Amanda smiled affectionately as she closed the door to Daniel's apartment. He had a brilliant mind, lovely eyes, and a very nice rear end, but he had to be one of the lightest-weight drinkers she'd ever met in her life - and that was saying something! She wasn't even buzzed, and he was practically falling down blitzed after only four or five beers. It was so adorable.
Her phone rang as she stepped out onto the street.
"So, how's our mutual friend doing? I do hope you left him with all his limbs intact. He wasn't a bad fellow, despite the midnight kidnapping," Methos said by way of greeting.
"Don't worry, he's fine. I just dropped him off at his apartment. We drank some beers in your honor, and he got totally smashed. So sweet! Anyway, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to get your Ivanhoe back shortly, once he gets over the massive hangover he's going to have in the morning. You bring Mac up to speed?"
Methos snorted impolitely. "I had to all but beg him not to come tearing off to the airport to fly over here. The last thing we need is for Duncan MacLeod to barge in here and make a scene. How that man is still living in Seacouver under the same identity is beyond me."
"Well, we can't all be like you, Methos," Amanda grinned, laughter dancing in her voice. She hadn't known the Old Man for all that long (relative to the life of an Immortal), but she really did love him, despite his many faults. "Any luck so far tracking down Sydyk?" she asked, the humor fading.
"Surprisingly, yes," he replied. "You'd be surprised what you can find out with a publicly available police blotter. In this case, a very distinctive pattern of disturbance calls and petty theft reports at stores in the area of my motel room, where you were looking for Sydyk and found me instead."
"No one accused this guy of being smart. Evil, yes, and completely depraved. But not smart," she observed with dark wryness. "You want me to help you look for him?"
"Where's your faith in me, Amanda? I was tracking down Immortals for thousands of years before you graced this planet, and I'll probably be doing so long after someone's taken your head." Methos was many things; 'humble' was definitely not one of them, though he was pretty good at faking it when he needed to. This was not one of those times. "Anyway, you need to keep up the pretense that I'm dead in case the good Dr. Jackson doesn't stop nosing around. I can handle this on my own. Just send me the surveillance photos you took of the high priests and Sydyk, and I'll be fine."
She hated it when the Old Man was right, which he very often was. He just didn't need to be so smug about it. "Alright, just be careful. I don't want you to do something stupid and accidentally lose your head."
Methos scoffed in disbelief. "You do remember who you're talking to, yes? I'm not MacLeod, by any stretch of the imagination. I actually value my life."
"Right, who was I kidding?" Amanda snarked sarcastically. "Because you've never done anything remotely foolish in the time I've known you."
"Amanda-"
"Never mind." She let out a sharp breath. "Just let me know when you locate him. And remember that his head's mine."
~o0o~
Though Methos was more used to hiding than hunting these days, Sydyk and his so-called high priests weren't making things all that difficult for him. Though the Immortal himself seemed to be laying low, his goons appeared incapable of doing the same. Their arrogance and cold superiority towards everyone they came in contact with might have intimidated the store clerks and shopkeepers where they were from, but they were strangers in a military town now. Even the civilians not related to the military personnel had friends or acquaintances among them, it seemed.
Methos still wasn't sure why he seemed to be setting up shop in Colorado Springs; what possible draw could there be for an Immortal like Sydyk? His henchmen were already attracting the attention of local law enforcement. Clearly he couldn't stay here all that long, especially if they ever managed to connect him with his last cult. Therefore he likely had a reason for coming.
Still, the police blotter proved very helpful in narrowing down the area in which Sydyk was likely holed up. After that, it didn't take long to spot some of the 'high priests' attempting to intimidate a clerk at small hardware store.
If Methos were an honest fellow, he'd admit it was actually a stroke of luck he came upon his quarry so quickly, but honesty was not exactly one of his primary attributes. Normally, it would have taken days to find someone like this in a city the size of Colorado Springs.
It was a good thing none of Sydyk's cronies was actually Immortal, because they would've sensed Methos for certain when he practically tripped over them. As it was, they barely even acknowledged his existence except to dismiss him - Methos wasn't exactly a physically imposing sort, and he was an expert at feigning servility and meekness when the situation called for it. So, instead of skewering the cretin who was raising his hand to strike the innocent clerk, Methos shied away, his eyes wide with false fear, before retreating to Amanda's car and waiting for the man and his fellow Immortal-worshipers to emerge from the store.
Idiots. Methos smirked triumphantly. They really were making this far too easy.
~o0o~
Daniel snored away in bed, his sleep this night haunted by dreams of sand and heat and a mysterious man with dark eyes, wielding a plain but somehow beautiful long sword that seemed perfect in his hand, almost an extension of his arm. The man danced in combat with an unseen attacker, bobbing and weaving as gracefully as any acrobat. Moonlight glittered along the blade as it swung through the desert air, hypnotizing and entrancing - until the sword came down forcefully and a river of blood spurted through the air, covering the man's hands and face with a horrific crimson stain.
The man stood in place for a moment, a pale white glow surrounding him. Then he locked eyes with Daniel, his expression both sad and cold. "What is a man but the sum of his memories? What does that make me?" Then he smirked, and said in derision, "You are forgetting something, Doctor Jackson."
Daniel snapped awake, panting and covered in sweat. Checking the clock, he realized it was just past four in the morning. Groaning at the pounding in his head, he stumbled towards the bathroom to find an aspirin. A half-remembered dream flitted through his mind for a moment before vanishing completely.
