Author's Note: Thanks for the kind words, dear readers. I didn't expect any response at all, so I'm thrilled. Be warned, I've got roughly 100 pages of this sitting on my computer right now. (Don't know how that's happened...) So more to come. And... since I'll be busy next week, you'll get another update tomorrow.

She had miraculously managed to do a couple of things before she had fallen into bed, completely drained and barely able to move. She had taken a cab home and called the office, telling the head secretary that she had a cold (which of course she didn't have, because immortals didn't get sick) and would have to stay at home for the next two days.

But now the telephone was ringing. Again and again and again. It was right next to her head on the bedside table. The sound was agonising. She mentally debated whether she should kick the phone with her foot or actually pick it up. It could be Amanda. No, she had given Amanda a quick call before she had gone to bed. She remembered now. So not Amanda then...

She groaned and finally picked up the phone. "Hello," she practically barked into the handset. Raising her voice was a bad idea. Headache!

The "hello" on the other side of the call was distinctly male and held a mixture of amusement and surprise. She let out a muffled groan and grimaced. Of course he would pick precisely that moment to call, when she was at her worst, irritable and with a pounding headache. She had no energy for mind games right now, no time to deliberate what second meaning his words could hold. All she could dish out right now was the undiluted truth. She was conflicted whether she should hang up on him immediately or just stick around and listen to what he had to say. After all it was the first time they talked since she left Paris, since she had told him who she really was.

Curiosity won out against sensibility. "Methos," she said finally. Her voice was rougher than usual thanks to sleep deprivation and exhaustion. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be so rude. I'm just...," she couldn't suppress a yawn, "really tired."

"What? Hungover?" Always teasing her, always trying to get under her skin.

"No, sword fight in the park. I won." Her lazy brain told her that this was the most bizarre statement she had uttered in a good while. As if on cue she made that observation out loud and immediately after hit her forehead with her hand in frustration. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

She almost expected to hear him chuckle at her comment. Except that he didn't. He seemed to be worried instead, which surprised her. "Are you alright?"

She gave his question some thought. "Not yet. But getting there," she finally said.

"This is a bad time...," he started.

"No," her interruption came almost reflexively. Now that they had started talking, she found it pleasant, even comforting in a way. Maybe she would feel better if she had some company. Even if it was just someone to talk to over the phone. After all Friedrich's taunting words were still echoing in her mind. "Don't hang up. I like hearing your voice." Now where did that come from? How trite! How needy! How very much unlike her! She didn't leave him any time to get in one of his sarcastic one-liners.

"God, I'm sorry! My brain is mush! I keep saying the most stupid things," she groaned. She was praying for him to just let it go. To just pretend like he hadn't heard what she had just said.

There was a long pause. She almost wanted to ask whether he still was there. "So you like hearing my voice...," he repeated. Of course, he wouldn't just let it go. She was too tired to analyse the tone of his voice. It would have told her whether he was disgusted or just plain and simply surprised by the news. She was in over her head, she realised.

"Listen," she sighed. "you were right. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all. Maybe I should just call you back once I had a nice, long nap..."

"No." This time it was not necessary to analyse his voice. Its tone was determined, bordering on adamant.

"Then I'll keep on blabbering like a fool. Sorry, but I seem to have no control over what I saying. Is that what you want?" She rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling.

"Fine with me."

She really was a bit slow on the uptake today. Of course, that was precisely what he wanted. "No, not good at all. We might not know a lot about each other, but I know enough about you to be able to tell that you'll pick me apart like... like some kind of insect... under... under a microscope," she was struggling with words, which was unusual, because words always came easy to her.

"Then let me be honest with you as well."

"Can you even do that?" the words were out of her mouth quickly. Only after having spoken them, she realised what she had said. "Fuck!" she swore under her breath. "I'm sorry. I repeat... brain mush... no good."

"Don't be. I chose to stick around, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I know. That's not how I wanted this call to go..."

"How did you want it to go?"

"I...," she hesitated.

"Come on, tell me," he encouraged her.

"Well, for starters I didn't want to insult you. I was going to flirt with you for a while before we would have touched some more serious conversation topics...," she could feel a blush spreading on her face and ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "There happy now?"

"And? Would you have been serious about the flirting?"

"What?" she almost let the handset drop.

"Answer the question," she could hear the smile in his voice even over the phone.

"Screw you!"

He actually chuckled at her insult.

Through the fog of her exhaustion suddenly something occurred to her. Maybe her brain hadn't completely gone bye-bye. It supplied her with a question. It was actually a good one, so she asked it out loud. "Would you have liked it?"

"What?"

"The flirting? Serious or not."

"Probably," he finally answered.

For a moment she was dumbfounded. "Haven't you read up on me?"

"I have."

"You have?" she repeated incredulously. "I'm surprised you're still talking to me. Much less calling me."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Listen, I don't want to persuade you otherwise. I'm glad you did call, despite of the many reasons you shouldn't have."

"Like the husbands and the many affairs?"

