Q Me?

Chapter 1: Grumpy Old Men

                I froze the last chair halfway to the floor as Duncan MacLeod burst into the bar with a blast of warm May air and brilliant sunlight at his heels.   I threw up a hand and squinted against the light as the door swung shut behind him.  I smiled even though I could tell from the way he was blinking that his eyes still hadn't adjusted to the dim light in the bar; I was still seeing little bright rectangles myself, "Hey, Mac, we're not open yet but…"

He cut me off tersely, "What do you know about an Immortal named Ariel?"

"Ariel" I mumbled in reply more than half to myself and shook my head, "doesn't ring any bells; never heard of her."

"Him" Duncan all but growled.

I considered a witty retort but Mac didn't look to be in the mood so I just turned and led the way into my office.   

I casually scratched the itchy spot on my chin while wondering if I dared to ask what had provoked his fury and decided silence was the better part of valor.   I shook my head apologetically,  "Sorry, Mac, I don't have anything on an Immortal named Ariel."

"What about under a different name?" he snarled deep in his throat.

"Male" I left the word hanging.

"White" he ground out "Blond hair and blue eyes."  His eyes took on a familiar far away look as the drive whirled.

Earlier that morning…

                Duncan tried to jog and laugh at the same time finally giving up in favor of shaking his head at the trim Latino man in sweats who was studying him intently.   Duncan stifled another chuckle and returned the other man's intense gaze.  A bead of sweat rolled down from beneath his salt-and-pepper hair and followed one of the few deep creases on his face.  He was blowing a bit harder than Duncan was but not by much.  It was clear he kept himself ruthlessly trim but the ravages of age were beginning to make themselves felt.

"So, Mr. MacLeod," he said with only the slightest trace of an accent, "Do we have a deal?"

Duncan nodded and then smiled openly as he put out a hand.  Duncan stiffened into sudden alertness as the two were shaking jovially.   Duncan quickly scanned the empty heavily mulched park trail and then turned his gaze to the thin underbrush that lined the path.

"Mac, is…" Duncan's companion began but never finished as a silenced bullet put a crimson hole through his right temple.

"Carlos!" Duncan caught him as his knees buckled his face still frozen in a state of mild concern.  Any hope that the small caliber bullet had deflected off the skull was dashed as his head tilted forward revealing the complete ruin of the back of his head.  Duncan let the body fall and charged in the direction from which the shot had come. 

                Duncan quartered the busy street with his eyes as he propelled himself down the berm that separated the park from the bustling city thoroughfare.  A tall blond man turned, his long fingers casually combing a dead leaf from his wavy shoulder length mane, and tilted his head in a minimal gesture of acknowledgement.   Duncan stormed down the hill while the man leaned artistically against a tree waiting lackadaisically.  

"I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod" Duncan growled aggressively.

The man arched one honey-brown brow and studied him with eyes the color of fine Kashmir sapphires, "Has anyone ever told you how incredibly redundant that sounds?" he returned mellowly.

Duncan glared a response.  

The other smiled sardonically, amused "Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, you have garnered quite a reputation recently.  Jacob Kells, Kronos, Haresh Clay, Kalas, Greyson" he paused "Connor MacLeod.  One might surmise that you are eliminating the competition."

"Who are you?" Mac demanded "A fan?"

"No" the other replied in a flat tone.

"Why not?" Mac shot back "Were they friends of yours?"

"I never met Hyde or Kalas though Kalas did kill two of my students.  When Carter died Haresh died with him, MacLeod, all you did was deal the final blow.  Greyson, now Greyson had potential, a pity he squandered it, but then he did have the misfortune of being trained by" the voice dripped disgust "Darius.  As for Jacob Kells, he had the poor taste to set his first posse on me."

Mac took another step forward "Then why are you still here?"

The other's look was filled with a withering condensation "Because they are not."

"You killed all of them?" Mac's tone was filled with disbelief.

"Yes, I did" the blond replied without a trace of bragging "Kells survived only because he was prudent enough not to Challenge me, will you show as much wisdom, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod?"

Mac advanced again until they were almost touching, amusement glittered in the other's blue eyes.

"I'm asking for the last time who are you?"  

The man took a step back, gave him a graceful half-bow while snapping the heels of his soft, blue suede boots, "Ariel, of nowhere in particular."

"I've never heard of you" Mac snapped back.

Ariel lifted a shoulder in a minimal shrug "I have expended a fair amount of effort into not acquiring a reputation nor have I spent much of these last few millennia in the company of our kind."

"You just killed a good man" Duncan accused taking a threatening step forward into Ariel's space, again.

"Did I?" Ariel asked pensively "Are you sure?"

"Are you saying you didn't kill him?"

