Disclaimer: Leave me alone to mourn the idea of Methos being a fictional character.

Ch. 2:

Joe and Methos sat in the bar, drinking in silence.

"Oh, go home already." Joe said finally. "You're depressing me."

"She killed me, Joe." Methos pointed out.

"You're immortal." Joe replied. "You got better."

"It's the principle of the thing." Methos said.

"Why don't you go talk to her?" Joe suggested. "I would assume that if she was mad enough to stab you, there just might be a problem there that needs to be discussed."

Methos swirled his beer, not looking up.

"Okay, what did you say exactly?" Joe sighed.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Methos replied.

"Well, if you won't talk to her, and you won't leave my bar, you're going to talk to me." Joe said. "So what did you say?"

For second he thought Methos was going to refuse to answer.

"I said she didn't need to make such a big deal out of it." He said softly. "That it was just a wedding. All I meant was that the important part is that it take place, not all the other stuff. Before I knew it we were yelling at each other about things that had nothing to do with the original subject. Then I said something, I don't even remember what, and the next thing I knew, I had a knife sticking out of my chest."

"You two have been together for what, a month?" Joe asked. "And in that time, have you fought at all?"

"Not really." Methos replied.

"Did you think you two think you were immune to fights?" Joe asked.

"No." Methos said defensively.

"So what did you say that made her want to stab you?" Joe asked.

"I told you, I don't remember." Methos said.

"Bull shit." Joe replied.

Methos sighed.

"I may have asked why, if it was such a chore, she didn't just leave." He said softly.

"Jesus, Methos." Joe said.

"I know." He replied, laying his head on the table. "I'm so afraid I'm going to lose her again, and then I say something like that. I should be killed."

"Well, I think she took care of that already." Joe told him. "Did it ever occur to you that she's afraid of the same thing?"

Methos raised his head to look at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, you're the one who says that you don't get to be 5,000 years old by caring only for yourself." Joe said. "I imagine she's survived the same way. Now you're both trying to let someone in and you're both afraid. But not because you have to let someone in, but because you're afraid that when you do, they'll leave. Like Alexa did."

Methos flinched at Alexa's name.

"Have you told her about Alexa?" Joe asked.

"Of course." Methos replied. "I haven't kept anything from her."

"Yeah, but does she know what Alexa meant to you?" Joe pushed.

Methos stayed silent.

"That's what I thought." Joe said smugly. "What does it say when the mortal knows more than the ancient Immortal?"

"Oh shut up." Methos said.

"Go talk to her." Joe said. "And try not to kill each other."

Methos sighed, but he got up and walked away without a word.

"You're welcome!" Joe called after him as the door shut. "Bastard."


"So, you want to tell me what happened back there?" Duncan asked as he and Ingrid stepped out of the elevator and into the loft.

"Some Russian politician was assassinated." She replied, exasperated. "The police want to question me."

"Is there something I'm missing here?" Duncan asked.

"No, I just happened to be in Moscow in the same hotel." She told him. "I don't even know who it was."

"So they followed you all the way from Moscow just to question you?" he asked.

"Actually, they already took a statement from me at the hotel." She replied, smiling. "But after I left the country, they ran a check on my passport, and I guess something wasn't kosher. I don't know."

"I don't remember you being so careless." Duncan said slowly.

"What can I say, I haven't been great with paperwork lately." She said, making him chuckle.

"Well." She said, sitting down on the couch and crossing her legs. "What do I have to do to get a drink around here?"

She smiled and Duncan laughed. He got a decanter of wine and two glasses and came to sit next to her.

"Thank you." She said, accepting a glass from him and clinking it against his before taking a sip.

"So they wonder about the woman with the phony passport." Duncan said as he took a sip.

"Serves me right for getting sloppy." She replied.

"Well, I'm sure we can straighten it out." He said, leaning back.

"Oh, I think it's best to just leave it alone." Ingrid told him. "Who knows, they might even suspect me."

"Oh, you?" Duncan replied. "No."

