THE ELIZABETH SERIES
CHAPTER SIX
WHAT'S IN A NAME?
By JoLayne
EnyaJo@aol.com
RATING: ADULT If you're under the age of consent, please push the back button.
CHARACTERS: DM M J A OFC Elizabeth Bennett, Antonio and Sofia
SUMMARY: Methos and Elizabeth set up in Sintra, Portugal, the city of Byron
OCTOBER 2000
After going to Spain and enjoying the nightlife in Madrid for a month while searching for a place, Methos suggested to Elizabeth that they take a road trip. His old friend, Lord Byron, had lived in a quaint little town, that was established on holy ground, Sintra in the neighboring country of Portugal. Sintra was holy Ground due to its religious history. The earliest recordings stated that the surrounding mountain had been called "Mountain of the Moon" by the Romans and was used to worship the Sun and the Moon, a practice that ended with the occupation of the Moors. When Afonso Henriques, the would-be king of independent Portugal, conquered Sintra, a monastery was built continuing its religious context.
In the rental car, while Methos again drove, Elizabeth asked, "You knew Lord Byron?" Methos only nodded and smiled.
"The Lord Byron?"
"Was there another?"
"Well, there was that drugged out rock star that tried to pass himself off as a descendent of his."
"That was the Lord Byron."
"No shit?" Elizabeth stared at him as he nonchalantly drove down the windy roads, not knowing if she should believe him. He'd told her some pretty far out things, but to her mind, they had been true. "Byron, the Lord Byron, was an immortal?"
"Yes."
She just couldn't digest it. "I thought you weren't friends with immortals, yet there's Duncan, Amanda, me. Now I find out there was Byron, who else has there been?"
"A few."
"How chummy were you with Lord Byron?"
"Chummy," was all he'd say clamming up as if he was talking about a former girlfriend or wife.
"Is that why we're on the way to 'his' city?"
"No. It's safe for immortals. Holy Ground. Why? Are you jealous?"
"He's dead, as far as I know."
Methos lost all joviality. "Yeah, he's dead. He lost his head, and that's not a metaphor." His eyes took on a dark quality. The ravages of anger and disappointment not dealt with rumbled through him.
"Did you see it happen?"
"No, I just knew it was coming. And it did."
"How? Did he come up against some ass hole immortal?"
"He was judged and executed by Duncan MacLeod, of the clan MacLeod."
"Duncan? Why would Duncan take Lord Byron's head? Judged for what?"
"That's something I don't like to think about, let alone talk about."
Sintra, Portugal was located in the mountains just east of the coast and northwest of Lisbon. It was a quaint city, built around a former monastery, now a Romantic colored palace, with a lush green park surrounding it creating a green wall that seemed as impenetrable as the stone walls of a castle. It also had very steep narrow streets. Methos and Elizabeth walked up and down looking at everything, doing a little shopping, looking at the palaces built up through the Ages. Some sadly abandoned, others smartly turned into museums with rich gardens, all of them intelligently bonding with nature that seemed to wrap these estates with their greenness.
There were a lot of tourists as it was just the tail end of hiking season. Their walks extended outside the heart of the town as they kept walking along the roads leading out of Sintra. They walked for a while following the shoulder of the road that took them through masses of greenery and big estates. Elizabeth got tired and had a tough time keeping up with David. "How do you keep yourself in shape?"
Methos didn't even seem winded as he shrugged, "Good genes, I guess."
"Well, I can't go any further." She plunked herself down on a milestone to catch her breath and let the muscles in the back of her legs rest and loosen. People walked past, going about their day, looking over the sights. Elizabeth noticed that his mind was elsewhere, as he stared off in the distance. When he lightly shoved her to the side to join her on the small space the milestone provided she commented, "Byron, I presume?"
"Hm?"
"Are you reliving your time with Byron?"
"No, I was looking at the Palace." He pointed to the steeple atop Monserrate Palace. It's steeple poked through the trees. Made of finely chiseled marble, it was a beauty. "You've had a lot of history here?"
"A bit."
"Do you like the area, are you comfortable here?"
"I always have been. The whole place is holy ground."
"Well, why are we thinking of moving to Spain? Why not here?"
"You speak Spanish."
"Don't they speak Spanish here?"
A couple walking by heard and were ticked, walked on. Methos said, "No. They speak Portuguese. Don't say such a thing here. I thought you were a history professor and you didn't know that?"
"How often do I get to Portugal? I didn't know. Is it an easy language to learn?"
"Eu ensino-te. That means 'I'll teach you'."
"You've got yourself a deal," she smiled. Looked at Monserate Palace, and the houses and trees on the slope of the Sintra mountain. "Let's live here. There's people around, but its quiet, peaceful, beautiful. I'm tired of living out of a suitcase."
"I am too. You wouldn't mind moving to someplace you've never been?"
"Do I have a reason to? Byron's memory perhaps?"
"You're more focused on that than I am."
"When I agreed to take off with you, it didn't matter where we ended up. I just want to end up somewhere and I like it here."
CASA SEGURA
On the outskirts of town up on the mountain, in the middle of dense woods, at the end of the public road, they found an older family house for sale. Situated between Lisbon and Sintra it came complete with a view from the overlook in the back yard to a couple of old buildings that were falling apart but they had ideas for them. The previous owners had christened the house with a name that meant 'Safe House'. The good karma wasn't lost on either of them.
The quinta in the mountains was scrutinized by Methos when they were shown it by the realtor, but Elizabeth saw nothing but it's possibilities. A little work here and there and that place could be a castle. The realtor told them that it was built in 1890. Methos cringed, there was a lot of rain that year, he hoped the foundation was solid. Foundation, foundation, foundation.... he'd learned his lesson well when he designed a certain tower in Italy and would never make the same mistake again.
But, Casa Segura looked solid to his eye. The older couple who had raised their children there, before they left for their own retirement years, said they'd never had a structural problem with it. The reaction on Elizabeth's face as she discovered each new feature the house offered made Methos snap it up. Elizabeth insisted on paying for half of the house, even though Methos didn't try to get the price down from the realtor. He obviously didn't care how much it cost, much to Elizabeth's chagrin.
Adam Pierson had begun using the name David Sommers. When Adam slipped out, he'd remind her of his name, it took her a while to get used to it. Elizabeth had gone back to her own name, she didn't feel like a Mary Anderson, let alone look like one. David did like calling her Mary for some reason. She had started to miss him. He'd been gone for three days and promised he'd be back on Monday. Well, it was Tuesday and there hadn't been any word from him. He said he was going to Cairo to get information from the archives to complete his textbook on Ancient Egypt and told her that she should stay and get moved into the house. Except there wasn't much to do, besides unpack what was in their suitcases.
So, while waiting for David, she went shopping. Her legs had gotten used to the up and down climbing and descending from the landscape. She made it a habit to walk into town at least once a day; to keep her mind from going numb waiting at home, and to find treasures to fill the house with. After walking the miles into town and walking and shopping, she always made sure she made a purchase, a big one, so she could get a lift back home from a happy store owner. The first big ticket item she bought was bedroom furniture, the complete suite. As soon as it was delivered, she hoped David would like it.
There was another reason she couldn't wait for David to get back, he was the chef. While growing up in Gettysburg, her mother tried to teach her how to cook. It didn't work. She couldn't make a meal if her life depended on it, except for a simple delicious recipe she found for stroganoff, she didn't cook. After marrying Teddy at the age of 18, she went from her parents house to the Lion's Eye Tavern and they had cooks. All her life, she either ate beans from a can heated up over a fire, mooched from someone else, or ate in restaurants. That was one of the reasons she liked the big cities. There were more chances to come up against immortals, but the food supply was endless.
There on the outskirts of Sintra, there were no takeouts, no pizza, no Chinese, no frozen dinners in the market to just heat up in the stove or microwave, no nothing. One can eat only so much stroganoff without it becoming sickening just to look at the leftovers in the fridge. David was going to have to get home soon, or she would be forced to her last resort, trying to cook for herself. Maybe he could teach her to cook along with the Portuguese lessons.