"Oh, no, Mr. MacLeod, I pulled the trigger" he continued in a scholarly tone, "What is the measure of a man, MacLeod?  What separates the sheep from the goats?  Is there such a thing as a 'good' man?"

"We're not discussing philosophy.  We're discussing murder" Duncan spat.  "What did he do to you?"

"Me?" Ariel looked a bit surprised, "Personally?  Absolutely nothing, never met the man."  He shrugged elegantly, "I owed someone a favor; they requested his death as repayment."

Duncan was momentarily at a loss for words.  Ariel pivoted serenely and began to stride smoothly away.

"There can be only one" he clipped each word off tersely.

Ariel turned back.  "You are Challenging me?" he sounded almost stunned before resuming his more neutral tone.  "You are young, MacLeod, and I can see my reputation no longer proceeds me."  A trace of subtle menace threaded its way into his voice "So I'll pretend I did not hear that."

Duncan grabbed Ariel's upper arm eliciting a laser sharp glare, "Let's go.  Now."

Ariel looked amused and waved at the early morning hustle with his free hand, "While it might be an interesting idea, I do not think either of us wants a Quickening in the middle of Monday morning rush and it would make for one hellacious traffic jam.  Hardly the place nor I think the time" he glanced at his watch "You have half an hour before a third grade class on a nature tour stumbles across Mr. Gonzalas' body" he gave Duncan a shark's grin, "It should be a very educational sight don't you think?"

Duncan tightened his grip, "When?"

Ariel smiled condescendingly, "I am not in the habit of killing children, Mr. MacLeod but if you insist on pursuing this matter I will be in town until Friday.  You can call my secretary."  His tone turned deadly serious, "I do not Hunt and I do not issue Challenges and I do not grant quarter to those who come after me.  Once blade meets blade there will be no surrender and no retreat.  Is Carlos Gonzalas worth your head?"  He slipped easily out of Duncan's grip and flowed the rest of the way down the hill. 

                Mac shook his head for the umpteenth time, "That isn't him either."  I rubbed my face and tapped a few keys, "That's all of them, Mac.  We just don't have him in the active files.  I can put research on the cold files but… it's gonna be a while.  Most of them aren't in the computer system yet.  Most aren't even in modern languages.  And there are a hell of a lot of them.  Give me a minute and I'll access Kell's file and see if we have anything."  I thought for a moment, "Do you think you could sketch him?" I explained at Mac's questioning look, "If he's only visiting, odds are he flew in.  We have a girl at the airport who supposedly watches for incoming Immortals."  I looked a Mac hopefully, "Please tell me he was good looking, she always notices good looking men."

"She'll have noticed this one then; he has the face of an archangel."

I gave him an inquisitive look but he'd already picked up a pad and pencil, "I'm not an artist you know."

I managed to catch his eye, "Archangel?"

"It took me awhile but I finally placed where I'd seen his face before.  Some sixth century sculptor used him as a model for St. Michael.  I first saw the piece when me da took Robert and I with him to visit one of the Great Men in the Lowlands in 1607."  His voice took on a bit of his native brogue as he reminisced,

"I'd never seen anything like it before, Joe.  The great castle on the hill and all the pomp and finery, I thought Heaven could be no greater than Sterling.  Robert and I were sneakin' aboot, explorin' when we come 'pon it."  His eyes widened slightly as he was caught reliving some childhood fear.  "It was guarding the chapel doorway, an archangel with a mighty sword."  His face made it clear that the boys had been up to more than innocent play.  "I dinna know who the sculptor was Joe but I swear he made it look alive.  As if cold marble would suddenly swing that great sword in a fiery arch and strike doon the unrepentant.  Whenever I thought of avenging angels I always thought of that statue with it's inhumanly beautiful face and the coldest eyes I'd ever seen."

I drank a sip of the warm beer perched precariously next to my mouse, "Don't you mean hansom?"

Mac shook his head, "No."  He erased a line and retraced it, "I mean beautiful, almost androgynous, and I'd thought entirely too perfect to belong to a real person."

"You knew at nine it was an eleventh century piece?"

He shook his head while frowning critically at his handwork.  He crumpled the sketch and started over,

"No I tried to buy it 1934 but the owner wasn't willing to sell.  It was a casualty of the Blitz."  He shook his head ruefully, "Pity, it was a masterpiece to rival anything by Michelangelo."

"Michael the Archangel." I mused a hunch taking form in the back of my mind.  I swiveled back to the computer and logged onto the Internet.  Duncan glanced up at me from his sketch.

"Did you know that Ariel Aviation is opening a new operation in Paris this week?"

"Ariel Aviation" Mac repeated "Don't you think that's reaching for a connection?"

