| An Ordinary Life Part One-- Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match Sometimes loneliness becomes a welcome retreat from the hectic pace of life; at other times, it curses a soul. At different junctures of his life, Methos had experienced both situations. Now the cycle had shifted, and he felt cursed. He moved through the daily chores of life, like a boat loosened from its moorings, drifting in and out of the periphery of other people’s lives. Granted that wasn’t always a bad thing, it certainly had kept him out of direct contact with most Immortals over his extended life span. It had also isolated him from the human contact he craved. Walking a circus tightrope would be an easier task to undertake than treading the fine line of his so called life. Since meeting the Highlander, the task had grown increasingly difficult. Now he had ties to the here and now, not only to MacLeod, but also to Joe, Amanda, and Richie. Friendships formed and relationships forged. Times spent at Joe’s bar, drinking and laughing, sharing tales of yesterday, he unconsciously began to trust and care for this small band of friends. Each struggled with their awe of Methos’ age, and began to try to see him as a just a guy as he insisted he was. For a time, he thought life was nearly perfect until the pounding hoof beats of his distant past revealed harrowing revelations that rocked his friends’ understanding of the man they thought they knew. That the sarcastic, cynical, loyal, and mild-mannered man named Adam had ridden across three continents raping and pillaging bearing the mask of Death was at times more than they could accept. Eventually acceptance, if not forgiveness, was afforded when Methos had helped Duncan put down the other three Horsemen before they could dominate the world as Kronos had planned. In the years since the Bordeaux debacle, trust had been rebuilt and friendships were stronger because of and not in spite of the ancient one’s past. Duncan and Joe had returned back to the States, resuming their lives, dragging a somewhat willing Methos along. In the beginning he had fussed and grumbled, but he was secretly glad to be in the same city as his friends. Joe pushed him to look for employment after hanging out at the bar all day, every day. Duncan suggested the University of Seacouver where he taught might be the logical place to start. The university was more than eager to hire a man with his ‘qualifications’. A glowing recommendation from Duncan had sealed the deal. Adam Pierson, perpetual cynic and all around smart-ass, was gainfully employed. To celebrate the momentous occasion, Duncan and Methos headed to their favorite watering hole and their mutual friend. Joe’s pleasure at seeing his two best friends was evident. Grinning, he sat a couple of mugs of beer on the gleaming bar. “Well, did you get it?” Methos rolled his eyes in disdain at the doubting Watcher, “I am hurt by your lack of confidence in my abilities. Of course they hired me, and they’re damn thankful I took the position.” Settling on the barstool next to the aggrieved old man, Duncan chuckled. “Your modesty is truly a thing to behold, Methos.” “I am modest, MacLeod.” The two men waited in silent expectation for Methos to finish his tirade. Methos took a long draw on his beer, “You do remember I have lived a very long time, don’t you? I say that makes for an impressive resume, wouldn’t you agree?” His words held a touch of humor, that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, here’s to the new job, Mr. Professor.” Three mugs were raised in salute and drained with gusto. In spite of dreading his new undertaking, Methos found he enjoyed teaching at the university. After all, as the new professor of Ancient Civilizations and Languages, a subject he knew first hand. Students filled the classes taught by young, handsome Dr. Pierson. His teaching approach was fresh and fascinating; his humor and personality kept the students interested. Several female faculty members checked him out in the lounge and introduced themselves. Duncan teased him unmercifully about his newfound popularity. Methos mumbled something about respecting your elders, but the attention secretly pleased him. By the end of the spring semester, Methos had settled into the new routine and started enjoying his life. Until Joe and Duncan had decided the old man was lonely and needed a girlfriend. From there it was a downward spiral; Methos insisting he wasn’t lonely and his friends insisting they knew he was. The ‘discussion’ had almost come to blows, after which a reluctant Methos agreed to humor them by going on some blind dates. ~~~~~ “Okay, Methos, I know you really don’t want to do this, but at least you could try to have a good time,” Duncan chided the pouting man sprawled across his sofa. “I told the ladies we’d meet them at Joe’s around seven. We need to get going.” Seeing his words fall on deaf ears, Duncan flipped off the television. “Hey, I was watching that!” Methos protested. Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, he pushed the power button and turned the sound up a couple of notches for good measure. Sliding back onto the sofa, he sighed in contentment. “Remarkable.” Duncan marveled causing Methos’ eyebrows to climb in question. “For someone of your great age you are amazingly immature.” Coming to stand between the other man and the television set Duncan once again cut the power. “Now be a good boy and let’s go. Oh, and by the way, when did you become so interested in the mating habits of ants,” referring to the Discovery channel documentary Methos had been absorbed in. “Since I lost my freaking mind and agreed to this lunacy, MacLeod. Chinese water torture sounds better than an evening alone with a woman I’ve never met.” He dropped the remote on the coffee table. “I can see by the look on your face, you’re not about to let me wrangle out of this, are you?” “You promised, Methos.” “Promises were made to be broken.” “Not this one, friend.” “Damn stubborn fool.” Yanking his coat from its resting place on a nearby chair, Methos strode over to the lift and waited impatiently for the Scot. “Are you coming or not?” Duncan shrugged his shoulders in mock frustration. “Testy, testy.” A sharp slap to the back of the head silenced the grinning Highlander. ~~~~~ During the journey across town, Duncan tried his level best to engage Methos in conversation, but the older man refused to be baited. The boy scout in Duncan wanted to make amends; Methos on the other hand used the opportunity to make the Highlander squirm. After all, one found amusement where and when one could. “Should I drop you off in front and meet you inside?” Duncan offered charitably. Maybe it will earn me some brownie points. “And let me face the lions alone? I think not, MacLeod. This was your grand plan and you will see it to its bitter end.” Hearing the threat in Methos’ words, Duncan had the good sense to park the T-Bird in record time. In moments, they were pushing through the door into Joe's. Methos headed to the bar like a homing pigeon. Duncan’s hand on his shoulder steered him in the opposite direction toward a table occupied by two women. “I need a beer, MacLeod,” Methos plead. “You said free beer was part of the bargain.” Frustrated by his friend’s lack of enthusiasm, Duncan signaled to Joe. The watcher just laughed. He was glad this was Mac's doing and not his. The old man had revenge down to an exact science. Now he sat back and did what he did best—watch. Methos pulled at Mac's arm, unsuccessfully trying to halt their progress across the floor. “Um, Mac, I forgot I have some papers to grade,” Methos stalled. “You don’t want me neglecting my duties, do you?” “Good try, Adam, but it won’t work.” Duncan didn’t break his stride. “I hear your students bragging about how little homework you assign; maybe you’re too easy on them.” “What can I say, my students love me. Now onto important matters, where’s my beer?” The argument was interrupted by a female voice calling out to them. “Duncan!” Duncan ignored his companion’s whining and greeted the woman vying for his attention. “Lynne, it’s great to see you. You look lovely as usual.” Lynne stepped into his arms. “Nice to see you still work out, Duncan.” Duncan and Lynne had met several years ago at an estate sale. Both had fallen in love with the same antique vase. A heated bidding war ensued with Lynne emerging as the winner in the battle for the porcelain beauty. A graceful winner, she had invited the even more graceful loser to dinner. The two kept in touch and dated when they were between relationships. Although there was a mutual attraction, they had never taken their friendship to the next level. Methos glanced quickly at his watch. He’d promised Duncan two hours of his valuable time, only one hour and forty minutes left. Soon he would be free to escape to his apartment and the excellent book he was reading. His comfy sofa beckoned to him like a lover. Gritting his teeth, he wished MacLeod would get on with the introductions. The man was such a pain in the ass. Clearing his throat, he looked expectantly at the other man. Breaking his attention way from Lynne, Duncan made the proper introductions. Lynne gestured to the woman already seated at the table. “This is my friend, Monica. Monica, this is my friend, Duncan MacLeod and his good friend, Adam Pierson. Monica is fashion buyer for Nordstrom’s.” Methos, still pouting, extended his hand to Monica when Duncan glared at him. “Nice to meet you.” There! He was polite and friendly, just like Mac insisted. Since he was here, he gave Monica an appraising look. She was definitely cute: a pixie haircut emphasized green almond-shaped eyes. He could do cute, but he’d learned over the years there was more to women than a pretty face. Soon they were seated around the table, and Methos had his sought-after beer. Duncan sat back and relaxed. This was going better than he had expected. To say that Monica dominated the conversation was an understatement. Methos learned more about the fashion industry in a one evening than in all his previous five thousand years. Monica raved about the glories of silk and the wonders of Lycra. Duncan refused to meet the other man’s glare. Methos reached sensory overload and made a break for the bar. “Whiskey, Joe.” Methos rested his head in his hands. At last, some peace and quiet. Gods, but that woman could talk. Joe poured