THE YOU'RE IN MY HEART SERIES CALIFORNIA DREAMING by JoLayne and Susan RATING: PG-15 CHARACTERS: Methos, Amanda, Hugh Fitzcairn, Rebecca, John Bowers, Luther, OC's Gia, Detective Wilkins, Detective Gaffney, lots of teens, some girls and two guys. SUMMARY: Methos, Fitz, Amanda, Rebecca, and plenty of beer in sunny California during the final month of the Summer of Love. What could possibly go wrong? THANKS: to Dea, for her sharp eye, comments, and encouragement, as well as all those who have given us great feedback on this series. ~~~~~ 1969 After escaping the Woodstock traffic in New York state, Methos was at the wheel of his now extremely filthy VW van with Amanda at his side singing at the top of her lungs to a Who song: "He's a pin ball wizard! Has to be a trick!" Methos pushed the button on the 8-track player in the dash and opened the window to stick his arm out. "What did you do that for?" Amanda pushed the cartridge back in. Methos turned off the electronic noisemaker and turned to the living one. "I tell you, Amanda. A little weed in you, and you're wind up tighter than a drum. I thought it was supposed to have a calming effect. How about a little silence for a while?" "Hear, hear," a voice moaned from the back. A curly-haired sot rose up from under a blanket when Methos glanced back startled. His inattention to the road ahead almost drove them into the back of a semi. Hugh Fitzcairn gazed lazily at Amanda as he said, "If I ever hear another Who song, it will be entirely too soon for me." He was able to lift one eyebrow to add, "With you singing it." "I have a great voice," Amanda argued, slapping Fitz on the arm that was on the back of her seat. Methos said, "You scared the bloody hell out of me! What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" "Getting some sleep, I thought," Fitz said. He ruffled his hair as a gesture to wake up. "When I'm in a moving vehicle, I go right to sleep. An amazing trick with Ella Fitzgerald here caterwauling." Amanda yelled, "I will have the both of you critics know that I have been paid to sing. Paid well!" "Not when you're stoned," Methos commented. He smiled at Fitz in the rear view mirror. After the surprise of his uncovering, it was nice to see him. Methos had felt an immortal presence when they had gotten into the van on their trek from the festival, but he just put the feeling down as Amanda and wondering if Luther was in the area. The sensation had softened fast enough for Methos as he just enjoyed being with Amanda for a bit longer. He watched Fitz stretch and yawn in the back, then straighten things up. "So, what are you doing in my van? Last we saw of you, you had some ‘lovely lasses' to conquer." "I also needed a lift," Fitz replied. "The damsel from whom I acquired transportation to the art festival left in what could be considered a ‘huff'." "Fitz," Amanda groaned. "You didn't go and sleep around on your ride, did you?" Fitz just shrugged. Methos said, "Women..." He caught Amanda's look of homicidal tendencies directed at him and continued, "What would we do without them?" "Have some peace and quiet," Fitz sighed before he noticed Methos' look of pleading for help. "And... boredom and full-blown melancholy. What would the world be without delightful demoiselles such as yourself, Amanda?" "Loneliness, chaos, we men would do nothing but grunt and bump into furniture," Methos added. "Okay," Amanda said. "It's getting thick in here. Knock it off. Besides, I do not appreciate being patronized." "So, where you off to, Fitz?" Methos asked. "Where are you?" "California. And you're not coming with us," Methos made a point to say with forcefulness. "Why not?" Fitz sat up straighter and leaned over the seat back to look out at the traffic before them on the highway. "California. I like the sound of that. The sun, the waves, the beaches, the bikinis. Yes, I could use that about now. Are there nude beaches in California?" "You can make any beach a nude beach, Fitz," Amanda smiled. "Yes, indeed." Fitz sighed as he looked Amanda over appreciatively. "California, here we come!" ~~~~~ It was a long trip with the three of them tooling cross-country to Methos' residence in Berkeley. They only once stopped to spend a night at a motel in order to shower and eat a meal that consisted of sitting down at a table and being waited on. The big bonus was that the food was actually warm, not like eating in the rain in the middle of New York State. When they were entering the city limits of Berkeley, Fitz was behind the wheel while Amanda and Methos were intertwined under a blanket in the back. "Will you two knock it off?!" Fitz screamed as he tilted the rear-view mirror down to see them. "Huh? What?" Amanda asked groggily as she sat up from her nap.  "Your snoring has been driving me insane the last fifty miles. Get up here, and tell me where Noah lives." "He was snoring. I never snore." Amanda nudged Methos and the snoring stopped immediately with a last, loud snort. "You really shouldn't smoke pot, luv. It clogs your nasal passages." "He was snoring. I never snore." Amanda nudged Methos and the snoring stopped immediately with a last, loud snort. "You really shouldn't smoke pot, luv. It clogs your nasal passages." Methos sat up and turned around to face the front seat, then stared off as if trying to focus on where he was. "That damn stuff only makes me sleepy." When he ruffled his shoulder-length wavy hair, Amanda chuckled as it was every which way. She smoothed it down as best as she could as Methos groaned. "I'm going to cut this mop off." "Like hell," Amanda countered. She combed her fingers tenderly through his hair. "I like it, and only fascists have short hair." "I've been many things, Amanda, but I have never been a fascist." Methos took her fingers and kissed them one by one. Fitz put the rear-view mirror back to its correct position. ‘Been many things'? He knew Noah was older than he had ever let on. Just how old was he? Fitz was bold enough to ask, "So, Noah... what have you been?" "Right now, I'm thirsty. Where are we?" Methos crouched forward to look out the windshield. "Oh, damn, you missed the turn." "Turn where?" "To my flat." "I don't want to go to your flat. I want to look up Gia Romero. Her grandfather was a fascist, but was killed by the opposition." Fitz shuddered involuntarily. "It was a good thing, but who wants to be castrated? They must have really hated him. Alfredo Romero was his name. You've heard of him, of course. I was able to give his widow the proper comfort when she was ready for it." Amanda leaned her head against Methos' shoulder as they listened to Fitz and watched the city of Berkeley pass them by. "Now their daughter. Whew! What a woman. Sophia even puts Gia to shame, but Gia isn't anything to sneeze at." Fitz paused as he gazed out to the palm trees lining the road. "The blood line had some great women..." As if snapped out of it as soon as he had fallen into memories of women gone by, he said, "Gia lives down by the pier." "I live in the hills," Methos said. "So, after you drop me off, you can go to your flat in the hills," Fitz suggested. "Or, you can go to my flat and take a cab." "Or, we can drive to Gia's, and then you can drive to your flat." "That's what you said before." "A good idea bears repeating." "Go to my place, Fitz. I want to get home." "What's the hurry? All you have is a hot, stuffy flat." "And a good woman," Methos said, bringing Amanda to his side. "She's right there," Fitz pointed at her for effect. "I've had enough of you two to last a lifetime," Amanda interrupted, moving back away from Methos, then wiped her brow. It was damn hot and stuffy in that van. "I want to go home. I'm tired, sweaty, and thirsty," Methos was adamant. He pointed at the corner they were coming up to and said, "Take that right." "But how will I get to Gia's?" Fitz asked, taking the turn nonetheless. "Take a cab." Methos was not being helpful and started packing up their things in the back. "A good idea bears repeating." "I don't have any money, mate. You'll float me a loan?" "More than I've given you already on this trip?"  