Chapter 13
Paris
"Me?" Methos managed to get out... his exasperation rising. "Why should I go see the lawyer?"
"Because," smirked MacLeod as he lounged comfortably in his easy chair... a glass of sherry in his hand and the lilting strains of his favorite opera emanating from his sound system, "You have the paperwork... or at least that's what you once told me. I... on the other hand... have never been a lawyer." For once, Duncan had the elder immortal just where he wanted him... and he loved it. He sipped his sherry with more than a hint of appreciation.
Methos put his hands on his hips and stared off into space... his mouth open... his eyes slightly glassy... as he tried to think of a retort. But for once, nothing came to mind. "Fine!" he finally said and sat on the arm of the sofa and clasped his hands. "I'll go see this avocat tomorrow. What's his name?"
MacLeod smiled. "I have it written down somewhere. And... by the way... your presence was also requested at Alisaunne's graduation in a few weeks." The Highlander sipped the sherry once more.
"My presence? Hell!" Methos rose and began to pace the barge. "You surely didn't tell that child I'd come?"
"Mmm..." Duncan murmured. "I rather think I did. She seemed quite taken with you. Quite anxious you should be there." Once more he sipped his sherry. He was rather enjoying his friend's discomfort. Things around here had been all too serious lately... or else Methos had been teasing him about the girl's crush... It was rather nice to turn the tables.
Methos pointed at MacLeod... "You... You did this on purpose... It's because I teased you when she made those big eyes at you isn't it. You set me up MacLeod... You did this on purpose!"
Duncan smiled broadly and shrugged. Then he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. For once... he felt he had the upper hand.
"Bloody hell!" Methos began pacing the room once more. He rubbed one hand over his hair and murmured something about learning to keep his mouth shut. "Paperwork indeed... I haven't been a lawyer in two hundred... no make that four hundred years... How'm I supposed to pull this off!"
"You knew enough to bail me out of jail."
"That was in America and that was easy... Fooling a French estates lawyer will be a little more difficult. Do you have any idea of the paperwork I'll have to have?"
"I'm sure you'll manage." His glass of sherry empty, Duncan poured another and then glanced at Methos and raised one eyebrow in invitation."
"Thanks... but I prefer beer." Methos crossed to the refrigerator and opened the door. "What? Now there's no beer?"
Duncan settled back once more and smirked. "Sorry... I forgot to buy any when I was out." He put his feet up on the coffee table and closed his eyes as he visualized the scenes that accompanied the music. One hand moved in accompaniment to the melody. He opened his eyes and howled in laughter only after he heard Methos leave... slamming the door behind him.
***
Methos exited the barge furiously and hastened onto the quai and up the street. He was under the stone bridge when he slowed to a stop and leaned against the wall. Long ago he had met and challenged MacLeod near this very spot... he'd lost and tried to goad the Highlander into taking his head... hoping he wouldn't and yet wishing he would... ready for an end to the emptiness of his long life. Methos looked down and took a deep breath... thankful MacLeod had found another way... especially now. He removed his right hand from his coat pocket and rubbed his thumb and fingers slightly over the burning palm. He opened and shut his hand several times and thought about Eleanor. He purposely rubbed both of his palms together and concentrated... trying to recall the visions they had begun to share... But there was only the need to finish... the need to complete what they had begun... A darkness deeper than anything he had ever known clung to the periphery of his vision... waiting for him.
Finally he stood free of the wall and turned back to the barge. He still had work to do... time was pressing on him to find the answers before it ran out. He replaced his hands in his coat pockets and took a deep breath... he could do this... he could banter with MacLeod... he could even go to that silly girl's graduation if necessary... if he were still here... if he had the time. As long as it kept the eyes of the Watchers on him and not on Eleanor, Derrick and Phillip... he could do this... and... he could survive even the self-righteous Duncan MacLeod. Slowly he returned to the barge, making certain a mocking and sardonic expression was on his face as he entered once more.
***
Nick listened to the rock music blaring from the live band at Sanctuary and nodded his head to the beat as he held the beer. The jostling and loud crowd milled about... some dancing... some drinking... some talking loudly... a few attempting their best pick-up lines. He was centered and alone in their midst... just sipping the beer and ... his eyes snapped open as the approaching buzz of an immortal made him want to turn and stare. But he didn't. Slowly he took another drink and waited until the sense of someone immediately near him finally made him turn.
Before him was a young woman of perhaps twenty-five... short brown hair... brown eyes... wearing a dark navy blue suit. She smiled at him. Nick turned and leaned his back against the bar, staring at her and letting his eyes travel appreciatively up and down her curvaceous form. "May I help you?" he finally asked.
"If you are Nick Wolfe," she said... very French... the accent thick on her words.
Nick sat up slightly and nodded. "That would be me."
"I'm Sister Marie-France... I'm a friend of Valeraine. I was told you would know how I could locate her."
"A nun?" Nick thought as he immediately straightened up and offered her a seat. Then he thought better of it.
"It's all right... I'm not uncomfortable here." She smiled warmly.
Nick rubbed one hand over his forehead. "I can take you to Val... She's over at my place... my boss doesn't like her in here when he's open."
"No... I don't imagine he would." Once again the nun smiled warmly.
Nick rose and took her arm... then dropped it.
Marie-France laughed at the young immortal's flustered movements and then took his arm and whispered. "Just relax... I wasn't always a nun. I do know how the world works... although I gave it up long ago."
Nick closed his eyes and nodded. He'd take her to Val... and then they'd both leave. He could go back to his day job and his empty life. He took a deep breath and led the nun from Sanctuary.
Once they reached his rooms he stood back and tried to follow the argument between the two female immortals as to what they should do next.
Marie-France was for starting back to the convent school immediately. There were too many uncertainties out here... Val, on the other hand, saw no reason to leave before morning. She was in no hurry to hide away once more on holy ground. She was here and she wanted to hunt before she went back. Around and around they argued... quietly... no screaming or tantrums... just two women of another age who had known each other so long that they could finish one another's sentences and anticipate the other's objections.
Nick knew Val did not want to return to the convent at all... that she wanted to stay in Paris and be a part of whatever her friend Pierson was involved in. Marie-France was equally adamant that the girl did not belong here... that if she stayed... she would stay without a protector. Finally it was the lateness of the night that seemed to give Val the winning argument.
Nick gave the women his bed and stretched out on the couch. Somehow... he had a bad feeling that nothing was going to go quite as he had hoped. What was it about these female immortals... and he included Amanda in that group... that made them so damned hard to deal with? He reached behind him and pulled out his wallet... removing a cropped and tattered snapshot of Amanda taken in better days... just after they had come to Paris. When he'd still had illusions about what they might become to one another... given time. He rubbed his thumb over her face and took a deep breath... closing his eyes... trying to hear her... hearing instead only a gunshot... "Forgive me," she'd said as she pulled the trigger. He stared once more at her face... at the close-cropped platinum hair... the laughing mouth... those sparkling dark eyes. Then he replaced it sharply into his wallet and closed it with a snap... throwing it onto the coffee table. He closed his eyes... and focused his thoughts on the sound of water dripping slowly from his kitchen faucet. Finally he slept.