They'd have to have a major shopping expedition to outfit that kitchen, the living room, the study David had taken over, the rest of the house. She was worried about the cost of everything. She had never been much of a hoarder when it came to money, only maintaining a comfort zone. She had a good paycheck from NYU and didn't have to think about dipping into her savings until she took on another mortgage. They'd have to furnish the house from scratch; the only furniture that came with it were the courtyard table and chairs.
Elizabeth needed to get out. She decided to go for a walk in the woods. She'd just reached the trail that made it's way through the thick trees, when she heard a car on the seldom traveled road. The only cars that went by belonged to the people who lived up the hill, where the road was a dead end, or tourists who were lost. Elizabeth went back to the trail's end to see which of the usual vehicles , the bright orange car, the red pickup or the dark green car, were on the road that day. The car pulled into their drive and stopped. She ran out of the woods to see David climb out of the driver's seat of an old black station wagon, then felt his buzz as she ran toward him.
Methos turned at the sense of the buzz and leaned against the car waiting for Elizabeth to get to him. "Where were you?"
Elizabeth jumped into his arms, kissed him in welcome, then admonished him, "Where was I? Where the hell have you been?"
"That's some welcome," he scowled, then grabbed her into a real kiss, sweeping her around in a circle.
"Egypt isn't that far away and you said you'd be back yesterday."
"I got detained, sorry," he said. "Help me get this stuff inside before it rains."
"Who's is this?" she motioned to the old car.
"It's mine," Methos told her, not telling her that he purchased it under the name of Matthew Benjamin. She didn't need to know everything.
"You bought an old car? I thought you only liked to rent."
"This will get us to and from town."
"What's all this," she asked as she peered into the back windows at the boxes.
"Literature for my research," was all he said. He opened the back and put a box in her arms. A very heavy box. As she lifted it off the tail gate, he said, "Careful with that, Mary."
When Elizabeth set the next to the last heavy box on top of another on the floor of the great room of the house, it slipped and fell to the floor. The cover of the box opened and three batches of pages that were looped with thin strands of twine on the edge like a binder toppled out. "No wonder that was so heavy," she muttered, to the box that contained just paper. She stooped over to gather them up and put them back into the box, she had no intention of looking at or scrutinizing them, just wanted to put them back in the box. But when she actually got her hands on them, they looked incredibly old. From the lettering David had scribbled on the box, they were 'RESEARCH'. She opened the cover of one of the 'books'. It was written in a language she didn't recognize, the ink used was faded and she could barely make out the pattern of the 'letters'.
Methos walked in with his dufflebag and another box and almost dropped them both on his foot when he saw what she was reading. "Put that down!"
His booming voice made her jump and the journal flew out of her hands. "What?! You scared the hell out of me."
He didn't hear her, quickly gathering the pages that came free off the floor and patting them back into book form. "You're looking through my stuff now?"
"Not really," she said. "They fell out of the box."
"Fell out?" Methos replied with an accusatory lift of his eyebrow.
"I was just looking as I put it back together." Elizabeth said, holding what was left of the 'book' in her hands. Methos grabbed it and stacked them neatly in the top box. "What is it? Where did you get those?"
"I...," he put the weight of his body atop the box to make sure the top was secure, then looked at her, and realized she wasn't 'snooping'.
She kept on, "What language is that? A library let something as precious as that off the premises? They're obviously old."
Methos collected his thoughts. "Yes, I've borrowed things from them before. They know they can trust me."
"It's about Egypt, for your textbook?" Elizabeth smiled as she kept prodding; she didn't believe him. There was another 'book' on the floor by the fireplace. She picked it up and had to fight the urge to leaf through it. She just handed it to him. "I don't know what language that's written in, but it's not hieroglyphics."
"It's..." he opened the top sheet and looked at the Sumerian writing he himself produced 3500 years before, about Greece. It was the last thing he wrote before turning into a monster. It was only then that he realized he may have gotten the wrong boxes out of his storage garage in France. "Yes, it's about Egypt," he lied. "And I have to be very careful with it. You can't put fingerprints on them. It's not even paper, it's papyrus. It'll be my ass if they get smudged. They're irreplaceable."
"I'm sorry. They should be hermetically sealed. The pages came out when you scared me."
"Well... library property," he decided to tell her as an excuse for his concern.
"You're just going to drop them in the mail when you're done?"
"No, I'll have to make the trip myself to return them." Only the trip would be back to his storage facility in Paris, not to the Cairo Archives, where he told her they were from. Then he scanned some of the pages, read them, Elizabeth was right, he should have sealed them more properly. The plastic tarps that were wrapped around them didn't do as good a job as he thought they would. And damn! These might be the wrong batch!
She wondered why he was so touchy about his stuff, weren't they living together? Hadn't they spent the last blissful month together in every way? Mitch, her fourth husband, was territorial. She guessed some men were and would make a point of not messing with his stuff again. Since Adam had become David Sommers he carried a much fresher mood, she wasn't looking forward to a return visit of the suspicious Adam she met first.
That evening, Methos set the last of the boxes in the study and took his new cell phone out of his pocket. He did a little time zone figuring in his head and entered Joe's apartment number. He should be at home and awake. Methos may still be a little hurt by Joe's lack of honesty, but he missed him. He hadn't talked to one of his two his best friends in the world for over a month. When Joe answered, Methos told him he was settled and could be reached at that number until they got a phone hooked up.
Joe assumed, "New apartment?"
"A house."
"House?" Joe let his low, grumble-like giggle flow. "Since when do you own a house?"
"I own houses."
"Where are you?"
"Sintra," was all Methos would say over a cell phone line.
"Where the hell is that?"
"Look it up. How are you feeling?"
"Good as new, Adam."
"Oh, it's David," Methos corrected him.
"Okay," Joe said, shaking his head.
"Are you just saying that or are you really feeling better? How are you getting around?"
"With my own two legs, David. I'm doing really well. I had dinner with Amy and Kevin last week. Caroline's weakening."
Methos looked out on the great room to see what Elizabeth was up to. She was making a racket. "What does that mean?"
"She's thinking about moving in, or me moving into her place. Hell, we might even get a new place of our own. That's the only thing left to work out."
"You old dog," Methos laughed. "Good for you."
"What are you up to?"
"I'm laying low."
Joe asked, "By yourself?"
"No," Methos smiled at the sight of Elizabeth's bent over frame as she tried to start a fire in the fireplace. "There's a chick here with me. Tell Amy we're fine, I know Liz has been trying to get a hold of her. Did they move?"
"Yeah," Joe muttered. "She wanted to stay by me, keep an eye on me like I'm an invalid. There was a death in my building so Amy and Kevin took that apartment."
"What? How?" Methos sat straight up, wondering if it was Logan or his men.
Joe was sorry about how that came out. "Lyle Crocket on the fifth floor had a heart attack while watching a Giants game. Who can blame him? That team can kill the hopes of almost anybody. Lyle was over 90 years old, can you believe that? He lived on his own 'til the very end. Boy, that guy had stories."
"I'd imagine," Methos offered, but didn't really think 90 years was much to get excited about.
Joe announced, "Ah, I have to go. Caroline's here."
"Oh, okay. Have fun."
Joe paused even though it seemed like he needed to hang up. Methos wondered why and asked. Joe finally confided, "I talked to Blair about watching his laptop."
"Why the hell did you do that?!"
"I thought you would have wanted me to," Joe's voice rose in pitch along with Methos'. "You were so concerned about it you skipped town."
"But you don't have to bring it up!"
With the sudden increase in the volume of Methos' voice, Elizabeth turned towards the study where he was to figure out what was wrong. Methos noticed and shut the door. "Wouldn't that make him a little more than suspicious?"
Joe continued, "He doesn't know it's anything to do with you. We were in the middle of conversation and I said to be careful with Watcher Database, that's all. Jeez, I thought you'd be happy about it."
"Don't do me any favors," Methos seethed, then was sorry for the outburst. He knew Joe was covert. Boy, did he know.
Joe snapped, "I won't!" and was ready to hang up.
Methos said, in a soothing voice, "I'm sorry... thanks."
"For what?"
"Being a friend. Thank you."
That wasn't an everyday occurrence and Joe was grateful for the sentiment. "Okay then," was all he said. "I gotta go. Thanks for calling. Do it more often, so we don't just fight and hang up."
