Methos was sitting with Joe and Duncan at the bar when the feeling of another approaching presence made him look towards the door. It felt raw, pulsing, and familiar, but not indicative of a strong immortal, so he was fairly relaxed.

When Richie walked in he stopped talking mid sentence. Nothing had ever seemed to phase him before. Both Joe and Duncan noticed his unusual reaction and were about to say something but Richie had walked over to them, obviously still hurt from a fight. His clothing cut up and covered in dried blood.

Duncan reached out to him, trying to comfort him, but the boy pulled out of his reach.

'Just don't touch me', he said in a strangled voice.

'Who was it Richie', Duncan asked.

Joe watched avidly at the interplay of the teacher and student, and of the oldest of them all, who was carefully looking at the bar.

'He said his name was Christopher, he was good, really really good. I should be dead, he tripped... he tripped and I won. Christopher was really old, more than anyone else I've fought, and from what I saw in his quickening he wasn't a nice guy. I can still feel him, his emotions, I can't stay.' Richie said.

'Have a drink first, let your self heal a little', Duncan told him. Joe got him a drink and put it on the bar between Duncan and Methos, Richie reached between them to grab it, rubbing up against Methos. Then he forgot all about the drink, staying in place against him, eyes drawn to the other mans body, putting his arm around him, pulling him toward himself casually, as Joe got a call from Christopher's watcher, who told him all about the man who'd died, who Richie had just killed.

Duncan could only see Richie's back, effectively blocking his view of Methos with Richie's arm around him.

They talked for a bit, Methos was unusually quiet Duncan thought.

After a good while, Richie moved to go, grabbing his coat, stopping to look towards Methos, saying, 'coming?'

Methos quickly got off his chair snatching his coat from the pile, following Richie out of the bar.

Duncan looked confused, Joe looked more surprised.

The next morning when Richie didn't show up for their run Duncan went over to his place, slightly concerned. He felt an immortal presence, getting closer, realized it was two.

He knocked at the door, waiting, then knocked again louder.

The door opened a little and Richie was peering at him, but not opening the door. 'Hey Rich', when he didn't open the door any further Duncan pushed it the rest of the way, walking in to the apartment.

The place was trashed, things knocked over and moved about. Dried blood in patches around, causing Duncan to look closer at Richie questioningly. When no answer was forthcoming, he asked if every thing was ok and if Methos was there.

'Everything's fine Duncan, and yeah hes here' Richie said. 'So where is he?' Duncan asked. He walked toward the feeling of the other man, right into Richie's bedroom, where he found Methos, in a pair of jeans and nothing else, looking through piles on the floor grabbing a shirt and shrugging it on hastily.

Methos looked completely at ease, like this was the most normal thing in the world, giving nothing away.

Then he took in the whole room, eyes falling to rest on the bed, which was practically covered with blood. Richie looked a little flushed, uncertain, ill at ease. 'Methos came home with you then?' Duncan asked flatly.

'Uh, yeah' Richie said to him. Just then Methos came out of the door to Richie's bedroom, dressed only in that pair of loose fitting jeans riding very low on his hips, wrinkled top, no shoes or socks, hair mussed, looking sleepy.

His eyes revealed nothing of course, walking over to the kitchen puttering around in the cabinets, 'wheres the coffee Richie?'

'Oh uh...' he walked over and opened a cabinet putting the coffee on the counter and moving the coffee maker with in his reach. Their hands touched briefly and Duncan saw Richie freeze and flush, as Methos just continued fixing the coffee.

Soon he had filled his mug and sat down on the couch, pulling something from the couch cushions, shaking it out, then putting it on, his socks.

Richie was trying his best to look anywhere but at the other two men in the room. Duncan sat down in a chair, waiting on Richie to get ready to run with him.

'So Methos, what did you do? You were here all night?'

'Well yeah, and?' Methos said.

Duncan was angry now, 'Methos I felt you last night, I could feel your quickening, what the fuck?'

'Oh, well, I was going to tell you it was none of your business, but apparently it is after all, fuck.' Methos paused for thought. 'There are ways to manipulate your energy... if you know how. I didn't realize you'd be able to sence it.'

'So what did you with Richie?' Duncan asked.

'Oh of course, what did I do! Never enter your mind that maybe I'm not the one to blame for everything...'

Richie came out dressed for his run, hearing the end of the conversation.

Richie interjected, 'Look Duncan, turns out that Christopher already knew Methos. His memories showed me some things.'

'I don't really know what your talking about... Methos?'

Silence.

'What Duncan?' Methos said.

'U heard me' Duncan said back.

'This is not common knowledge, not really something to share. Anyway, until now it never was relative. Immortal healing, that shows up when your in pain, can be past between people. The uh... healing sparks kinda commingle, its... an amazing rush. Pain with a chaser of pleasure, till eventually your energy is... active. Ok?"

"oh, uh huh" Duncan told him.

The room was quiet, silence stretching out.

Eventually Duncan spoke, "so Richie how bout that run?"

And Richie got up and looked around a minute gaze momentarily stopping over Methos with interest. Then he followed Duncan out the door, he turned his head to the other man, 'there are exta keys in that top drawer' Richie said leaving.

"Uh, later." Methos smiled a little to himself after the door had shut, over Richie's reaction to the situation. More so that he'd given him keys to his apartment. The implicit trust implied in that one gesture was amazing. Given so freely to him, automatic assumption that there had been more to what had happened between them. He felt almost giddy. That Richie was not only ok with what had happened but that he must want it to on some level to continue.

A few seconds after the rush of that feeling, reality jolted him with a sharp crash, all that reasons what he shouldn't even be thinking about continuing with Richie flowed over him, worry over survival truths.

Cold rules formed over millennia. It isn't a good risk, it is dangerous to him, to his all consuming will to live, no matter what the cost, any cost. Resigned to his chosen path, he got ready to leave, all traces of his presence removed.

The drawer dragged a little as he opened it to grab the key, finding it toward the back, under some random keychains.

So he left the house, door shutting behind him, lock it from the out side, then carefully sliding the key under the door. Yes just like he'd never been there, he thought to him self.