Amanda interjected, "Boys will be boys... We'll drop Noah off, you will drive to this Gia's, and I'll drive back to Noah's, because after we drop him off, I'll know where he lives." She pointed at herself. "Notice the one grown-up in this van with the good ideas?" She piled her long hair up behind her head and started pinning it into a bun. "What if she's not home?" "Gia is always home," Fitz said with a wondrous look swimming on his face. "She lives on the beach. She lives for the beach. She wears next to nothing when she's on the beach. She'll be there. You should see her, Noah. She is something. Hot Italian, all woman." "That's a pleasure Noah can miss," Amanda stated, noting his look of ‘that might not be a half bad idea come to think of it' look. She slapped his arm for effect. "Take the next left," Methos said a bit dejectedly. He told Amanda, "A hot Italian babe in a bikini, and she might have beer to cool my thirst, and she might have friends. We could enjoy an Italian Babe-Bikini Festival... of love and music... art? I could bring an easel to make it art..." "And I could take the next plane back to Paris," Amanda snipped. "All right, fine." Methos groused. "Just remember where you drop him off in case it will come in handy one day." He told Fitz, "My place is the white building on the top of the hill." "I'll bet you have a great view, Noah," Fitz commented as he maneuvered the van up the winding road to the large white building that had to have been a mansion at one time. It was such a shame when grand old houses were cut up into apartments because the owners could no longer afford the opulence to which they had grown accustomed, and their houses reflected their wealth. "I do. Want to come up?" "Not with Gia on my horizon," Fitz said, smiling sweetly as he parked the van in the parking lot behind the building. Methos took out his wallet and handed Amanda a five dollar bill. "Fill up the van on the way back as well. Then I don't have to do it later." "Have a hot bath waiting for me," she said, kissing him and pocketing the five. "With you in it." Methos grabbed his long dufflebag and leaped out of the back. Amanda called after him, "Hey, you don't need beer?" "If there's one thing you should know by now, luv," Methos said with a knowing, large grin. "I always have a well-stocked fridge. See you later, Fitz." "Not if I see you first," Fitz yelled with his head out the driver's side window as they drove off. Methos carried his bag up the steps to his top floor apartment with the fabulous view of both the ocean and the college. It was when he hit the stairs on the second floor that the wash of a nearby immortal greeted him. He stopped and leaned against the wall, listening. He opened the flap of the bottom of his dufflebag and got a hold of his Ivanhoe's hilt. Methos silently crept up the rest of the stairs with his hand on the hilt and every sense he had focused on who the visitor might be. He hadn't felt the presence of another immortal in that area, which was why he had chosen the building for his abode, and did a mental tally of which immortals might be in town. When he opened the door to his floor, he didn't relax, even though he didn't see anything out of place. His next-door neighbor, Mr. Woodman, was a retired bloke who never had visitors let alone made enemies, certainly not immortal ones. The people across the hall were college students and were never there except if the party was at their place or they were getting ready to go to one. The sensuous notes of Bolero drifted down the hall to him. Methos had the funny feeling that he knew who had come to visit him. It had to be her; it just had to be. The young ladies across the hall constantly blared the latest rock and roll, and Mr. Woodman, though hard of hearing, only listened to big band music; none of them would have been playing Ravel. An immortal up to no good certainly wouldn't announce their presence with music. Methos sheathed his sword in his duffle bag and fished the key to his apartment out of his pocket, although he strongly suspected it wasn't locked. Methos turned the knob slightly, and the door swung open without resistance. Ravel's Bolero grew louder in volume and the faint humming of a feminine voice could be heard. Methos stepped into the foyer and dropped his bag by the door, then tiptoed to the bedroom door and drank in the sight that greeted him. "It's been a long, hot summer, Rebecca," Methos smiled at her as he leaned against the doorframe. "And it's about to get hotter," she said throatily, "if you're up to the task." Rebecca, wearing one of his white cotton oxford shirts, was draped across his unmade bed. Her flaxen hair was pinned loosely atop her head. The light from the enormous window above his bed caused her hair to shimmer like spun gold. Methos thought she looked almost angelic, except for the seductive way her hand traced along her collarbone. "Where's Thomas?" He made no move to close the distance between them, even though the sight of her made him terribly lonely standing on the opposite side of the room. "I would imagine he's still in New York where I left him," Rebecca replied. "The Big Apple has lost its allure." "Would that have anything to do with Thomas?" "Maybe, but he's not at all what I'd like to talk about," Rebecca rose up on her knees. "Why don't you come over here and greet me properly?" Methos sauntered across the room and one-handedly divested himself of his shirt as he approached her. He reached for his belt and the smile on Rebecca's face grew brighter. "That's exactly what I had in mind, darling." Methos shucked his jeans and joined Rebecca on the bed. "I aim to please." "Yes, you do." Rebecca pulled him down on her. She threaded her fingers through his hair as he kissed the juncture between her neck and shoulder. "I like your hair like this, Methos. It reminds me of how you looked when we first met." "Everyone seems fascinated with my hair lately."  "Hmm?" Rebecca halfheartedly asked. "Never mind." Methos shrugged off any thoughts, but those concerning the beautiful woman lying underneath him. "Where were we?" Rebecca's hand slid down his bare back and rested on his derriere. "Right about here." "Ah, yes." Methos acknowledged as leaned up. His fingers unfastened the buttons on her shirt. "You have entirely too many clothes on." Rebecca shifted so he could remove the shirt from her shoulders. She giggled when he tossed the garment behind his back. Her giggle quickly turned to a soft moan as his mouth dipped down to claim hers. She closed her eyes and tilted her head so he had better access to her throat. She wasn't disappointed when his lips teased a burning trail from her mouth down her throat along her collarbone. Soon his tongue was teasing and nibbling at her breasts. Her back arched and his hands slid underneath her pulling her closer as he slid further down her body. "Goddess," she whispered as his tongue teased around her navel. "Must you torture me, Methos?" Methos raised his head and quirked an eyebrow. "Are you complaining? I can stop if you wish." "Don't you dare!" Rebecca propped herself up on her elbows and blushed when she saw the intensity in his hazel eyes. "By all means, please continue." Rebecca let her head fall back as Methos massaged and caressed every inch of her now exposed body. The world outside his bedroom ceased to exist. All that mattered now was him and the sweet love he was making to her body. The fervor of his lovemaking always astounded her. She'd often wanted to ask him where he acquired such knowledge and technique, but she doubted she wanted to know, or if he would tell her. ~~~~~ Amanda waved farewell to Fitz as he made his way up the walk to the lovely Gia's home. Although she dearly adored the other immortal, she was glad to be rid of him. The last few days spent in the cramped van had driven her to the edge of sanity. Fitz and Methos either got along extremely well or they were at each other's throats. She was tired of playing peacemaker to their ever-changing moods. The late afternoon traffic was thickening when Amanda joined it with Methos' van. All she wanted to do at this point was get back to Methos' place, take a nice long soak, and sleep in a real bed with real sheets. Woodstock had been a blast, but the lack of modern conveniences had worn thin quickly. Sleeping in the van had seemed romantic at the start of the trip, but her back was continuously sore, even though she was immortal. A blinking red light on the dash brought her mind back to the present. Gas. She needed gas for that fuel sucking machine, and quick. Although Amanda was sure Methos had plenty of beer, she doubted that he had anything resembling fresh food. She steered into the left hand lane and waited impatiently for a break in the oncoming traffic. "Damn it!!!" she shouted out the open driver's side window at the passing cars. "What happened to the Golden Rule?" The thought of just gunning the vehicle across the two lanes of traffic ran through her mind, but the last thing she wanted to hear was Methos nagging her about wrecking his van. While she waited a long line of cars had begun to queue behind her. A bald man in the convertible behind her began to honk his horn. "Get moving, lady." "Sod off!" She leaned out the window and flipped him her middle digit.  