"Maybe" I replied tapping a finger impatiently while the graphics file took its dear sweet time downloading,  "Or maybe not.  Ariel Aviation's president and founder is a gent named Michael Montrose.  He's supposed to be some sort engineering genius.  He's already won the Nobel twice.  He came out of nowhere about five years ago."

"That doesn't make him Immortal, Joe."

"No" I allowed "No, it doesn't.  But like I said he came out of nowhere and then he wouldn't give the press an interview for over a year.  Then back in 2005 when he first won the Nobel he gave the CNN an interview.  Amy and I'd just had a rather spectacular fight and I guess when Methos called the next day I must have sounded pretty depressed 'cause he showed up later that week…"

                "What are you doing to my kitchen?"  I gave Methos a dubious look from the couch.  Methos glanced up from his chopping, "You said you wanted to try something historical, so, I'm making something historical."

"You didn't tell me it was going to take over six hours."

Methos scraped the contents of the chopping block into a pot.  He gave the contents of the pot a stir and took a sip before answering, "Tradition Joe, you can't rush these things."

"I'm starving."

"Anticipation is the best seasoning." Methos returned dryly.

"Is that your way of telling me you're a lousy cook?"

"You'll just have to wait and see." Methos said as he settled himself comfortably in the overstuffed brown chair.  "What's on?" he asked before taking a drink of his beer.

"Michael Montrose's interview on CNN"

"So the enigmatic genius finally emerges," he said cynically, "How much do you think they paid him to come out."

"Maybe the guy just values his privacy" I suggested.

Methos smirked in response before tipping his bottle back and then spewing beer all over my clean living room.

"Hey!" I protested "What's the big idea?"

I turned to give him a tongue-lashing but stopped abruptly.  His face had been leeched of every speck of color as he stared at the screen in utter astonishment.  His hand shook slightly as he set the remnants of his beer on the coffee table and you could taste the tension emanating from him.

"Methos" I said concerned; he just ignored me, "Who is he?"

Methos slumped back and gave a weary sigh, "Michael Montrose I presume."

I looked at the man on the screen, "Is he Immortal?"

"The Buzz doesn't travel well via satellite, Joe." The quip carried none of its usual sting. 

"So why did you just look like you'd seen a ghost."

"Not a ghost, Joe" he replied tiredly, "A doppelganger.  He's the spitting image a very good friend who's been dead almost four thousand years."  He swallowed quietly, "I think I'll go check on the lentils."

                I shrugged at Mac, "I didn't press him on it, but I've wondered."  The graphics file finally opened and I swiveled the monitor back in Mac's direction.  Mac took one look and declared stonily,

 "That's him."

He picked up the phone and started dialing.

"What are you doing?"

Mac shrugged "He said to call his secretary."

I rose with a groan and asked, "Do you need anything to drink?"

Mac shook his head while asking information to connect him to Ariel Aviation's main desk.  I turned and made a beeline for the nearest phone.  I carefully removed the receiver.

"Ah, Mr. MacLeod" if this was Ariel then he had a very pleasant tenor voice "I am impressed it only took you seven hours thirty four minutes to find me and you spent over four of that with the Parisian police.  You know" he continued amiably "An anonymous tip would have been just as effective and far less time consuming."

"I don't need your advice" Mac replied flatly.

Ariel made a neutral sound, "Diane do you have my itinerary for the next few days?  … Thank you, and please hold all my calls for the next few minutes."  Ariel sighed "Do you still plan on pursuing your Challenge, Mr. MacLeod?"

"When?"

"Tomorrow, 4:30 in the afternoon.  May I suggest a venue or did you have one chosen already?"

My but this guy is terribly genteel about this.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Two years ago I purchased several old hangers on the periphery of the airfield.  They are scheduled for demolition next month.  Private, plenty of room to maneuver, relatively few breakables, and any damage is a moot point, all in all an ideal local.  The address is 1521 Rue de Champs if that's amiable with you."

"No guns"

Ariel sounded amused, "Mr. MacLeod, there is no need to be insulting." He continued in a more serious tone, "I assume from your introduction that you consider yourself a Highland Scot, is there somewhere I should take your body?"  He paused and when Mac didn't respond he went on in an even tone without a trace of mockery, "What did you think I was going to do?  Stuff you in bag with a bunch of rocks and toss you in the Seine?"

"You seem very confident" Mac accused.

"I am" Ariel replied, I think a bit sadly.

"Well, just in case I surprise you what would you like done with your body?"

"You're perfectly welcome to leave it lie on the hanger floor or if you'd rather avoid having another headless body found you may dispose of it however you like."  His tone clearly communicated his doubt that the information would be required, "And yourself?"

"My requests have already been made in my will."

"Until tomorrow then, Mr. MacLeod." Ariel hung up the phone with a gentle click.

"Joe" Mac called from the doorway "didn't your mother ever tell you that it's impolite to eavesdrop?"

