Author's note: Thank you, Jenn, for your continuous support!

Sorry, that this one's a bit on the short side. Anyway... The rest of the story is all wrapped up, but I'm currently in the process of rewriting and refining a couple of things - as always. I'd appreciate it if you dropped me a few lines, fellows. Let me know what you're thinking!

He was about to drift into sleep when he heard the bedroom door open. Suddenly he was wide awake. Soft feet, apparently she had left the high heels in the living-room, padded over the carpet. The mattress ever so slightly dipped under her weight when she sat down.

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

He nodded in the dark, then thought better of it, coming quickly to the realisation that she would not be able to see it. "Of course," he said. His voice sounded drowsy. He was tempted to ask her what had made her consider leaving the couch in favour of his bed, but it seemed too bold a move. While he was still contemplating a smart way of addressing the issue, she had already stripped down to her underwear and slipped under the covers.

She didn't snuggle up to him, but it wasn't like she was keeping him at arm's length either. Her hand was ever so slightly touching his elbow. She was so close he could hear her inhale and exhale. Mixed signals – just what he needed. But then again, what had he expected? She was probably the queen of mixed signals. Just like he had to admit, in all fairness, that he had quite a talent for giving off those mixed signals as well. Probably came with playing it close to one's the chest...

"How are you?" he finally asked.

She hesitated to answer, then finally said: "Confused." He hadn't expected anything else. Well, not expected, but he had hoped for something else. After all he was still an old fool. It was foolish to be sucker for happy endings, though he knew from experience that they were a rarity. It was especially foolish given the fact that he knew them to be nothing but a mockery of nature invented only to keep the world from descending into depression and apathy. With those glum thoughts he slowly drifted off to sleep.

She lay awake staring at the nightstand on his side of the bed. He was still sleeping. His arm over his eyes in an almost dramatic pose that was emphasised further by the fact that the blanket had slipped down his naked upper body during the night. He looked a bit like one of those classic Greek statues. Orpheus despairing over the loss of Eurydice. Ha! Ridiculous thoughts. As if he would cross the underworld to find her! And who said that she was worth looking for?

Her eyes stubbornly moved away from him and focused again on the nightstand behind him. There was this most familiar book. It was lying there, in all its dog-eared, worn glory and mocking her. She would have recognised those yellowed pages everywhere. Cautiously she sat up in bed, moving in slow-motion in order to not wake him. She leaned over him and made a quick grab for the book. Her heart was racing when her eyes flitted over the open page. The one he had last read held precisely the passage of writing in which Watson spoke of Holmes' appreciation for Irene Adler. The one woman that had ever bested him. How ironic! Her eyes started to glaze over. She lowered the book and laid it down on the blanket.

Maybe the fact that he had kept it didn't mean anything. It was just some stupid old book. A sentimentality to her. Maybe nothing to him. But why would he put it on his bedside table if he didn't care? Why else would he choose to fight a woman who was after her and risk his own life in the process?

He cared for her. The thought echoed in her mind. In fact it became a continuous murmur in the back of her head. How could he care for someone and yet be capable of cruelty and murder? It didn't seem to add up. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he had changed. Maybe it was possible after all. And how could she allow herself to be judgemental concerning his past when he had been so understanding about hers?

How had she managed to get herself in a situation as complicated as this? But then again it was her own fault things were complicated. She made them complicated by making a problem out of this. She could just lie down again, snuggle up to him and stop listening to that pesky inner voice of hers. Was that her conscience? Why did that little shit decide to make itself heard at that precise moment? And when did she grow it? Maybe round about the time she fell in love with someone. With him, she corrected herself mentally.

She got out of bed slowly and dressed, hoping he wouldn't wake up once she made the first few steps towards the door.

No sooner had she started to creep towards the door, his voice made her freeze in mid-movement. "Leaving already?"

"What? Were you going to make me breakfast?" she asked mockingly and turned around, her face perfectly schooled into a deceptively impassive mask, while she was secretly fighting down her insecurity and apprehension.

"Maybe," he answered in an enigmatic tone of voice and got out of bed in one swift motion which told her that he had been awake for longer than he had let on. He was only wearing some boxer briefs, which was a challenging situation to her because she was caught between her natural impulse to look away and stare at him unflinchingly like it was expected of her. In order to uphold appearances she decided for the latter option. Luckily he soon made things easier for her because he eventually put on some jeans and a T-shirt.

He motioned at the door behind her. "Will you at least sit down for a cup of coffee with me before you leave?"

"Who said that I was leaving?" The words were quickly out of her mouth before she had any chance to rethink them or stop them from coming out.

"Well, I kind of assumed because you were fully dressed and trying to sneak out... My mistake then," he held up his hands defensively.

"Well, don't go around assuming things," she said simply before she made a dramatic exit by turning around and storming through the door behind her. He followed seconds later, finding her hovering somewhat indecisively next to the sofa. She cursed herself, because upon seeing her like that he would of course immediately come to realise that her bravado had been nothing but a smoke screen.