After what seemed like an eternity, a window of opportunity presented itself, and the traffic cleared long enough for Amanda to whip the van across the lanes and up the drive to come to a halt at an Exxon pump. She shoved the gearshift into park, and it occurred to her to check her wallet before going in to get food at the attached grocery. A quick search through her purse netted nothing but her ID, a hairbrush, several photos, and the five dollar bill that Methos handed her. "Shit, shit, shit!!" They'd used the last of her money somewhere in Nevada for gasoline and munchies. Sure, she could get the gas, but how was she supposed to acquire food without money? Sure, she could just steal it, but considering how badly her day had been going, she assumed she'd get caught and arrested. Methos, once passed out in his own bed, couldn't be counted on to bail her out. Her fingers tapped rapidly on the steering wheel as she tried to formulate a plan. If Methos were here, he'd think of something. Suddenly, a smile crept over her face. Methos, for his arguing to the contrary, was a very predictable person. She jumped between the seats and climbed into the back of the van. After shoving aside their backpacks and other sundry items, Amanda lifted a false panel that had been covered by a piece of carpeting. "Ah ha!!" She held up a leather wallet triumphantly. Methos always kept a spare wallet; he took immense pride in the fact he could assume another identity at a moment's notice. Just as she expected it was filled with enough cash to finance a nice little shopping spree. For curiosity's sake, she glanced at the driver's license. "Calvin Trimble? Where in the world do you come up with these names, luv?" After paying for filling the van, $3.86, she didn't like anything the puny grocery store had to offer. Not one piece of fresh fruit in the place. With Methos' wallet in her purse, she walked back to the van to find a fruit stand and fish market for something more satisfying. They would eat like royalty tonight. ~~~~~ TWO HOURS LATER Arms filled with grocery bags, Amanda climbed the flight of stairs to Methos' flat and wondered, not for the first time, why he never lived on a ground floor.  She paused several times to readjust her load and hoped that he would feel her presence. Surely, he'd have enough common courtesy to come help her with the bags. "Fat chance," she mumbled when she realized she was talking about Methos here, and he was probably already passed out. She let out a sigh of relief when she realized she was standing in front of the door that the buzzer downstairs marked would belong to Noah Michaels. With one more flight of stairs, she could swear her arms would fall off. She groaned after it occurred to her that since her hands were full, she couldn't knock or ring the buzzer. Without batting an eye, her sandal clad foot connected solidly with the door. However, the heavy oak door proved to be a more formidable opponent. "OW!" she yelped as she tried to keep a grip on the bags in her arms. "Open the damn door!" Amanda jumped back when the sight of a long sharp blade followed the door opening. "Knock it off, Noah, it's just me. Now help me with these damn bags." Amanda pushed past the drawn sword. The bags were slipping fast and she rushed over to the dining room table. "Amanda?" The sound of a very familiar voice caused her to look up from her task. "Rebecca?" "What are you doing here?" Both women asked simultaneously. "I asked you first!" both women said, again at the same time. "Methos asked me to come back with him after we left Woodstock," Amanda arched a finely shaped eyebrow. Rebecca wore only a shirt that looked very much like one Methos owned. "And you?" "Thomas and I broke up, so I decided to pay our old friend a visit," Rebecca smiled sheepishly. "Did I come at a bad time?" "You might say that. Where is he?" "In bed." "Go figure," Amanda rolled her eyes. She was losing the battle of keeping all bags in her hands, and asked, "Can you help me here?" just before a bag slipped out of her hands; the paper bag split and lettuce and salmon steaks spilled out on the floor. Rebecca picked up what was left of the bag with some tomatoes inside and made a dash for the head of lettuce which rolled across the foyer. "It can just be washed, right?" Rebecca said holding up the head of lettuce.  Amanda glanced at the condition of the floor, and saw dust bunnies in the corners, and said, "A good washing." Rebecca took another bag from Amanda's arms, and they made tracks to the kitchen to dump Amanda's finds on the table. "I'm sorry, Rebecca, I didn't know you'd be here so I only got food for two." "I wasn't going to stay long. Methos told me you were with him, so I thought I'd stay long enough to see you again. How are you, my favorite student?" Rebecca pulled Amanda into her lithe arms. Even though Rebecca was a slender woman, being held by her always felt like home to Amanda. Amanda let go of the hug and fingered the white sleeve of the shirt Rebecca wore. "I can come to some conclusions here, Rebecca." "And you'd be right, Amanda." Amanda opened the fridge and started to put things away in order to not think about what had happened in that apartment while she wasn't there. Wordlessly, Rebecca started handing her fruits and jam to put in the fridge. Rebecca put the loaf of French bread on the counter, then took out a broiling pan for them to cook the two salmon steaks on. Amanda just stared into the half-stocked fridge. Of course, Methos had a case of beer cooling in there. She had bought a bottle of wine, but Amanda took out a beer and started to search for a bottle opener in the drawers. She groused, "These things really should be easier to open! Twist off or something..." Rebecca took her hand. "Amanda. I didn't know you were still with him. I thought he came back alone." "He didn't mention it?" "After I'd been here for a while. I assumed that after the concert you would fly back to Paris, which you told me you would when I gave you the tickets." "Methos asked me to stay with him, so I did." Amanda squeezed Rebecca's hand and stared at her. "Do you want me to leave? You can eat this stuff, Methos bought it anyway." "No," Rebecca said. "Of course not. No. Honey, I'm really sorry. I didn't know, and I needed... I needed Methos. For the afternoon." "A quick fix?" Amanda crooked an eyebrow at her teacher and started to smile. Methos could fix any problem a gal was having. Rebecca mimicked Amanda's smile. "Yeah. I needed to feel beautiful again." "Thomas couldn't do that?" "Not when he's shacked up with an artist in Miami." "Rebecca! What happened?" "She's young, buxom, and stupid. What more explanation do you need?" "You and Thomas were-" "It was all about the sex, Amanda. When he found a well-endowed, interested lass, he was out of there. Or, rather, he wasn't, I think he would have liked both of us. He said that Karen fulfils one need, and I fulfil another. Thanks so much, Thomas. That's really what I needed to hear. So, I came here." "Well, I love you, Rebecca, but... Methos is mine, for the moment anyway." "Of course. I'll leave before Methos wakes up. I just wanted to see you before I leave." "Where are you going? Back to the Abbey?" "Not yet." Rebecca gazed out the window at the bright sunny day. "I think I'll take in some sun first." "Fitz is at the beach with some fascist's granddaughter by the