I gave a sheepish shrug and a hopeful grin in response.

He released a long-suffering sigh and asked "So what do you think?"

"I think he sounds arrogant and over-confident." I checked my watch, "I also think Methos' flight hasn't left yet, why don't you call him and find out something about this guy?"

Mac shook his head, "Either he told you the truth, which means he doesn't know anything, or he lied to you which means he'd probably just lie to me too.  Anything in Kell's file?" 

I frowned at the screen "Kell had three posses.  He definitely killed the second and third himself but there is some doubt as to what exactly happened to the first. Four Watchers near the scene, one on Kells, one on Kate, two on the posse.  Two reported that the posse was pursuing a dark haired elegantly dressed woman.  The others mentioned only Kells and his posse entering the warehouse.  A few hours later Kells and Kate left together in a hurry. Two Watchers followed Kells and Kate while the other two settled in to wait for the posse to leave.   A few hours after that the warehouse owner came with a crew and discovered all five members of the posse decapitated.   There was no sign of the dark haired woman, she was never seen leaving nor was her body ever found.  The most interesting thing was though that there was no sign of any Quickenings, no broken glass, no explosions, nothing."  I shrugged and looked at Mac "the kills were credited to Kells." 

"But they weren't" Mac observed.  I didn't even bother to suggest that he call Kate to find out how Ari had pulled it off.  Good Lord but that was one high maintenance bitch.  She wasn't as bad as say Christen but I wouldn't want to have her at my back. 

I called the photo of Michael Montrose back up "If he did kill Kell's posse, then he is good, Mac.  You be careful, my friend."

"Thanks for the help, Joe."

I almost asked Mac's retreating back if being a friend of Methos' carried an automatic death sentence but then Methos hadn't exactly had the best taste in friends.  Damn stubborn Immortal.  I am too old for this.

                The next afternoon I was buffing glasses and trying desperately to ignore the clock when Methos sauntered in.   

"Hey, Joe" he slid onto a stool.  I set a longneck of his favorite brew in front of him. 

"You need to get a better pair of eyes than Nathalie at the airport" he mumbled around a pretzel.  Five thousand years old, I thought irreverently, and he still hasn't learned not to talk with food in his mouth. 

"I spotted Amanda at La Gare.  I figured I'd only be a third wheel if I went straight to the barge."

He looked up from his beer and his eyes narrowed, "Is something wrong, Joe?"

I set the glass aside the chill I'd felt since hearing that absolute confidence in Ariel's voice coming to the fore, "Amanda won't find him at home."

Methos obviously drew the correct conclusion, "Anyone I know?"

I gave the glass a last swipe and set it on the counter, "I don't know," I said, looking him straight in the eye, "The name Ariel mean anything to you?"

"Ari-El?" Methos echoed as the color drained from his face "Where, Joe? When?"  There was a frantic note in his voice that filled me with dread.

I glanced at the clock "Out on Rue de Champs in about ten minutes."

"Do you know exactly where?" He didn't bother to wait for my reply but started rushing me out the door.  His worry communicated itself to me and he caught me as I stumbled.  We nearly collided with Amanda in the doorway.

"Hey, guys, what's the rush?"

Methos didn't even bother to acknowledge her in his headlong run for the Jimmy.  She followed us into the vehicle, barely making it in before Methos squealed out of the lot.

"There's no way we can make it in ten minutes, Methos.  At this time of day we'll be lucky to make it in forty-five."  Methos whipped around the corner before replying, "Then let's hope one of them is late."

                A Lamborghini pulled up neatly along side the black Citroen in front of the dilapidated building.  Ariel slid out of the car.  His long hair was tied back in a neat French braid.

"You're early" Mac commented from his perch on the hood of the Citroen.

Ariel shrugged out of his suit jacket before replying, "I managed to wrap-up my last meeting a little more expediently than I thought."  His tie joined the jacket on the front seat.  He reached into his slacks pocket, tossed Mac a ring of keys, and nodded toward the building while unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"You're welcome to check the premises if you like."

Mac showed his teeth in a parody of a smile "I'll just wait for you" he said in his best 'I don't think so' tone.  Ariel flipped the shirt onto the growing pile and revealing the skin tight Lycra exercise outfit beneath.

"Are you always this suspicious Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod?" he asked as slid out of the slacks and shoes.  Mac only glowered in response.  Ariel looked highly amused as he pulled his blue suede boots out of the car.  He made a great show of proving them nonthreatening before sliding them on.  He turned slowly acting like a model on a runway.  He gave Mac an indulgent look, "Since I would be hard pressed to hide a sheet of paper under this, do you feel assured I am not going to pull a gun on you?"

