blair stopped what he was doing and looked up at Richie with wide eyes.

"Richie,... I,..."

Richie reached out a hand and gently twirled one of Blairs curls around one of his fingers and sank to his knees beside his friend. He shoved the twenty into his jeans pocket and looked up at the second man.

"I'll do it."

He turned to glance at Blair and winked before reaching for the suddenly exposed hard cock in front of him.

"You two know each other?"

"Yeah." said Richie. "We're,... uh, roommates. Gotta pay the rent, ya know."

With a last smile at Blair, Richie turned and swallowed the cock he was holding. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blair do the same to his trick.

Seacouver

Joe Dawson was wiping down the bar getting ready to close up for the night when the phone rang. Limping painfully over to it, he tried not to get too hopeful or anxious. He paused only a second before he answered it.

"Joe's."

"Joe. It's Methos."

"Hey. Did you find anything?"

"Uh,... Yeah. Actually, I did."

Joe wanted to get excited so bad, but something in the old man's tone made him wary. Alarm bells were ringing in his head.

"You don't sound very happy about it. Why don't you sound happy?"

"Joe. According to Darius's own personal journal, the only known way to cure a Dark Quickening is for that person to take a head on Holy Ground."

"But,... Methos. A Quickening on Holy Ground will completely wipe out an Immortals memory. It's instant amnesia!"

"Yeah,... I know."

Caro

Duncan MacLeod crouched over the corpse, rifling through the dead man's wallet. $52.75. Duncan smiled, a cruel evil pleasure lighting up his dark eyes.

Tonight might be a record breaker. His personal best was $473.00 in one night. He'd lost count of the murder's though...

Chuckling, Duncan stood up and walked away. Time to find the next victim.

Los Angeles

Richie Ryan was peeling off his clothes getting ready to climb in the shower when he heard the lock of the hotel room door click and he felt the buzz of an Immortal wash over him.

"Blair?"

"Yeah. It's me."

Blair shut and locked the door behind him. He toed off his sneakers and peeled off his shirt as he made his way to the bathroom.

"Hey man. Don't mind me. Just have to brush my teeth, know what I mean?"

Richie grinned.

"Yeah, I do."

Blair chuckled and turned on the water at the sink.

Richie hesitated a moment before pulling his jeans off in front of Blair. He figured it was a little too late to be modest, but it was embarrassing. A night of hustling for money had left him turned on, yet unsatisfied. Without his jeans on, his erection was very noticeable in his boxer-briefs.

Before throwing his crumpled and dirty jeans in the corner, Richie reached into the pocket and pulled out his billfold. He sorted through it a minute and then tossed it on the counter next to the sink.

"Seventy bucks and no bruises. Not bad for a nights work."

Blair reached into his own pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of bills and threw it down on the counter and talked around his toothbrush.

"Fifty bucks,... and ditto on the no bruises."

Richie chuckled and turned to adjust the water in the shower while Blair rinsed out his mouth. He peeled off his underwear and socks, then stepped under the warm spray. He was just about to close the curtain when he noticed Blair watching him.

Richie could feel himself blush as Blairs frank and appraising gaze swept up and down his naked form. His cock throbbed in response to the unabashed lust in those blue eyes. Blair grinned and gestured to the hard evidence of Richies arousal.

"Hey Richie. That's one mean and pissed off cock you got there. Almost looks angry enough to spit. Want some help taming that beast?"

Richie blinked once in surprise, then chuckled deep in his throat.

"Get your ass naked and get on in here."

Blair's grin transformed into a mega-watt smile as he broke land speed records to get undressed. Once he was naked, his own rock hard erection led the way into the shower and Richie's welcoming embrace.

Cascade

Conner MacLeod stood in the kitchen of the loft nursing a splitting headache while trying to make breakfast for him and his insane student. Yesterday had been a stressful and nerve wracking day. He hoped today turned out better, but he wasn't going to hold his breath.

Trying to explain to Jim Ellison about immortality and the rules of The Game had been so frustrating that Conner could have screamed. It took an awful lot to test the patience of an 800 year old man, but Jim had managed to do that very easily,... without even trying.

Actually, it had been more than just frustrating. It had been... odd. None of the usual reactions to this startling revelation applied to Jim. He didn't try to argue and deny it, nor did he get giddy and excited. He didn't flood Conner with a bunch of questions, nor did he become frightened. He just,... sat, utterly still, like a statue,... and listened. No comments or remarks. He just sat there, staring.

Conner had a sneaking suspicion that Jim was still convinced that he really was in some mythical Hell. A bizarre sort of punishment designed to torture him by showing him an eternity of `life' without Blair. It had been all Conner could do to keep Jim from slipping into these little panic induced fugue states.

The only words Jim had spoken after Conner had calmed him down were "Blair..." and "My Guide, I need my Guide." Conner was at a loss.

Turning off the burner under the pan, he scooped the eggs onto two plates and brought them over to the table. He glanced up at the bedroom area in the loft. He was almost tempted to just let the guy sleep. To delay having to deal with him, but he couldn't put if off forever.

"Jim! Wake up and come eat some breakfast."

Conner listened for a minute as Jim climbed up out of bed Grunting to himself in gratitude that at least Jim obeyed orders like the good soldier he was trained to be, he turned to the table. Sitting down, Conner began to eat.

The fork paused half-way to his mouth as he watched Jim walk down the loft stairs and over to the table. The thing that grabbed and then held the attention of the old immortal so raptly was the fact that Jim was as naked as the day he was born.

Conner, as well as his swiftly awakening cock, truly appreciated the view. Jim was a stunning looking man in any case, but naked, he was amazing. His movements were graceful and fluid and his muscles bunched and flexed alluringly.

Jim picked up his plate, turned and walked into the small room under the loft that had once belonged to Blair. Conner took another moment to enjoy that view as well. He watched silently as Jim sat down in the hauntingly empty room and began to eat.

Conner rolled his eyes and sighed. He hated dealing with lunatics. They were always so,... unpredictable. The only reason he was willing to stick it out at all was that he himself had slipped his mental gears a time or two over the centuries and he could well and truly sympathize.

He watched Jim commune with his guilt and his ghosts while he finished eating his eggs. He was planning on telling Jim what little he knew about Blair, but he was uncertain and worried what the big man's reaction would be. He figured it would be best to hold off a while. At least until he could get the man dressed. Just in case he ran out of the loft screaming.