name of Gia." "Gia Romero?" Rebecca chuckled knowingly. "That Fitz. He's just like Thomas." "Fitz wouldn't leave you for a set of knockers." "Don't be so sure," Rebecca replied. Before Amanda could ask about that remark, Rebecca fumbled with Methos' shirt on her body and said, "I'll change now." It was nice to see her teacher again, but Amanda wished the circumstances would have been better. Amanda drank down the beer and started to fix their dinner, not wanting to think about Rebecca and Methos together. She knew they had a relationship that had lasted longer than hers, that they had started well before Amanda was born, and had seen each other off and on all the while Amanda had been alive. She knew that their relationship was completely different than hers with Methos. She knew that Rebecca and Methos would meet for one encounter then leave without a backward glance. It wasn't just the act, but they sort of fed on each other. Amanda liked to think she was world savvy and knew her mind, body, and spirit, but she could never keep her emotions in check, especially when those emotions had to do with Methos. When her mind was set on being with Methos, it usually took a lot for her to walk away. Like Lays potato chips, just once was not enough. She could also harbor that delightful fantasy that she and Methos would decide that they were meant to be together, and take that chance. It will never, ever happen, Amanda told herself, and lit the broiler. Rebecca came back into the kitchen dressed in a spaghetti strap flowered sundress, a straw hat, and sandals. "I've called a cab, so I don't have long." Rebecca held Amanda again just as Amanda was about to start crying. Not only because of the absence of permanence to her and Methos' relationship, but because Rebecca was leaving so suddenly. "Don't cry, Amanda. I'm not falling off the earth. Or is this about Methos?" "If I caught him with any other woman but you, I'd have to commit murder. I'd have no choice." Rebecca tenderly wiped Amanda's cheeks and said, "You have nothing to worry about from me. I want you two to be together for the long haul. You know that. One day, I'll find my love. He's out there somewhere, I just have to find him." "It's not Methos?" "The love of my life is not Methos. He just has a way of making me feel better." "He has a way of pissing me off." Amanda turned away from Rebecca, but asked, "Was there any hesitance at all when he got into bed with you?" After a short pause, Amanda looked back at Rebecca. "Don't answer that," she said and turned away again, not wanting to know. "I wouldn't dream of it." Amanda felt Rebecca rub her back, and kiss her cheek. "As much as you try, you'll never understand what Methos and I mean to each other or what we've been through in the past." "So, tell me." "Not today. One day, but not today. I'll bet my cab is here," she said going to the window. After peering down to the ground, she said, "Yes. I have to go." Amanda followed her to the foyer, where Rebecca put her bag's strap over her shoulder and blew Amanda a kiss. "We should see each other again before I leave California." "You know where we are." "Yes, I do." Rebecca smiled wide. "Together. Just how I like you and Methos." Rebecca slipped out the door and shut it without a sound. "Then why did you just have sex with him?" Amanda asked no one. She shook off the thoughts and said, "Open your mind, Amanda. That's the way it is, deal with it," as she walked back to the kitchen. After grabbing another beer, she went to the window and saw Rebecca look up to her after opening the back door to the cab. They waved and smiled to each other, then Rebecca disappeared, and the cab drove away. Amanda opened the bottle with an opener and tossed the cap on the fridge, then took a deep swallow. She turned off the broiler, grabbed another beer from the fridge, opened it, then walked to the door of the bedroom. Methos had sprawled face down on the bed, arms and legs flung out to the sides in total relaxation. She walked over and pulled the sheet up to cover him. He was dead to the world, so she decided to take a shower and wait for him to wake up. After she sat the beer on the bedside table, she leaned down and kissed the top of his head. He mumbled something and turned over on his back but remained asleep. Only when he was asleep did she forget really how old he was, his features totally relaxed, and he looked so young and innocent. "Innocent, my ass." She grabbed his robe off the back of the door and headed into the bathroom. ~~~~~ The sound of water running along with Amanda's singing managed to rouse Methos from his nap. He instinctively looked over to the other side of the bed. Rebecca wasn't there, but was she still in the apartment? Gods! Rebecca had always been adamant about Amanda not knowing about the intimate side of their relationship. Besides, he didn't want to have to explain himself to either of them. This was a situation he never wanted to be in. He threw the sheet back and stood up. His clothes were still strewn all about the room. He spotted his jeans and hurried to put them on. Since he knew where Amanda was, he went to find Rebecca. A thorough search of his apartment yielded nothing but a cold beer in his hand. Whew!! Rebecca must have left before Amanda returned; I was worried about nothing. Well, he wasn't exactly worried, but he sure didn't need two pissed off, sword carrying women on his hands. Rebecca knew all about him and Amanda, but Amanda was still in the dark about his dalliances with her mentor. He padded back into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed in relief. "Methos?" Amanda called as she walked out of the bathroom. "Are you up yet?" "Yeah," he replied casually. "You done in there?" "Yep," she stood in the doorway to the bedroom. "Why don't you take a nice hot soak? I mean, you must feel all befouled." Methos nearly spit out the mouthful of beer he'd been trying to swallow. She knows. "What?" Amanda sauntered over to the bed and ran her finger along his rib cage. "We've been cooped up in that old smelly van of yours. You'll feel so much better; I know I do." "Uh, yeah, I think I'll do that." If she knew, she was being awful calm about it. Deciding he wasn't going to stick around and find out, he beat a hasty retreat into the bathroom and the safety of the shower murmuring to himself, "Those two will be the death of me yet." ~~~~~ Amanda watched Methos practically run from the bedroom. Something had rattled the old man's cage for sure. Did he think her so simple that she didn't suspect him and Rebecca of being lovers? She'd known almost from the beginning of her time with Rebecca that Methos had been her lover. They'd tried to hide it from her, however she wasn't blind or deaf to their antics. Rebecca had been mortified when she'd confronted her about it after one of Methos' visits to the Abbey during the early part of the eleventh century. Rebecca had been afraid of Amanda's reaction, but Amanda assured her that she was fine with it. Methos had never been shy in revealing his feelings about Amanda in front of Rebecca. Now the only one in the dark was Methos, and Amanda loved that. She was going to make him sweat a little. Since Amanda's clothes were still in the van, she rummaged through his dresser hoping to find something to wear. Sure, Methos brought his bag up, but he couldn't grab mine? On her trip up the endless flight of stairs, her arms were full of groceries and she wasn't looking forward to a return trip in the foreseeable future. She found a pair of denim cutoffs and a t-shirt shoved in one of the drawers. Thankfully, Methos was at one of his lean stages when he bought those clothes, and with the help of a belt, she'd have no trouble keeping the shorts up. The t-shirt had the infamous Lips logo of the Rolling Stones emblazoned on it. This was definitely going to find its way into her bags when she left. The shower had turned off, and she heard Methos moving around in the bathroom. She loved toying with the old man. She grinned and waltzed in to join him. He was standing at the sink, towel around his waist, brushing his teeth. He looked so darn cute, Amanda almost forgot about her game, but not quite. "Rebecca was here," Amanda scooted him over and ran the faucet to get a drink for herself. She nearly laughed when his eyes went wide in surprise. "Yeah," Methos schooled his features. "She's out for a visit." "Can you believe she and Thomas broke up?" Amanda sipped her water. "She caught him cheating on her with some floozy? Men!" "She seemed fine with it." Methos spit out the toothpaste and used her glass to rinse his mouth. "She tell you anything else?" Fishing, are we, Methos? Well, I'll play along. "Did she ever!!" Amanda noted him cringing. "She says she's staying here for a while. I'm so excited!! It's been so long since we've all been together." Take that, you old pervert. "Goodie," Methos mumbled.  "Aren't you glad she's come for a visit? I know how close you two are." Amanda made sure to keep her voice all light and innocent. "We should have her and Fitz over for dinner this week." "Whatever."  Amanda jumped up and placed her bum on the counter next to the sink as Methos combed the snarls out of his shoulder-length hair. She grabbed the can of shaving foam and shook it as she asked, "Mind if I do this?" Methos rubbed his stubble and looked at himself in the mirror, but didn't answer. She could tell though that he was thinking of keeping his three day beard. "Goodie," she said, spreading the foam onto his cheek before he could answer. "Okay, fine," he said allowing her to cover his face save his nose and eyes.  "You sure are docile this evening." Amanda peered at his eyes as she took hold of the razorblade from the drawer by her left knee to see him avert his gaze at her. Starting to shave him, with Methos planted between her legs, she said, "You fell asleep, you're not talkative, you took a shower without complaint..." His hands were platonically on the counter on each side of her as she gently swept the razor blade up his neck. She chuckled and said, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you just had sex." Methos jerked back and grabbed the razor from her. He looked at himself in the mirror and only then did she see a droplet of red on the pink skin of his neck where she had shaved. "Hey!" he moaned and motioned for her to get down from the counter. She hopped down saying, "Gosh, I'm really sorry," as she thought, I should have cut deeper. "Did I do that?" Methos grabbed some toilet paper from the spool and wet it with his tongue, then dabbed at the minuscule wound. "You usually don't make mistakes when you shave me," he said guardedly. "I'm in a pissy mood, that's all," she replied as she left the room. She called back over her shoulder, "I'll make us dinner." "Amanda," she heard him say and turned around. He was at the door of the bathroom, razor in hand, a pink strip going down the side of his white neck. She waited for him to say something about what she knew he and Rebecca did, but he just shook his head and joshed, "Don't burn it," then disappeared into the bathroom. Since he didn't mention what he was up to while she was away, she wasn't going to either. She'd kept mum about knowing he and Rebecca boinked once in a while for over a thousand years, why dredge it up now?  Besides, it really had put her in a foul mood, and that's the last thing she wanted right now. She had come to the sun with Methos to have fun, not dwell on things she couldn't change. Another reason she wanted to get the thought out of her head was if she did bring up the subject up to Methos, he might think she wanted him to make a choice between her and Rebecca, and she just might lose. She flipped the radio on just after reheating the broiler to hear the 5th Dimension sing out, "This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius, age of Aquarius..." She happily sang along, then she fished through her purse to see if she had any more pot. Eureka! She sat in a chair at the table by the window and rolled herself a joint, needing to slow her mind so she wouldn't remain focused on the bedroom activity earlier. "Knock it off, Amanda," she scolded herself aloud as she looked through her purse for matches. "It'll just make you feel worse." She put the joint between her lips and struck a match. "No use dwelling on it. What's done is done." She sang, "Let the sunshine... let the sun shine in, the sun...," then the phone rang.  Fitz's voice rang through the telephone wires after Amanda answered it. "Hey! Mandy, why don't you and Noah come on over for a pig roast? HEY!" he shouted enough that she had to pull the phone away from her ear. "Becca's here! Becca, long time..." Fitz's voice trailed off as if he had dropped the phone and forgot about her. Rebecca might have just showed up. Again, she lost a man to Rebecca. Twice in one day. In a span of a couple of damn hours! She slammed the handset down and took a toke of her joint wondering why she was letting it get to her. Because you love the old man, Mandy darling, more than you want to admit. "I do not." Do to! "I Do Not!!" You can lie to everyone else, luv, but aren't you too old to be lying to yourself? "Shut up!" Amanda squeezed her eyes closed as tight as she could and ignored the snarky little voice in her head. "I'm here now, not Rebecca. I can make him forget her." "Who was on the phone?" Methos inquired as he walked into the living room wearing a nicely faded pair of jeans riding low on his hips. "Just Fitz," Amanda released a sigh. "He wants us to come over for party. I hope you don't mind, but I told him thanks, but no thanks." Methos sank onto the sofa and propped his bare feet on the coffee table. "After driving cross country with the man, I've had enough of Hugh Fitzcairn for a while." He sniffed the air appreciatively. "What's for dinner?" "I stopped by the fish market on the way home and picked up some salmon steaks," Amanda told him. The pot must've started to kick in, because she felt the stress she'd been feeling float away. "I also got the makings for a salad and a nice bottle of wine." "Sounds marvelous," Methos stretched out the length of the sofa. "Why are you sitting all the way over there? There's plenty of room over here." He patted the cushion beside him. Amanda thought about shooting off another comment to rattle him, but decided she'd much rather cuddle. "Feels good to be out of that van." Methos turned on his side so Amanda could lie down next to him. "I did have fun at the concert. Thanks for inviting me." Amanda threw her leg over him and tucked her head against her shoulder. "We were a part of history, I think." "That remains to be seen," Methos closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her hair. "You smell good." "Better than I have in days," Amanda admitted. "I must say you clean up rather nicely yourself." Methos moved so he was on top of her. "Suddenly, I'm not very hungry." He dipped his head down and nibbled softly on her ear. "At least not for salmon." Whatever irritation she felt towards him waned as his attentions increased. "Speaking of which, I need to check dinner." "Oh, I think you'd much rather be here," Methos moved from her ear down to her neck, "doing this, instead of watching a smelly piece of fish." "Uh, yes, but I'd prefer that our dinner didn't burn," Amanda pointed out. "Unless you plan on taking me out to dinner if this one is ruined." He reluctantly rolled off her and groaned. "You're killing me here, Amanda." "Poor baby." Amanda pulled her shirt down and sat up. "We have plenty of time for this, Methos. I'll be here for a while. I'm hungry." The pout on his handsome face was well worth putting a halt to his advances, albeit a temporary halt. "Quit your moping, darling. We eat, then we play." Methos whined, "But, Amanda–" Amanda held up her hands to ward off his protests. "Act your age. I spent an outrageous amount of your money on dinner tonight, and we're gonna enjoy it! Do you hear me?" Methos sat up behind her and put his arms around her. "Are you mad at me?" "Should I be?" Amanda stood up and walked into the kitchen. "What possible reason would I have to be mad at you?" "Well, you're not acting like you're thrilled to be here," Methos made his way into the kitchen and leaned against the counter opposite her. "I thought you wanted to come for a visit." "I did. I do," Amanda said. "I'm just tired is all. It was a long trip from New York, after all." "Are you sure?" Methos opened the fridge and snagged a beer.  "Of course, I'm sure," Amanda replied lightly. He was like a dog with a bone; she needed to throw him off this subject before he figured out what she knew.  "Since you're in there, get the salad fixings out and put this bottle of wine in to chill." "I'm glad you're here, Amanda," Methos stopped rummaging in the fridge. "If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have invited you." ~~~~~ 850 AD Ah, the hungry and destitute. Methos walked through the village with a few coins in his pouch, his sword under his tunic, and looking for something to wile away his time. He had traveled through such villages a thousand years ago to scrutinize everything on reconnaissance. He would pay attention to where the swords were, where the gold was, where the men fit to fight back were, where the dames were. A couple of days meeting with his brothers would lead to the decimation of that village, and all that was in it. The village was quiet; poor souls trudging along in their dismal condition. The only sounds he could hear were the calls to ‘bring out your dead' from the men assigned to dispose of the plague infested corpses. Even the few children he saw weren't playing, making merriment, or even smiling. A few did beg him for money or an article of his clothing, but most of all food. Gods, to take this village would be simple, even with two of us. I might have even taken it myself on a good day. As Methos walked through the village he could now buy and sell but sagely decided against, he knew he was being followed. It couldn't be one of the emboldened children, as they weren't covert in their surveillance. It wasn't a cart master or one of his helpers. When he turned a corner, he looked back to see a women with long dark hair and long dirty dress that was full of holes. Methos stopped at a booth in the village square to sift through the blankets and pots that were for sale, none of which caught his attention. What did was how the woman stopped short and pretended to be shopping for fabric at another booth, as if she could actually afford it. He could tell that she was sizing up his coin pouch, which he took no pains to hide. Methos sauntered to a potter's stand and examined a large bowl. The woman rushed him and reached for his pouch. Expecting it, Methos grabbed her wrist and bent her arm behind her back. With a tight hold on her arm, he folded his other arm around her front and said, "What do we have here..." "Please, Sire. Just a coin or two," she said obviously biting back the pain he was administering. "Please?" He let go of her hand and she spun around, rubbing her elbow. She looked like a scared cat, but made no effort to get away from him before he called on the authorities. No, he would play with this one. Before he could speak, she tried to take off, but he grabbed her arm again. "Please!" she screamed. "It was a mistake. I am just hungry." "It is a crime to steal," Methos told her. When he realized that his voice was deep, almost dead, like it had been during those thousand years he was still trying to put behind him, he assured her, "But there is nothing wrong with asking." That stopped her, and she looked cautiously at him as he held tight to her arm. "What?" Yes, a thousand years ago. Seems like yesterday some times. Look at her. Dirty, big eyes, hungry, probably manipulative. Oh how I could have had fun with her... Methos smelled urine and dirt on the woman, along with her preimmortal hum. I should nip her in the bud right now! One less to worry about... Methos bit back those thoughts before they overtook him again. He didn't want to revert back to old habits. I am respectable now. I shant be thinking thoughts of tossing the wench over my shoulder and throw her down in a back alley. I have the ear of the King. Such behavior would... Methos grunted as he tried to clear his head. He let go of her arm, but she just stood there. She didn't even know what she is, or will be. He flipped three coins from his pouch in the air and they fell to the ground. The woman shoved a little boy who had run over to pick them up and took them for herself. She looked up at him and said, "Thank you, Sire." ~~~~~ Methos woke up when Amanda's hand slapped him in her sleep. It was hot and sticky, and she was half laying on top of him. Not that he didn't enjoy Amanda holding him as she slept, but when it had to be 95 degrees with no breeze coming through the window, it was a bit much. He turned her delicately onto her back and lifted himself off the bed to turn on the fan on the bureau in the corner. As Amanda slept, she looked as fragile and naive as she had the second time he had ever laid eyes on her. That little street rat had flowered into a beautiful, savvy woman. With the help of Rebecca, and himself, Methos beamed with pride as he sat in King Alfred's traveling throne that had been stolen by Geoffrey, had been retrieved, and was now his chair, though Amanda usually begged to differ. The thought that Rebecca had slept in that bed just hours before gave him a thrill. He was able to once again partake in the two most important women in his life in a short span of time. The women were so different in life and in bed, but Methos enjoyed them both equally, for different reasons. Sleeping with Rebecca was as if she had opened her lightness to him; her cool exterior unfolded like a flower as he savored her. Her concealed sexuality came to the fore as she would react to each of Methos' movements; by the time they were riding the crest of passion, Rebecca would become Amanda, the ultimate tigress in bed from start to finish. Methos chuckled as he rubbed his growing erection. Ah, Amanda. She was just the opposite. Even when trying to portray herself as sophisticated, noble, or even prudish, she was still projecting pure unadulterated sensuality, and not just to him but to every man who was in her presence. He was pleased that Amanda felt so strongly for him, even from the very beginning. At the time of their second meeting, her overt flirtations had taken him by surprise. At Rebecca's Abbey, Methos had remembered Amanda well, and was at once confused and delighted that she didn't have a clue what he was really thinking during their first meeting. It had taken him almost 1500 years to put what he was with his brothers completely behind him. Frequent midnight visits to Rebecca was one of the main antidotes to the brimming hatred that would seep into him without warning and cause him to reflect vividly upon his past as a horseman. Instead of trying to look up his brothers to regroup and sink back into that life, he would make the trek to Ste. Anne's and get some tender loving care from Rebecca. Over the course of time, there was another reason to visit the Abbey. She went, and still goes, by the name of Amanda. ~~~~~ 850 AD Methos knew Rebecca was walking around her bedchamber, but didn't feel the need to get out of bed himself. Whoever made her mattress should get knighted, as Methos never slept as well as on Rebecca's bed. Tough decision if it was because of Rebecca or because of her mattress, but that was something to ponder another day. All he wanted was to sleep forever right where he was. He felt the sun on his body and wrapped his arms around a fluffy pillow and closed his eyes. Paradise. This is paradise right here on earth. Rebecca slapped his thigh bringing him out of his reverie. "Up. Out. I have things to do," she commanded. He turned over to drink in the sight of her; her long golden-red locks were shining in the sun, and she was wearing a white gown. He wondered if she knew that by standing in the light, he could see right through it. Methos chuckled when he thought she probably did, and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Her eyebrows rose as she scanned his body, and he looked down to see he was saluting her. "Good morning," he purred. "Not that I would not like to take care of that for you," she said with a smile, "I do have things to do and people to see, so if you want to keep your movements covert, you should scram." Methos swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He looked down and felt his little buddy take over control of his body. "Are you sure you cannot help me out here?" He looked over to see Rebecca take the