Mac's face hardened at Ariel's patronizing tone.  Ariel pulled a plain bastard sword out of the back seat and asked, "Do you still think Carlos Gonzalas was a good man?"

"This is about the fact that you're a cold-blooded, remorseless murderer."

"Well" Ariel said reflectively as he made his way across the cracked macadam, "I do try to avoid doing things I would feel remorseful about, after all remorse is such a tiring little emotion."  He dropped the pretense from his voice and said coldly, "Better cold-blooded certainty than hot-blooded folly."

Mac tossed back the ring of keys and Ariel unlocked the doors, swinging them wide so that the afternoon sun could prove that no one lurked in wait. He flipped a few switches and the electric lights flickered reluctantly on.  He slid the doors shut and inserted the key in the lock but left it unturned,

"I suppose you have gone and made this a matter of honor and any attempt to dissuade is going to be a waste of breath?"

"You don't believe in honor, do you?" Mac asked savagely.

Ariel opened his mouth to respond and then thought better of it and simply shook his head a little tiredly.  He turned the key in the lock and hung the ring on a convenient nail.

"Who am I to stand in the way of someone else's suicidal tendencies?" He asked no one in particular before pacing to the center of the hanger floor.  He turned with his sword in a defensive position waiting for Mac to make the first move.  Mac thrust, Ariel parried and steel met steel with ringing clash.

                I swallowed my heart for the fourth or fifth time as Methos squealed around another turn.  I know I felt the tires leave the ground that time.  Amanda leaned forward apparently unconcerned with our immanent demise, but then she would survive "What's the rush?"

Methos ignored her in favor of concentrating on his driving.

"So you lied to me, you do know this Ariel" I glared at the back of Methos' head while stealing myself against another near collision.

"Blade?" Amanda asked "Blade's in town?"

I felt my heart sink at those words, Blade was as much a legend to the Watchers as Methos was a myth to young Immortals.  Blade the ultimate, unbeatable swordsman, oh shit.

"Mac seems to have challenged him" I told Amanda.

"Can't this thing go any faster!" Amanda shrieked at Methos just as we skidded around a corner into rush hour gridlock.

                Amanda was out of the Jimmy before it stopped and was immediately tugging at the hanger doors. She was on her knees picking the lock before Methos and I even cleared the vehicle.  Methos set an ear to the doors and seemed to slump with relief, "I can hear swords."   Amanda gave out a triumphant cry and Methos flung the doors open just in time to see Mac's katana make a spinning arc though the air.  His gleaming opponent backed off clearly giving him an opportunity to make a dive for the sword but Mac just swayed in glassy-eyed fatigue.  I'd thought Michael Montrose looked too good in his pictures, I found out that I was wrong.  Ariel wasn't very photogenic at all.  The creature standing before Mac looked like one of Sister Mary Catherine's warrior angels come down to earth.  He was preternaturally beautiful.  The sun caught in his golden hair making it into a glowing halo.  His pale Lycra outfit captured the light making him into a gleaming golden figure.  He watched Mac like a starving man watches bread.  He raised his flashing sword for the kill.

"Mac!" Amanda screamed and he seemed to loose some of the stupor that had held him.  Ariel let him snatch up his sword.  He waited patiently for Mac to make the next move.  It was then that I realized that Mac was trembling slightly.  As the two opponents circled each other I got a good look at Mac's face; in the thirty-five minutes it had taken us to get here Ariel had taught Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod fear.  Mac's clothes looked like they'd gone through a shredder but there wasn't a drop of blood on him.  I was awed at the skill it would take to make those dozens of slashes in the heat of battle without once nicking your adversary.  Mac was drenched with sweat and gasping like a fish.  In contrast Ariel hadn't a hair out of place.  The man had run Duncan MacLeod into the dirt and hadn't even broken a sweat doing it.  Mac's next thrust was slow and clumsy, clearly fatigued.  Ariel's sword slid deftly inside Mac's breached defenses and opened him in a long diagonal from under his left shoulder to his right hip.  I winced as I heard the distinct sound of a lung collapsing.  Mac went down on his hands and knees at Ariel's feet.  Amanda made a small sound in her throat.  Ariel placed his foot over Mac's katana as he pivoted slightly to meet Methos' advance.  Methos stopped about two yards short of the combatants with his hands spread in a gesture of peace.

"Please don't."  Methos pled

The swordsman's eyes were sapphire hard, "Do I know you?"

Methos flinched as if he'd been slapped and took a step forward.  Ariel brought his sword up in a ready position.  Mac's blood trickled down the blade to pool on the swooping guards.

"Brother?" Methos whispered his voice full of hurt and betrayal.

Ariel's eyes and tone were icy "I had a brother named Methos once.  We rode together into the Cities of the Plain.  He died there and Death rode out in his place."

