A huge thanks to all the people who took the time to review – especially the repeat offenders (you know who you are!) This is my first attempt at a fanfic, so I really appreciate the effort. Here is chapter three – enjoy – and review!
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Silence reigned in the room for a couple of seconds as their eyes met across the room. Methos wished, not for the first time that day, that Joe would stop looking at him like that; it was beginning to make him annoyed.
"So how doomed are we?"
"What?"
Pulled out of his reverie by Joe's question, Methos tucked his journal back into the satchel.
"I asked you how doomed are we Methos. Just a rough, ballpark estimation will do. I mean, are we talking about the usual 'I'm an evil immortal and I'm going to kill you' situation, or are we talking about 'I'm an ancient Zoroastrian demon who has come to bring humanity to its knees'"
Methos looked askance at Joe upon the mention of demons.
"I think we can safely cross demons off the list of things we have to worry about Joe. Don't you?"
"Hey, don't scoff, old man. You weren't there for most of it, remember?"
"Hmph, no chance of forgetting that little titbit of information since you remind me of it every chance you get!"
"No, I don't... hey... wait a minute... stick to the point, old man. I've had enough of the run-around in the last two days thank you very much. What the hell is going on, and who has Mac."
"Okay, okay, don't get your trousers in a twist. But I've got to tell you - you're not going like it."
"Just spit it out, let me worry about whether or not I'll like it."
"I'll give you a hint. There are two words and they begin with a W and a C. - and no, I'm not talking about a toilet."
"You've gotta be kidding me! Again? "
"Afraid so, the watcher's council strikes yet again. It seems they've decided that they have unfinished business with Mac."
"So what are we talking about here, some kind of faction within the council. 'Coz I've got to tell you, buddy, I don't buy the idea that this was officially sanctioned."
"From what I can make out from my journal entry, I tend to agree with you. There's a problem though, I seemed to have been unsure as to who to trust."
"So what else is new?"
"Sheesh, could you take it down a few notches Joe, it's not as if this is all my fault."
"Yeah I know, sorry about that man. I'm just a little bit tired, that's all. These last two days have taken a lot out of me."
"Okay then, this has what I've gleaned from my journal. Two weeks ago, I received a letter, along with a videotape, from an old watcher friend of Don's who goes by the name of Philip Turner. The tape apparently showed a couple of overzealous watchers "question" a very reluctant-looking immortal about the Methuselah stone. It seems that some of the watchers are still more than a little bit interested in Rebecca's little trinket."
"I don't understand. The stone is scattered all over the bottom of the Seine, isn't it?"
"It seems that our local neighbourhood hunters think differently."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Philip said in his letter that these guys were under the impression that someone, or some group unknown retrieved it from the riverbed and then transported it to some Neolithic ruins in Thrace."
"Thrace, isn't that in Greece?"
"Part of it is, yes, but originally Thrace stretched along the whole Balkan Peninsula and that includes..."
"...Bulgaria. Okay that explains what we're doing here, but what has that got to do with Mac?"
"Well apparently Mac is in a position that is actually quite unique for him."
"Oh really, and pray tell, what is that exactly?"
"He is the bait."
"He's the WHAT?"
"Yeah, I know, funny, isn't it? Usually he's the target in these little melodramas."
"This isn't funny!"
"Oh, but it is, it's bloody hilarious."
"I'm afraid that you'll have to let me in on the joke, then, because I'm not getting the punch line."
"It seems that this week is the week for role reversals. Not only is Mac the bait, but Amanda has been elected the target, and yours truly is the one left holding the bag."
Understanding began to dawn on Joe's face.
"She's got the final piece."
"Bingo!"
"So where is she? Amanda, I mean."
"Well, that is the sixty-four dollar question. All I know is that she was last spotted in Buenos Aires about four months ago. At least, that's what the latest data in the watcher's files says."
"Found a way to get around the new firewalls they've added to the system, then," Joe observed.
"Wasn't that difficult, I'm afraid. You're going to have to hire a better class of computer nerd. By the way, why the hell hasn't Amanda a proper watcher?"
"Funny you should ask that. Ever since Mac over-shared with her about that whole incident with Horton, being her watcher has become a real bitch. She seems to take great pleasure in making their lives a living hell. Interpol has picked up three consecutive watchers since 1998 for suspicion of theft. She seems to find it funny to frame them for her activities. Anyway, nobody seems to want to volunteer for the job, and the powers-that-be have decided they didn't want to force anyone into the position," Joe explained.