gown off over her head and stand proudly in front of him. To his chagrin, she walked to her bureau and put on a heavier gown and cinched it around her waist with a matching strap of fabric. "You can help me put on my sandals," she suggested as a pittance. "No thanks," Methos grumbled, rubbing himself as he got up and started the search for his tunic. "Make me think of those corpses in town," he said to take his mind off his immediate need. Think of anything but what Rebecca looked like under that burlap gown that covered her from neck to toe. Methos strolled to the corner of the room to collect his pants, and stood up next to a pedestal that Rebecca kept her treasures upon. He looked to see that she wasn't looking at him, taking his place on the side of the bed strapping her sandals. He opened the teak box and checked its inventory. A few coins, a cameo pin, and the crystal pieces that Rebecca was confident held metaphysical elements. There were only five. The last time he looked, there were six. Methos picked one up and held it up until it caught the light. A prism of lights reflected on the stone wall. Suddenly, Rebecca's delicate hands snaked over his arm. "They are phenomenal. Each piece holds a life force." When he cocked an eyebrow at her, she said, "I am convinced of it." "Only life holds a force, Rebecca. It is only crystal." She took the piece and gingerly placed it back in the box and shut the lid. "That is why you will never get one." "Who got the last one?" "Oliver." "Oh, good." Methos pulled on his pants. "I never cared for that cocky little wimp. He is actually deemed ready to make his way in the world without his precious teacher? Where is he? Maybe I will show him what it is like to be challenged." "You will not!" Rebecca said not at all getting his humor, then reacted to his grin. "As if you would." "So," Methos said taking Rebecca into his arms and placing a kiss on her soft cheek. "You have time to humor me with no students in the abbey. Finally." "Not quite." Rebecca seemed as if she didn't want him to stop making a track of kisses across her ear and down her neck, but she did back away. "I have a new student on the ground floor." "Rebecca, when will you stop picking up strays?" "When there are no more, and not one minute sooner. She is still asleep, poor dear." "She? Is she at all pretty?" "You rascal," Rebecca stated as she slapped his arm with mock surprise. "There is beauty in all people." "She resembles a dog, huh?" Rebecca laughed, but remained mum. "You had better leave before you are seen." Methos pulled Rebecca back into his arms to continue what she had so abruptly put an end to. "At this point, I am not sure I care." "Melucine is not worried about my finding her peering through the bushes." "Watchers!" Methos grumbled suddenly losing all thoughts and needs of intimacy. "The most inept group of human beings I have ever met." "Then why do you insist on hiding out with them from time to time?" She snuggled in close, instead of trying to break free. "Because their intentions might be good, but are hopelessly inept, darling. It makes my job so much easier," Methos relayed. "Almost too easy sometimes, however, it helps to keep my head and neck perfectly aligned." "And that is your main goal in life?" "I have no desire to do otherwise, Rebecca. Whatever it takes, I will survive." "Still does it not get tiresome being so paranoid?" "I prefer to think of it as being careful, thank you very much." Rebecca leaned away from him and looked him square in the eye. "What am I going to do with you, Methos?" ~~~~~ "What am I going to do with you Methos?" Amanda purred into his ear as her hand massaged his chest. "Hmm?" Methos rolled over onto his side.  "You should be sleeping." "I was until you woke me," Methos informed her. "Sleeping with you is like going ten rounds with a heavy weight boxer." "Blame me for everything," Amanda flopped over on her back. "God, it's hot in here." "Welcome to summer in California." "You said it didn't get this hot here," Amanda whined. "Usually it doesn't, but what I can say? I'm not a weatherman," Methos retorted. "Sue me." "I would," Amanda sat up, "but you were probably a lawyer at some point." Methos chuckled, "You would be right, luv. Now lay back down, Amanda." "It's too hot to sleep," Amanda got up from the bed, ignoring his attempts to stop her. "It's too hot to do anything. Why don't you have air conditioning?" "The landlord keeps working on it," Methos explained.  "Apparently, not hard enough," Amanda complained, as she stood nude in front of the fan. "I'd move if I were you." "Good thing, I'm not you," Methos told her. "I like it here. People live and let live. No one asks questions." "God, you're the most paranoid person," Amanda shook her head.  "So I've been told," Methos tossed the sheet aside. "Put on your clothes." "Why?" "Fine, don't put them on," Methos smiled as he pulled on his jeans. "I'm sure you'll cause a stir without them." Amanda reached for her discarded clothes, "Where are we going?" "Don't worry about that; just get dressed." "You're insane," Amanda laughed when she saw the playful look in his eyes. "Maybe, but you're hot and miserable," Methos reminded her. "I have just the thing in mind to cool you down." ~~~~~ Methos and Amanda got back into the dingy VW van and Methos muttered, "You should have gone through a car wash, Amanda." "I filled the tank and bought you fixin's for a great dinner, and cooked it, by the way, and you're grumbling because you were on your ass all day and the van isn't washed?" Methos shrugged as he put the van into gear. "Well, since you put it that way..." "So, where are we off to?" Amanda asked excitedly. It was usually something good when Methos dragged her out of a deep sleep to go someplace. After all, it wasn't even midnight yet. The night was still young. "The arctic," Methos said with a smile, and kept it at that at he drove down the hills of Clairmont Avenue and into the heart of Berkeley, just skirting the edges of the University. Amanda saw various college aged couples holding hands as they walked the streets and courtyards between buildings. Some having found various privacy areas and were in different stages of undress. "The arctic. From what I can see, there's nothing but heat in this town." "Well, never let it be said you were never wrong." Methos drove them into a parking lot and pointed at the cement building he drew the van to a stop beside. Amanda could hear carnival music in the air, but couldn't see anything particularly arctic about the place except for the painted white, stark, cement block wall. Methos walked around the van and opened her door to offer his hand. "Welcome to Iceland, my dear." Sure there were a lot of cars in the lot and there were some teens that probably should have been home in bed at this hour, but Amanda didn't see anything that interested her at all. "Are you on drugs? If so, I want some." "Come on," Methos commanded, and yanked her out of the van. As they walked to the street, and in front of the building, he said, "If you need a toke, Gary should be able to help you out. For me, I just want my favorite pair of skates." "Skates?" Amanda was surprised to look above the front doors to see that the building was named "Iceland" and she could see that it was an ice skating rink. "Ice skating?" Amanda said confused that this was where Methos dragged her to, but also because she was good at it. "I haven't had skates on my feet since I was in Norway." "You're a regular Dick Button, I'm sure." "You bet your ass, Peggy." It didn't take long for them to rent some skates and take to the rink. A few teens were skating, but most of them were at tables surrounding the rink drinking and smoking. Amanda glided onto the ice and turned around to call for Methos to join her. She moved backward on her skates, hunched forward, bumping her hips to the beat of the next song. She wiggled her finger to him as she sang, "Another day goes by. Still the children cry. Put a little love in your heart." Methos skated to her and took hold of her waist as he swept them around the rink. He joined in to sing, "If you want the world to know. We won't let hatred grow. Put a little love in your heart." They sang together on the song while the teens on the rink skated out of the way of their wide circles, spins, and Methos' attempt at a double loop. Amanda gasped and skated over to help him to his blades. He shook her off and got up on his own to sing, "And the world!" She echoed, "And the world..." Methos sang, "Will be a better place, all the world!" "All the world," Amanda continued to sing backup as she clapped her hands.  