As expected he did. And, as was also to be expected, he fully exploited that knowledge which, at the same time, made her love him a little more and strangely also made her hate him a tiny bit.

"You can sit down while I make us coffee," he suggested simply. She shook her head. He shrugged his shoulder before he turned to walk off towards the kitchen.

It was difficult. In a way the situation was worse than yesterday evening, because there was this palpable tension between them and it was oddly quiet in his apartment thanks to the lack of conversation between them. While she could not see him anymore, she could hear him rummaging in the kitchen cupboard. Even the sound of ceramic cups clinging together seemed noisy and dissonant. Maybe the silence could be covered up by music. She impulsively moved towards the stereo and switched it on. Huge mistake! She shouldn't have done that. The stereo played her CD. The one she had given to him all those weeks ago.

She let out a resigned groan. What now? Turn it off? Leave it on? Flight or fight? She made up her mind and started walking in the general direction of the kitchen. Quite unsurprisingly he was waiting for her there with his back leaned casually against the kitchen counter and his arms crossed over his chest. The coffee machine behind him was making soft gurgling sounds while it percolated coffee.

"I hate you," she said simply, completely meaning it for once. Her eyes bore mercilessly into his face. He didn't look shocked, in fact he seemed to take it all in stride with an irritating little smile. "I hate you, because you've messed up my life," she continued, even more enraged. "Do you know who I am? I should be able to walk away from you so easily. Just like that," she snapped her finger for good measure and with quite some irritation.

"Then why don't you? No one is keeping you here," he said calmly, without any spite. His face had a somewhat expectant look to it. Like he was curious to see what she would do next.

"Because I can't. Too late for that. You have me by the leash like some pathetic puppy dog. It's just ridiculous!"

"I repeat...," he stood up straight now, uncrossing his arms, "nobody's keeping you here against your will. You can leave if that's what you want to." She was aware of the double meaning behind his words. In the background Dave Gahan softly sang "Enjoy the Silence", the bloody traitor. The lines of the song had been hammered into her head thanks to the countless times she had listened to the CD. Now the words "All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, is here in my arms," were an ironic filler for the pauses in their conversation.

"I know that," she sighed, "and any sane woman would walk away now. Because honestly there is understanding and just plain masochistic. You were a bloody Horseman for crying out loud..." she raked her hand through her hair in frustration, even pulling at it just a tiny bit.

"And how does that make you feel?" he asked cautiously.

"How does that make me feel?" she repeated angrily. "Is this some fucking counselling session? It makes me feel angry," she saw the shocked expression on his face and hurried to clarify what she meant by it. "It makes me feel angry because I should give a fucking damn. But I don't. I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but it's true. I doesn't matter to me."

"It doesn't matter to you," he repeated quizzically, tapping his index finger against his chin. His calmness irritated her, even more so because she knew it to be nothing but a defence mechanism.

"Yes? What's wrong about it? It doesn't matter in the greater scheme of things because the 'you' I have gotten to know doesn't correspond with the 'you' that's slaughtered all those people," she decided to elaborate.

"What if you're mistaken?" Methos voiced her inner doubts and maybe even his own.

"Well, if I'm mistaken then there's probably a horse waiting in the non-existent backyard and you're going to climb on it after coffee and wreak some havoc," she deadpanned

He actually smiled at her comment. "Touché. Though one question still remains to be answered. Why don't you walk away from this if it really is that complicated, that bothersome, that much of a nuisance?" His question was supposed to provoke her into telling him, but for once he was mistaken in his judgement of her character. She was quite ready to say it without being provoked.

"It's because I love you, you fool!" she exclaimed somewhat irritatedly. She was not hesitant about admitting it. True, it frustrated her immensely. However, what bothered her about it was not the fact that she had feeling for him, it was more the consequences those feelings would have for both of them. She expected them to be rather dire. Her mind immediately supplied her with a number of situation where being in love with each other could be detrimental to their health, their sanity and existence in general. Being ever the realist, she could hardly understand his reaction to her admission.

He chuckled. "Oh, that's just brilliant!"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, so he hurried to explain himself. There was mirth shining in his eyes, though what he was really feeling was a combination of shock, dread and pleasant surprise. "Don't you get it? This is the ultimate joke. Maybe this is some sort of twisted karmic payback for what we've done."

"I'm afraid I don't follow. Do be a love and spit it out, will you?" she said impatiently.

"For some one so smart you can sure be a bit dense, huh? In case you haven't noticed, I'm in love with you too. I love you, okay? Cat's out of the bag," he said, actually managing to sound irritated about his admission of being in love with her as well.

His words made her feel two things simultaneously: joy and fear. She took one step in his direction, then stopped again. "I know. Why else would you keep my stuff around, right? Or tell me about your past... for that matter," her voice sounded insecure, she had been aiming for joking, but that was how it actually came out. "But don't you think that's a little...," her brain chose to supply her with a bunch of different variations of the words 'stupid', she settled for something less provocative instead, "... unwise?"

