Stalking the Darkness
by Aislynn

Disclaimer and warnings:

See Part one (Prologue) for disclaimers and warnings!
Additional warning: SLASH (D / M), don't read it if you don't like it. So, if you don't like that or are under age to read this, turn back now!

And now, on with the story.

Chapter 6: Old Acquaintances

Methos woke to an empty bed. He also could not feel the Highlanders presence anywhere. Probably out for his morning run, he thought and contemplated turning around for another round of sleep when a sudden surge of presence made him jump out of the sheets and grab for his sword. Moments later he recognized the presence as the one of his lover and he sighed, let the sword go and let himself fall into the bed again. They'd been together a few month, but still the old habit brought him up before he could be sure it was MacLeod and could relax again. Add to that Duncan's irritating habit of early rising, and receive an usually grumpy Methos in the morning hours.

He blinked at his lover a few times.

"Morning," he said, eventually deciding to sit up. "Did you bring breakfast?"

Duncan descended the stairs without comment, and finally Methos caught his grim expression. Rather alarmed, he got up and automatically went for his sword again.

"Something wrong?"

"You could say that!" Duncan growled. "Your friend from last night decided to leave us a present. He killed somebody at my door last night!"

Methos blanched, then reached for his pants and T-shirt. "Is it still there?"

Duncan stared at him without comprehension.

"What?"

"The body. Is it still there?"

MacLeod gave him a short look, then shook his head.

"No. He dumped it into the water. The current drew it away. It's way down the river now. But I found some bloodstains under one of the bridges."

Methos drew his brows together.

"Then how..." he paused. Understanding dawned.

"That was Joe on the phone earlier this morning, wasn't it?"

Duncan nodded and threw his jacket on the couch, Katana and all.

"Yes. He told me about the murder. He also said what happened to the body and that it was our friend. He originally called about your challenges. You left quite an impression with the Watchers last night, Old Man!"

Methos cursed.

"So they identified me?"

"Joe did. He called to confirm. How did you know you had not your own Watcher following you last night?"

Methos smiled.

"Because I went with you. They were bound to use it as a free evening for one of them. Standard procedure."

Duncan gave him a questioning look.

"It's standard procedure with established couples. You use one Watcher on them when they are together, except they go to work on different jobs," Methos explained. "Hey, Watchers need some time off, too."

Duncan sighed. Then he grabbed for the phone.

Methos shook his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Call the police. Tell them about the murder."

Methos shook his head.

"And tell hem what? Hello, I have this friend at the Watchers, they are a secret organization watching Immortals and recording beheadings, and they saw a murder at my place last night? Think, MacLeod! You can not tell them a thing,. There is no body! You did not see the murder. You only bring them down on our head."

MacLeod glared at him, but reluctantly put the phone down.

"What would you have me do?" he asked angrily. "We have to do something! He killed someone, and he did it right here. I can't just ignore this!"

Methos gave him a skeptical look.. He drew his brows together.

"I just don't get it. Why would he do this? I mean, why here and just after he left?"

Duncan gave a short growl.

"Isn't that obvious?" he asked. "He challenged me!"

Methos drew his brows together.

"Challenge you? Why ?"

Mac paced around, trying to get hold on his anger.

"We had an argument last night. When you were at the bathroom," he explained curtly.

When Methos did not seem to react he explained grimly:

"About his feeding habits."

Methos cocked his head.

"— Feeding? As in?"

"Killing humans," Duncan said. "Killing them to drink their blood."

Methos straightened and made a face.

"MacLeod..."

Mac stopped his pacing and abruptly turned on him.

"You won't start this argument again, will you?" he asked harshly. "I told you, he was no human. I saw his fangs. And he had no mirror image!"

Methos sighed, a long-suffering sigh. He cast an skeptical glance to the portholes of the barge. Now, with the light of the early day seeping in, it was even harder to believe that the guy of last night had been indeed a real vampire.

Duncan watched him intently.

"Last night you seemed well ready to believe it," he challenged. And after all, you brought him here." He shook his head at Methos flat look and finished "I tell you, he wasn't human. I know what I saw."