Paris

Methos stood staring out the floor to ceiling windows watching the airplanes alternately take off and land. His last minute, early morning flight had been delayed, so now Methos was left to cool his heels for another nerve racking 45 minutes.

With only the greatest of efforts, he managed not to pace the length and breadth of the terminal waiting area. He hated this. Absolutely hated it. Not the flying, although that in itself wasn't his favorite activity, nor was it the waiting. He was 5000 years old. Waiting was something he had gotten very good at doing. It was the security measures around the airport itself. The uniformed guards drove him to distraction and the metal detectors made him paranoid. About his sword.

Silently fretting, Methos continued to watch the airplanes and tried not to start pacing.

Los Angeles

Blair slowly came awake with mid-morning sunlight splashing across his face. He was warm, comfortable and feeling an odd sort of peace that had been missing for too long. Little by little, awareness encroached upon him and he peeled open one eye.

He was curled up on his side facing the windows and his head was propped on Richies arm. The red-headed immortals other arm was wrapped around his waist, pulling Blairs back up tight to Richies chest in the spoons position. It was very nice.

A brief flash of crushing sadness rolled over him as he wished it was Jim. Quickly, Blair shoved that thought aside. It hurt way too much to think about his Sentinel. It was best to let that wound heal a little more before he tried to pick at it.

Stretching as best as he could in Richies embrace, Blair knew he had to have a talk with the young man. Last night was...

Suddenly, the arms around him tightened in a squeeze and then let go. With a rush of cool air along his back, Blair felt his friend, fellow immortal, and now lover, roll over onto his back. Bereft of warmth and cuddles, Blair remedied that by turning over and snuggling against Richies side.

Richie welcomed him into his arms and gently began petting his back with light lingering strokes. Blair rested his head on the lightly furred chest of his friend.

"Morning."

"Mmmm... morn'n Blair."

"Uhh... about last night... Ummm... I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

Blair felt Richie tense at his words. He rushed on, trying to explain.

"I mean,... I, uh,... well, I haven't had to hustle for, like, years, ya know. Since, I guess, um,... right before I got my Masters Degree. I mean, I know that sounds strange. Going for a Master's Degree and I still had to hustle it for cash, huh? But, now... like, I am officially dead man, I can't even legally pump gas, so... Well, we are, like, so broke, and I guess, I don't want you to think, ya know, that I'm not..." Blair sighed sadly. "Oh, hell... I don't know,."

"I do know Blair. Before Mac took me in off the streets, well,... I got cash by a combination of hustling and petty theft. Anything to put food in my mouth and the occasional roof over my head. Believe me, I know."

Blair raised his head and looked at Richie. Haunted sad eyes met haunted sad eyes.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is,... I didn't see you as just another trick."

Richie smiled.

"Me either."

Blair smiled back for a quiet moment, then he leaned forward and kissed Richie softly on the lips. It stayed soft and gentle for only a moment, then it deepened into something more.

Cascade

Conner MacLeod looked down at Jim Ellison with a bizarre sense of accomplishment. He had gotten the man dressed. That wasn't as easy a task as it sounded. The big man had been only vaguely aware of what was happening around him and had to be lead through the process step by step. He didn't fight it at all, but neither did he help.

Next, he had patiently led the silent man over and sat him in a big overstuffed chair and let him try to relax as he cleaned up the loft a little. Conner had done a little bit before, but had been more concerned with other issues. He now thought that Jim might be more responsive if the evidence of his suicide was not constantly staring him in the face.

It took Conner three hours. He wrestled the blood stained couch and rug down to Jim's truck and then he drove it to the city dump where he buried it under a mountain of trash. Afterwards, he mopped the floor.

By the time he was done, Jim had slipped into that strange fugue state again. It took awhile, but he finally managed to pull him out by playing a tape of Blairs voice over and over again.

"Hi. You have reached the Ellison-Sandburg residence. Jim and I aren't home right now, but you can leave a message. If it's an emergency, Jim can be reached at 555-2833, or I can be reached at 555-2883. Peace man."

Conner was trying to figure out how to pull Jim's attention back from the answering machine when there was a knock at the door. Understanding and sympathy aside, Conner was fast loosing his patience. Whoever was at the door had better be helpful and friendly, or Conner was going to knock out their teeth.

Striding over to the door, Conner yanked it open to see a very tall, very imposing, and very handsome black man glaring at him while chewing the end of an unlit cigar. Conner could almost feel the calm dark eyes appraising him like a side of beef. If was slightly,... unnerving.

"You must be Conner."

"What?!!! How did..."

"Joe told me."

"Joe?! Told you?"

"Yeah."

The large man in the doorway held out one arm and folded back his shirt sleeve. An unmistakable tattoo decorated the chocolate colored skin over his wrist.

"I'm Simon Banks, Jim's Captain in the Major Crimes Unit at Cascade P.D. and as of this morning... I'm also his Watcher."

New York

Methos sat in a bar at the airport waiting for his connection flight to O'Hare. The prices were outrageous, so he made a concerted effort to nurse his beer as long as possible.

He passed the time by re-reading Darius's journal. It was not only an informative book, but also a fascinating window into the mind of a brilliant man he had considered a good friend,... for centuries. Through the course of time, Methos had, by necessity, learned to adjust to the loss of mortals, but losing an immortal, especially one as dear to him as Darius, hurt in a way that very few things did. It was like a deep cut that was slow to heal. Reading the diary was like applying a salve. It might sting a little, but it would help in the healing.

"Announcing United Air, Flight 301, ready for boarding at Gate 7-A, United Air, Flight 301 at Gate 7-A"

Methos was startled out of his reading and his memories by the sickeningly perky voice that echoed throughout the terminal. Quickly gathering his things together, the ancient one paid up his bar tab with a grimace and went to board his plane.

Los Angeles

It was purely by accident. Totally unexpected. It had shocked Blair to his core, rocking the itty-bitty little island of stability that he had found in a world gone suddenly mad.

It began when Blair and Richie had gotten up out of bed, albeit reluctantly. However, the demand for food was not to be denied from their two stomachs.

They had wandered around looking for a diner or deli when Blair had spotted a coffee bar. It drew him like a magnet. He had needed to go in there. Dragging Richie behind him, he had walked into the lounge style deli-coffee shop.

A counter with stools lined the back wall and instead of tables in the center, there was groupings of stuffed chairs, sofas and coffee tables. Spotting two empty high-backed chairs, Blair and Richie had made their way over to them.