"Will do when we get a real phone."
Joe paused, "You're calling me on a cell?"
"Yeah."
"You should have told me," Joe clipped. "We'll talk later.
OCTOBER 17, 2000
Elizabeth sat on the porch with the newspaper and a cup of coffee, trying to make out the classifieds, then decided against it. David hadn't taught her how to read Portuguese, just some simple phrases. She'd had an interview with one school already, but they didn't need anyone to teach the American Civil War. Her knowledge of Portuguese history was about as good as any of her prospective students would be, and just a little bit better than her Portuguese. She'd have to figure out something else. She could go back to bartending, maybe buy a bar. She was successful with that. But David wasn't thrilled with the idea. What if she needed to take off in a hurry?
She had nursing experience but not an actual license, and wondered if Honcho could forge something for her. Then the thought of nursing turned her stomach, it was a skill she only used during horror, war. She wanted something pleasant. There had to be something.
Even though Elizabeth was going through a crisis trying to decide what to do, Methos was having the time of his life. He took a small jaunt into town with the station wagon and saw a ravishing beauty across the street. Elegant. Sweet. Fast. Red. He had to get inside her. Have her. When he walked into the dealership and asked to take a spin in the 1969 Bizzarrini Europa sports car, the salesman was only too happy to oblige. Methos knew it was absurd, but he bought it on the spot and left the station wagon at the lot.
As he drove his new toy back to the house, he replayed the last month in his mind. He'd been in New York to be close to Joe who was in New York to be close to Amy after Laura's death. Adam Pierson was an unassuming researcher for the Metropolitan Museum of Art, working on the side on a textbook, who took to walking or riding the subway. Life was uneventful. Then Joe got shot.
Now he was driving a sports car in Sintra on his way home to his immortal woman. Home. They could make Casa Segura into a home, not just a place to keep his stuff. Not a place to lay his head at night. It was a home. He loved the bedroom set she picked out for them, he couldn't wait to see what Elizabeth thought of his off the cuff purchase. The Bizzarini's upholstery was worn, but still in good condition. The chrome sparkled. The driver's seat fit his butt, back and the length of his legs perfectly. The radio still had an eight track, and Methos looked at it with pained nostalgia. That would certainly be changed.
Elizabeth was just going to go inside to refill her coffee and rethink this whole 'start over in a foreign country' concept when a little red car came barreling up the road and came to a screeching halt by the gate in the fence. Gravel swirled in the air. She froze for a moment indecisive about it, she didn't expect company, didn't know the car, but felt the buzz.
The top on the car was down and when the dust settled, she saw David's beaming face. He climbed out of the car and walked through the gate and said with a bubbling giggle in his voice, "I found it. I found the perfect vehicle. Come, my lady," he said as he swept his arm towards the open door.
With trepidation, she walked toward him. "What was wrong with the station wagon?"
"Do you know what it's like to control over 400 horsepower under you?"
"No, only one."
"You have a lot to catch up on, then. Come," he deposited her in the passenger seat and off they went. She didn't like that it was a stick-shift. She hadn't been in a non-automatic car for years, 54 years to be specific. That's why she always lived in big cities. Easy public transportation.
He asked if she wanted to take the wheel. "No, I don't drive."
"Come on," he laughed. "Everybody drives."
"You didn't notice I never offered to drive?"
"I like driving so it didn't seem a big thing." His joy with the car softened when he had a thought, "How are we going to get the wagon home?"
He shifted up and the engine revved, making her scared. "Slow down!" That only made him make a sudden turn onto a gravel road. His speed didn't slow as he went over the hills and pits. She was sure he would lose control, and panicked. "Jesus Christ! Stop! I mean it!"
Methos screeched to a stop and she bolted out of that car. Pacing in the grass on the side of the road with the still swirling gravel in the air, she worked to control the panic attack. Methos climbed out of the car and put his hand on her back as she was hunched over, ready to throw up.
He said. "What in the world..." She got down on her knees to steady herself, slapped his hand away. Methos was completely at a loss. "Did you see how it takes curves? I love cars."
"I don't. Where are we?"
"I don't know." He noted her fright and said, "I'll bring you home. I'll get one of the guys at the car lot to drive the wagon back."
"I'll walk," Elizabeth grumbled and started off toward home.
Methos just stared at her as she hiked alongside the road back to the house. "Don't be silly. I'll drive slow."
"Drive any way you want. I'm not getting back into that deathtrap."
Methos got in the car turned it around and drove alongside of her. Finally asking, "Is this slow enough?" She ignored him, but the terror and the grief, and the guilt, started to recede. Then she got embarrassed.
"Would you get in the car?" Methos was perturbed. "We're at least 10 miles from home."
She stopped. Maybe she had over-reacted. "Promise you'll drive like a normal 800 year old?"
"I promise. Get in."
He had the door open for her before she reached the car. When she sat, she looked for a seatbelt, didn't find one. Methos said, "I'll get you home in one piece."
As he drove home, he made sure he went as slow as he could stand it. When he did allow the speedometer to get too high, she tightened up again. The engine screamed to be shifted up and the sound of it scared her, making her wonder if they were going to blow up. Methos sped up a bit and shifted, "Do you mind telling me what your problem is?"
"I don't like cars."
"You didn't have a problem with the others we've been in."
"You didn't drive like a maniac before." She waved her hand above her and said, "And the wagon has a... top. How much was this thing?"
Methos side stepped that issue. He'd paid too much and knew it, but he usually wasn't in the dickering mood when he wanted something, like the house. The Bizzarrini was a great sports car, he had an eye on them since he first caught a glimpse of one in 1965. It wasn't a garish car, or an attention grabber. Perfect for Methos. He figured he'd just drive it around the remote roads of the mountain, not in the city, maybe take a car trip with Elizabeth. He was a little let down that she wasn't as enamored with it as he was. "It's not hard to drive. Do you want me to teach you?"
"No!"
When he pulled up in front of the house, she went inside, letting the front door slam behind her. Methos found her in the bedroom. A drawer of her bureau was open and she was sitting on the bed with something in her hand. He sprawled on the bed behind her and looked at the painted leather form she fingered lightly in her hand. "What's that?"
She looked at him and told him, "A soul catcher."
"Ah, from your teacher. It's associated with calming. I get it."
"Also, a symbol of physical and mental well-being."
"I won't take that personally," he smiled. When she didn't react, he rubbed his hand on her back and said, "Come on, tell me."
"I killed my husband with one," she admitted. "A black one."
"A black husband?"
"No, with a black car."
"Killed him? Ran him over?"
"He was teaching me how to drive. A fox shot out in front of us. I swerved, I couldn't figure out the clutch, the brakes... there were too many peddles, too much to do. We were going down an incline. I crashed into a tree. I killed us both. So I don't drive."
He laid his hand on her shaking shoulder and softly asked, "When was this?"
"1946." Methos rubbed a tear from her eye, she told him, "He was my favorite husband. Victor Bennett. He survived the storming of Normandy Beach, but not me behind the wheel."
"It was an accident," Methos comforted her. "It isn't anything to beat yourself up over. And you certainly don't have to compare my driving with yours."
"You didn't seem in control of the situation."
He jumped into a sitting position at that. "I'm a great driver. I know what I can handle. And I'm immortal. It wouldn't be permanent if something did happen."
She turned and stared at him, he couldn't be serious. "Does the name Jayne Mansfield mean anything to you?"
"Yeah," he smiled at the memory of the volumptuous actress.
"People get decapitated in cars! Especially ones without roofs."
"I won't be decapitated. Come on." He took her hand and stood her up.
"Where?"
"The best thing to do when you fall off a bike is to get right back up on it. We're going for a drive."
"Are you a masochist?"
He ignored that, and just pushed her to the door, then into the car. He drove, obeying all the traffic rules on their way into Sintra, but he couldn't help speeding. Elizabeth gripped the arm of the door and the back of his bucket seat. He finally took her hand and put it on the shift, then laid his hand over hers. By the time they entered the city and there was a lot of shifting up and down, she was getting into being part of it.