Methos gave in.

"All right, I suppose it is possible...I've heard tales. I've never met one of these guys myself, before, but I heard tales about them. Of course, I always thought they were only legend."

"Like tales about demons?"

Methos sighed. Not this fight again! He decided to leave it. So he just went on:

"Yes. Like that. Now, assuming this guy is, indeed, a vampire, why would he first rescue me from a fight and then leave you a body at your door?"

MacLeod gave him a sour look.

"Assuming? What else you think he'd be?"

Methos rose his eyebrows.

"A delusional psychopath who managed to catch you in his folly?"

"Oh, thank you very much!" Duncan scowled.

"Anyway, either way he obviously did it to show me what he thought of my threats to him."

"Threats?"

"I've told him I was not amused," Duncan said, darkly. "I told him I'd kill him if I ever meet him again!"

For a moment, Methos was speechless. Then he stated dryly: "I have to say, MacLeod, you sure have a great way with strangers. This has to be some record of yours. Making a mortal enemy of someone you just met in just a few minutes."

MacLeod let himself fall onto the couch. "This isn't funny, Methos!"

"I did not say it was. Anyway, he obviously wasn't impressed."

MacLeod gave a growl.

"Obviously. So, what should I do, if not call the police? I can not wait until he leaves another body at my door."

Methos shrugged.

"You can't involve the cops, either. They may connect this to the two beheadings of last night. Besides, if the guy is what he claims I think he has reason ton be as shy of the police as we. So he will not direct them toward us, I think not."

Duncan gave him a long look.

"And if he is, as you put it, just delusional?"

Methos gave a slow smile.

"Then he is bound to think that he has reason enough to avoid the cops as much as we do. After all, in either case, to his own understanding he is still a vampire."

MacLeod shook his head.

"All right. So, no involvement of the cops. They'll be here soon enough, anyway," he stated resignedly.

Methos have him a questioning look.

"Last night, before you came to the barge... when I felt you taking these Quickenings..." Mac trailed off. This was awkward enough already, and he feared his lovers reaction.

"I ... thought that you could use my help. So I went off to find you," he explained.

"Unfortunately, I was to late. The police was already there. They had shut off he area, and they stopped my car."

He swallowed.

"They took my I.D. I suspect, they will come visiting in the next few days. Maybe even today."

Methos cursed. He threw his hands in the air.

"Great! Just great!! First I am chased by two cheating Immortals through the streets, then I meet a bloody psychopath that commits murder at your doorstep, and then you have to point the cops right into our direction! Give them a call, why don't you? I swear, MacLeod.."

He trailed off. Exasperated, he turned around, slipped into his clothes and then reached under the bed to grab his suit-case. Duncan watched dumfounded, while he started to fill it with clothes and his books.

Finally, he found his voice again.

"What are you doing?"

Methos scowled.

"What does it looks like? Packing."

Duncan froze; then he sprang up, went over and snatched his lovers hands in his own. He pressed him against the wall.

"No!"

Methos regarded him with some mild interest.

"Mac! What do you think you are doing?"

Duncan shook his head.

"No, Methos! Not this time! Don't run! Please!" he pleaded.

"Not over this!"

Methos sighed.

"MacLeod... "

Duncan shook his head.

"We are no suspects, yet. Running now would just lead them in your direction. It will seem like an admittance of guilt. Like you had to avoid something," he argued.

"Please... do not do this now. Not like that!"

Methos sighed again.

"MacLeod, that guy from last night saw me take those heads!"

Duncan shrugged.

"Well? Then he went on killing a passant. He has no way to give you away. And no way to prove it if he tried. Please. Stay. Let us go through this together."

He didn't release the Old Mans hands.

Methos looked at him as if he was considering his options. Duncan knew that if he wanted, Methos could have put in quite more resistance.

Finally, the Old Man stated reasonably:

"Adam Pierson has to die sometimes soon, anyway, MacLeod."

Duncan drew his brows together.

"What?"