the requested libation and sat it in front of the old man. “She’s cute, Adam.” Even though he knew the man’s true identity he preferred to address him by the name he first knew him as ten years ago. “Well, then by all means, go and introduce yourself, if you can get a word in edgewise.” He downed the shot of liquor. “Not going well?” Joe laughed despite his best efforts to keep a straight face. “Distract MacLeod for me, while I make a break for it. Please. I’m begging you, Joe.” “Nope. You promised Mac and you know how broody he gets when someone breaks their promises.” He filled another pitcher with beer. “Now be a good boy and smile.” “Believe me, Dawson, I will remember your lack of concern,” Methos warned as he and the pitcher of beer slowly headed toward the table. Shit! How does Mac always pull me into his schemes? Joe wondered as he watched Methos’ retreating back. Maybe he could bribe Adam with more free beer. A feeble plan to be sure, but it was all he had. He made a mental note to order more of the old man’s favorite brew. The watcher wiped the bar and uttered a silent prayer for Mac. Methos threw an evil glare at the Scot’s direction as he sprawled back into his chair. The conversation hadn’t ebbed in his absence much to his fascination. Doesn’t her mouth ever get tired? “So, Adam, what do you do?” Monica directed her attention to him. Methos took another swallow of his beer. Former axe murder... no. That would be Silas. Grinning at his morbid musings, he replied, “I teach over at the University with MacLeod. Ancient civilizations and languages are my specialty.” Duncan nearly choked on his beer. Methos’ sharp slap to his back halted his coughing fit. Specialty my foot, old man. “That must get awfully boring,” Monica observed. “No offense, but all that old stuff doesn’t matter anymore. I mean, who cares who lived thousands of years ago. I say it’s the here and now that counts.” The Highlander hung his head. Well, here it comes. He had such high hopes for this evening. He was proud of the patience Methos had exerted thus far, now he was prepared for Methos’ outburst. His friend had been pushed too far. Please, Methos, don’t kill her or me. Methos debated his current dilemma. It occurred to him that there were two ways to handle this situation. One, he could let loose on a verbal tirade that would make Kronos cringe in fear. Two, he could gracefully excuse himself and leave, sparing Duncan the embarrassment the former solution would elicit. Deciding to take the higher road for once, Methos unsprawled from his chair and shrugged into his coat. Duncan rose to his feet, waiting for his friend’s reaction. “Hate to drink and run, but I’m suddenly not feeling well. The older I get, the harder it is to take these late nights.” Knowing his friend was biting back a scathing diatribe, Duncan breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry you’re not feeling well, Adam. Go on home and get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow, all right?” Methos bid goodnight to the ladies and waved to Joe as he departed for his loft. At least his book would be better company than the mouthy Monica. Turning up his collar against the chilly night air, he raised his hand and hailed a passing cab. ~~~~~ Last call emptied the bar of most its occupants; Joe ushered the diehards out soon after. Never one to beat around the bush, Joe stated the obvious. “That didn’t go well.” Duncan laid his pounding head against the cool surface of the bar, his words muffled against the wooden surface. “Really, Joseph, I hadn’t noticed. I totally mucked this up, didn’t I?” “Yeah, you did. I don’t know about you, but I think we should stay the hell out of his love life from now on.” “He’s gonna make me pay big time. All I was trying to do was help. He’s lonely,” Duncan justified. “You can’t fix everything. Let him be. He’ll be alright.” “I guess, Joe, but–” Duncan whined before the bartender cut him off. “Stop it, MacLeod. Go home.” “Night, Joe.” Duncan waved half-heartedly as he left. “Night, Mac.” Joe called. Joe looked around the empty bar and sighed. Hopefully, Duncan would take his words to heart about staying out of Methos’ love life. Methos had been surprisingly tolerant about the whole blind date deal, but his patience was running thin. Joe knew that Methos was lonely, despite his protests; however, he didn’t want to end up on the wrong side of Methos. Better to leave the old man alone. ~~~~~ Tossing the book to the foot of the sofa, Methos sighed. Another book read and now what? As much as he protested to Joe and Mac, he was lonely. Not having anything new in his lifetime was something he never got accustomed to. As much as he valued his friendships with the two men, he longed for the companionship of a lover: someone to touch, to love, to laugh with, and hold at night. He’d had that with Alexa, but the cruel hand of Fate had ripped her out of his life far too soon. He stood up and yawned. Eight a.m. came entirely too soon for his liking. Next semester he’d try to finagle out of such an early class. He was new to the faculty so he got the crap schedule, but he was a master at renegotiation. His stocking feet were noiseless as he padded across