When he slowed to stop at a light, she shifted up. He screamed, "No! Down! Down..." The car died. Methos glared at her as he flipped her hand off the stick-shift and restarted the car.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"You really should learn how to drive." Methos started the car again, let it rev. "1946? You were over a hundred, what took you so long? I latched onto cars as soon as they were invented."
"Well, you're a man. I'm a woman. I didn't even get to vote until the 1924 national election."
When they saw the street fair, Methos parked and they examined the exhibits. Methos only knew she was comfortable when he felt her arm clench around his waist. "Look at that," he pointed at a church. "I haven't been here for years," Methos drawled, remembering.
"You were here, on this spot?" She looked at the little pink washed church. It looked dilapidated, unused for decades, but people were walking in and out.
"Yes," he chuckled. "I died right here." He rubbed his foot over a piece of stone on it's front.
She couldn't believe he was chuckling over something like dying. She looked around to see if there were people around. There were, but they weren't listening, or David wouldn't have said such a thing, it was only for her benefit. She had to ask, "Well... how did you die? This is holy ground."
"I allowed myself to die." Methos said. "In a duel with a persistent bastard."
She figured the bastard must not have been immortal or it wouldn't have happened on holy ground, and David wouldn't be so happy at the memory. "When was that?"
He thought back, "15... something."
"Was it over some woman?"
"What else did you duel over?"
"Hm..." she said, walking away. Methos smiled and strutted after her. If she could talk about her husbands, he could remember Simone. Sunshine bottled in a petite frame. Potty mouth. About the only thing she didn't say when they were together was that she was engaged. You'd think that information would be given up front... that breezy evening with her was worth the garroting he let the fiancé deliver just to get him out of his hair.
Elizabeth found something at a vendor's makeshift sidewalk store, really just a table with a half tent over it, and made a beeline for it. Then she remembered, "Oh, I forgot my purse."
"No, you didn't," Methos said, smiling. "I'm right here." He asked the vendor, "Quanto é que isto custa?" The old, wrinkled man noted how happy the woman was with the lamp and sized up how much the man had on him.
"85,000 escudos."
Methos was shocked, looked the lamp over and set it back down. He told Elizabeth, "That's over 400 dollars!"
"I'll pay you back."
Methos turned to the vendor and said, "É demasiado caro! O que é que você pensa que está a vender? Devia ter vergonha! Dou-lhe... vinte. {That's too expensive! Who do you think you're dealing with? I'll give you... 20.}"
The vendor cowered, thought he had a hot one, American tourists. Then grumbled, "Setenta.{70.}"
"Trinta. {30.}"
"Cinquenta e cinco. {55.}"
"Quarento e cinco. {45.}"
"Quarenta! {40!}"
He paused, picked it up again, looked it over. "It's still highway robbery, but, okay." He took out his wallet and told the vendor, "Embrulhe-o para não se partir. {Wrap it up so it doesn't break.}"
The man did. When Methos handed over the cash.
Elizabeth, not having caught one word of the negotiations, asked, "So, how much is this going to cost me?"
"Nothing. My treat."
"Thank you." She kissed him and the vendor bonked Methos' arm with the wrapped package.
CASA SEGURA
Elizabeth set the lamp on one of the coffee tables in the living room next to the new couch, the only furniture to sit on in the room. The only other things were a stereo and TV. At the thought of furnishing that house, she got nervous. A lot of her savings were gone already and there were still rooms to fill. She'd have to sell the apartment in New York, not just sublet, as much as she didn't want to.
The phone rang and Methos leaned over, reaching for their new phone on the floor in the corner of the great room, to answer it. "Hello? Oh, hi! How are you?... Just a second..." He tapped her on the back with it and said, "It's for you."
"Who?"
"Amy. How did she find out where we were?"
Elizabeth took the receiver and said, "I called information to get her new number and left a message on her machine."
Before she could put the phone to her ear, Methos inquired, "You told her where we were, on a machine? Are you insane?"
"You gave Duncan and Joe our number."
"MacLeod has caller ID. I didn't leave it on the machine. We have to change the number."
"I think I'll take it in the bedroom," Elizabeth mumbled, tossing the receiver at him as she walked to the bedroom.
Methos asked Amy on the phone, "Did your apartment get broken into recently?"
Amy laughed, "No. Why?"
Elizabeth tisked, "He's pissed that I left our number on your machine."
"It's been erased. Don't worry."
"David?" Elizabeth called out.
"What?"
"She erased the message."
"I heard."
She spoke against into the receiver, "Well then, get off the phone."
"Why?"
"We want to talk about you."
He hung up.
Two hours later, Methos opened the bedroom door to see Elizabeth stretched out on the bed, still with the phone to her ear. He said, "Dinner's ready."
Elizabeth nodded and said she'd soon be finished with the call. After he left the room, she asked Amy, "Can you do me a favor?"
"Another one?" Amy's voice was light. "Sure. What?"
"Can you find a realtor and sell my apartment?"
"Aren't you ever coming back to New York? Dad said David disappears for years at a time, but I hoped you wouldn't."
"No, I'm not going to. Promise. I just...," she paused, hated to admit it. "I need the money. I'm spending a lot here to set up the house, and there's no reason to have two places going."
"The tenants paid their rent, right? I told them to direct deposit to your account."
"Yeah. I've gotten the rent check, deposit, all that, but I also don't want to deal with it in another country."
"I can call the realtor who did the paperwork for Kevin and I. But, you have to come back for a visit at least? Or when the papers are signed?"
"I will. I miss you."
"Me too. Talking on the phone isn't the same. Plan on coming back. I'm not like you, you know. I get older. I may not be here forever."
"We have years, Amy."
"That we do. Come visit, and I'll talk to a realtor."
When she emerged from the bedroom. Methos had already eaten his half of supper. "I'm sorry," she announced. "I guess you're better at disappearing than I am. Or I'm not such a worry wart."
He didn't like that one bit. "I don't worry."
"What's the crease on your forehead between your eyebrows for then? It only appears when you're worrying."
"Do you want to stay alive?" He picked up his plate and brought it to the sink, looked out the window. "The last thing I want is for the Lone One Legged Ranger to come waltzing in here with his silver bullets."
"Do you think I do? It's all right." She looked at the other plate of now cold food. "I asked Amy to put the apartment up for sale. I might have to go back to sign papers."
"Why?"
"Because realtors like things legal with signatures?"
"No, why sell the apartment?"
"I found the perfect place and I don't need it anymore." She didn't want to admit to him that she could no longer afford both places. It was silly to keep it, she may never see it again as she was too happy right where she was.
THAT NIGHT
While they slept, a massive thunderstorm developed and the thunder boomed, lifting Methos out of his slumber. He turned over in bed, to a slosh of water. Wondering if Elizabeth had suddenly acquired terrible potty habits, he lifted up to examine the bed in the dark, but lightening crackled, lighting up the room. A drop of water hit Methos on the top of his head. Yeah, the foundation was fine, but the roof was leaking. He nudged Elizabeth and said, "Get some buckets."
"What for?"
"A tua casa está a meter água.{Your house is leaking}."
With pots, buckets, bowls in strategic places around the house, Methos was sitting with a blanket wrapped around him on the great room floor. The power had gone out and he set up a candle on a plate. A great yawn escaped him. Water splashed in the kitchen sink and Elizabeth came into the room with an empty mixing bowl and shone a flashlight's beam on the containers. Thinking the stockpot was almost full, she slid it over and put the bowl in it's place.
Methos opened his blanket and said, "Come here. It's chilly."
Elizabeth sat down on his lap and he pulled the blanket over them. As he kissed her neck, she said, "I suppose it would be a moot exercise to light a fire when it's raining."
"I think my pilot light's lit," he whispered as he spread his legs, letting her slide to the floor.
"That's an eternal flame, David," she smirked his penis was hot on the small of her back. "I still can't get used to that."
"My flame?"
He wrapped his legs over hers and let his hands slide down her sides, then up her stomach. "Tell me again why David Sommers is a better name than Adam Pierson?"
She directed his hands to her breasts and looked over her shoulder at him. "It's a new chapter," he said as he kissed her.