"The really funny thing is that her little game of 'spot the watcher and frame him' has probably saved her life. Remember, you're not paranoid if they're really after you." Methos replied. "I've a strong feeling that they're as much in the dark as to her whereabouts as we are, hence their not so bright idea of kidnapping Mac," Methos said.
"Wait a minute, if they don't have Amanda's location either, how do they expect to tell her about their hostage?"
"As I've already said, not a very bright idea. I think that they had foolishly banked on being able to pry that piece of information out of Mac."
"Do you think he knows?"
"Perhaps, but somehow I don't think he'll be telling them either way, do you?"
Joe shook his head wearily as he leaned back into his chair."So where do we go from here."
"I'm not really sure. According to my journal, I made a few phone calls before I left Paris to people I know Amanda likes to hang out with. I gave them enough details to find us. If she's been seen then she should be on her way here, If not, well..."
"We're screwed."
"Well, there are still the ruins."
"Any idea of where exactly they are?"
"Funny that you should say that! I have a hunch that I was stumbling around in its general vicinity last night. Isn't life full of amazing coincidences?"
"Oh yeah, it's amazing Methos. Practically a miracle," retorted Joe sarcastically as he leaned back into the chair. "Now, can we get on with the rescuing?"
"Whoa, hold on there, Tonto. Mac might not even be there, you know. All we've got to go on are the few sketchy details that I scribbled in my journal. I'd prefer not to go charging in there until I'm sure I know what I'm getting myself into."
"So what do you suggest we do, sit around on our asses until the bad guys decide to send us an engraved invitation?"
"Did we hire a vehicle when we got here?"
"Of course we did, we hired a jeep. You parked it in the lane behind the hotel."
"Okay then, this is the plan. Let me get a couple of hours sleep and then we'll get a bite to eat. I'll root out my laptop afterwards and search the university databases online for some more accurate information about the ruins before we go and take a look-see."
"That's it? That's your great plan? Get some sleep and then go have a look-see?"
"Give me a break, Joe, I'm knackered. If I don't lie down soon I'll fall down."
"Alright, alright, I'll wake you at eight and we'll grab a few bites in the dining room."
Four hours later, Methos was awoken from a very pleasant dream involving a temple priestess and a sunny afternoon by a loud and insistent knock on the door.
"Adam, ADAM, get your lazy ass out of that bed and unlock this door! The kitchen closes at eight thirty, so if you want to eat you'll have to get a move on."
With a groan, Methos pulled himself off the bed and staggered towards the door.
"Keep you shirt on, I'm coming."
Unlocking the door, he pulled it ajar and blearily eyed an impatient Joe.
"Give me a few moments to clean up and I'll join you in the dining room. Order me a steak will you? I could do with the protein."
"Okay, then, but don't take too long. If we hang around here much longer I'm going to explode with frustration," Joe warned him.
"Tell me something I don't know," Methos muttered as he closed the door and made his way to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, he joined Joe at the table looking and feeling a lot more awake. Helping himself to a bread roll, he buttered it liberally as he watched Joe's obvious impatience with amusement.
"Relax, Joe. As long as Amanda is nowhere to be found, Mac's head is safe so why don't you just count to ten and enjoy the meal?"
Tearing a chunk out of the roll, Methos chewed happily as he perused the room. Spotting a waiter he beckoned him over to the table and ordered a beer. Things were definitely looking up.
The beer arrived with the meal and Methos helped himself as he mentally went over his plan. He already had an idea of where to look for the ruins, but a quick look through Sofia's university databanks should clear up the details. The question was, what to do when they got there? Other than the vague details in the journal, he had no idea of what they were getting into.
Which reminds him, there was still the little problem of the journal entry he had chosen not to share with Joe. He figured that his friend had enough to worry about without knowing about the immortal that was in cahoots with the renegade watchers. The idea of getting Joe to come with him to Bulgaria had less to do with needing his help, and more with getting him out of the line of fire. Not that he was having much luck with that. The most he could hope for would be to get Joe out of this mess alive.