"I've lived here too long. It is time to move on. The Watchers now I am immortal, but my colleagues at the Sorbonne start looking funny at me. I'll have to leave this identity behind me soon in any case. So, why not now?"

Duncan took a deep breath.

"Because," he said, "when you are to leave this time I want to go with you. So, we have to make it believable. We have to make it look inconspicuous. And we can not do that if you simply leave while the police is on your heels. And it will be, Methos, if you leave now. Or it will be on both of us, if we both do."

Methos gave a long suffering sigh.

"And waiting until they indeed do suspect us will make it better?" he asked.

Duncan shook his head.

"If push comes to shove we can find a way to die a public death and leave anyway. But not until we have to."

He finally released his lovers wrists and took his face into his hands.

"Please," he pleaded. "Stay!"

He did not give his lover time to answer, but caught his mouth in a breathtaking kiss.

Methos felt his resolve melt under his lovers mouth. When Duncan finally let him up for air, he gave an exasperated shrug and gave him a small push..

"Oh, all right, MacLeod! But if I find myself thrown into prison, I will personally see you pay for it!"

Duncan smiled relieved and gave him a little more space to move. Methos reached out and pulled him again close to his body, then allowed his hands to room over it.

"Was this why you insisted to disturb our sleep by having the machine wash my coat in the middle of the night?" he asked.

Duncan, preoccupied with the exploring hands, just nodded.

Methos shook his head.

"Just see that you dump them into the Seine," he counseled. "In a way they won't be found!" Then gave his lover a last kiss and shoved him lightly out of the way to stalk to the bathroom.

Duncan looked after him. He did not know if that was a permanent victory, or just a reprise. But at least Methos had ceased packing. Hopefully, he would stay. At least, for the moment.

He carefully started to unpack the suitcase again – just in case. Then he sighed and went to dump the package with his lovers destroyed clothes into the river.

_______________ 0 ____________________

As it turned out, the police did not come until late afternoon, and when it came, it had the very familiar face of an old acquaintance.

"Inspector Le Brun!" Duncan said surprised, when he opened the door. "I am glad to see you! I was very concerned for you after that nasty incident with Carlos Sandaro. I'm glad to see you returned into service. So, you are back in Paris?"

Le Brun nodded. Duncan made way in the door and bade him in, and he followed the invitation, smoothly disposing of his coat in the process. Then he replied:

"Yes, half a year now. I took some years serving in the province, after my recovery." He made a grimace. "It was a close thing!"

Duncan nodded gravely. He took the coat and hung it to the wardrobe. Then he turned to his guest again.

"Please sit down, Inspector. I'm glad you recovered. That was an awful incident with that madman. And with a Machete, none the less!"

Le Brun gave him a sharp look, but followed his invitation and sat on the couch. Then, after a deliberate pause, he said:

"Funny you mention Sandaro. Now you mention it – wasn't he found with his head cut off? And you were around him when it happened, too. Interesting parallels, are there not?"

Duncan smiled broadly, and innocently replied: "Frankly, Inspector, I do not know what you mean." He went to the Galley and took out two glasses and a bottle of his best Cognac.

"Can I offer you something to drink?"

Le Brun shook his head, obviously regretful. "Not on duty, thank you," he said.

Then, he cocked his brow.

"Last night, there were two bodies found in the street, just in the neighborhood from where we stopped you. They had their heads cut off. You wouldn't know anything about it, would you?"

Duncan made a face.

"How awful!" he exclaimed. Then he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I am afraid I can not help you. I know nothing about this."

Inwardly he thanked God that Methos was at the university right now, teaching his classes, and that he had dumped the traitorous shredded clothes his lover had worn last night into the Seine, tightly wrapped into a well secured plastic bag and weighted down with a few stone he kept in the ballast room. Hopefully, it would not be washed up for years.

Afterwards, he had spent the remainder of the morning spent with cleaning the barge, especially the bathroom and the kitchen floor, and was quite sure that now it would hold out even against thorough inspection.

"Can not?" Le Brun asked, "You are sure? After all there seem to be a lot of headless bodies turning up when you are in the neighborhood... as I recall, Sandaro was found beheaded, too."

