Thanks to those who reviewed chapter one and put it in their alerts! :)
Note: I changed the name Methos used when he met Julia to Marcus Vitus Tertius
Julia winced as Gnaeus tightened his grip on her wrist, turning it in a direction it wouldn't normally go, and pulled her toward his car. Through the fear and pain one nagging thought persisted: she had to get to Methos.
When they reached his car, knowing this was her last chance, she made her move. With a speed and strength she didn't know she could possess around a man who terrified her so, her hand wrenched itself from his and reached up toward his head. A strangled, angry cry escaped his lips as she slammed his head against the car.
Without pausing to see if he was conscious or what damage she had done Julia ran as fast as she could out of the car park and down the road until she saw a taxi approaching. She flagged down the taxi, climbing in the back almost before it stopped completely. "That way," she indicated the direction the driver had just come from, the direction away from Gnaeus.
Risking a glance back in the direction of the car--luckily there was no visible movement--she pulled out her cell phone and dialled the number Methos gave her. "Pick up, pick up," she muttered impatiently.
Finally a voice that sounded half-asleep muttered something that resembled 'hello'.
"Methos, where do you live?" It was hard to fight the panic in her voice.
"What?"
With forced patience she repeated herself. "Your address, where do you live?"
"Why do you need to know that? What's going on?" He seemed to have woken up.
"If you don't tell me, the taxi driver will be very lost," she replied irritably. Relief flooded her as he gave her the address without further delay and she repeated it back to the driver.
"Julia, what's going on?"
"Just...just get dressed and meet me outside, please?" Without waiting for an answer she hung up and waited anxiously for the taxi to arrive at his house, looking out every window for signs of Gnaeus.
Logically she knew she would sense him as he neared, but rationality wasn't her strong suit at the moment. As the cab pulled to a stop ten minutes later somewhere in the vicinity of an immortal she could sense, she realized just how paranoid she was being--it took her a moment to realize that the cab had slowed because it had arrived where she had told it to and that the immortal was Methos. Relief flooded her and she grabbed too much money for the taxi driver, telling him to keep the change. It didn't matter that she had given him more money in tip than for the service, all that mattered was that she was safe and finally able to relax.
Trying to get out of the taxi as fast as she could, she tripped and almost fell facedown on the pavement. "That was embarrassing," she muttered to Methos as he helped her up.
"Are you alright?" His voice was a mixture of concern and amusement.
"Fine," she replied, choosing to only answer his amusement. As she watched the cab drive away, she wrapped her arms around his middle, leaned her head on his shoulder, and hugged him tightly. "Can we go inside now?"
She felt him nod then begin to turn her around toward the door, an arm still firmly around her waist. His eyes were on her all the way from the sidewalk to his apartment, she could feel it.
"Coffee?" he offered as he closed the door.
"At three o'clock in the morning?" she asked, her features scrunching up in disgust.
"Beer? Tea? Water?" he offered as he approached her and helped her remove her coat.
Instead of answering him, she waited for him to put her coat down, then plunged right in to why she had called in the first place. "Gnaeus. He found me." Somehow it felt like there should be more detail than that, but it really did sum up the situation rather neatly.
"What?"
Reasons she couldn't comprehend prevented her from looking up at him, so she directed her gaze toward the wall and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. His hand on her cheek startled her and she wondered how he had crossed the distance between them so quickly. "What happened?" he asked softly.
It was hard to get the words out, but she knew she would have to eventually. "He found me. At the hotel. There was a knock on the door. I thought it was you, so I opened it. It wasn't you." Why the hell was it so hard to meet his gaze?
"How did he find you?" Flattening his hand to cup her cheek, he gently tilted her head so that she was forced to look at him.
Instead of replying, she shook her head and slid forward into his arms. For a long time neither one spoke, seemingly content that she had escaped unscathed and was, at least for the moment, safe.
Suddenly he pulled back and looked at her questioningly. "Where's your sword?"
Laughter slowly bubbled from her until she was in a full fit of giggles and Methos was looking at her as though she'd just grown another head.
"Wasn't trying to be funny," he muttered.
"Sorry," she giggled. When she'd finally stopped laughing, or rather stopped laughing enough to speak, she continued. "It wasn't funny, just very random in the middle of a serious moment. I wasn't expecting it."