A young woman with a long pony-tail took their order of two coffee's and two sandwiches. Both she and Richie had raised their eyebrows at what Blair considered a sandwich, but neither commented.

That was when Richie had noticed the guy across the way flipping through a motorcycle racing magazine. Reaching under the end table, Richie had slid out a wire rack overflowing with magazines. He had picked up half of the stack and plopped it onto Blair's lap, then grabbed the rest for himself.

"Hey. Flip through these and see if you can find me a copy of Motorcycle Racing, would ya?"

"Sure man."

It had been an innocent request and Blair had begun flipping through the dog-eared and well worn magazines. A few had caught his eye for a moment or two, but he continued on his quest. Once more, he had felt that odd sensation, the one he had gotten when he spotted the place from the outside. He began flipping through the stack faster and faster. Suddenly, he had stopped.

There, staring up at him from a very old issue of Time, was a picture of Jim. His best friend and partner. His Blessed Protector. His Sentinel. Memories swirled around him and some crazy portion of his brain whirled a hundred miles per hour.

He and Jim had had a horrible fight due to Alex. A cutting and vicious fight that had caused Jim to try and sever all ties between them. Then Alex had killed him. That act of dying and then awakening an Immortal had driven any other thought from Blairs mind as he desperately tried to process everything that had happened. Now, he had to think of other things, things that he could not walk away from. Jim thought he was dead. A Sentinel without a Guide.

Not noticing the tears streaming down his cheeks, Blair reached out a shaking hand and grabbed Richies arm.

"Richie,... we have to talk."

Cascade

Simon watched Conner MacLeod stare at him with a pole-axed expression on his face. Walking in past the stunned Immortal, Simons eyes swept over the radically altered loft to land on Jim. His heart clenched in pain at the sight.

Jim was playing with the answering machine, listening to a recording of Blairs voice over and over again. He gestured at Jim and turned to Conner.

"What's going on here?"

"He keeps,... fading into strange... daydreams or some sort of fugue state. That recording is the only thing I could find to keep him... focused."

A sudden light bulb went on in his mind. Jim grieved for his best friend and roommate, but the Sentinel was lost without his Guide. Simon glanced around the barren loft once more and made a decision.

"Jim..."

His normally gruff voice was as gentle as his hand on the distraught Sentinels shoulder.

"My Guide, Simon... Blair."

"I know Jim... I know. Where's the key to your storage locker in the basement. I need to get some things."

Jim pointed to the basket by the door and Simon turned and strode over. He reached in and grabbed Jim's keys.

"Conner, want to come and give me a hand?"

It only took the Highland Warrior a second to agree. Simon turned and lead the way. Once in the storage area, Simon sorted through the boxes, looking for things that had belonged to Blair. He hoped they would comfort his friend. When he found an item he recognized, he pilled it in Conners arms.

"Conner, when I spoke with Joe this morning, he said that you were to be his teacher. Is that true?"

Simon used every trick of voice inflection and facial expression he knew to impress the fact that his question was very serious and deadly important. Conner didn't miss his meaning.

"Yeah. It's true. I've tried to explain The Game to him, but I can't get through to him"

Conner paused a moment and looked directly at Simon.

"And honestly, I'm not sure how to reach him."

Simon nodded.

"Did you tell him about Blair yet?"

"No. I'm not sure how he'll react and I don't want to have to hurt him."

Simon nodded again, thinking hard. He sighed. He had made a promise to Jim and Blair. A promise to keep their secret. He was about to break that promise. Conner needed to know what the connection between Jim and Blair really was if he was going to be able to help his friend.

Blair was Jim's Guide. Conner was Jim's Teacher. He was Jim's Watcher. And Simon knew that the big cop would need them all to survive.

"Conner,... Have you ever heard of Sentinels?..."

Los Angeles

Maurice Picard sat at a sidewalk cafe' wishing his Immortal would head back to France soon. The Watcher was getting too old to be gallivanting around the world and had been seriously considering buying a vineyard and enjoying retirement. He hoped this conference his Immortal was attending wouldn't last too long.

Sitting in the early afternoon sun, sipping his wine, Maurice Picard got a startling shock. Passing right by him at a fast pace was Richie Ryan. He was being led along by a distraught young man.

He had met the young Immortal before, in France, although he was sure Richie would not remember. Watching the two walk away, his mind flashed to the message he had received from Joe Dawson. Joe had put the Watchers on alert for the rash young man. The kid had disappeared and Joe wanted him found.

Maurice reached into a pocket and pulled out a cell phone. Quickly checking his electronic phone book, he punched in the code to connect him directly to Joe Dawson.

Los Angeles

Richie Ryan sat quietly watching Blair Sandburg sleep. The young man had exhausted himself with his bout of hyper-energetic hysteria. Considering his sleeping friend, Richie could understand his panic.

It seems that his friend Jim is a member of a rare race of people, an offshoot of normal humans with extra-ordinary abilities. It sounded a little like a myth, but hey, being an immortal himself, Richie found it rather easy to believe in the fantastic. So, Jim was a Sentinel. And Blair was his Guide, his Shaman. They shared a spiritual bond.

Richie deliberately pushed aside the fact that he had sex with a tribal Holy Man and would probably end up in some strange version of hell for it, and instead, pondered their problem. How could Blair check up on his Sentinel without exposing himself as an Immortal?

Cascade

Jim had relinquished the answering machine when Simon gave him one of Blairs blankets from the storage area. Wrapping the soft warm material around his shoulders, Jim inhaled deeply. The alluring scent of his Guide rose all around him, soothing and centering him. Pulling the blanket tightly about his frame gave him the illusion of being held by his Guide.

A tiny part of his mind tracked Simon and Conner as they walked around the loft, placing items here and there. However, most of his concentration was on the flashes of memories sparked by the warm blanket and even warmer scent it contained.

Jim wasn't sure how long he was adrift among his thoughts and memories when Simon and Conner were finally able to get his attention.

"Jim."

The Sentinel glanced up at the Highland Warrior. The centuries old man seemed composed and calm, but Jim could hear his heart racing. The man was nervous about something.

"Jim."

He turned his head to his Captain. Over the years, Jim had become an expert at reading the big man, and right now Simon had something important on his mind.

"Jim,... I know that Conner told you all about Immortals and The Game. What he didn't tell you about is the Watchers."

"Wait, wait,... Simon, you knew about,... all this!?"

He watched Simon sigh and nod his head. Slowly, deliberately, his Captain rolled up his shirt sleeve exposing a strange tattoo. He held out his wrist for Jim to get a clear look at it.