"I might have come up with something better if you had asked me." She wiggled her hips against him making him moan. "Should I change my name? I don't like Mary Anderson. I've only changed my last name over the years."
He lifted his hips and was helped along when she reached behind her and fondled him. "You can do anything you like," he whispered through his rising breaths.
"Anything?"
"Hm..." he groaned, head buried in her hair, his hand wandered down to her crotch.
She straighten against him as he poked a finger in and took hold of her clit. When she turned her head, his breaths drifted in her ear. "What should I change it to?"
"I have no idea."
"David," she groaned as he rubbed her.
"Nah, that doesn't suit you," he smiled. She moaned, caressing his hand that was making her wet. She reached under him and tickled his balls, they both laughed.
Elizabeth turned and pushed Methos back on the floor, his head bumped on a kettle. "Sorry," she giggled. He slid to the side and she positioned the kettle under the drip. While she laid over him, licking the rain water off his face, he grabbed her breast and rolled his tongue across the already hard nipple. She held herself up as he moved his mouth to the other.
His penis lifted and touched her pubic hair. She squeezed it between her cheeks. "So, what name would be appropriate?"
"You want me to think now?"
She lifted higher and looked between their bodies making her hair fall over his face. She reached down and stroked him a couple of more times. He pulled at her hair, then reached down and hiked her leg up, making her straddle him. Sitting up behind his erection, Methos still had a hand full of her hair. She kneaded him making it stand up straight, red and ready. She tapped at the sacks behind it, playing with him. Methos laid back with his arms straight out, head back, eyes closed. Soft short breaths escaped him making his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm and his stomach tighten.
"What are you thinking?" She asked as she rubbed the head of his penis.
"I like Mary."
"No. How about... Laverne?"
"No," he laughed. "Trixie?" He lost his laugh and took a great contented intake of breath when he felt her tongue flick at the tip.
She licked off a dribble of cum and looked up at him, "Glenda?"
He groaned, "Zelda."
She licked at his belly button trapping his penis between her breasts. She rubbed her chest on the hardness, making Methos almost explode. He lifted his hips and arched his back. "Trixie, huh," she lifted her head to see how he was doing. "I kind of like that."
"Whoever you are, get on me, right now."
"Such impatience..." she smiled. "You don't have to hold back," she said, stroking him with her hands. "I like to watch you."
He lifted his head up and saw her head move down his body. He laid his head down again and when he'd had enough he rose up and flipped her over. Quickly laying on top of her, he nudged her legs apart. "Who's holding back," he said as he thrust into her.
A shrill escaped her. She grabbed his face and stared into his eyes as he pumped. She spread her legs wider for him to get as deep as he could. With every thrust, he accomplished just that, making her cry out harder each time. When he released into her, she wrapped her arms around his back, her legs around his butt and held on for dear life. "Don't leave me," she pleaded. "Stay."
He felt himself empty and shuddered. Staying inside her, he ground his hips from side to side on hers, making them both grunt. He put his arms under her shoulders and held her tight as he shrunk, feeling her shudder. She lifted her head and lightly bit on his collarbone. Methos put his hands behind her head as a pillow. When he kissed her, he could taste himself in her mouth. He moved his tongue around her mouth, to get every drop, rubbing against her teeth and under her tongue. He brought his tongue back and swallowed, kissed her lower lip, chin, ear. "I've got it," he whispered.
"What?"
"Barbie."
Elizabeth humphed, "I'm not as well endowed as she is."
"But you're my ideal, my lady."
"Really?"
"Mm..." he dropped his head over her shoulder, knocking his forehead on the floor. There was a slight pause before he said, "Ow."
She giggled. "Are you alright?"
"You laugh at my pain?"
"Who me?" He lifted up and sat up on her hips. He didn't touch her, just stared at her body as she laid on the blanket. She was uncomfortable, had to ask, "What?"
"Just looking," he smiled. "You are a beautiful woman, Elizabeth Bennett."
"What got into you today?"
"I got into you."
"As if that's an unusual occurrence."
"You make me happy." He reached out his hand and straightened a curl of her hair on the floor. "I haven't been happy for a while."
Feeling a rush of warmth and safety, she hiked herself up with her hands behind her and nuzzled his chest. "Hey... that's my line," she said. He sat back and held her up. He reached over and grabbed the blanket and pulled it back over them.
FRIDAY OCTOBER 20, 2000
They were busy with mopping, patching and cleaning the house and the few pieces of furniture they'd acquired after the rainstorm and the mess the leaks caused. Elizabeth wanted to go into town but Methos left before she knew he had gone. There wasn't a bus, cab, or subway at her disposal. Living in New York, she didn't have to think about acquiring a driver.
So she went back to cleaning. The deed of the house was sitting on the table. Not quite knowing what it was doing out, she didn't want that lost. When she opened the safe to put it back, she found a little brown leather pouch that was hermetically sealed in plastic. She knew it wasn't hers, so it had to be... She really wanted to know what it was, to open it and maybe find out something about David, or see if it contained jewels, had he bought her a gift? What in the world could it be?
When it was in her hand, she scrutinized it. The leather was broken in, had been carried for a while. Would David know the seal was broken if she opened it to take a peak? Then she thought, No, if he wanted me to know, he'd tell me, even though not knowing burned her butt. She didn't appreciate someone snooping in her things. But it was in a safe that she owned half of. But it was on his shelf. If it wasn't sealed, she might have opened the pouch, but he'd know she was snooping, so she shut the safe without looking.
Elizabeth sat out on the porch with a glass of lemonade. It was a hot one that day, the sun burned after the storm. Methos drove fast into the driveway with his toy. Screeched it to a halt, the dust still swirled when he got out. Elizabeth got a twinge of foreboding and went into the house.
Methos walked in with a bag and sat it on the counter when he walked into the kitchen. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to town?" She asked in lieu of a greeting.
"I did. You obviously didn't hear me. There's the wagon. You could have taken that. Oh, that's right. You don't drive," he teased her. "I'd be happy to teach you."
"I wish you'd take it easy with that thing. The sight of you in a mangled wreckage isn't something I'm looking forward to. Not that you wouldn't revive or anything, but..."
"She of little faith. I've been driving since there's been cars. They're much more comfortable than horses, camels."
"Camels? Were you on an African safari, or something?"
"Something..." He playfully bit her neck.
She spun around in his arms and held him. "Amo-te {I love you}," she said so softly, he had to ask her what she said. He lifted her head and asked her to repeat it. "I love you and I don't want anything to happen to you."
He kissed her on the forehead and assured her that nothing would. And for good measure, he told her he loved her too. It was finally out in the open; he didn't know if love was exactly what he felt for her, but she was important and they were enjoying themselves. Elizabeth was relieved to hear it. That sentence made what they were working at with the new lives, new house, new country all the better.
He gave her the bag and told her to open it. "What is it?"
"Find out."
She opened it and found a Nikon camera with all the bells and whistles. "What's this for?"
"You point it at something and click that button and it takes a picture. What a concept. You wanted something to do. Maybe this can be it. There's wonderful stuff right outside our door. Why don't you use this to capture it?"
"I should be a photographer?"
"You were bitching that you couldn't find anything to do," he said shortly. "Try this. If you don't like it, don't do it. I don't want you to get yourself employment that you're tied to, we might have to leave abruptly."
"Why?"
"What if Logan finds out where you live?" When he saw her face, wearing that look he hadn't seen for weeks, the worry about Logan, he was sorry to have brought it up. "Or any one of a thousand reasons, that's just off the top of my head."
"Thank you for the camera. Maybe I can get Logan's picture before he ambushes me again. Maybe you want to go back to Cairo so you'll be out of the way. Maybe--,"
Methos cut her off. "Logan doesn't know where we are. I was thinking more of me and my enemies."
"That makes me feel so much better."
He shrugged. "It's what we have to think about."
"You do want to be with me, don't you, David?"
"Of course. I love you. This is good. I'm sorry I brought it up, but we should be portable, at least for a while. Go take some pictures. I'm going to go write."
She sat and put the camera together, read the manual. She'd never had a camera with so many features. When the batteries were correctly inserted, the lens cap was off and the film loaded, she went looking for David. She found him in the study, reading a massive tome that was spread open on his lap. When the camera flashed, he jumped, deep into Carter's journals of the opening of Tut's tomb he didn't hear her.