"Well?" he prompted, smiling and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
She really didn't want to tell him that she'd been such an idiot, but she'd have to eventually. And she would eventually need her sword back, which would involve him coming with her as she really didn't want to go to the hotel alone. "Dropped it at the hotel when I answered the door," she muttered quietly. Her cheeks were burning bright red, she could feel it. Of all the stupid things she could have done...
"Think we should go get it?"
The smartassed grin on his face made her smile. "Later?"
"Later?" he laughed. "Is that before or after room service finds it?"
"You're an arrogant pain in the ass," she muttered with a sigh. "Can I at least rest for a bit? I'm exhausted."
"Not for long, though," he conceded with a nod of his head. "With him out there the last thing we need is for you to be on the news because a maid found your sword and called the police." He pulled back and began rummaging through his drawers. "Here," he called in warning as he threw a t-shirt and a pair of boxers at her. "You'll be more comfortable in those."
She thanked him and turned toward the bathroom to change. "Only a few hours, yeah?"
"Only a few hours."
Really, she should have known better than to trust that grin.
Several hours later she awoke slowly; something solid had replaced her nice, soft pillow and was pulling her closer. What the bloody hell? She sat bolt upright and looked down to where she had been laying so comfortably only a moment ago, to where Methos was looking at her very strangely.
"Sorry," she mumbled as she leaned back down, curling up against his chest, "but last time I was conscious you were a pillow."
"What?"
She would have replied, but something shiny caught her attention; something shiny and sword-shaped. "That's my sword," she muttered. Then it hit her. That lying bastard! Now she was angry. "That's my sword! You left me!" Leaping off the bed, she grabbed one of the pillows and smacked him with it. "You ass!"
"Hey!" he shouted, raising his arm to protect himself from the feathered assault weapon. "I did NOT leave you! I-"
But Julia wasn't listening. She was mad and she had every right to be. "If you didn't leave, then how did my sword get here?"
Another smack with the pillow.
Only this time instead of blocking it, he grabbed it and used it to pull her to him, spinning her around so that her back was to him as she fell. He hugged her tightly to him, probably to prevent further attacks with the pillow. "I did not leave," he hissed in her ear. "I sent Amanda to get it, and had her call me to pick it up downstairs so as not to wake you."
"Who?"
"Amanda," he repeated. "She's a...friend...of MacLeod's."
Suddenly she had become the bad guy. Great. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm horrible."
"And I'm an arrogant pain in the ass," he shot back in monotone. "You want a beer?"
Turning herself so she was sitting sideways in his lap, she smiled softly and slid an arm behind his back. "First thing in the morning?"
He sighed and smiled, making Julia's heart melt. "There's just no pleasing you, is there?"
"I would love a tea."
"Tea?" he repeated, smile still firmly in place. "You're not going to change your mind? Not too early in the morning?"
"You're mocking me!" That damned smile of his continued beaming down at her. "Just make the tea." Laughter erupted again, this time from both of them, as he scooped her up in his arms as he stood, then dropped her on the bed like a dead weight and walked toward the kitchen, followed by a pillow that just barely missed his head.
Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus watched angrily as Iulia Caesaris--his wife, the woman who was supposed to be his and only his, the woman who was (supposedly) carrying his child--sat down on the steps of the Templum Concordiae next to Marcus Vitus Tertius. Tertius, the insufferable man, seemed intent on stealing his property.
He could hardly go to Caesar about this, the man actually liked and trusted Tertius; but he knew better, saw Tertius for who and what he really was.
The only problem was that he had seen the other man fight. It was only the once, but it was enough to know that Tertius was faster, had more strength, and was in better shape than he was.
So, what could he do? He needed Iulia to keep favour with her father and it really would do his reputation no good to have his wife...cavorting with another man. Especially a man like Tertius, who clearly held more favour with Caesar than he did.
He tore his gaze from his enemy to his wife, then trailed his eyes down to the bulge in her stomach. When they'd had trouble conceiving, rather than risk Caesar's wrath, Gnaeus had decided to stage a false pregnancy to save face.
A devious smile cut its way across his face as a plan began to form.
Pompey shook his head to clear the memory, the action only making his head ache more. He grimaced in pain.
Tertius.
Julia had to be with him.
"Find Tertius, find the wayward wife," he muttered angrily to himself.