"That's the symbol of the Watchers. They are an ancient sect of mortals who watch the Immortals and then chronicle their lives."

Simon paused a moment to gather his thoughts and fix his sleeve. When he looked up, his dark eyes pierced Jim and made him look directly into the eyes of his friend.

"I'm a Watcher Jim. As of this morning, I'm your Watcher."

Jim was stunned. All of this was coming at him so fast and hard. Immortals and Watchers. Sword fights and beheadings. Blair would be able to make sense of it all, but Blair was gone. Just the thought of his Guide made him tremble. He was pulled out of his thoughts once more by Conner.

"Jim,... there's more."

The Sentinel turned to look at the Highlander.

"It's about Blair. About why his body disappeared."

Jim stiffened up, his total attention riveted on the centuries old man who called himself his Teacher.

Chicago

Methos walked off the airplane and stretched. It had been a long flight with bad food and a horribly tacky movie. The constant traveling from Paris to New York and then from New York to Chicago had left him tired, stiff and out of sorts. All he wanted to do was go to his hotel and sleep. He had an early morning flight into Seattle and then it was only a short rental car ride into Seacouver from there.

Methos made his way over to the baggage claim area to locate and rescue his few possessions from the hands of the under-paid and over-stressed workers at O'Hare. That was when he was paged.

"Mr. Adam Pierson, please come to the Information Center on the ground floor of the main terminal. Mr. Adam Pierson to the Information Center, please."

Methos grabbed his bags and rolled his eyes. What now? Carefully arranging his things so that the weight was distributed evenly, Methos began walking through the terminal once more. This time in search of the Information Center.

When he located it, he found it to be manned by three professionally perky women in tacky gold blazers. He strolled over to the counter and caught the attention of one of the ladies.

"Hello there. I'm Adam Pierson. I do believe that you just paged me."

He exaggerated his slight British accent and smiled at the woman, putting as much charm and warmth into his greeting as possible. She smiled shyly and blushed, a little flustered at first. A little voice inside his head told him to stop playing around while another little voice was cheering happily that he could still effect women this way,... even after all this time.

"Oh, em,... Mr. Pierson,... you, ah,... have a message here."

The young lady blushed at bit more and then retrieved the message. She handed him a slip of paper and he thanked her, earning another rosy blush.

Methos read over his message twice before turning back to the pretty woman in the ugly gold jacket.

"It would seem that I need to change my flight plans. I need to go to Los Angeles. Can I switch flights here?"

Cascade

Conner was amazed. Jim Ellison had been totally transformed by the news that Blair Sandburg was alive and well. Where he had been withdrawn and lost, he was now bold and focused. He was, however, still quiet.

Once the idea of his Guide being immortal had sunk into his mind, several things had occurred to him at once. The first and foremost was that they had to find Blair and Richie and get them someplace safe. The second was that he had to learn to fight with a sword in order to protect his head, and more importantly to Jim's way of thinking, protect Blair's head.

Conner glanced across the loft at Jim and Simon Banks. He was grateful to the gruff Watcher. He was drawing the cop out of his shell and making Conners job so much easier.

Now it was just a waiting game. Joe Dawson was on his way here to meet with Simon and to bring a selection of swords for Jim to choose from. The sooner Jim began his training, the better. Conner had a feeling things would get worse before they got better.

Joe also mentioned that he had news, but that he didn't want to discuss it over the phone. He promised to explain in person later. Conner sincerely hoped it was good news as he watched Simon tell Jim about how he became a Watcher. They could all use a little good news to tighten the tension.

Los Angeles

As quietly as he could, Richie slipped out of the hotel room. He didn't want to wake Blair. The poor guy was exhausted and half crazy with worry for Jim. Blair was convinced that Jim would do something stupid or slip into a "zone-out", whatever that was. Richie had tried to reassure his friend as best he could, but he didn't think he'd done a very good job of it.