Ariel raised his sword to administer the coup de grace.

"Do it, Old Man, and I'm next."

'Old Man?' I thought.

Ariel's eyes screamed contempt, "You can not beat me in a fair fight, Ad-Am"

"I don't plan on a fair fight" there was a cold savageness in Methos' voice

"Do you really think" Ariel asked quietly but with a confidence that chilled me my marrow "that even if you attack at the height of the Quickening that you have any hope of prevailing?"

Methos didn't reply but the set of his shoulders made his agreement clear.  Ariel sneered and raised his sword.  Methos shouted, "You owe me Blade!"

Ariel pulled up mid-swing to blink incredulously at Methos.  For several long moments the only sound in the hanger was the bubbling whistle of Mac's ruined lung.  "If anyone was in debt when our relationship ended, it was not I."

"Then allow me one last debt, for old times sake."

Ariel inclined his head graciously as Mac suddenly drew in a normal breath.  Ariel let his blade gently caress the back of Mac's neck while looking at Methos expectantly.  Methos swallowed audibly,

"Me for him."

Ariel's calm composure cracked for the first time, "What?"

Mac's head snapped up, "Meth…" he began before whatever he was going to say was lost to a violent coughing fit.  He shook his head vehemently.

Ariel stared at Methos, "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"You take my head and Mac walks out of here."

"Why?"

"I want him to live" Methos replied quietly.

Ariel wove the fingers of his right hand through Mac's short dark hair and yanked him up.  Mac winced as Ariel's grip on his scalp tightened.  Ariel pivoted to gain maneuvering room and then used his sword to fling the bloody, tattered remnants of Mac's shirt away.  It landed in a soft, wet heap at Methos' feet.  Little jags of lightening were finishing filling in the wound Ariel's sword had inflicted.

"Is he your lover, Ad-Am?" Ariel asked with a haughty sneer as he bent down and ran his tongue seductively over Mac's shoulder, playing teasingly along the newly healed skin.  He chuckled at the look on Mac's face as he brought his sword back to bear on Mac's throat.

"Pity" his tone and manner were so much like Grayson's that it sent an involuntary shiver up my spine "This one's as straight as they come but then you never were terribly protective of you flings."  Ariel pulled back clearly meaning to finish what our arrival had interrupted.

"Blade!" Methos dropped to his knees, pleading, "Please.  One of us is the eldest the other second.  Doesn't that make my head worth more than that of a four hundred year old child?"

"You know my rule, Ad-Am, no one comes after my head and lives" Ariel returned impatiently. 

"And I know you've made at least one exception."

"I am not a fool, Ad-Am.  I do not make the same mistake twice." Ariel gave Methos a long stare, "You are a lot of things, Ad-Am, but suicidal is not one of them.  You are packing a gun, a few well placed rounds and you and your friends can walk out of here."

Methos shook his head, "I know you, Old Man, if I did that you'd pursue both of us to the ends of the earth."

Ariel inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, "While I hate to mention it but why not just shot me and take my head?"

"NEVER" Methos denied. His eyes bore into Ariel's "I'd rather die myself."

Ariel let out the most mirthless laugh I'd ever heard, "You expect me to believe that there are not one but two people on this Earth that Death would die for?   I suppose you've a wonderful deal on bridge property in Brookline for me as well."

"I'm not lying, Blade."

"Really?" Ariel hissed in response his eyes filling with fury.  He flipped Mac's katana up, caught it neatly in his right hand, and flung it away before leaving Mac to stand over Methos.

"When I rescued you, you did not have so much as a name to call your own.  I taught you to speak, to think, to reason, to read, to cipher, to fight, to survive.  I made you a man instead of the mad drooling thing you were when I found you.  And when you could appreciate what I was giving you I called you brother."  With each word Methos seemed to shrink a little "And shared all I had with you" Ariel paused a moment and I could hear pain mixed in with the arrogance and anger. "When I ruled as the King Beneath the Mountain, I gave you the best of my kingdom, from the food on my table, to the horses and hounds in my stable, to the courtesans that served me, to the riches in my storehouse.  I shared my dreams, my plans, and my visions with you."  A slightly puzzled note entered Ariel's voice "Did you want for anything in the two millennia we rode together?" 

"No" Methos whispered.

"Were you unhappy? Did you wish to leave? Was I cruel?"

Methos raised his head to look Ariel in the eye, "Never.  The years with you were the happiest of my life, I wish our paths had never parted."

Ariel's voice was completely neutral as he asked simply, "Why?"

Methos opened his mouth to retort, closed it, opened it again, and finally just returned his gaze to the floor.

All of the arrogance returned abruptly and he gave another mirthless laugh, "You betrayed me to torture and worse to save your own hide.  And when we finally escaped you abandoned me blind on the desolate plain.  Now, four thousand years later you expect me to believe you care if I live or die?"