Duncan frowned.

"Wasn't he beheaded by the metro?" he asked, seemingly bewildered. "I do remember reading in the news about it at the time. It said to have been a most tragically train accident."

"One you were seen being close around, too," Le Brun added deadpan.

Duncans frown deepened. He looked insulted.

"You do not suspect I could have something to do with this?" he asked, seemingly wounded. "Inspector, please, I assure you..."

"Yes?" Le Brun asked, sharply. "After all, you were stopped with your car just a few streets from the place where the bodies were found. What were you doing there?"

Duncan shrugged.

"I was on my way back from a party," he said. No need to involve Methos in this, not if it wasn't unavoidable! "Over at Lefebres."

Le Brun drew his brows together.

"The auction house company? Can you specify when you went there?"

"Of course," Duncan said. "It was between eight o'clock p.m. and half past one a.m. You can check with the host."

LeBrun made a notice into his book.

"Thank you, I will do that. So you have no account for the time between half past one and the time you were stopped at Rue Saint-Jacques?"

Duncan shrugged.

"I'm afraid not. I was on my way home, Inspector!" he said with a winning smile.

Le Brun made another note. "Can you tell me where exactly that party took place?"

Duncan nodded. Inwardly, he sighed. Now, this could prove interesting.

"It was in the residence of the Lefebres," he said, "over at the Invalides. 44,Avenue Felix-Faure,. You know the place?"

Le Brun nodded and signed the address down into his trusted little book.

"Thank you, I will check this with he host," he said. Then he drew his brows together.

"Now this I do not understand," he said. "Isn't that in the west of the town? You see, when you drove down from the Felix-Faure, why did you end up in the Rue Saint-Jacques? It is not on your way home, after all!"

Duncan sighed. He had expected this question.

He gave the inspector a winning smile.

"Curiosity, Inspector. When I came down the Boulevard de St. Germain to get to the Barge, I heard the sirens, and saw the gathering crowd. I couldn't resist to look what happened."

Le Brun made a face.

"We have enough trouble already without bystanders and onlookers, you know," he said. "I would expect you to know better."

Then he shrugged and made a last note into his book.

"Very well, Mr. MacLeod. We will check your story, of course."

Duncan nodded.

"So I'm under suspicion?"

Le Brun shrugged.

"I'm afraid so," he said. "You have to admit it is a strange occurrence, that you seem to be present when we find some beheaded bodies a lot of times. There was that time with Kuyler, whom you obviously knew, and who was found beheaded; then Carlos Sandaro... I'm afraid I have to check your alibi."

"Kuyler was killed when I was with my wife, Inspector", Duncan said very calmly. "You yourself decided to drop the case. And Sandaro was not killed by me, either."

Le Brun sighed.

"So you said," he agreed. "Still, both times you were in the neighborhood, and you were around this time either. You understand that we have to follow this lead, I suppose."

Duncan nodded calmly.

"As you say, Inspector. Am I under arrest, then?"

The Inspector shook his head. "No, you aren't. But I must ask you not to leave town!"

He took a final sip of his cognac and placed it on the table.

"You know, it is interesting," he said then, "we fished another body out of the Seine this morning. A clochard, apparently. Nothing uncommon here, I regret to say."

He sighed and tucked his notice book away.

"Except that this time, the bodies throat was cut, and apparently he died quiet recently." He shook his head. This city is growing more crazy every single day."

Then he looked up and caught Duncans eyes with his.

"You did not happen to hear or see anything out of order last night, did you?"

"Except for the sirens and the police that stopped me at the Quartier Latin? " Duncan asked. "No, Inspector, I'm afraid I didn't. Why?"

Le Brun shrugged and stood.

"Just curious," he said. "You see, the body was found downstream."

MacLeod made wide eyes.

"You think it could e the same killer?" he asked.

Le Brun shrugged again.

"I don't know, yet. If he was, he did not manage to follow through with this one. The victim was not beheaded like the other ones. However, whatever cut his throat was something sharp."