"Yes, for example," she finally admitted, letting out a breath she hadn't known she was holding in. "If it helps any, it's not like I have them lining up on my doorstep now. Most of men are just plain boring. You on the other hand..."

There was a waiting silence on the other end of the line. That last sentence needed some additional explanation. She was well aware of it. Luckily she had stopped herself in time before she could say something potentially embarrassing.

"Say it," he said simply. He wouldn't be happy until she confessed. So why not do it? After all that was what he wanted, right?

"You're not boring. There happy now?" She briefly waited for an answer from him which didn't come. She wasn't particularly happy with the direction this conversation had taken, so she muttered the next couple of sentences under breath ill-humouredly. "Seriously. We need to stop talking or I'll never be able again to look you in the eyes."

"Why? Because you've said that I'm not boring?" he paused briefly, probably contemplating whether he should say the next couple of words that lay on the tip of his tongue as well. He made a decision. "Well, big deal! Why do you think I called you? Simple as that. I like talking to you."

She smiled. She even allowed the smile to develop into a soft laugh.

"Methos?"

"Yes."

"I like talking to you too. But is there ever going to be a conversation with you were I'm not going to have to be constantly on my toes?"

"You're constantly on your toes? So don't be then. Relax, " She could hear him smile over the line. It was not as simple as he implied it was.

" I can't."

"Why not?"

She hesitated. "I'm not going to tell you."

"Trust issue?" he inquired. "Pretty common among immortals."

She laughed. "I'm not going to tell you."

"Well, then you're on your own," he sounded thoughtful, but also amused. "Good luck figuring that out. It's a though one."

"Indeed," she smiled and started playing with the cable of the phone. "Any advice?"

"Let me think about it. Nope. Not right now. Let me get back to you on that."

"You do that," she said and had to yawn again. "I think it's time for some shut eye again. I'm going to hang up on you now and go to sleep, okay?"

"Okay," he said simply.

"And, love? Feel free to call any time. Just not in the next couple of hours."

"Duly noted," a small pause followed and then he said the next words almost as an afterthought. "Sweet dreams, Liz." His voice was soft and she felt it lull her back to sleep. Her last conscious effort was to put the handset back on the phone.

He had the habit of calling her at the oddest times. Actually it was not so much his fault as it was hers, because she rarely happened to spend her free time doing something mundane like sitting at home and drinking a cup of tea. So he caught her when she was shoe shopping with a friend in Camden, later that week her cellphone kept ringing during her Ninjutsu class and on Friday he called her while she was watching a street artist's performance in Covent Garden. Despite his badly timed calls, she almost always answered the phone. Well, except for that one time when he caught her in martial arts class. She didn't quite fancy her trainer's foot on her neck while he lectured her on respect, concentration and all those other quintessential things she was lacking.

His calls would never start with something traditional like a 'hello'. He would just start talking about something or ask her a question. Sometimes she suspected he called at different times of the day just to find out what she was up to.

Today was Saturday. She was out with her friends. They were currently having a couple of pints at their favourite pub. Later they would catch a cab to the West End where they wanted to watch some stand-up comedian's show. Their group was occupying a couple of tables near the bar. There was teasing, laughing and harmless flirting. In short they were having a good time. And as if on cue her cellphone started ringing.

"Uh uh, it's Liz's mystery boyfriend calling again!" Carol exclaimed, the friend she had been shoe shopping with.

Suddenly Liz's cellphone was the centre of everybody's attention. It was unwanted attention mostly. "Shut up, Carol!" Liz laughed good-naturedly. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"Yeah, right. That's why you're smiling that mega-watt smile each time he calls you, dar'. Look, there we go again!" Carol tried to plug the ringing cellphone from her hands. The attempt was unsuccessful because Liz swatted her fingers away before she could grab it.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Gerard supplied looking pointedly at her phone.

She grimaced, now suddenly feeling self-conscience about picking up the phone. Nevertheless the temptation was simply to big and she quickly pressed the accept-call-button. "Hey there!" she said simply.

Apparently there was something funny about the way she had said those simple words because her friends started cajoling and making kissy faces to mock her.

"Shut up, you lot!" She pointedly looked at each and every one of her friends reproachfully. Being all stern and headmistress-like wasn't her speciality, but she could do it when the situation required it. Apparently it didn't quite do the trick, because her friends were still blowing her kisses when she stormed out.

"Hold on," she said into the cellphone and made her way through the bustling crowd to finally step out on the street. There it was significantly more quiet, but also much colder.

"Bad time again?" he didn't even have the decency to suppress the mirth in his voice.

"That's relative," she told him.

"I know. Sometimes I think you're a bit like a cat. You only go home to eat and sleep."

She grinned. "Sounds like you better put out a bowl of cream next time I get to Paris."

"Your friends were giving you a hard time?" Of course, he would pick up on that instead of her flirting. It was so typically him.

"Not particularly."

"Hmhm, sure." Great. Was it already time for the big guns? Sarcasm, irony and what not...

She decided to simply gloss over his comment. "So has MacLeod finally set his barge on fire? Is the Eiffel Tower still standing? Has Amanda already driven everyone batty?" she asked wrapping her jacket a little tighter around herself.