"Silly, isn't it?" she said, laughing. "Although I must admit the world's a much better place without Igor Stefanovich."

"Thought you said you didn't know his name." Duncan said, glancing at her.

"Well I must have seen it in a newspaper." Ingrid replied quickly. "On TV or something."

"Oh." Duncan said, but he wasn't terribly convinced.

"I have a plane to catch." Ingrid told him, standing up. "Time to go."

"You're leaving now?" Duncan asked, following her.

"Oh, yes." She replied. "Too many questions to answer if they find me." She stopped and turned back to him. "It's been really great seeing you again, Duncan."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"What's going on, Ingrid?" he asked as she walked towards the elevator.

"Nothing!" she insisted.

"If you need any help…" he said, stepping forward.

"I'll know where to find you." She finished for him, reaching over to push the button.

Duncan smiled slightly and nodded as she pulled down the grate.


Methos slowly opened the door to find the apartment he shared with Sekhmet quiet. He tried to make as little noise as possible as he closed the door and set his keys and his coat down. He could see that she was lying on the bed, but she didn't acknowledge his presence. He slowly made his way over and knelt next to her. He could tell she'd been crying by the red around her eyes and nose. She kept her eyes closed as he became level with her, but he could tell she was still awake.

"I'm so sorry." He told her softly in Egyptian. "I shouldn't have said what I said. I didn't mean it."

"Then why did you say it?" she asked, just as softly in the same language. "I thought you wanted to get married. If you don't, tell me now."

"I want to marry you, Sekhmet." He told her. "I'm just afraid that…"

"Afraid that what?" she asked when he trailed off.

He sighed.

"Do you remember that woman I told you about, Alexa?" he asked.

"She was a waitress at Joe's." Sekhmet answered, confused. "You fell in love with her, but she was dying of cancer. She died about two months before we found each other again, right?"

"That's right." He replied. "What I didn't tell you was I tried to save her."

"How?" Sekhmet asked.

"The Methuselah Stone." Methos answered softly.

Sekhmet sat up.

"You tried to make her Immortal?" she asked.

"Yes." He replied.

"What would you have done if you had succeeded and I had shown up two month later?" she demanded.

"I don't know." He replied honestly. "But that's not my point."

"What is your point?" she demanded, anger creeping into her voice.

"My point is, a hundred years ago, I wouldn't have let anyone in like that." He told her. "I've been married a lot of times, but I never really loved any of them. I had lost you and that hurt so much I couldn't even begin to think of letting myself feel that kind of pain again. But then you showed up again and you made it alright. I felt like I could let people in like that again. But then I let Tessa in and it hurt so bad when she died. And then it hurt even worse when Alexa died. And then you came back and you were getting so stressed about the wedding plans, all I could think was that you would realize that I wasn't worth all this and you would leave too. So I got angry and I said things I didn't mean. And then Joe of all people had to straighten me out. All in all I've had a very bad day. And that's not even including the stabbing and the fight watching."

Sekhmet chuckled weakly.

"The point is, Sekhmet," he said, "I love you and I want you to have the wedding you want, but, what I was trying to say and managed to screw up so badly, is that the wedding itself isn't the important part. The important part is when we say, in front of all the people we care about, that we plan on spending the rest of forever together. That you are mine and I am yours for eternity. That's the only part that matters to me. The rest is just an added bonus. So, please, just don't get so stressed about it that you leave, because I don't think I could bare it."

"I'm not going to leave, Methos." Sekhmet told him, gently touching his cheek. "But I am going to get stressed and I am going to yell and fly off the handle. That's just who I am. That's who I've always been, and you knew that. It doesn't mean that I'm going to decide that you're not worth it. I would walk across the world for you, one little wedding isn't going to scare me off. And I will never walk away from you. Not now, not ever. But I would like to apologize for the stabbing. I'm not saying you didn't deserve it, but I shouldn't have done it. Making you watch the fight was Duncan's fault, so I'm not taking responsibility for it, but I will promise to keep the stabbings at a minimum."