He smiled mirthlessly. "It sort of occurred to me a couple of times while I was fighting some immortal lunatic yesterday night... Yes."

She ran her hand through her hair in frustration. "Alright. Fine," she said to reassure herself. A ridiculous attempt that wasn't crowned by success. "Can you please tell me how we ended up here? Is this what happens when you take it slow? Because that would mean it was all your fault... Your stupid suggestion! If we had just slept with each other and not bothered with the getting-to-know-each-other-part, maybe this wouldn't have happened," she knew she was being irrational now, but the situation sort of called for it.

"Do you really think that?" Methos asked amusedly. "Looking back on it all, I have to say it was rather inevitable from the start," he said and pushed himself off the kitchen counter to take a step closer to her.

"Call me crazy, but that actually sounds quite plausible," she finally admitted somewhat resignedly. "Do you want to know what I'm thinking?" she looked at him expectantly. He nodded his consent. "I think people are like chemicals. Sometimes you combine them and nothing happens. Other times? There is an explosion. I think we are an explosion. We must be because we bring out the worst in each other."

He let out a soft laugh. It irritated her immensely.

"Stop laughing! This is not funny!" she hissed at him

"Oh, but it is!" he smirked. "Do you know how many times MacLeod, who by the way is about the biggest boy-scout there is, has accused me of only thinking about myself? The one time I go and do something completely altruistic, people start complaining. Unbelievable!"

"Altruistic?" she shrieked and took a step closer to him, close enough to disapprovingly stab him in the chest with her index finger repeatedly. "What if she had killed you? Have you thought about that? I was scared to death for you, you idiot, which I wouldn't have had to be, by the way, if I didn't bloody love you so god-damn much!"

Her finger was still hovering over his chest when she had finished talking. It was slightly moving up and down because her hand was shaking. He reached out hesitantly and took her hand in his. She looked at him in surprise, but let it happen. The anger in her eyes was replaced by a vulnerability he hadn't seen before.

"I don't know how to do this," she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. "I've never done this before."

"Well, it's not that hard. You'll just have to try," he said gently, his head inclined to the left so he could maintain eye contact with her, even tough she was rather determined to stare at the kitchen floor instead of him. His words made her look up in surprise. He shrugged his shoulders with an apologetic smile. "Well, maybe we'll have to try a little harder than most people. I'm pretty sure one's not meant to sound accusing when one professes one's undying love to someone."

"This is serious. Don't try to make me laugh. It's not working," Liz admonished him, though the corners of her mouth briefly twitched deceptively. He stayed silent and just continued to watch her with something shockingly close to a puppy dog expression. "Alright, I admit it. I'm not actually angry at you...," she finally said with a sigh. "I'm just worried."

He sighed as well. "Oh, believe me, I get that. I get that more than most people."

"So what now?"

"You ask me that?" he looked at her incredulously.

"Shot in the dark?" she replied.

"Sorry, no idea," he shrugged his shoulders.

Liz actually seemed to be disappointed at his admission. Like she had actually expected him to come up with a brilliant idea to save the day. "Okay, maybe, since we don't know where we're heading here, we can eliminate a few things we don't want to do," she finally proposed.

"Sounds reasonable...," he conceded. "You first."

"I so did see that one coming," Liz rolled her eyes. "Alright. Here goes," she let out a long exhale that was mainly supposed to buy her some more time. "I don't want to leave."

"Then don't," he smiled, making it sound deceptively simple.

"Now you," she commanded softly.

"I don't want us to break up," naturally he air-quoted the offensive word.

Liz actually laughed at that, then sobered somewhat when she finally admitted softly. "Me neither."

"I don't want you to take any stupid risks because of me. Never mind what happens to me, I want you safe," she admitted.

"I don't want to lie to you," he said hesitantly.

With those sentences they had both somehow manoeuvred themselves way out of their respective comfort zones and they knew it. It was clear by the way they were almost shyly looking at each other.

"Wow! Where did that come from?" she finally managed to get out with a nervous smile.

"I don't know. But what you said was kind of nice. Not that I approve of the 'never mind what happens to me' part, however, " he replied with a smile of his own, again taking her hand in his. Her palm was tiny bit sweaty and cold. It told him volumes of how serious she was about the whole thing.

"Yeah? Nice, you say? How about you not wanting to lie to me?" her eyes were regarding him with amused twinkle now. "Are you going to be able to do that? Does the term lie of omission ring a bell? No?"

"Do you really want me to bore you with a long and tedious tale about my life? If you're that interested in it, I can teach you some hieroglyphs and you can start reading my chronicles...," he said encircling her waist with both his arms.

"Careful. Maybe I'll take you up on that offer," she teased him.

He narrowed his eyes, giving her a long appraising look. "You lack the patience for that."

Before she could protest or artfully conceal her name calling behind a smart remark, his lips had captured hers in a silencing kiss. She did not protest, apart from a muffled squeal that soon turned into a content hum.