"The barge is still in one piece. McLeod is still too chivalrous for his own good. Amanda has left town again. Thank heavens for that, by the way! As for the Eiffel Tower... let me quickly check on that. Yap, still standing." It took her a moment to digest all the information he had cramped into just a couple of sentences and she didn't even get a chance to ask a question or comment on what he had just said, because he immediately followed up his last statement with a question. "Speaking of chivalry, what do you think about it?"

She blew out a long breath which, thanks to the cold, shortly after turned into a smoke cloud. "What do I think about chivalry?" she repeated, pondering the words in her mind. "Funny you should ask me that of all people. You do know that chivalry practically paid all my bills for a couple of years."

"That's why I'd greatly appreciate your input on the matter..."

"Yeah, I bet you do," she said with a grin.

"I don't think I like the tone of your voice, young lady," he joked.

"Well, get used to it. You're trying to pull a 'socrates' on me again," she admonished in a patient voice.

"'Pull a socrates' on you? Does that even make sense?" he sounded sceptical.

"It does if I say so," she smiled. The smile was clearly audible in her voice. "Did you know that they called him the gadfly of Athens, because he tended to be vastly annoying, just like you?"

"I met him. I think he was a perfectly likeable bloke," Methos answered.

"Sure. Doesn't change the fact that you're trying to coax me into voicing an opinion that incidentally happens to be identical with yours. And knowing you, in the end you'll make me think it was my idea right from the start. Wishful thinking, love. What if I don't agree?"

"But you do," his voice was full of conviction. Apparently he already knew her far too well. He was right after all. Smug bastard!

She sighed. Why did he always have to be right? It was probably the age... "Well, that depends on the point of view, I guess. Personally I'm quite fond of chivalry. It's nothing but useful. All you have to do is find some poor lad who still thinks he's someone's knight in shining armour and play a convincing damsel in distress... Nowadays, of course, I don't milk it like I used to. I usually draw the line after he bought me a couple of drinks."

"So your word of advice to MacLeod?"

She smacked her lips pensively. "Word of advice? Be smart and don't try to rescue every stray that comes to your doorstep. Is it actually doorstep when we're talking about a barge?"

He ignored the doorstep quip and got right down to gist of her comment. "So egoism beats altruism."

"That's the way this conversation's going to take? Seriously?" she let out a low groan. "Give me a break! I've just had two pints, love! Do you think now is the time to get all philosophical on my derrière?"

He laughed. "No, you're at least three more pints away from a proper philosophical discussion. Did you ever stop to wonder how Plato came up with 'De Politeia'?"

"How much sense do you make after two pints?" she asked pointedly.

"Want to find out?" he teased.

"Among other things."

"For example...," he supplied. She could tell he was all ears.

"What happens when your inhibitions are lowered..."

"Well, I'd do things I usually wouldn't." He was dragging this out on purpose.

She grinned. "Yeah, I reckoned as much, smart ass."

"Wow! Cheeky! Would you still call me smart ass if you were on my side of the Channel?"

"Probably," she smiled. "And you're evading the question again."

"There's no point in asking what happens when my inhibitions are lowered. I'm only a dull researcher after all..."

"Dull researcher my ass...," she scoffed.

"Now don't get vulgar! Why don't you buy me a couple of drinks next time we see each other and we'll find out together..."

"Buy you a couple of drinks? You make freeloading sound so reasonable, oh, Ancient One!" her voice was practically oozing sarcasm now.

"Thank you. About time you addressed me properly and recognised my superior intellect."

"Sheesh! Are you aware of the fact that I'm currently freezing my ass off out here in the street just so you can ridicule and insult me over the phone?"

"So you'd better get inside then," he remarked dryly.

"Yeah. I guess. Your company, however, is vaguely amusing. As always. Occasionally makes me wish I had a warmer jacket..."

"Cute line," she could practically see his smirk.

"Glad you liked it. Take care now."

"Yeah, you too."

When she stepped back into the pub, the warm and slightly humid air washed over her like a wave. It was quite cosy in there, which was probably thanks to pub's many patrons. Her cheeks flushed immediately due to the extreme difference in temperature. Unfortunately it only occurred to her after her friends had made some witty comments about it.

"Look who's back. And all flustered and blushing like a teenager... Did you have a good talk?" Gerard waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. She didn't care too much for the way he said 'talk'.

"Oh, hush!" she said angrily through clenched teeth. "I can think of quite a few things that would make you blush."

"Like what?" Gerard challenged her with a grin.

"Last New Year's? So pissed you snogged a bloke with a blonde wig?" She grinned back sweetly, while Gerard's smile fell immediately. She gave him a swat on the behind for good measure.

The rest of the group laughed, Gerard let out a soft growl of displeasure. A soft blush was spreading on his nose, for which, he would later declare, only the alcohol was to blame.

"Come on, let me buy you a beer. I was just kidding, Gerry," she kissed her friend on the cheek soundly who begrudgingly accepted her apology.