There wasn't much information on the immortal in question. He was a Frenchman who went by the name of Richard Valmont having dropped the prefix "De" during the French revolution. It wasn't a good idea to advertise one's aristocratic background in those days, especially with Robespierre's new executioner's toy - nothing like a beheading to make an immortal nervous.
The details of his first death were sketchy. Other than the fact that it happened in Constantinople during one of the Crusades in the eleventh century, nothing much else was known. There was no information about where he disappeared to immediately afterwards, and nothing on who was his teacher.
The next sighting of him was in Rome during the fourteenth century, where he lived for the following two centuries, after that he had moved back to France and had lived there ever since. He lived a quiet life, and there was no indication of him being a headhunter. By immortal standards, he was a model citizen.
All in all, he had absolutely no idea why an immortal with such a low profile would suddenly get himself involved in a mess like this - and that made him nervous, he hated an unknown.
He glanced up from his meal, only to find Joe eyeing him suspiciously.
"You seem very wrapped up in your thoughts there, something you haven't told me?"
"What makes you think that?"
"Experience."
"You've hurt my feelings, Joe, anyone would think you didn't like me."
"Yeah, yeah, you look real broke up. Stick to point, old man."
"It's nothing, Joe. I'm just a little worried about going after these guys without knowing all the facts."
"Are you sure about that? No nasty surprises in the woodwork that I should know about?"
For a brief moment, Methos's resolution wavered under Joe's intense gaze, but it was just a moment.
"No Joe, nothing else."
Finishing off his meal, Methos rose from the table and gestured in the direction of his room.
"I'll go on ahead and boot up my laptop, join me when you're finished."
Joe looked up at him questioningly, and a few heartbeats went by before he sighed and nodded.
"What ever you say, Adam."
Methos was at the door before he heard Joe call after him."
"Adam."
Turning around, Methos held his breath and raised his eyebrow enquiringly.
"When you're ready to tell me the truth let me know, I'll be all ears."
Closing the dining room door after him, he released his breath and shook his head in defeat. He was going to have to tell him the truth eventually, he knew that. It was just that he was hoping he would have a little more time before it came to that.
As soon as he got to his room he booted up his computer and logged into the Sofia university database. Checking out the latest archaeological digs, he eventually found what he was looking for. The database had identified it as a tomb, because it had the typical markers that identified tombs from that era, but if Methos's memory served him correctly, there might be more to this sight than a simple burial site. From what he could see of the photographs and diagrams of the site, there was a good chance that a temple was attached to the area as well.
"Three guesses as to where we'll find the psychotic watchers"
Saving the pages to his laptop, he did a quick check on his e-mail and was surprised to find one from Nick Wolf. Opening it, he quickly scanned the short message. The elusive Amanda had been found and Nick had apparently filled her in. She was due to arrive at Sofia Airport at midday tomorrow.
With a sigh, Methos weighed the pros and cons of the situation. Things were coming to a head way too fast, as far he was concerned. If only he knew what they were hoping to do with Rebecca's stone. Once again, he felt the panic rise in the pit of his stomach as he mentally ran into the brick wall that was his memory loss.
Too many pieces of the puzzle were missing. Joe had concluded from the journal entries that the reason he'd flown down to Bulgaria in such a hurry was to come to Duncan's aid. Methos knew better, as much as he was fond of the highlander, there was no way he'd fly down here without any back-up unless there was a very pressing reason. Pity he had failed to jot down what it was in his Journal.
In his mind he pictured the stone, the way the light fractured over its facets as it stood on the shelf in Rebecca's study. He had learned of the stone's supposed properties from her one evening back in the seventh century when she was in a rare, expansive mood. Pensively she had told him about her teacher's philosophies and beliefs, recounting the day he had made a gift of the stone before she left his protection on the eastern shores of the Black Sea. Methos wasn't sure if he believed all she said about the power of the stone, all he knew was that when the stone resurfaced in the late 1990's, desperation gave him a faith in it's abilities that to this day he couldn't understand. He had loved Alexa deeply, but she wasn't the first wife he had loved and lost. So why was it that when it was Alexa's life that was ebbing away, he had suddenly remembered it? Sighing, he reluctantly concluded that he might never know the answer to that question.
A knock at the door interrupted his reverie and Joe's voice wafted through the doorway.
"Adam, are you in there?"
"Come in Joe, it's not locked"
"Well, what did you find out?" he asked as he settled himself on a chair.