"You do realize I'm going to have to get you back for it, right?" Methos asked, grinning at her. "It's a matter of honor."

"You don't have any honor." She said, smiling as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"A matter of principle, then." He said.

He pushed her back so he was on top of her as she lay on the bed.

"Of course." She said, giggling.

He quickly stopped that with a deep kiss.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" she asked, slightly breathless as he pulled away.

"Let's see what I can figure out." He replied, kissing her once more.


Methos and Duncan walked along the marina, talking.

"It's not just the boxing." Duncan said. "The kids need something to do…to give them some discipline. Don't you understand?"

"No." Methos replied. "I'm not a big fan of blood sports."

"Oh dear." Duncan sighed. "So, how late you were this morning is any indicator, you and Sekhmet have made up. No more stabbings at the Pierson-Myles house?"

"No, thank you very much." Methos said sarcastically. "We talked last night and worked it out. I've agreed to shut and not say anything when she's freaking out over a wedding detail and she's agreed to not stab me unless I do something really stupid. What about your friend? What happened to her?"

"She left." Duncan answered shortly.

"She didn't stick around long." Methos observed.

"Nope." Duncan agreed.

"She, uh, mention why the police were after her?" Methos asked.

"She said they were here to tie up some loose ends." Duncan replied.

He and Methos both stepped up to newspaper dispensers and got a different newspaper.

"Oh, right." Methos said. "So, uh, five patrol cars and ten uniforms. That's a lot of manpower to 'tie up a few loose ends'."

"You're an old cynic." Duncan said as they both opened their papers.

"I try." Methos replied. "Oh, look at this, there's an exhibition of Greek antiquities."

"Oh, yeah, can't wait." Duncan said sarcastically. "A 2,500 year old garage sale."

"Listen, some of this stuff could be mine or Sekhmet's." Methos pointed out.

As he pointed at the paper, Duncan saw a large ad on the same page for the New Freedom Party and he snatched it away.

"I believe the phrase is, 'Would you mind if I borrowed your newspaper?'." Methos told him crossly.

Duncan ignored him, reading the ad which proclaimed that an Alan Wilkinson was going to speak at the Seacouver Community Center.

"Damn it." Duncan muttered, shoving the paper back at Methos as he strode off.

"Mac!" he called after him.

"Um, I'll see you later." Duncan replied, not slowing down.


Duncan made his way inside the Community Center to find Alan Wilkinson rehearsing parts of his speech.

"It's time for white America to stand up." He was saying. "Now is the time for white America to stand up. And remember who we are and what we stand for. Now is the time for white America to stand up and remember what we've done."

"Can we get a sound check, sir?" a man called.

Wilkinson stepped forward and stood at the mic.

"White is right!" he said loudly, the microphone feeding back slightly. "How's that?"

"Thank you, sir." The man replied.

Duncan felt the presence of another Immortal and turned to see Ingrid.

"I guess you didn't leave town." He said, walking towards her.

"If you're my friend, you'll turn and walk out that door." She told him.

She walked past him and he followed.

"Because I'm your friend, I can't let you do this." He said, cutting her off.

"This is none of your business, Duncan." She insisted.

"You can't do this." He told her. "I'm not going to watch you kill an innocent man!"

"Let go of my arm." She told him.

"No, I won't." he replied.

"I'm only doing what needs to be done." Ingrid said.

"What the hell's going on out there?" a bodyguard demanded as they pushed Wilkinson off the stage.

Ingrid pulled a gun, but Duncan pulled her arm back.

"This is not going to help you." He hissed.

The bodyguard ran towards them, pulling his gun. Ingrid pushed the gun into Duncan's hand.

"Oh my god, he's got a gun." She shouted, running out.

Duncan turned to find the bodyguard's gun in his face. He held up his hands and saw the gun in his hand. He dropped it and sighed.

A/N: Okay, so let me know if you liked it or if you hated it or if you're out there. Please? I feel so alone.

Abbey