However, now that Blair was sleeping, Richie figured he could go out and get some supplies. They needed some food and a part for his bike that needed to be replaced. Maybe if the weather held, he would even go cruising for tricks. They could always use more money. Turning the corner, Richie was lost in thought, and so he didn't notice that he was being followed by two separate people.

~~~~

Maurice Picard had spent his entire life following immortals around. He was, after all, a professional watcher. Blair Sandburg was an ex- police observer who had spent the last three years following a Sentinel into dangerous and often deadly situations. Even if Richie had known he was being shadowed, he wouldn't have been able to shake either one of them. They were both too skilled.

Los Angeles

The sound of the door shutting woke Blair up with a start. A quick glance around showed him to be alone. Shaking off his sleep in a rush of nervous anxiety, Blair sprang from the bed and left the hotel room. Blair spotted Richie as he turned the corner and was about to call out to him when he noticed the guy skulking along in the shadows after him.

The older man was elegantly dressed and probably would have fit in comfortably on Wall Street or in the boardroom of any multi-national corporation. Yet he was following Richie,... skillfully. Years of being Jim's ride-along had taught Blair that dangerous people often appeared harmless and that you should never underestimate your opponent. The stranger followed Richie,... so Blair followed them both.

It seemed to Blair that Richie was just running simple errands. Since the stranger didn't have the aura of another immortal, and as far as Blair knew, Richie wasn't involved in anything illegal besides hustling here and there for cash, he couldn't understand why the man was following his friend.

Blair was getting more confused and frustrated by the entire affair when Richie was suddenly confronted by a different man. Blair had no idea who this new player to the drama was. The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties and acted rude and arrogant. Blair couldn't hear what was said, but Richie seemed annoyed and yet deadly serious, all at once.

He watched silently as Richie followed the stranger into a dark alley. Blair felt his stomach clench and he hoped Richie wasn't planning to hustle this guy. There was something about him that made Blair nervous.

He slid into the shadows as quietly as he could. The older gentleman that had been following Richie also ducked down into a dark space. Blair watched, horrified, as Richie and the stranger circled each other once, then drew their swords.

Cascade

Joe Dawson sat across the table from Simon Banks. He studied the gruff police Captain while the waitress refilled their cups. He hadn't seen Simon since Jonathan had lost his head in immortal battle. Simon had immediately retired from the Watchers and dived into his work at the Cascade P.D. with a vengeance.

Joe had been afraid that Simon would turn down this assignment, considering the deep depression he had suffered when he lost Jonathan. Simon, however, had jumped at the chance. Jim Ellison was not only one of Simon's detective's, he was also Simon's friend.

Joe took a sip of his coffee and gathered his thoughts. He needed to have all the facts if he was going to fix this mess.

"So,... Simon. Tell me about Blair Sandburg."

Los Angeles

The guy was good. Very good. Richie danced back away from the sword stroke, minimizing the damage to a shallow slice across his ribs. Not a deadly hit, but shit! It fuckin' hurt like all hell.

The fight raged across the dark, stinking alley. Richie could feel his strength and endurance begin to fade as his ribs continued to bleed. This guy was too good. He needed to tip the scales in his favor.

Richie gritted his teeth, ignored his aching ribs and used the maneuver that Mac had used to bring him to his knees after his Dark Quickening. It worked just as well on his challenger as it had on him. However, there was no one to stop Richie the way that Joe had stopped Mac.

With a single sweep of a sword, one immortal lost a head and the other gained a Quickening.

Cascade

Connor had followed Jim's directions to the abandoned warehouse. It was in a dingy, rundown neighborhood. It was large, open and devoid of people. It was perfect.

Joe had brought several swords with him and Jim had chosen one that was heavier and slightly longer than Connors. While Connor found it to be a bit ungainly, it was perfectly suited to the Sentinel's height and weight.

After only the first half-hour of Jim's very first lesson is swordsmanship, Connor stumbled over an interesting fact. Jim was a soldier. He responded instinctively to barked orders and being drilled. Unlike Richie, who always needed 20 explanations and 100 reasons before he would do something, Jim had been trained by the U.S. Army to obey and follow his Drill Sergeant,... even into battle.

Also, unlike many Immortals created in this century, Jim had no problem with the concept of fighting to the death. It was, in fact, something he had already faced and survived,... numerous times.

Los Angeles

Richie was down on his knees. Aftershocks from the Quickening rolled through him. Intense energy coursed over his skin, caressing him like a lover, before absorbing into him, becoming a part of him. Strange emotions and memories assaulted him as names and faces of virtual strangers became known to him. And pain... pain and loneliness.

Dizziness and vertigo threatened to claim him as he assimilated the life force and wisdom of the vanquished Immortal before him. It was a difficult Quickening. The energy was strong, very strong because of the age his challenger had reached, but the memories and emotions were dark. The man had been lonely and bitter, adrift in a sea of grief.

A loud thump followed by scuffling sounds pulled and focused Richie's attention. Forcing himself to his feet, he staggered over to see what the commotion was. He didn't go far when the familiar buzz of another Immortal reached him. Richie was trying to decide if he should just turn and leave when he heard a grunt. It was a voice he easily recognized. Trying to gather his wits around him, he dashed forward.

"Blair?"

Richie ducked into the deep shadows and found his friend, whom he was quickly beginning to think of as `boyfriend', pinning some old guy up against the wall. Blair had a wild, freaked out look around his eyes, but he was oddly calm. It was as if he was used to functioning under mind numbing stress.

"What the?!?"

"He followed you man.He saw the Quickening."

Richie felt the blood drain from his face. Now he knew why Blair had the guy jacked up against the wall. He was holding him to keep him from running straight to the cops. Richie's head spun. What to do?

"I,... Ugh,... I have to get rid of the body,... umm,. don't, uh,... don't let him go."

Richie turned and went off to the sight of the battle, It took him a little while to find the dead immortals head, but once found, it was simple to get rid of the corpse. He kept nothing but the other immortals money and his sword.

When he returned, Blair had dragged the man out the deep shadows. Richie looked him over. Something didn't seem quick right. He had a hard time picturing the elegantly dressed gentleman being in this neighborhood on his own only to stumble into this. He stared at the man when something Blair had said finally penetrated the Quickening induced mush that was his mind. This man had been following him.

With lightening reflexes and a knee-jerk reaction, Richie reached out and grabbed the strangers hand. Deliberately turning it over, he pushed up the sleeve and exposed the distinctive tattoo. He gestured to his lover to get a good look.

"Watcher."

Blair looked confused.

"This tattoo... he's a Watcher."

"Oh, thank the gods." Extreme relief colored Blair swords, "I was so afraid you'd have to kill him to protect our secret.

"Yeah... me too."

Blair and Richie released the frightened man and stepped away. He was pale and shaking, but basically unharmed. Richie was sure Joe would hear about this though. He had a million questions, but he didn't want to ask a stranger. Instead, he left a message.