He gave MacLeod, who had gotten up himself, a hard look, the he made for his coat.

"I don't know if the three murders are related," he said while he put his coat on, "but I will find out."

He smiled at his host and gave him his card. "Don't leave the city," he reminded, and then he went away.

Duncan saw him out and watched him go. He thought back to his fruitless call to last nights host this morning, to find out who had invited de la Mare and how to locate him. Lefebre had not been able to help him and had regretfully said that the invited guests had been encouraged to bring along company of their own. The stranger must have been among those. E seemed a bit bewildered by Duncans excuse that his friend Adam had heard the man mention some curious artwork Duncan was interested to buy in small talk, and now he wanted to find him to ask him about it; but he had offered to look for the mentioned piece himself, and maybe see if he could find the person Duncan looked for.

Now MacLeod could only hope that he would not give the story to LeBrun or the good inspector would find himself in more trouble than he could imagine; after all, he had no idea what he was up against.

Again.

And besides, Duncan wanted the guy for himself.

Duncan nodded grimly to himself and grabbed his coat and headed out to the Library.

It was time to do some research about vampires!

____________________ o ___________________

Methos packed his books away and listened half-heartedly to the inane chatter of some of his students, who were just leaving the class. It had been a long day; he was quite eager to get home, again. And tomorrow evening there would be that faculty meeting he could not find a way to skip, since he had been informed that it was an absolute duty to any professor to show up. Great! Just what he needed when worrying about Duncan and the upcoming police research....

"So, Sybil," he heard one of the students say, "how was that famous party you went to last night, at Lefebres?"

Methos listened up. The young art history student had been there, too?

The young woman answered with a laugh:

"It was booooring! You know, only all these high-wired, uptight jet-setters and haute-coute-people... after an hour I couldn't remember why I ever agreed to come. And you kniow what? After it was over, that ass dumped me!"

"No!"

"He didn't!"

"Really?!"

Slowly Methos strolled over to the group.

"Hi, Sybil," he greeted, "you were at Lefebres, too?"

The girl turned around to him and smiled.

"Oh, yes, Andrew took me. You were there, too? I didn't saw you there, but I saw MacLeod."

Methos nodded.

"Yes, I was there with him."

Knowing smiles lit up the faces of the young people around him. Professor Adam Piersons affair with MacLeod was well known in his classes; after all, the Highlander had waited up on him a few times after classes just to take him home.

Sybil nodded.

"Yes, saw him there, late in the night, but I couldn't find you."

Methos shrugged. He wasn't keen to be reminded of their stupid fight, that seemed childish and completely pointless, now. Noncommittally he said only: "I left early."

Sibyl grinned.

"You're lucky! It got even more boring later in the evening. The only interesting thing worth mentioning was that 'Mystery Man' showed up again. But he left early, too," she added with a grin to her comrades.

"Ooohhh, the eye-candy? The one you told us about?" another girl teased.

Sybil nodded.

"The same one. Only I'm afraid you wouldn't have great chances with him. Wrong body, you know – quite to different body parts at the important places."

Her hand hinted at her breast, and the other girl snorted.

"I say! I swear all the interesting men are gay. Leave only the crappy ones for us!" The male students of the group protested loudly, while the girl gave a meaningful and teasing look at Methos. He refused to raise to the bait.

Instead he raised his eyebrows.

"Mystery Man?"

Sybil shrugged.

"Oh, that's just our nickname. You know, that good-looking, blonde guy who leaned there at the wall like a part of the furniture? White shirt, white trousers, and looking like he just wanted to make a form of art out of it.."

Now Methos interest was definitely peaked. "You know him?"

Sybil laughed.

"No! Unfortunately. I saw him a few times in some of the bars and was about to make a pass at him, but he's one for the boys."

"It's quite a joke, you know," one of the other student's eagerly gossiped, "Sybil here sees this man one night at one of the dance-clubs and fell for him. She could talk of nothing else for weeks, and visited all the clubs, but she did not find him. Then she finally meets him again another night and he prowls off right across her nose with a boyfriend..."