"I thought you were going to take pictures outside."
"There's nothing more interesting than you."
Methos smiled and shrugged. "Well, that's the truth."
SUNDAY OCTOBER 22, 2000
With her camera in her hands and three rolls of film in her jacket pocket, she walked through the trail in the woods to see what she'd find. David had left for that trip to Egypt to drop off the 'research tools' he checked out. In actuality, he went to Paris to drop off his journals. He was through reading and needed a new batch, and also wanted to make sure his massive journal was better protected. He thought he had his time spent in Egypt in that section of the journal, but with the rush of picking them up and getting back to Sintra without Elizabeth getting suspicious, he took the wrong batch and none of what he had was actually useful for the textbook, just a trip down memory lane for him, reliving the past that he couldn't share with Elizabeth.
Elizabeth's boots trudged through the thick vegetation, then she heard the echo of the crunching of leaves and brushing of weeds off to her right. She stopped, didn't breathe. A deer with his head lowered to pick through the underbrush, chewed on what he found. The small rack on his head waved as he ate and lowered his head again. Elizabeth stooped and steadied her camera, pointing it at him. When the camera clicked and flashed, it startled the animal and he leaped away from the noise.
Then she heard feet walking toward her from the thick trees. It was a man with a gun, a big gun, a rifle. She fell back, losing her camera in the underbrush, and ran. The man hollered, "Hei! O que é que está a fazer?! {Hey! What do you think you're doing?!}"
A far off gunshot rang out, Elizabeth fell. The man with the rifle, wearing a bright red vest, walked to her. "Cuidado. {Watch out.}"
Another shot rang out, farther away. The man spun around, then shook his head. Elizabeth, who wanted to crawl under a rock, if she could find one. Regarded the man standing above her. He had a gun, but wasn't using it. Didn't he work for Logan? What he did do was lower his hand to her, to help her up.
She cowered from him, "Who are you?"
"Ah, you speak English," he said. "You should be careful, it's estação da caça {hunting season}. Why did you startle the deer? I had him in my sights."
When he indicated the scope on the rifle, she relaxed, it was the deer he was after, not her. When he pulled her arm to help her to her feet, she sensed a hum. A premmie hum. The man didn't notice her stare when he said, "You should be wearing red or orange, a… cor viva when you're in the woods. You could get atingida {shot}."
"Sorry," she tried to determine how old he was. 35? 40? She knew it was only possible for him to turn immortal if he died a violent death. She had mixed feelings about it. She wanted him to live a long happy mortal life, but if he didn't die soon, he wouldn't survive as an immortal. If he didn't die when he was still strong, he would never be able to defend himself.
He took her arm and said, "Stick with me until we get to the road." She stopped to retrieve her camera then they walked back down the trail. "I'm António," he said, then looked at her. "You're not the lady who lives up the serra, are you?"
"The hill, yes, Elizabeth."
"My mulher, Sofia, has been meaning to visit you. We haven't been very hospitaleiros {welcoming}, have we?"
"Do you live in the white house about a mile from here?" He nodded. "We've gone by your house I don't know how many times and we haven't stopped in to introduce ourselves, either."
"Well, we can break bread together, maybe venison."
"That sounds great," she smiled. Another shot rang out in the woods. "Are there a lot of hunters up there?"
"Cinco. My brother and some friends. They were probably trying to get that cervos you spooked."
"I'm sorry," but really wasn't. She personally knew how that deer felt being hunted and shot at. They reached the road and he told her to just go home, don't go off the road. "I won't," she promised.
"What about that supper?"
"I'd love it, but David won't be home until tomorrow."
"Is he your marido?"
"No. Amigo... Friend. "
"Sofia would like to meet you, why don't you two introduce yourselves and we'll get together when David comes back. Next week?"
"That sounds great."
"We're in the book. António Santos."
"We're not in the book, but I'll give you the number later." She smiled. "Nice to meet you."
With David was gone, Elizabeth wasn't thinking of rushing back to the empty house. She decided to stop in at António's house to meet Sofia. As soon as Sofia appeared at the door and invited her in, they hit it off immediately. She did pepper her conversation with a lot of Portuguese, but Elizabeth was able to make out most of what she was saying. Sofia looked to be in her mid thirties, was a little stout, and moved hurriedly with everything she did, from fixing the tea, to gathering cookies on a plate, to answering the phone, to taking out the dogs, then letting them in again.
During the tea and cookies, Elizabeth was surprised to find out more than expected about Sofia and António. The only thing Sofia didn't say, and there was no way she or António would know it, was that António would one day be immortal. Sofia did confide, "We can't have children."
Elizabeth knew why, but Sofia said, "I think it could be because I damaged my body when I was younger. I had a terrible drug problem."
It surprised Elizabeth that Sofia would admit such a thing to a stranger, so she just put on a 'so sorry' face and took a bite of cookie. "António and I have a hard time adopting because of it. He finally gave up and now we just have the dogs. They're like our children."
After spending an afternoon with Sofia, needless to say, Elizabeth found the woman didn't have a secret in the world. They had a lot in common, their views on things were similar. One thing Elizabeth did envy about Sofia was that Sofia had a job, something to do. She did seamstress work out of her home. That was something else Elizabeth was never good at, but there had to be something. Her hand brushed against the camera and wondered if she actually could make it as a photographer.
TUESDAY OCTOBER 24, 2000
Sofia dropped Elizabeth off at the house after a shopping excursion where neither bought anything. Their company was leaving and Sofia wanted to see them off. They got three deer that year and she told Elizabeth she and David should come over for supper.
"We'll be sure to do that."
Elizabeth brought David a cup of tea and rubbed his head as he sat at the computer keyboard. She read what he was writing on the monitor as he typed. "You're a fast typist," she commented.
"I want to get this done."
She read as David typed out about the workers who were buried in the shadows of the pyramids. "Workers? Is that the politically correct catchphrase for slaves?"
"Slaves didn't build the pyramids. The workers were well paid, well taken care of," he said, not for a minute stopping his thought as he typed. "The pyramids weren't taken for granted. It was important work and needed the best minds and best hands available. One weak link and the whole thing would topple, then the Pharaoh wouldn't be able to live forever, go to the gods."
Elizabeth sat on a chair, mumbled, "That's not what I learned."
"That's why a new textbook is needed," he stopped to reread what he typed. "I saw a student in a library and what she was studying from. Adequate at best."
"Well, you can't make things up, David."
"This is true," he said, turning to her.
"According to who?"
"Whom."
"Well?"
"I was there."
"Excuse me?"
Sometimes he forgot who he was talking to. He thought fast. "At the Cairo library. It's there in the archives. Graves were recently exhumed that could only be the workers of the pyramids. They were mummified and forever laid in the shadows of the pyramids. That doesn't sound like how they treated slaves." He remembered the rituals that went into sending the workers to their glory in the service of the pharaoh. "Folktales and lore... Cecil B. DeMille overtook the facts in this case. I'm going to make sure it's all correct."
"Correct is one thing, but you're making it sound personal."
He turned around in his chair and looked at her. He almost told her he was in fact there BC. That it was personal. But she was an immortal and he didn't know if he could trust her with the secret of who he was. He realized he was being overly cautious, but it's kept him alive, right? "Don't you think students should learn the facts?"
"Of course."
"You aren't going to claim that every single thing chronicled about the Civil War is correct?"
"Yes, I am," she simply stated. "The Civil War was intricately documented. Literate men fought and kept descriptive diaries. It's probably the most finely detailed war ever fought on earth, before the age of TV news. Did you get involved in the Civil War at all?"
"No, I was in South America. Why don't you write?"
"About what?"
"The Civil War."
"What hasn't been said about it?"
"Your experiences during all the wars you've seen. Your book could be a journal of nurses. The personal side, as seen by a woman caught up in the horror."
She sighed, "Yeah... Could end it with the woman being turned immortal by a one legged man?"
"Use your own judgement on that."
She looked at the monitor again, "How old did you say you were?"
"800."