Ariel waited with his sword hanging like a sentence of doom between Mac and Methos.  After a long pause he hissed, "Lie to somebody else."  Methos leapt just as Ariel started to move.  Only Ariel's blindingly fast pivot saved Methos from death.  A thin ribbon of fresh blood trailed down Ariel's sword to mingle with Mac's.  Ariel let the tip drop until it rested lightly on the hanger floor and then asked coldly

"What, exactly did you think you were doing?"

"Finishing this discussion."

Ariel's face twitched and I thought I saw a flicker of amusement cross his face, "And botching the job as usual."

Methos ran his thumb through the bloody rent that ran across his collarbone and shoulders, "It would have worked if you hadn't moved"

Ariel stifled a smile, definitely amused.  Something cold and hard started to unknot in my gut until I realized Methos was just as tense as when we'd burst in.

"That is hardly the most efficient or effective way to go about it" Ariel observed dryly.

Methos gave an equally dry chuckle "Trust you to make effectiveness your primary concern." The two shared a look I couldn't interpret and then Methos reached out and grabbed Ariel's arm.

"I owe you debt I could never begin repay.  One last favor, Old Man of the Mountain, Mac's life in exchange for mine."

"NO!" Mac thundered.  Ariel arched a brow at Methos, "It sounds to me like it's him you need to convince."

"MacLeod" Methos began only to have Mac cut him off savagely, "Nobody dies for me Methos. NOBODY."

"It isn't just for you, MacLeod, I've a debt I need to repay."

"And after four thousand years you just happened to pick today?" Mac's voice dripped sarcasm.

Methos shrugged, "Maybe I was waiting for the tab to run high enough."

"While this is all very touching" Ariel interjected, sounding both annoyed and amused, "I do have plans for this evening.  Shall I return later when you've decided?"

"There's nothing to decide" Mac snapped back "Hamza died because of a fight I instigated, nobody else dies for me."

Methos winced at Mac's words as all amusement bled from Ariel's face.

"Highlander" Methos said slowly and intensely "Live, grow stronger, and never challenge my brother again."

"So" Ariel began his tone low and deadly, "You are the reason Hamza never met me in Tunis in 1653."

As soon as Mac's attention was firmly fixed on Ariel Methos drew his Beretta and put a round into Mac's chest.  Mac barely had time to flash a betrayed look at Methos before crumpling into a still heap on the hanger floor.

Ariel glanced at Methos who shrugged, "It was a boring conversation anyway."

"What, exactly, is going to prevent me from taking his head after I take yours?" Ariel inquired in a conversational tone.

"You won't" Methos said in utter certainty "You may not be the Boy Scout MacLeod is but you have your own honor, even if you'd never admit to it.  No, if you accept the exchange you'll stand by it and so will MacLeod."

Ariel dipped his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement.  Methos drew a deep breath and straightened, "Cut clean."

Ariel looked vaguely insulted at the insinuation that he might not.  Amanda buried her head in my shoulder with a whisper, "I can't watch."  I wrapped one arm around her as I felt tears building behind my own eyes.  Ariel turned for a better angle, or maybe he was just sparing us sight of the final instant, but whatever the reason all I could see was Ariel's back.  He swung the sword swift and sure for Methos' unprotected neck.  I braced myself for the Quickening but instead I saw a shudder run up Ariel's spine.  I was flabbergasted as he tossed his sword away and lifted Mac's body.  Methos' eyes snapped open at the sound of Ariel's sword striking the floor.  He had just enough time to brace himself before Mac's corpse slammed into him.  Ariel wheeled and strode over, with that strange rolling walk of his, to where Mac's katana lay.  As he dropped it at Methos' feet Methos reached out a hand with a look of such joy and elation that his face seemed to glow, "You believed me."

Ariel recoiled, batted Methos' blood besmirched hand away, and spat "No.  If there is one thing I taught you, Ad-Am , it is how to weight a risk.  You always were a master of manipulation."  Ariel directed his gaze to Mac's limp form as Methos cradled it to him. 

"Make sure he understands" Ariel's tone was one of icy chill, "If he ever challenges me again, you both die."

With that comforting statement Ariel turned his back on Methos and went to reclaim his own sword.  Methos turned his head, his eyes tracking Ariel's every movement.  A single tear hovered on the rim of his eyelid to slip unnoticed down his cheek.  There was such a lost, forlorn look in Methos' eyes that it was almost frightening.  He clutched Mac's body tighter, like a five-year-old taking comfort from a teddy bear.  He ducked his head against Mac's dark hair as silent tears flowed ever faster down his cheeks to gleam like jewels in Mac's hair.  He looked up with pathetic hope as Ariel spoke again, "I trust" Methos flinched at the stress Ariel placed on the word, "that I can depend on you to lock up when you leave."