Sybil gave her girlfriend a very dirty look.

"Yeah, quite funny!" she spat, "Thank you very much, Angela!"

Methos grinned.

"So why do you call him 'Mystery Man'?" he asked.

Sybil snorted.

"I never got his name! Or his address. Whoever I asked about him did not seem to know anything about him, not even his name! Then I meet him again at another dance-club by pure chance, and he takes off with a boy! I got really, really smashed that night!"

"And that was the night when you met Andrew," the girl called Angela said.

Sybil made a face.

"Don't remind me! He's an idiot," she sulked.

"So," Methos asked, "do you know his name, now?"

Sybil shook her head.

Oh, no, I don't! I never got to talk to him; Andrew was so jealous whenever I tried to make some small-talk of my own. Anyway, I was surprised to see him there, last night."

Angela furrowed her brows.

"Didn't you say it was invitation only? How did he get there then, if nobody knows him? Ho took him?"

Sybil shrugged again.

"Easy. Rene Klein. He was who took off with him that night at the club. It must have been his invitation he used."

Surprised "ahhs" and "ohhs" went through the group.

"Klein?" one of the boys of the group asked interested, "the architect? He was there last night?"

Sybil shook her head. "No, he wasn't. I heard he's out of town."

"He left last week for some event in the states, I heard," one of the other students said. "Some architecture exhibition. He's quite famous!"

"Oh, great!" the third of the male students drawled, "so 'Mystery Man' is free again. Maybe I should take up Sybils abandoned task..."

The mentioned female student gave a slow grin.

"Oh, but, Michel, see, Adam here seems quite interested in him, too. You've got a concurrent already!"

Michels eyes grew large.

"Really?" he asked in mock-interest. "Does that mean MacLeod is free again?"

He gave a meaningful mock-leer. "Maybe there is more to gain then, than I thought..."

Methos gave him a dirty look.

"You wish!" he growled good-naturedly. He knew quite well that Michel was engaged in a happy and stable relationship with his long-time boyfriend, Robert, so there was no real danger.

Michel shrugged.

"Can't blame a boy for trying," he said, and Methos grinned at him.

Then somebody asked if they had heard about the unsolved beheadings at the university district last night, and the whole group started chattering about it. Methos took part in the conversation with a few thrown-in comments, then he excused himself and took off. Before he left, however, he took Sybil aside and asked her if she could give him the names of the night clubs where he had met her 'Mystery Man'.

She gave him an odd look, smiled, and gave him the names and adresses. Then she shrugged and added: "He might frequent a few other clubs, too. Perhaps the ones in the gay department. The one I saw him first was on the other side of the town, actually."

Methos nodded.

"I see. Thank you for the tip," he answered, rolled his eyes at her knowing smile, then he smiled at her and took off.

When he went to his car, he smiled to himself.

Rene Klein, eh? And the name of the dance club.
Looked like they had a point to start to find their vampire guy, at least.

TBC

_________________________________ o_____________________

Authors note:

Sorry again this took me so long. Real Life just keeps interfering. Beside, this story seems to refuse just to go the way I intended it to....

A note to the beginning of this chapter: I changed the part about the disposal of Methos compromising clothes, again. I first planned to have Duncan burn them, what would have been more secure, but it would not be possible to get rid of the smell until the police showed up. Oh, and of course, you have to assume that the conversations with LeBrun and the students at the Sorbonne in this chapter where held in French. I do not speak or understand French well enough to even attempt to write it, so I ask you simply to assume that is the language they were using.

The party location at Lefebres is chosen at random; I have no idea if there is a building that could fit the description at this place. Same is true for quite a few other locations mentioned in this fic, safe for those you can find at the Paris city guide (like Shakespeare and Company, the Arenes de Lutece, the Sorbonne, the Canal d'Ourq in Orly, and others). It has been twelve years since I visited Paris, and I'm afraid I do not remember all the places that well. Please also forgive me the wrong writing of the Parisian names, but I do not know how to do accents in HTML correctly, and I rather not have them turn to gibberish.

Next chapter will be a shorter one.

Aislynn