"To start with I've some good news for once, Amanda has been found and she's on her way here, she's due to arrive tomorrow. I've also been able to get my hands on some details of the layout of the ruins."
"Things are looking up then."
"So it seems."
"So why don't you look happy?"
"Call it my inner pessimist, but I'm not going to feel happy about this until I'm sure that we're all going to get out of this alive and in one piece."
"Whatever you say buddy."
"Right then, lets get a move on, shall we? The night isn't getting any younger you know."
With a flourish, Methos leapt from the bed, and stood waiting for Joe to reorient himself on his feet.
"Have you got the car keys on you?" he enquired as they made their way out into the hall.
"Yeah," Joe replied shortly. A determined look on his face as he pushed ahead into the reception area.
Five minutes later, they were safely ensconced in the jeep and on their way. Midnight was approaching by the time they made it to the bridge Methos had found the previous night. All things considered, he thought that Hira wouldn't appreciate two visits in one day, so he hadn't stopped along the way. Pulling over to the side, Methos perused the hinterland and made a decision.
"I'm afraid that this is as far as you're going Joe. I'm going in alone from here on in."
"WHAT? Oh no, no way, man. I'm coming with you and that's that."
"Look around you, Joe, there are no lanes, no pathways. There is no way you are going to be able to get through this underbrush even in the best of circumstances, never mind in the dead of night with who knows what lurking in the bushes. You're staying here, Joe, and that's final."
With a glare, Joe sunk into his seat and muttered something under his voice about annoying know-it-alls as Methos reached into the back and pulled out a torch. Getting out of the jeep, Methos glanced back at his companion.
"It's for the best, Joe. I'll be back as soon as I can but if I'm not here by dawn, get you ass back to Travda and wait for Amanda."
"This jeep isn't configured for someone with my disability, you know."
"Somehow I think you'll manage."
"I think I'd prefer not to find out all the same. You'd better be back before dawn Mister. Things are bad enough without having to rely on Amanda to launch a rescue mission!"
With a laugh, Methos shut the car door and crept into the trees. Moving as silently as he could through the undergrowth, he made his way towards the ruins, making better time than he had before because this time he knew where he was going. An hour later, he heard voices ahead and he hunched quickly as he slid silently forward.
"I'm telling you, Max, I don't like the fact we're relying so much on that immortal's information"
"Relax, Al. Rene's been his watcher for the last fifteen years and has vouched for him. It's all going to work out as planned. You shouldn't worry so much."
"Don't tell me to relax Max. You may not have read the Highlanders chronicles, but I have, and I for one wouldn't want to cross him - except of course WE ALREADY HAVE!"
"Jesus Christ! Keep your voice down."
"Who's going to hear me, the squirrels?"
"Don't forget we still haven't found out who killed that Jackson kid from the Viennese motherhouse. Still haven't found his head either. Could be a renegade immortal in the neighbourhood, remember?"
Methos winced from his place in the bushes. At least he now knew the poor bugger's name. Worriedly, he eavesdropped further to the two watchers' conversation as he settled himself down in his hiding place. It was definitely time to listen and learn.
"And who's to say that our "renegade" immortal wasn't Valmont?"
"The motherhouse in Paris, that's who, Al. Valmont was still safely tucked up in his Parisian apartment when Jackson was killed."
"Oh, yeah, and we all know how reliable those reports are. Just as reliable as ours have been of late."
"Oh come on Al, those old codgers don't have it in them to fake a report. They don't have the imagination and even if they did, why would they?"
"Maybe for the same reason that we did? Maybe we weren't the only watchers he contacted with this little deal of his? Maybe he's playing us against each other for his own ends?"
"You need to get a hold on that paranoia of yours, kid. It's getting out of hand."
"Yeah, well, finding a headless body will do that to you."
The watcher called Max grunted and leaned against a tree.
"Well all I can say is that it's a little too late in the day to start getting nervous. Buck up, pal, it's all or nothing at this stage."
"I still don't see how this crystal can grant immortality."
"Hey, nobody can figure out how an immortal is granted immortality' but they exist all the same."
"But what does Valmont get out of this deal? I mean, he already has got the whole immortality thing down, so why is he doing this?"
"Well, I heard a rumour that the stone is supposed to grant immortals invincibility, so maybe that's it."