"Tell Joe, Richie says hello."

Richie watched the Watcher stiffen up in surprise and probably a delayed reaction state of shock. He couldn't bring himself to worry about it though. Now that the immediate danger to himself and his lover was over, the effects on the Quickening began to reassert itself.

Raw energy raced along his nervous system, overflowing into all parts of his body in random surges and spikes. He felt tingly and wired as if he was on an adrenaline rush to the nth degree. Richie had to disperse the raging uncontrollable power coursing through him like wildfire. He turned and wrapped an arm around Blair's waist and pulled him in close.

"Come on Gorgeous. Let's go back to the room so I can nail you to the mattress."

Cascade

Jim stepped out of the bathroom wiping stray drops of water off his arms and shoulders with a towel. He paused a moment to cock his head to the side, listening. A small smile ghosted across his face as an old personal running joke ran through his mind. Unconcerned of his nudity, he walked over the front door and yanked it open, just before Simon could knock.

"Damn-it Ellison! One of these days you're going to give me heart failure."

Jim graced his Captain with a mischievous grin and stepped out of the way of the door. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he let Simon and his companion, Joe Dawson, into the condo. Jim loftily ignored the arch and surprised looks aimed his way from the two Watchers.

"Jim, what are you doing answering the door naked?"

The Sentinel raised his hand and opened his mouth to try and explain when Simon continued.

"Wait. Nevermind. I don't want to know. Just go find some clothes."

"Sure thing Simon."

Jim turned and jogged up the loft stairs leaving two startled Watchers and a speculative Immortal. His Sentinel hearing clearly heard the Highlanders quiet growl.

"I was enjoying the view. If I'm going to train him and subsequently protect his head, I should be allowed to eyeball his ass all I want."

Jim grinned in spite of himself. Ever since he had found out that Blair was still alive, his whole outlook had change. He suddenly had hope for the future. He once again had the will to survive and a reason to fight off approaching zones. It wasn't as easy as it was when Blair was at his side, but at least he didn't feel as if life was one throbbing, burning, painful hallucination anymore.

Dressed in jeans and a Cascade P.D. sweatshirt, Jim bounded down the steps to find the others sitting at the table talking quietly and waiting for him. Recognizing the serious mood that had settled over everyone, he sat down as well.

"What?"

Joe Dawson cleared his throat, then looked around to catch every ones eye. He took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts.

"Two things. First,... Adam found a way to cure Mac's Dark Quickening."

Jim wasn't too sure of the significance of that, but both Connor and Simon stiffened up and leaned forward. Connor in particular was effected by this. Jim could hear his heart rate rocket.

"He, uh,... he needs to take a head on Holy Ground."

Simon looked stunned and dropped his unlit cigar from nerveless fingers. Connor went pale and shoved his chair backwards into the kitchen as he jumped up. Jim watched his mentor pace with agitation and barely controlled anger. Frustration and fear radiated from the Highland Warrior in palpable waves.

"I,... don't understand."

"Jim." Simon's voice was sad and oddly gentle. "A Quickening on Holy Ground will completely wipe out an Immortals memories. Mentally they become like little children again."

Jim got up and went to the refrigerator. He pulled out a six-pack of beer. He handed one to Simon and one to Joe. He handed two to Connor and watched him slam them down, one after the other. He knew that this mysterious "Mac" was Connor's kinsman and also his first student. He wasn't too sure what a "Dark Quickening" was, but it sounded a lot like madness. Jim felt for the man he never met. He himself had to watch with vigilance to keep his own insanity at bay. Simon's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"So, what's the second piece of news?"

"I know where Richie and Blair are at. I've sent Adam to go to them and get them safe. New identities, training and all, but mostly, I want them safely on Holy Ground."

Jim heard his beer fall through the air to the hard floor below. He was lost in the tinkling, shattering sound as the glass bottle cracked and splintered into a thousand shards. His vision clearly saw the sparkling shower of tiny glass knives flying threw the air above the raging river of amber beer. Jim could do nothing to avoid the zone that he was falling into. One word echoed through his mind as the numbing gray nothingness claimed him. Blair...

Los Angeles

Blair lay in a sticky puddle of his own cum, his sweaty hair plastered to the back of his neck. An equally worn out and sexually sated Richie lay blanketing him, their leg twining together. Orgasmic aftershocks trembled down his spine periodically, causing his relaxed ass muscles to twitch around Richie's semi-hard cock.

Blair's mind felt as if it had melted. Adrenaline pumped through him and his thoughts were a mad chaotic swirl. It had been a surreal day and a little voice inside his head whispered that nothing would ever make sense again.

His life had become a bizarre study in contrasts. The wild and life affirming sex he'd just enjoyed with Richie contrasted sharply with the cold-blooded and ruthless death of the strange immortal who had challenged his lover. His current rootless and somehow hollow existence as a non-entity compared unfavorably to his fulfilling and busy life as a doctoral grad student and police observer. His comfortable and genuine affection for his Immortal lover as opposed to his desperate, frantic need and mindless obsession for his Sentinel. His fascination and curiosity with the strange world he found himself in warred with a strong desire to run and hide. Yes, his life was indeed a tangled mess of conflicts and contrasts.

Just then a strong callused hand petting along his side pulled him from his circular thoughts. Blair could feel Richie's thick shaft harden up inside his body once more. Soft lips nibbled gently along the side of his neck. Exquisite pleasure sizzled through his overly sensitized nerves as Richie began to slowly, tenderly thrust in and out of his already well loved ass. His last rational thought was /I wonder if he's like this after every Quickening?/

Cascade

Simon watched Jim Ellison pace back and forth across the loft. His frustration and agitation was radiating from every pore. He reminded Simon of a huge wild cat caged at a zoo. Sympathy welled up inside of him for the detective.

"But I want to go see Blair. I have to see him."

"No. It's not safe." Joe's voice was adamantine.

Connor sat silent, an odd look of obscure pain on his rugged face. His eyes were sad and tired. You could see the centuries weighing heavily on him as he lost himself within his own thoughts.

"Safe? Joe, what are you talking about? He'll be safe as soon as he comes home."

Simon gasped in a breath in shock. Surely Jim can't be serious? He looked up into the face of his Immortal. He saw a desperate need and longing there, but very little thought. He sighed as he wondered for the thousandth time how Sandburg and Ellison managed to drag him into so many impossible situations.

"Jim, stop and think a minute." Joe's voice was calm, quiet and full of compassion.

"Blair can't come home. Legally, he's dead. He needs a new identity. Richie needs a new identity as well. He had to be able to disappear,... to hide from Mac."

Simon watched the Sentinel go pale at the thought of his Guide and the young Immortal who rescued him from the morgue walking around as targets to a rogue Immortal being driven mad by a Dark Quickening.

"Look, I know where they are. I already have someone going to them."

Jim and Simon both snapped their full attention to Joe.

"Don't worry. He's someone both myself and Richie trust. He'll set them up with a new identity and get them someplace safe. Once there, he'll start training them with a sword."

"Who?..." Jim's voice was strained with tension.