He went back to typing, wanting to finish his thought. She read it. "800. That's what I thought you said. This doesn't look like any textbook I've ever taught from. You're pretty first person narrative there."
He reread a couple of paragraphs. It was. "I thought I'd try a different approach. Maybe it would make the texts easier to digest." His words seemed hollow, even to him. He squinted at the keyboard as she left the room.
"Uh, huh...," she said, seriously thinking that David was pulling her leg. As if he'd ever tell her anything on his own about himself, not just one word answers when he was cornered.
"You should get ready to go over to Sofia's for supper."
"Who are they, again?"
"Our neighbours. His name is António. Oh, and he's a--."
When the phone rang, Methos rushed to pick it up. "I've been expecting this call. Sorry."
Elizabeth figured David would get one whiff of Antonio's pre-immortal hum and figure it out himself. No biggy. She busied herself with getting gussied up for a night out with new friends. It had been a while since they'd done anything fun. Methos simply put on a new shirt and she had to ask him to change out of jeans too. He grumbled, but did so.
When they arrived at António and Sofia's, António opened the door and greeted them. Elizabeth smiled and handed him the bottle of red wine they brought. "Bem-vindo!" António said. "Come on in."
Methos' demeanor became tight, eyes focused on António. He pulled at Elizabeth's arm and told António, with a smile as he walked them backward from the door, "Excuse us. I need to talk to her."
Elizabeth was confused and a little embarrassed, António didn't know what to think about their new neighbours, or what he might have done to deserve such a reaction. Methos dragged Elizabeth back to the car and vehemently whispered, "Are you kidding me?"
"What? What is this all about?"
"Quiet down," Methos shushed her, noticing António still at the door. "He's a premmie."
"Yeah."
"I can't be around a premmie."
"Why not?"
He moved her to behind the car, farther away from António's hearing range. "They attract the wrong element."
"What are you talking about? He knows nothing of what he is, or will become and he's a very nice man."
"You were turned because Logan sensed your pre-immortal hum. Are you glad that happened?"
"It had to happen sometime, we're all premmies at one time."
"Would you enjoy having more Logan's appear in the vicinity?"
David's tightened and dire demeanor really threw her for a loop. She'd been around premmies often; didn't know what the big deal was. Better a premmie than an immortal. "Why would that happen?"
"An immortal could get a sense of him and turn him. That's the kind of immortal I stay away from."
"David," she smiled, exasperated. "António's almost 40 years old. It hasn't happened yet, why would it happen now? He's lived here all his life. That's what's perfect about this place. The only immortals in the area are you and me."
Sofia appeared at the door, along with a couple of dogs. "Liz, what are you two doing out there?"
A large sheppard waddled up to them and sniffed. The dog jumped back when he got too close, as if their immortal buzz bit him on the nose. When he tried to give Methos another chance and sniffed his leg, he reacted like Methos was emitting a high pitched sound. He ran to the back of the house. "It's chilly," Sofia didn't notice the dog's behavior, brushed her arms, and said, "Come on in. Dinner's almost ready."
"We'll be right there," Elizabeth said, keeping a grip on David's hand when it looked like he was going to take off.
Methos held his finger up to her and said, "Just a sec?"
"Don't embarrass me in front of my friend, please."
"Me embarrass you? I'm leaving."
"Don't you dare. These are good people, you'll like them. You'll be lucky to know them. What am I going to tell them if you leave? All you have to do is eat, indulge in a little small talk, then we'll leave."
"Why didn't you tell me he was a premmie before?"
"I tried, but the phone rang. And it's not that big a deal. I didn't know they spooked you, which is ridiculous."
He didn't like that at all, but Sofia and António were looking at him along with Elizabeth. He put on a relaxed air and walked into the house to have some food and then get the hell out of there. He was debating whether or not they'd get their money back on the house or have to take a loss on it when they moved.
But the dinner went well. They talked in Portuguese and English. Methos had to admit he liked António. Heck, he wasn't all that close to him. If Methos sensed an immortal, he could take off in no time. He liked having options.
TUESDAY DECEMBER 12, 2000
Not having really talked to Duncan since leaving New York, Methos decided to call to see how everything was. Their two earlier calls were hurried as Duncan was just going out the door. This time, Duncan had time to talk, and his voice was solemn when he said the one word that would explain his mood, "Felicia."
"Who's that?"
"Oh, there's a woman in my life you hadn't already met?"
Methos was surprised. "Jealous?"
"She tried to kill Amanda."
Methos chuckled. "You do live an adventurous life, Highlander. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall."
"This is serious."
"Why? Is she gone? Is Amanda still kicking? What's the problem?"
"Oh, never mind."
"Hey," Methos softly said. "What happened?"
"I almost had to take her head."
"What womanly charms did she use on you to make sure you didn't?"
"I couldn't!"
Methos groaned, "How many times do you have to have a sword to your neck before you figure out you have to strike first? Even if they do wear pretty dresses?" Methos looked to see if Elizabeth was around. When he was comfortable that she wasn't, he whispered, "When will you ever learn?"
"Oh, please. Sometimes I wonder why we're still friends."
"Hey!" Silence. Methos said, "Sounds like you could use a change of scenery. Why don't you come here?"
"Maybe so..."
Methos was concerned, why was that so easy? But, he suggested he and Amanda came to Sintra for Christmas, see their place.
"That sounds really good. Liz wouldn't mind?"
"Why would she? She's so starved for friends she made some with a premmie and his wife down the road from us."
"A premmie?"
"Yes. Can you imagine?"
After hanging up he went looking through the house for Elizabeth. Next to the door of the closet in the spare bedroom that she had turned into a darkroom, the red warning light was on. He grabbed a book and laid down to read until she was done. When she emerged from the darkroom with a picture in her hand, she was startled by David lying on the bed. "God, give me warning."
"It's just little ol' me."
"I thought you were going to call Duncan."
Methos looked at his watch. "Yeah, I did, an hour ago."
"Hm," Elizabeth smiled. "You couldn't find things to talk about?"
"Not like you and Amy can, obviously. What do you have there?"
Elizabeth showed him a black and white photograph of a deer feeding on the grass. Methos gasped, "How close to that did you get?"
"Not very. That's the wonder of a telephoto lens. It's nice, isn't it? What did you and Duncan talk about?"
"Ah, stuff."
"Don't you get tired of not telling me anything?" As soon as she said that, she wished she hadn't. Judging by David's expression, she shouldn't have. "Sorry. What are you going to make for supper?"
Methos didn't want to put down his book. "I think it's time you learned how to cook."
"It won't work. I know how to cook, I just don't like to cook and whatever I make isn't edible, except stroganoff."
"So make stroganoff. Wait on me for a night."
"I'm sick of it and we don't have any cream."
"Go to the store."
"I got nice fresh pork chops yesterday. Come on, grill them. I'll make the lettuce salad."
"All right," he painfully said. "Then you're going to wait on me and you're going to do dishes."
"When do I not?"
SATURDAY DECEMBER 23, 2000
LISBON AIRPORT
When Duncan and Amanda emerged from the plane, Methos and Elizabeth met them as they got off the ramp. Duncan grabbed Methos into a hug and said, "I've actually missed you."
Methos patted him on the back, glad their little tiff on the phone was over. He hoped Felicia was out of the picture too. They moved aside for others to come past them. Duncan grinned at Elizabeth and said, "I'm glad to see you again."
Amanda took her arm and moved her towards the airport, "You have to show me the great places to go. I haven't been here for centuries."
Methos whispered to Duncan, "Call me David."
"Sure."
"Amanda knows that, right?"
"Yes, David," he assured him, but shook his head. He'd been with Elizabeth for over three months and he hadn't clued her in yet?
They stayed in Lisbon that day, the whole city had been celebrating Christmas all week. The streets of downtown Lisbon were all decorated with Christmas decorations and lights. In the air was the smell of roasted chestnuts from the street vendors who warmed the air on the chilly winter day. Sofia and António invited them to a meal of traditional Natal and included Duncan and Amanda. They both felt António's hum, but didn't show it. The hum didn't faze them. Duncan only asked Elizabeth if she was prepared to help him if he died. He knew Methos probably wouldn't be any help. When Elizabeth got flustered, not really thinking about that being a possibility, Duncan told her to just call him.