"That doesn't make sense though. I've read this guys chronicle and he just doesn't seem the type who'd want to play at being Mr Invincible. He doesn't hunt, lives a quiet life, runs a small business. I mean, he's married for crying out loud, so why does he suddenly want to up the stakes?"
"Don't look at me, I'm just the hired help. That's between Valmont and Tribeau."
Methos mentally congratulated himself as he listened; now he had a name he could work with. Ah well, time to get on with it then. Silently he crept up behind the tree that Max was leaning against and waited for his opportunity - these two were going to go sleepy bye-byes for a few hours. Patiently crouching behind the tree, he waited for his opportunity as the two watchers continued to speculate.
"I still say we shouldn't trust him, Max."
"You know as well as I that what we think isn't worth squat, Al, so just can it."
"Fine, fine, be like that, I'm going for a piss."
"Watch out for the squirrels."
"Ha, ha, bloody ha."
Methos couldn't believe his luck.
"Oh, this is just too easy!"
With a grin, he took out his dagger and hit Max over the head with the pommel. The watcher sank to the ground soundlessly. A moment later, he heard movement in the bushes and Al poked his head out from behind a tree. Methos conked him on the skull and he folded without a word, the poor guy didn't even have time to zip up his fly. Rifling through their clothes, he took their weapons, wallets, mobiles and keys. Stripping them of their shirts, he ripped them up and used them to bind and gag the unfortunate watchers.
Peeking up through the branches, he reoriented himself from the stars and continued on his way. It wasn't long before he saw lights through the trees and the low murmur of many voices.
"My, my, these guys really are a bunch of night owls. What the hell are they up to, having a midnight feast or something? Maybe Hira was right about this whole secret society thing."
Crouching low, he slunk forward and settled down to watch the show. Tents dotted the site and a large campfire was lit in the centre of the camp. He counted at least twelve men around the fire and he surmised from the amount of tents, that there were at least twelve others he couldn't see. With a smirk, he realised that he had already accounted for two of them. Chances were, most of the others were on watch as well. After a few moments deliberation, Methos decided to take a tour of the perimeter.
Creeping back into the trees, he travelled clockwise, his eyes searching the trees for sentries. It was when he reached the east side that he felt it, the faint but steady buzz of another immortal.
Pausing for a moment to slide out his blade, he slipped forward and discovered a second, better concealed, encampment set back into the trees. The numbers were fewer but these men definitely seemed more aware of their surroundings. Their fire was banked and about half of them were watching the trees for any sign of intruders, rifles at the ready across their laps. These guys were not of the rank and file; they actually had a clue about what they were doing.
"I knew things were going too well."
It was then that he noticed one of the men disappear into a hole in the ground about three yards to the north of the fire.
"And I wonder where they've stashed the Highlander."
With a disgusted sigh, Methos retreated back into the trees and tried to figure out a game plan that wouldn't get him killed. He had hoped that he could get out of this without having to kill someone, but the heavily armed guards had just upped the stakes. There was no way in hell he would be able to disarm and incapacitate all of them without being caught.
There were seven men above ground, with the silencer on his gun; he figured that he could take out at least four before the rest figured out what was happening, and that he could take at least another two before they could duck for cover. That left one that could get down the ladder before he reloaded. With a shrug, he resigned himself to having to leap down after him and hoped there wasn't another seven waiting for him at the bottom of the ladder.
"Oh well, here goes nothing."
Attaching his silencer, he aimed and took out the three closest to the hole in quick succession. Two more he shot before they hit the ground for cover and another as he reached the top of the ladder. The seventh man crouched uncertainly behind the log that he had been sitting on five seconds previously.
It was then that he remembered the other two guns in his pocket; they didn't have a silencer attachment but beggars couldn't be choosers. Methos waited for the watcher to bolt, gun cocked to fire. The noise of gunfire was going to bring the other encampment running, so he didn't want to fire until he was sure of a direct hit.
A sharp scrape on the ground alerted Methos to his targets run for safety. He fired and watched as the watcher dropped like a stone. Methos sprang from the undergrowth and dashed for the hole, aiming his gun at the ladder as he arrived. A dim light shone from below and he jumped in feet first, gun at the ready. The underground chamber was empty except for a single chair that was occupied by a bound, gagged and very brassed-off Highlander.