"He calls himself Adam."

Simon watched with a mix of curiosity and fear at Connors sudden intense interest.

"Methos?! You're sending Methos?!"

Jim almost panicked at Connors reaction. His fear for his beloved Guide almost palpable.

"What's wrong with this Adam Methos guy?!"

Joe raised an eyebrow at Jim and took a deep breath.

"Nothing... He's a little hard to get to know and his personality is prickly, but he's very good at surviving. He has an attachment to Richie and would kill to protect him."

Jim relaxed a little, but Connor stiffened.

"I'm sorry Connor. I needed to send someone who can stand a chance against Mac in a fight. There are very few Immortals that can win against Duncan,... and Adam is one of them."

The room got horribly quiet as the implications of that hit home.

"However, Adam and Mac are friends. Adam will avoid taking Mac's head if at all possible."

This last was whispered. Simon knew it was more Joe's wish than any hard facts. He felt bad for everyone in the room, himself included. Blair and Richie couldn't come out of hiding until the threat posed by Duncan MacLeod was ended. Unfortunately, the only ways to do that were to take the mans head or his memories. Simon concluded that it was one truly fucked up situation.

Los Angeles

Methos was met at the airport by a very annoyed mortal named Maurice Picard. He was acquainted with the Watcher from his time in Paris, but he had never seen the normally polite and friendly gentleman so,... sour. Then again, he had never seen him with a large bruise along the side of his face either.

"Um,... Maurice. I don't mean to pry, but... what happened?"

He gestured to the colorful bruise. Maurice's face squished up in an expression of distaste, almost as if he had bitten into a lemon.

"I'm telling you Adam, I don't envy you your assignment as Watcher to those two whores. Nasty, rude, and unethical, I tell you."

Methos felt shock run through him and he allowed it to show on his face.

"What?!"

"They didn't tell you, huh?"

"Tell me what? Maurice, what's going on with them and what does it have to do with that shiner?"

Maurice snorted with disgust.

"Richie Ryan and his boyfriend are trading blowjobs for quick cash. It was Richie's little boytoy that did this," he pointed at his eye, "right after Richie took a Quickening."

Methos stopped in his tracks, stunned. Richie and Blair, prostitutes?! Boyfriends?! He'd had no clue Richie was so,... versatile. All his secret desires and fantasies flashed across his mind's eye. Suddenly, they didn't seem so out of reach as new possibilities opened up before him.

Maurice misunderstood Methos shocked silence and patted him on the shoulder sympathetically.

"I know Adam. It's a horrifying pity when a good boy goes bad. Don't worry too much. I,... I've got a report ready for you in my car."

The mortal began to lead him out of the crowded airport terminal to the parking garage. Methos found it humorously ironic that the elderly Watcher was trying to comfort him over something that made him ecstatic.

"It's okay my friend. If you can avoid that boyfriend, you'll be fine. He's sneaky, but he was trying to protect Richie." He snorted in amusement. "I never thought I'd see the day when someone saw me as dangerous."

Methos tried not to laugh.

Cascade

Connor had listened to the argument go back and forth with only half an ear. Most of his concentration was turned inward. He tossed different options and ideas around in his mind, but nothing better presented itself. He turned to his current student and the Watchers.

"I'm going to go after Duncan."

All noise stopped at once. The three, now silent, men turned to look at him as if he had sprouted horns and a tail.

"What?!"

"I'm going after Duncan. If I challenge him on Holy Ground and he accepts, then I'll let him take my head."

"No!"

Jim jumped up, horrified at losing his teacher the way he'd thought he had lost his Guide. Connor looked at his steadily.

"It's the only way to save the boys from Mac."

"You want Mac to take a head on Holy Ground, fine. But, for Gods sake Connor, not yours!"

Joe was chilled at the very thought. Connor turned to his kinsman's Watcher.

"Oh, then who? And how?"

Jim got an oddly grim look about his face. It was a quiet, ruthless look. Connor could see the Army Ranger Captain that ran Black Ops missions in the cold determined ice blue eyes.

"I know a way."

All eyes turned to the Sentinel.

"We would need a rope, an expendable Immortal, and a guillotine..."

Los Angeles

Methos sat in his rental car intently studying the map of the city. He had managed to trace out a route to the motel address listed as Richie and Blair's current residence in Maurice's report. He was writing down street names and the direction he needed to turn onto them in order to find his soon to be students.

Finally finished, Methos folded the map and stuffed it into the glovebox. Starting the car, he pulled into traffic.

Immediately after Maurice had left, Methos had called Joe. The Watcher had filled him in on Blair Sandburg. He was an educated man who had been going for his doctoral degree as well as a spiritual man and a pacifist. He had apparently also spent a lot of his time working with the local police force. Knowing that combined with what was stated in Maurice's report painted an interesting picture of Richie's friend. Methos could only hope that Blair could except him and what he needed to do,... for Richie's sake.

The directions led further and further into the heart of the city. Property values plummeted in direct proportion to the rising danger levels. The deeper into the slums Methos went, the darker and dirtier the streets became. As he drove along, he wondered what it was that had drawn the two younger Immortals here. Pulling into the cracked and pitted lot in front of the seedy motel, he suddenly knew. It was cheap and anonymous.

Turning off the car, Methos gathered everything he thought he might need. Reports and papers in his satchel. Six-pack of beer in a brown bag. Sword under his coat.

Walking along the side of the aging and abused motel, Methos didn't need to know the number of the room he was looking for. He could feel the aura's of two Immortals up ahead. It was getting stronger and clearer with each step. Finally, he stood before a cheap wooden door with fading and chipped paint. The double buzz in his head was very strong.

He knocked loudly, banging his fist on the door.

"Richie! Let me in. It's Adam!"

Methos heard some scrambling around and then locks being released. The door was yanked open, a hand reached out and dragged him inside. He found himself suddenly slammed up against a wall with horribly gaudy and faded wallpaper.

A very naked and thoroughly debauched looking stranger, whom Methos assumed was Blair Sandburg, had a gun pointed at his heart. His stance and the confident way he held it, told Methos that the young Immortal knew how to use it.

An equally nude and well ravished Richie stood beside Blair, his sword point resting against Methos throat. The ancient Immortal watched in startled amusement as a volley of emotions swept over Richie's beautiful features. Shock. Surprise. Disbelief. Confusion. Relief. Happiness.

"Adam!"

Richie dropped his sword and flung himself at his old friend. The young red-head wrapped his arms around Methos neck and pressed his body in tightly. A metallic click off to his right told him that Blair had released the cocking mechanism on the gun. Methos glanced up for a second and saw the young Immortal flash him an amused grin.

Richie squeezed him tight, pulling his attention away from anything and everything else. Waves of sensual warmth and delight washed over him as he slowly wrapped his arms around Richie. Methos closed his eyes and savored the sensation of a dream come true. A naked Richie Ryan in his arms.

Cascade

Jim stood in his bedroom silently packing a suitcase. This whole situation felt slightly unreal and he wondered briefly if he was in shock. His mind whirling, Jim packed his clothes with painful neatness and precision.

He and Connor were going to Europe to follow up on Joe's leads. They were going to track down Duncan and then put Jim's plan in motion. Jim didn't know if he was more upset with himself for devising it, or with Connor for agreeing to it. The plan was cold-blooded and ruthless. It went against many of the morals and codes that the Sentinel tried to live by.

