Chapter 3

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"Tell me! Tell me!" Nadya's voice bordered on whining as she followed Methos out of the elevator and into the dojo.

"Don't do that!" he begged, his hands over his ears.

"I'll stop when you tell me."

"When he tells you what?" Duncan asked, coming out of the office.

"How ugly Helen of Troy really was!" Nadya replied, smiling. She was really beginning to like the idea of a man who had "shared the stage with the Rolling Stones and Julius Caesar".

Duncan laughed and Methos shrugged. "It's not good to speak ill of the dead," the old man said.

"Aw, come on, Methos! You do it all the time!" Mac retorted.

That roguish smile came to Methos' face. "Let's just say that I find it easier to believe that you launched a thousand ships and brought them home again, rather than her," he told Nadya, who then smiled and shook her head at the incorrigible Immortal.

"You are so full of it, Methos!"

She then turned towards the office, whither Duncan had returned. "Mac, please! Can I go out? I am so sick of being cooped up here. It's been a week!"

Duncan sighed. He wanted to keep her safe but he knew he couldn't keep her locked away forever.

Methos saw the predicament and stepped forward, his hands stuck in his jeans pockets as he spoke. "How about I take Nadya out for dinner and a movie?"

Duncan and Nadya both looked at him and he just shrugged. "That way, Nadya will get out, she won't be alone, and you can keep looking for Malfoy."

It sounded feasible.

Thinking for a moment, Duncan then turned to Nadya. "How does that sound to you?"

She smiled. "That sounds great!"

"It's settled then. Shall we?" Methos swept a graceful bow.

"Let's." Nadya replied and took his arm with a laugh.

Duncan watched them leave. "Be careful!"

"Oh, we will." Methos replied, half-turning. "Don't wait up, MacLeod." This last sentence came with a wink that caused Mac to just stare incredulously at the ancient Immortal as he and Nadya walked out the door. He then didn't notice that he was missing something, something that Methos' deft hands had relieved him of…for now.

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Ring!

"MacLeod." Duncan held the cell-phone in his left hand while he steered the Thunderbird with the right.

"I found him!" Joe's voice came over the phone.

"Where?!"

"He hangs out at the old Clarion club on the posh side of town. Really elite." Joe replied. "Hey, Mac."

"What?"

"Be careful, my friend."

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"See, now this is totally wrong! That's not how the battle of Carthage went. I was there! It…"

Nadya pressed her fingers against the Immortal's slim, whispering lips to quiet him. "Shhh! If you don't stop, we're going to have a mob on our hands worse than the ones on the screen."

Methos suddenly found himself smiling and felt an impulsive urge to kiss those slender fingers that rested against his mouth. Then something shot through him and he realized that he hadn't had such an urging since Alexa died.

Nadya watched those eyes of his, wondering how much life, how much emotion and knowledge had passed before and behind those eyes in 5,000 years. She got lost for a while, the movie becoming a murmur in her ears.

The cool, silver light of the projector flickered in Nadya's dark eyes until a sudden scream from the screen made her flinch, breaking the connection between hers and Methos' eyes.

The Immortal blinked and chuckled, glancing down in that charming way he had and scratching his right temple.

"I don't know who or what you are, Methos, but I will tell you something: you are one interesting fellow." Nadya's whisper came with a smirk, half-hidden in the flickering dark.

When the film was over, the couple exited the theatre quickly for there were more than a few annoyed fellow moviegoers.

As they walked through the night-drenched streets of Seacouver, things fell silent between the old man and his companion. And for whatever reason, it stayed that way.

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Duncan spent the better part of the night staking out the Clarion club. By sidling his way into the graces of several lovely, unsuspecting ladies, the Scot had ascertained that Malfoy was indeed a regular and favorite of the club. But, oddly enough, the glamorous young Hungarian at Duncan's side purred, he had not come in that night.

Nodding his thanks and excusing himself, Duncan finally exited the club sometime after 1am.

Try as he might, MacLeod knew that his elevator doors had no concept of quiet built into them and he despised of waking up Nadya, who was undoubtedly asleep on the couch. But to his surprise, when the elevator doors rattled open, light and emptiness greeted his eyes. No one was there!

"Don't wait up, he says." Mac muttered to himself, throwing his coat down and heading for the bathroom.

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The midnight oil burned low in a little coffee shop on Canal Street, the only lit windows on the block. Its only occupants were the bleached-blonde boy who was sweeping up and two customers: a petite, dark-haired gypsy and a lanky guy who sprawled over his chair.

The boy with the broom thought them crazy for drinking coffee this late but, then again, "Adam has his own rules of life." Methos knew that his Immortal system would metabolize the caffeine effects of the coffee within an hour or two and that often just made it humorous to him.