"Hey, Mac, how's it going? life been treating you okay?"
Duncan glared balefully at his smirking 'rescuer' as Methos hacked at the bonds with his dagger and peered around the chamber.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Could it be - gasp - a temple."
Pulling the gag from his mouth, Duncan shakily stood on his feet and faced Methos.
"I never thought I'd say this old man, but you are definitely a sight for sore eyes"
"Aww, that just brings tears to my eyes. Now take this gun, we may have to shoot our way out of here."
"And where is 'here', exactly?"
"You, my fine young Highlander, have the dubious honour of being whisked away to the Balkan Ranges."
"And that is a bad thing?"
"Usually? No. As wilderness goes it's quite picturesque. Unfortunately for us, this particular patch of it has seemed to have acquired some nasty wildlife, so we better get going."
Without further ado, Duncan scrambled to the top of the ladder, gun in hand, and poked his head up.
"I hear voices."
"Well, get a move on, then! I really don't want to be here when they stumble across the bodies."
"Bodies?"
"You don't want to know. Now MOVE!"
Duncan leapt from the hole with Methos hot on his heels; they dove for the undergrowth just seconds before the cavalry arrived.
"What the hell? Search the perimeter, we've had a security breach."
"Security breach! It's a bloody massacre, Rene, they're all dead."
"I think I've already noticed that Jacques, why don't you go and make yourself useful and check on our guest. Everyone else spread out, I want to catch these bastards."
"Time to go Mac." Methos hissed at the Highlander as he made to slink away from the clearing. With a nod, Duncan followed him into the forest. The Highlander's night vision was better than most, but he suspected that Methos's was even sharper.
The next two hours were a nightmare of twists and turns as they strove to evade their pursuers whilst making their way out of the forest. Eventually, though, they hit tarmac. Spotting the jeep in the distance, they ran the last few hundred yards and jumped into the vehicle, gasping for breath.
"Well I'll be, you did it. You actually did it," an ecstatic Joe exclaimed as they fell into their seats.
"No need to sound so surprised, Joe. I'm not totally inept, you know!"
"Ooops, sorry, I didn't mean it like that old man, I'm just relieved that you both made it back."
"Ah, go on, admit it! You were just afraid you'd have to tackle the drive home behind the wheel." Methos teased as he turned the ignition.
"You got me!" Joe laughingly replied as he turned in the seat and eyed the Highlander slumped in the back seat, "You alright there, Mac?"
"I'm fin,e Joe, just a little bit wiped out."
Joe eyed the pallor of the normally healthy-looking Highlander.
"Well, just close your eyes and rest, then. It's a long drive back to town."
With a grateful smile, Duncan shut his eyes and dozed off within moments.
"Sheesh, he must have been exhausted," Joe muttered as he straightened in his seat.
Glancing in the rear view mirror at the sleeping form in the back seat, Methos had to agree.
Dawn had broken by the time they arrived at the hotel, and Joe shook Duncan's leg as they pulled into the lane behind the hotel.
"Rise and shine, sleepy head, we're here."
Mac muttered drowsily as he pulled himself together and jumped out of the jeep. "So, where are we?" he enquired as he took stock of his surroundings.
"We're in Travda. It's a pleasant spot, actually, has quite a few features of historical interest for such a small town. All in all, it's quite a nice place to be holed up in, couldn't do better if we tried," Methos replied.
"Been here before, then?" Duncan asked as he perused the street.
"A bit after my time, to tell the truth."
"Really?"
Duncan eyed his companion speculatively.
"Ask me no questions, Mac, and I'll tell you no lies."
Joe listened in on the brief exchange and made a note to bring up the subject again when Methos had a few drinks in him. He had a funny feeling that there was a tale to be heard.
Reception was empty, so Methos leaned across the counter and snagged their keys before they made their way to his room. Once safely inside, Duncan threw himself on the bed as Joe once again made himself comfortable on the room's only chair. Retrieving the laptop from the dresser, Methos nudged Duncan and sat on the corner of the bed as the Highlander reluctantly moved his foot.
"Oi! A few more inches here."
Duncan groaned but gave ground, pulling himself to one side of the bed as Methos leaned back against the headboard and opened the laptop, accessing the files he had downloaded the night before.