With a shudder, Jim knew he would do it. And that it would be worth it. As soon as he and Connor cured Duncan's Dark Quickening, Jim could go to Blair. Sentinel and Guide together again.

Cascade

It had taken Amanda a few days and quite a bit of work, but she had finally managed to track down Joe Dawson. She grinned at the thought that the stubborn Watcher habitually covered his tracks, much like the Immortals he blatantly consorted with. Her own Watcher, bless his sneaky little heart, would never think of walking up to her to chat,... even though he knew that she was aware of him. Her Timothy didn't openly break the rules like Joe. Instead, he sent her post-cards, emails, and little gifts. Timothy was her not so secret admirer.

It was from one of his emails that she had gotten the address where Joe was staying. The residence of one Simon Banks, Captain of the Major Crimes Division of the Cascade P.D. Amanda giggled. There was a certain thrill to breaking and entering a cop's house.

San Paolo

Blair sat in the worn booth of the diner watching Richie and Adam talk. It was fairly obvious that his lover liked and trusted Adam. Richie was open and friendly, talking a mile a minute and Adam sat there absorbing his good cheer.

Adam himself, intrigued and confused Blair. He was friendly, but not very polite. He wasn't quiet, per say, but it was difficult to decipher the real meaning of what little he did say and Blair was certain that Adam habitually spoke on several levels at once. The older Immortals face gave away nothing of himself, yet his eyes seemed to pierce you and see into your soul. It was,... disconcerting.

Richie had been ecstatic when Adam announced he had come to get them into hiding and to complete their training. Blair was just numb. He desperately needed time to process everything that had and was still going on, but unfortunately, he didn't have that luxury.

He needed to pick a new name. So did Richie. Once they had each chosen who and what they wanted to be, Adam was going to forge the necessary documents. Instant new identity. As soon as that was done, Adam wanted them to leave the country. Richie was excited about a new adventure, but Blair worried endlessly about his Sentinel.

Deep, heartfelt laughter pulled him from his thoughts. Adam's eyes sparkled and a smirk twisted his lips in amusement. Richie looked slightly indignant.

"What?"

Adam turned to face Blair and he could see the other Immortal trying hard to keep his giggles inside.

"Richie just mentioned what name he has been considering using instead of Ryan."

"Oh? What name is that?"

"Chaser."

Blair blinked. He turned his head slowly towards his lover, feeling his own face break out in a grin.

"No way. No way man."

Richie's face was the picture of pouty confusion. Blair found it very sexy and appealing. From the glint in Adams eye, so did he.

"What? What's so bad about it?"

"Look. There is no way I'm going to introduce you as my boyfriend, Dick Chaser. It's just too... I don't know, you'd sound like a gay porn star or something. I'd feel like your pimp,... I mean agent."

Richie blinked quickly for a few seconds and then settled into the seat with his face firmly set in that sexy pout. Adam lost it and burst into loud laughter once more.

New York

The two back to back flights had been hellish. His student hadn't been very far from what he referred to as a Sentinel "zone-out" the whole time they had been traveling. Now that they were finally in the Big Apple, Jim seemed close to slipping back down into insanity once again.

Connor sighed tiredly and hailed a cab. Stressed out and exhausted, he motioned for Jim to climb into the cab first and gave the driver an address. Settling in next to his student, visions of hotel showers and soft beds danced through his mind.

Glancing over at the Sentinel, he saw him staring blankly out the window at the passing buildings. Cold fear gripped him at the thought of another zone. He was about to shake him hard when he noticed the soft mumbling. Jim was forcing himself from zoning by repeating a softly whispered mantra over and over again.

"...Little longer till Blair. Gonna do it for Blair. Little longer till Blair. Gonna do it for Blair..."

Cascade

It had been a long and frustrating day. The Chief of Police, in an effort to replace Detective Ellison and his partner Blair Sandburg, had saddled Simon with a rookie and a transfer from Homicide. It had been a headache from the word go.

The rookie was enthusiastic,... and nothing else. The Detective from Homicide was cold and arrogant. He had spent his first morning in Major Crimes offending and insulting Megan for the crime of being Australian. It was very charming and just a little scary how Detective's Rafe and Brown, especially Brown, had jumped in to defend her honor. It had also been the first instance in which Simon had been truly glad that Jim wasn't still with Major Crimes. The Sentinel would have put the man in his place... and possibly through a wall.

Simon sighed dejectedly as he turned the corner onto his street. He was tired and stressed. All he wanted was a chance to relax, to sit back with a beer and shoot the breeze with Joe.

He turned into his driveway and noticed an unfamiliar car parked next to Joe's. Simon furrowed his brow in consternation. Joe hadn't mentioned any guests. Idly, he wondered who it was.

San Francisco

Methos handed out Driver's Licenses, Social Security Cards, Birth Certificates and Passports to his two young students. Mr. Joseph C. Blair and Mr. Ryan R. Tessa. He watched them flip through the documents, trying to memorize them.

"Now, don't forget to answer if and when someone calls you by your new names. That's actually one of the hardest things at first, so practice on each other."

He turned and double checked all his bags and his own ID. They had to get an early start to make their flight. Finally satisfied that everything was set and ready to go, Methos turned and climbed into the bed closest to the door.

He laid back on the pillows and snuggled into the blankest to watch Blair and Richie, ohh sorry, Joe and Ryan, get ready for bed. After a last trip to the bathroom for Richie and a shuffling of papers for Blair, the two younger men climbed into the second bed and snuggled down together.

Methos reached out and turned off the light. He lay there quietly, listening to the quiet whispers and shifting as Blair and Richie cuddled in each others arms. Methos didn't want to split them up or ruin their relationship, but he was determined to somehow, some way, get them to except him into their bed. Separately or together, it didn't matter, but Methos wanted them both,... bad.

Cascade

Simon walked through the front door of his house making a concerted effort to calm down. As stressful as the day was, he didn't want to burden Joe and his friend with it.

"Hey! I'm home!"

"Back here in the Dinning Room."

Simon smiled at Joe's voice. He sounded more calm and happy then he had in a while. Turning, he hung his topcoat in the hall closet. He could hear soft voices laughing and talking, but he couldn't make out the words due to the mellow blues music that thrummed at a low volume in the background. Simon could feel the tension draining out of him. He grew curious as to who Joe's guest was.

Simon turned and strode through his house. The closer he got to the area of the kitchen and dinning room, the more his stomach grumbled in appreciation of the wonderful smells of a big meal. With a grin on his face, Simon stepped into his Dinning Room and then came to a stunned stop.

Mouth hanging open in amazement, Simon stared at the vision of grace and loveliness lighting the candles on his dinning room table. She was exquisite. Short cropped black hair framed a beautiful face with delicate features and porcelain skin. A bright blue dress of the sleekest material clung to generous curves and her long shapely legs were bare. Simon swallowed forcefully.

"Oh, hey Simon." Joe's voice registered, but he couldn't look away, "I'd like you to meet Amanda..."

PART 57 SOON