Methos' voice was surprisingly steady, "And where would you like the keys sent?"

"Oh" Ariel replied carelessly, "There is no need to trouble yourself on my account.  I have other copies."

"It's no trouble" Methos returned in an odd, strained tone.

I watched a look of concern wash over Ariel's face and I thought he was going to soften the blow.  Then the anger returned and he strode towards the door with firm resolve.  I sighed to myself at the futility of it all, Ariel may have cut Methos to the quick but he sliced himself in the process.  I stopped ruminating in surprise as Amanda suddenly stepped forward at her most coquettish.

"I'm Amanda.  Rebecca spoke of you, often."

Ariel paused and took Amanda's outstretched hand with a sympathetic look, "Rivkah was a steadfast friend." He shot a satisfied look at Methos as the barb struck home before continuing earnestly, "I share your grief.  She was an exceptional woman."  I thought I saw real sorrow in his eyes.  Amanda looked down, a bit subdued, "Yes she was."  Amanda shot me a questioning look.  I gave her a little nod of permission.  As Ariel started to continue toward the door Amanda caught his sleeve.  The look he gave her clearly signaled his displeasure.

"We're getting together a Joe's, Joe's bar" she shifted nervously, "Le Blues Bar Thursday night around eight."  She looked down at her feet and then back up at Ariel "I'd like to talk … about Rebecca, to remember her." She finished quickly "if you could make it."

"Maybe" Ariel replied but his tone said 'not likely'.  Methos shot her a look of pure gratitude as Ariel turned to walk out.  Ariel cast me a curious glance.  I surprised myself by stepping forward.

"Joe" I said putting out my hand.  'What the hell' I thought 'nothing ventured, nothing gained' "Joe Dawson."

Ariel had a very polite handshake, firm and confident without being overpowering. He glanced down at my wrist and arched a brow, "Do your … associates know that you are … fraternizing with your subjects?"

I nodded and I saw a touch of admiration in his eyes, "I look forward to hearing you sing."

My confusion must have been evident as I asked, "Why?"

"Because, musician, you must have a voice of solid gold to have talked your way out of an execution."

I frowned as I watched Ariel saunter out wondering why he wasn't in the Chronicles and who the Watcher was he'd known.  I saw the hope in Methos' eyes and just shook my head.  'Methos, my friend' I thought, 'you're just looking to get kicked while you're down.  'Ah, well' as you'd say, 'every cloud has a silver lining, maybe I'll finally get some straight answers about you.'

                "Amanda" Methos' command broke the silence Ariel had left in his wake, "get his feet.  Joe, could you hold the door?"

Amanda gingerly lifted Mac's feet while Methos grimaced under the weight of Mac's shoulders.

"I don't know why we're carrying him" Amanda complained "He's just going to revive soon anyway."

"I want out of here" Methos snapped and then said, "What are you complaining about?  You've got the light end anyway."

As they finished maneuvering Mac into the Jimmy Methos tossed Amanda the keys, "Do you mind taking Joe and Mac back to the barge.  I'd like a few minutes alone."

"Of course" Amanda replied.  Methos quickly fished Mac's keys out of his pocket.  Methos walked back and locked up before leaning against the Citroen.  I watched as Methos' slumped figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance

                We were back in traffic before Mac gasped and shot bolt upright in the back seat.  He looked around wildly and then grabbed my shoulder in an iron grip, "Where's Methos?"

"Calm down" I replied "Ariel didn't kill him."

"Where's Methos?" he repeated no less intensely.

"Driving your car back to the barge.  He's O.K."

Amanda gave a most unladylike snort, "That depends on your idea of O.K."

"What did he do to him because of me?"

It was my turn to snort, "No, not because of you, because of four thousand years of festering wounds."

"He wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for me."  Mac, as usual, was insisting on taking the blame.

"No" I allowed "He wouldn't have been there if you hadn't challenged Ariel but I think old wounds needed to be lanced."  I shook my head ruefully, "I just wish they were meeting on Holy Ground instead of my bar Thursday."

Mac frowned, "Who invited Ariel to Joe's party?"

Amanda shrugged sheepishly, "I did."

"Why?" Mac asked confused.

"Because Methos needed me to" she retorted in a tone that didn't invite further questions.  

 "Joe" Mac made it a question.

"It's O.K." I said, "It's not every day you get to meet an Immortal so old that even the Watchers consider him a legend."

"You only turn sixty once, Joe." Duncan reminded me.

"Then it might as well be memorable" I retorted echoing Amanda's no nonsense tone.  Mac settled back and stared sullenly out the window.  His eyes were far away seeing something out of his past.