"Thank you," she smiled. "Why are you willing, and... I'm not sure David would be?"
"I've taken in students. David hasn't. I don't think. Or he doesn't want to. Or... I don't know."
Sofia also invited Mrs. Ramirez, one of the old couple who were horse breeders and lived down the hill from them. Her husband wasn't mobile anymore; asthma was taking over his body, but he sent his wishes and told her to go and have fun. "We're glad you did," Sofia told her. "We'll have to get together for New Years Eve."
Elizabeth smiled at David, "Ah, the true new millennium. I can't wait."
CASA SEGURA
After the huge meal, all of them having eaten more then ever before in their lives, they walked into the house and each took a chair or couch. Trying to digest. Methos got a beer for himself and a whiskey coke for Elizabeth. Then brought a wine bottle and a couple of glasses to Duncan and Amanda.
Amanda looked at the wine and said, "I think I've eaten too much for that. Sofia's a great cook."
Methos smiled at Elizabeth, "Maybe you should take cooking lessons from her if you aren't going to take them from me."
"Why? I have a live-in chef."
Amanda laughed, "You go girl!"
"You've got quite a set up here, David," Duncan said, looking around the room again. The shelves were full, the furniture was enough to fill the house. It had the lived in look.
"We like it," Methos drank. "Have you been in the States or Paris?"
"Paris," Amanda said. "But it was too quiet without you, Methos."
Methos tensed and only Duncan noticed it. Elizabeth asked, "What's a Meethas?"
All the air in the room seemed to have escaped for Methos. Amanda said, "I'm sorry. I thought she'd have known by now."
Elizabeth asked, "Known what?" at the same time Methos said, "Shut up, Amanda."
Elizabeth's head spun, reacting to what he said and how angrily he said it. "Why? Why should she shut up?" Stone silence. Methos just slurped his beer. Amanda sat back and refused to maintain eye contact with her. "Were you two an item and it's a term of endearment?"
Methos said, "Yes," that was a good answer. Amanda laughed at the prospect. Duncan was silent, just shook his head that Methos hadn't let his lady in, like he should have. Methos didn't trust anyone, how could he play such games with someone whom he himself said was special, someone that he said he loved. How could he keep so many secrets in the air? The silence was thick and heavy.
Elizabeth placed her whiskey coke on the table and demanded, "What is going on here?" Methos wouldn't look at her, just took a deep breath. "Is that a name? Your name?" More silence. He didn't want to have to tell her anything on someone else's terms, only on his own. "What is the big deal about your past? Aren't you proud of it? Am I going to find out you're a mass murderer or something?" Duncan almost did a spit take, letting out a slight grunt. Methos slowly looked at her, debating what to tell her, not liking that crack for one moment.
Amanda was beet red and really wanted to say more, but Methos gave her the look that told her he would release the hounds of hell if she dared open her mouth again, so she remained silent and sat back on the couch.
"Wonderful," Elizabeth muttered, feeling embarrassed and out of place in her own home with three immortals who knew so much more than she did, and weren't about to tell her anything. She went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Duncan immediately said, "Good move, Methos. Why haven't you at least told her your name?"
Amanda said, "How long have you two been together? How have you finagled that?" Methos just got up and silently crossed the long room and opened the closed door of the bedroom.
Elizabeth was pissed and pacing, debated about packing up and leaving. What was the purpose of staying there? As soon as he came into the bedroom and shut the door, she turned on him, "Meethas? What kind of a name is that?"
"It's mine," Methos stoically remarked.
"What's your last name?"
"Sommers."
"You know what I mean!"
"I don't have a last name given to me at birth."
"Not even the name of your village?" He shook his head. "That would make you... royalty... or a hell of a lot older than you've let on, even though I've prodded you many times; you've always clammed up."
"I've been many things. I've had many names. I'm just as truly David Sommers as I am Adam Pierson, Benjamin Adams, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John! It's just a name!" He'd been taken by surprise by the big mouth. Who else had Amanda told she knew Methos? Damn her! Then he stopped, realizing what he said in a moment of anger. Methos wasn't just a name. He loved his name. He wished Elizabeth had known it, so she could call him by it. He would love to hear her say it without the anger, without the foreignness making her pronounce it incorrectly. He wanted it to roll off her tongue. The only women's voices who had uttered it in centuries were Amanda, and Cassandra. Neither woman said it as it should be said. One usually whined it, the other acted like 'Methos' was another word for 'snake in the grass'.
"Then why the secret?" Elizabeth countered, "If that's your true name how could you not tell me... something so basic... as your name! I've been so stupid. I've told you everything about me and you've sat back and not let me in on one damn thing."
"I can't let everybody in on it." He regretted saying that as soon as the words left his mouth.
"Everybody? I'm everybody? Have you enjoyed it? That I've just let all the non-answers pass and end up in bed with you? You've had it pretty nice. Fuck me, but for God's sake, don't trust me!"
"I didn't trust you!" he countered. "Why should I? You have an immortal after you, you're lucky I stuck around you in the first place!"
Sticks and stones may not break Methos' bones, but those words cut through her as cleanly as if he'd used a dagger. "Oh, is that who you are? I'm lucky?! You're that big a prize?!" She laughed and started packing her suitcase. That was enough to make her adrenaline rush turn to a boiling in her veins.
"Okay," Methos calmed down, took a breath, no need to say things that can't be taken back. "Ask me anything."
"Why?"
"I'll tell you what you want to know."
She slowly smiled and looked away, "That reminds me of the Godfather."
"What?"
"The last scene of the movie 'The Godfather'," Elizabeth sneered. "Michael tells Kay she can ask him one question after she finally figured out Michael had Carlo whacked... he lied to her when she asked. He bold-faced lied to her and that's what you're going to do. Again. So why should I even bother?"
She started to empty her drawer of the bureau into her suitcase. Methos said, "I haven't lied to you. I may have fudged. I may have withheld the truth. I will be honest. Ask me anything. Just simmer down!" He grabbed her underwear from her hand and threw it on the floor.
"Trouble is... Meethas..." She felt weird using the name. It was too strange, unusual. It was a little scary knowing that she didn't have a clue about the man she actually left everything she knew for. "I'm no longer interested."
"You don't mean that. You wouldn't be acting like this if you weren't!"
"I don't appreciate being lied to! What have we been doing here? You haven't been building a life with me. Have I just been servicing you?"
"No, Lizzie..."
"Fuck off."
Furious, Methos grabbed her. Elizabeth slapped him and he impulsively back handed her across the cheek. When she was hunched over in surprise more than pain, he put his hand on her back and said, "I'm sorry, Liz." She straightened and slapped him away, held her stinging face. She packed more in the suitcase. He grabbed her shoulders and yelled, "You're not going anywhere!"
Duncan busted into the room and pulled them apart. "That's enough. Calm down. Both of you!"
"What's your real name?" she asked Duncan.
"Duncan MacLeod."
Pointing to the door, she asked, "And that's really Amanda Montrose?"
"She's gone by a lot of last names. But her name is Amanda."
She looked at Methos and shook her head. "Why are you so special? Or are they lying? I don't even know who or what to believe! I thought I knew you!"
Duncan said, "Calm down!"
Elizabeth walked to the door, but Methos grabbed the suitcase from her hand. Leaving it, she walked to the front door. Amanda followed her from the door of the bedroom. "I'm so sorry, Liz, it just slipped out. I thought he would have told you."
"So did I," Elizabeth grabbed her coat and walked out.
Methos came out of the bedroom and Duncan and Amanda both stared at him. Methos mumbled, "Right..." shoving his hands into his pants pockets.
Amanda said, "Go after her!"
"That's what she wants," was all the reason Methos gave for not moving an inch.
"Of course it is, you idiot!"
"She's not going to get far! She doesn't drive! She's probably just going to go to Sofia's. I'll talk to her in the morning when she's calmed down."
A gun shot echoed in the distance. Everyone jumped, all eyes grew wide and looked at the door. It had to be Logan! Duncan ran between Methos and Amanda out of the house.
CONTINUED in Chapter Seven