the empty loft turning off all but one of the lights. After making one last trip to the bathroom, he exited wearing just his boxers. Although he liked sleeping in the buff, it could be rather awkward if another immortal came calling for a fight in the middle of the night. The mattress squeaked as his weight settled onto the bed; the covers were soon pulled up to his chin as his loose-limbed sprawl consumed the king sized bed. He lay in the darkness waiting for sleep to overtake him. Joe and MacLeod’s attempts at ‘fixing’ him up were beginning to wear thin on his nerves. At first going along with them kept them off his back, but now he dreaded running into them for fear of what they had in store for him. Maybe tonight’s disastrous failure would dissuade them from further attempts to fix his love life. If not, he would be blunt and tell them to bugger off so they knew he wasn’t kidding. ~~~~~ “Are you truly that naive, MacLeod?” Methos sat his nearly empty mug of beer down hard on the table in front of him to emphasize his point. “I mean, can you sit there and tell me you believe that bullshit?” Duncan’s groan echoed from across the room. “Methos, stop it.” The older immortal was like a dog with a bone. Why won’t he let the subject drop? “No, I will not!” Methos assured him. Joe rapped his cane on the bar. “You two! Knock it off!!” The two men stopped their bickering with his words. “That’s better. Who would guess that you’re friends?” “He started it, Joe!” Methos protested, sounding incredibly like a five year old. Joe smiled. Truthfully, he almost expected Methos to stick his tongue out at the Scot. “Started what? You have been going at it since you walked through the door.” “Oh, I’ll let MacLeod explain.” Methos snickered as he walked nonchalantly behind the bar and refilled his drink. “He did start this whole discussion.” Joe waited expectantly for Duncan’s explanation. He sighed at the mumbled response about difficult old men. Most of the time Duncan and Methos were polar opposites on nearly all issues, so the reason for argument was beyond his guessing. He watched Methos sprawl back on his chair and sip his dark liquid. For just a brief moment, Joe wished he could retire from playing peacemaker for those two. ”So someone’s planning on filling me in, right?” Joe threw his request out for the second time. “Anyone?” Neither man made an effort to open his mouth. “Fine. Sit there and sulk. I have work to do.” Methos regarded Joe with a smirk. He could out-stubborn the volatile MacLeod. After all, he’d had millennia to perfect the art. Duncan was already beginning to squirm in his seat at the bar. Give him enough time, and MacLeod would spill his guts with no hesitation. Five, four, three, two, one…. “Methos contends that with enough money anyone can be bought,” Duncan blurted out. “Not everyone has a price.” Joe rolled his eyes. Methos had a way of getting under Duncan’s skin like no one else, even Amanda. Joe felt sorry for Duncan. Normally, he was a calm, reasonable person, but Methos would try the patience of a saint and probably had at some point in his long life. “And what started this debate?” Joe looked to Methos. “We rented Indecent Proposal, you know the one were the young newly wed couple meets up with the insanely wealthy high roller in Las Vegas, and he offers her a million dollars to sleep with him.” “Yeah,” Joe answered. “Ok, I’ll bite. Why were you watching that movie?” “I’m easily amused?” Methos grinned knowingly at Joe. “Hey, I have a sick obsession for Demi Moore, all right? I did like her better in ‘Ghost,’ though.” “And Methos said that everyone had their price,” Duncan repeated his earlier statement. “Interesting.” Joe laughed. “I would’ve thought it was something more serious the way you were carrying on.” “Face it, MacLeod.” Methos took another swallow of his beer. “Some people’s prices are higher than others, but yeah, even you could be bought.” Duncan slammed the palm of his hand on the bar. “I can’t believe you said that!” “Oh, I’ve offended your sensibilities, have I?” “Yes, you have,” Duncan growled. “Good, someone should.” Methos laughed as he slipped on his coat. The Ivanhoe banged solidly against his leg. “My work here is done.” He waved at Joe. “Night all.” Methos took his usual route out the back door. Joe waited for the slamming of the rear door before he burst into laughter. “He knows which of your buttons to push, doesn’t he?” “I don’t think it’s funny, Joe,” Duncan responded. “He’s a cynical bastard.” “You’re just now figuring that out?” Joe stifled his laughter. “I think you’re his favorite form of entertainment, Mac.” “Well, I wish he’d find someone else to direct his attentions to.” Duncan glanced at his watch. Even though tomorrow was Saturday, and he didn’t have any classes to teach, he had planned on attending an estate sale or two early in the morning. He slid his arms into his coat then tugged his ponytail out from his collar. “I’ll see you later, Joe.” Duncan was almost to the front door when Joe called out to him, “Don’t let him get to you. I think it’s just his way of showing us he cares.” “Whatever.” “Night, Mac.” ~~~~~ Continued in Part Two-- Nice Running Into You Return To Chapter Index |