"Here we go!" he exclaimed cheerfully as he studied the diagram of the site. "Time to play 'lets spot the secret underground temple.'"
"What do you mean? You've already found it, remember? You just rescued me from its hallowed halls less than eight hours ago!" Duncan retorted, raising his head from the pillow to look at his fellow immortal.
"Ah, but there was something missing," Methos replied smugly.
"And what was that 'Oh, all knowing one?'" Joe asked mockingly.
"Why, the secret underground antechamber in which the Methuselah stone is displayed, on an altar worthy of its splendour, of course!"
"Huh? Okay, what have I missed?" asked a puzzled Duncan as he pulled himself up on the bed and looked over the other immortal's shoulder.
"You're not going to like it"
A snort of laughter came from the chair in response. "Just tell him, old man, before he tries to throttle it out of you."
Methos quickly filled the Highlander in on what they had discovered so far; including the fact that Amanda was on her way as they spoke.
"So that's why they were trying to get her whereabouts from me. We've got to head her off," Duncan said worriedly. "There is no way I want to let those freaks near her"
"Too late, Mac. She's due to land at Midday, and even if there were a way of heading her off, she'd fight us all the way. You know as well as I do, that the one thing that's sure to get Amanda's dander up is someone messing about with Rebecca's legacy. She may waver when it comes to other situations like this, but she was unswervingly devoted to her teacher. She won't stand for anyone trying to use Rebecca's crystal for something that her mentor would never approve of."
Duncan had to reluctantly agree with Methos's assessment of the situation. Amanda was on her way, come hell or high water.
"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to snatch a few hours sleep. I've a funny feeling that I'm not going to get any sleep once Amanda arrives," Joe announced as he pulled himself up from his chair and made his way to the door.
"Sweet dreams Joe," Methos called out after him as he entered the hallway.
"Right back at ya," Joe replied with a grin as he closed the door after him.
"Well, I better go down to reception and get myself a room," groaned Duncan as he swung his legs onto the floor.
"Hold on a minute, Mac, there's something I haven't told you yet."
Closing his eyes in defeat, Duncan leaned back on the bed.
"Do me a favour, old man, break it to me gently."
"I'll try not to upset your fragile constitution," laughed Methos, earning a glare from the exhausted Highlander.
"Just ge' on wi' it, will ya" he muttered, his accent broadening from fatigue as he slumped on the bed."
Methos briefly summarized Valmont's involvement with the renegade watchers and waited for the Highlander's reaction.
"Why haven't you told Joe about Valmont?"
"At this stage, I'm not very sure. I suppose I just thought that I had a good reason not to have told him from the start, and as I can't remember either way...."
"...You decided that saying nothing was the safest thing to do. We're going to have to tell him, you know."
"Do we have to?" Methos whined.
"Yes we do!" laughed Duncan as he dragged himself from the bed once more.
"Oh, Maaacc!"
"Don't tell me, the Martians have landed and have announced that they, too, want the Methuselah stone."
"Nothing so exciting, I'm afraid."
"What, then?"
"I hate to have to remind you, but you didn't exactly travel here on a passport and hotels are usually a bit of a stickler about that kind of thing when you're registering."
"Oh, for crying out loud!"
"Not to worry, Mac, I'm sure that Amanda will be glad to accommodate you once she's checked in."
"But that's hours away!"
"Well, you could always snuggle up with me."
"Not bloody likely!"
"I promise I'll leave your virtue intact."
"Your head won't be intact in a minute if you keep this up."
"Aw Mac, is this the way to speak to the man who just saved your... what the... what the hell are you doing!
"What does it look like, I'm stealing your duvet of course," Duncan grunted
"You can't do thaa... oof!"
Triumphantly, Duncan heaved the duvet off the bed, dumping Methos on the floor in the process.
"Ouch, that hurt you know."
"Serves you right, picking on a man while he's down."
Stealing a pillow for good measure, Duncan settled himself upon the floor.
"You're still wearing the bloody clothes you crawled through the woods in you know, the duvet's going to be a mess."
"So? You've got maid service haven't you?" Came the muffled reply from the floor.
"Oh, you've got all the answers don't you," muttered an irate Methos as he stalked into the bathroom to clean up.
"You better believe it," came the sleepy rejoinder, a chortle escaping from under the duvet as he heard the old man slam the bathroom door.
TBC…