"Bobby!" he called the boy over. "If you leave the spare key with me, I'll lock up. Go on home to your bed." The offer was made with a good-natured smile.

Bobby gladly agreed, handing the key over to Methos. "Thanks, Adam! G'night!"

"Good night!" Nadya returned over her hot chocolate.

When the boy had gone, Methos deepened his sprawl and fiddled with his coffee cup.

"You seem to know everyone, just like Duncan." Nadya commented after a while.

Methos shook his head and sniffed lightly. "I know enough to keep me comfortable." He gave a shrug, the beginnings of his apathetic mask. "Don't have much use for people; too many questions."

His guest pursed her lips and set down her mug. "Bull! You need people as much as the next person, Methos. Even us Mortals!"

The sidewall suddenly became very interesting as Methos stared a hole through it; relationships were a sore spot for him, even now. "I am an island, or something like that," he muttered.

"No, you're more of a peninsula because there is a way under your skin." This statement was made very matter-of-factly, though Nadya had no idea as to why she said it.

Silence was the only sound from the other side of the table. Methos didn't like to admit that there was a way to get to him. First Kronos, then Cassandra, then Alexa; he didn't have a good track record with relationships and preferred to steer clear of them for now. But Nadya had proven difficult to put off and Methos often found himself opening up to her unexpectedly. Even with his knowledge of her imminent Immortality and the possibility that they may some day have to face each other, he found himself wanting to look at the world the way she did. She saw it with this curiosity, wonder, and hunger for life that he envied. Alexa had been a bit like that but her time was too short for it to develop to its full beauty; Nadya's was well developed by a greatly active imagination during childhood. Jaded and cynical after 5,000 years, Methos admired Nadya's love of discovery. And he wanted it to remain.

Suddenly, he understood MacLeod. He understood the Scot's fierce desire to protect Nadya's mortality. The Game would destroy that innocent love of life. Now, Methos, too, wanted to protect it, shelter it, and—yes, he had to admit it—even die for it.

"Let's go dancing!" Nadya suddenly stood to her feet, starting Methos out of his reverie.

"Wha—what?" This Immortal was caught totally off-guard.

"Let's go dancing," she repeated herself. That mischievous smile was on her face.

"Now where on earth could you want to go dancing at this hour?" The old man smirked and sprawled again.

"There's a little Latin place just over on Knoll, three blocks. Come on, Methos!"

The sprawl grew still deeper, challenging her enthusiasm, but Nadya had tactics of her own. She shrugged disinterestedly and then headed for the door, "Fine. I'll go by myself if you can't dance."

Seeing his charge intent upon her decision, Methos leapt up, shut off the lights, and locked the door behind them.

"And what makes you think I can't dance?"

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"Nadya! ¡Hola, Nadya!" Several voices greeted the young woman as Nadya and Methos stepped into a saucy little Latin club.

"¡Hola, Maria! ¿Comó estás?" She greeted another young lady who smiled at her, shedding her coat as she sauntered through the club; it was obviously familiar territory to her.

Methos glanced around the interior of the club, inspecting its design. The lights were a creamy mix of red and white. A very large, hardwood dance floor encompassed the majority of the club, with round tables stationed asymmetrically about it, and the bar was situated at the back by the doorway. He stopped there first, naturally. The entire club had a feeling of relaxation and yet drumming excitement. The lusty Latin music seemed to influence the flow of even Methos' blood to its own rhythm as couples danced to and fro, ladies' skirts flying and heels thundering.

Nadya was able to coax the old man to a table but could not get him to dance. While she tried all her little arts, another man came up to her and asked to dance. She nodded, knowing Jacob well, and hurried out onto the dance floor. Methos simply watched, amusement covering his face, and folded his arms as he sprawled back once more.

Nadya stood about a yard from Jacob, her hands on her hips, her chin thrust out almost predatorily. Soon, the strains of guitar and violins chorused through the club in "El Tango de Roxanne". Maria had lent her friend a pair of dancing shoes and now the heels thudded against the wooden floor as Nadya and Jacob brought the impassioned dance to life.

Methos was impressed as he watched Nadya dance; it was obviously something she loved and had worked hard at, for she moved with a natural grace and power that set the floor echoing. When Nadya suddenly spun a pirouette, she ended up facing Methos and the fire in her eyes made the Immortal sit bolt straight up. She had his attention now! As the pace of the dance increased, so did Methos' heartbeat. True, he loved the dance but it had never affected him like this before.

Jacob spun Nadya, twirled her like a top so that she was a blur of color and life. The look on Jacob's face was one of passion and rage, the essence of this tango. Suddenly, he grabbed Nadya as the music climaxed, his hands around her neck and under her chin. With one snap, she fell to the ground…lifeless!