Methos floated over the rink again as he almost screamed, "Will be a better place. For you." He held his hand to his ear for backup. "For you!" Amanda obliged him, and to her surprise, was helped by the voices of the teens who had moments before seemed bored or stoned. "And me!" "And me!" "You just wait." "Just wait." "And see, wait and see!" All the people, even Gary behind the desk, sang at the top of their lungs as they came out to the rink, "Take a good look around, and if you're looking down, put a little love in your heart. I hope when you decide, kindness will be your guide. Put a little love in your heart." During the rest of the song, Amanda felt as if she was again at Woodstock with everyone coming together for the benefit of music, peace, and fun. Methos had been right, it was cold in there, and she was beginning to turn purple out on the rink. "I think I'm cold enough, darling," she told him when she got his attention. He had been too busy taking high fives from various teens, and one strange old man who they hadn't noticed when they walked in. The gray haired man was wearing a light blue shirt that read "Texaco" on his left breast and "Clifford" over the right of his chest. His cherub face was red. Amanda didn't know if it was because of felicity, the chill in the air, or it was always like that. No matter, the old man was happy. "You kids," he said to Methos. "I haven't had this much fun since Gloria died." With that, he skated off the ice and went right out the door. "Strange," Methos commented. "He's always here," one girl about the age of seventeen said. "His wife died two months ago and I've never seen him crack a smile before." "Must be the music," Amanda said. "Do you all talk to him or anything?" "Not much," was about the consensus. "Will he be in tomorrow night?" Methos asked them. The kids supposed he would, he's there every other night, they told them. "Well, sing!" Methos gleefully suggested. "Make him happy." "I'm not happy," Amanda said. "I'm freezing here in the arctic." "You should have worn more than a halter and shorts, luv," Methos pointed out. Too late.  "Thanks, hun. Considering I didn't know where we were going or how to dress, I would think that it's-" A bell rang out and all the teens grumbled. Gary called out, "Time to close. Lights out and doors locked in three minutes!" It didn't take long for Amanda to hightail it out of her skates and into the van because she was freezing. She yelled for Methos to hurry when he didn't get the van started quick enough to turn the heat on. "The heat? Just step outside, it's gotta be ninety degrees out there." Amanda pulled his arms around her and said, "This is better. Warm me up." "After another stop. I didn't realize it was midnight already." Methos turned all the vents to Amanda as he wasn't at all as cold as she was dressed in jeans and tie-dyed t-shirt. He only drove for a couple of minutes and only made a couple of turns before they were parked in another parking lot. From their vantage point, she could read what this establishment was named. "First Iceland, now Jupiter?" "Best beer in America. They make their own." "Beer. Of course, it's always beer with you." "They're only open until one, so come on." "What's the rush? How long does it take to drink a beer?" Methos hung his head and slumped in his seat. "There are places where you can swill a beer and move on with your life. There are other places that you drink a beer and have a conversation with the bartender. The Jupiter is neither of those places. The second floor is a beer garden. Your night isn't at all complete until you've tasted at least five of their special ales they come up with for testing, and top it off with their own creation, the best beer this side of the Rhine, the Indian Rock Lager. Come on. Time's a wastin' as you are apt to say." Amanda wasn't at all enthused about this turn of events when a nice warm bed and Methos in it could be waiting for her back at his place, but if he didn't fill his gullet, he wouldn't be at all compliant later. She walked in with, or rather, tried to catch up to, Methos as he made his way through the crush of people to the bar. "Noah Michaels," he told the bartender when he got his attention. "Noah!" a voice called out over the din of the crowd and jazz in the air. The smoke that was a mixture of pot, cigarettes and cigars hung in the air about making Amanda choke, and she coughed and waved at the air in front of her. She ended up swatting a couple of guys in the back in the process, but quickly flashed a smile of apology and took the offered toke.  Soon Methos took her arm and guided her up the steel steps to the garden of beer. From the burly man at the door she could tell that entrance was an important deal. With Methos guiding her, she walked right in. There were small round tables around the room and not as many people. When the door was shut behind them, the music from the ground floor was muffled and the lighting was dim. One end of the room was a bar with barrels lined up on their sides and tons of small glasses were available to get whatever lager, stout, hops, or ales you'd like. While Methos was drawing glasses for them, Amanda wondered if there was truly a difference between them. She asked, "Can I get a glass of wine?" Methos shot her a look of daggers, so she left him be and walked to an empty table and took a seat. A man at the neighboring table reached over and tucked his finger under her halter strap. She flicked his hand away. "Jerk!" and took another table far away from him. In the corner was a stage with microphone on a stand and a wooden stool. She asked the couple at the next table, "Do they have music?" "No." Great help. Nice to talk to ya. "Stand up?" "No," the woman said irately for being disturbed. "Book readings." "Oh, great," Amanda said slowly and without mirth. Beer and books. Methos' favorite pastimes. Well, tomorrow we're doing what I want. Even though she felt like retching, she smiled at Methos as he came to the table with a tray of shot glasses filled with various colors of amber liquid, all with tiny cards in front of them indicating the beer each glass held. A guy that obviously everyone knew walked on the stage as a spotlight lit up and focused on him. His voice was deep and officious as he spoke into the microphone, "For the last reader this evening, we're really lucky to have him, by the way, all the way from Portland, John Bowers!" Methos and Amanda joined the collective polite applause as a dark haired, thin, young man wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt, well-worn jeans, and sandals, walked on stage with some folded notebook paper in his hands. He looked out nervously at them as there were a few whoops and extended claps from people by the door who obviously knew him and were fans. "Thank you," John nervously said as he cleared his throat. He unfolded the notebook paper slowly and deliberately, his hands shaking. Methos had already downed three of the glasses and made notes on the back of the cards about it before John Bowers finally started to read from his notes. "The night is young." Amanda waited for him to say more and looked around at the enraptured audience. Methos was even listening. John took a seat on the stool and cleared his throat again. He straightened the paper on his jean covered leg, and said, "The wine is chilled." "What?" A drunk called out. John looked like a deer in the headlights. Amanda called out, "Sit closer to the mike, we can't hear you." "Oh, thank you. I'm not used to mikes." He nervously wiped his brow and looked back at the smoothed out paper on his leg. "He's not used to writing poetry too, it seems," Methos commented. "Sh! Give him a chance. He's adorable," Amanda said, taking one of the glasses in front of her. "Make sure you write what you think. They like feedback in this place," Methos instructed her as he gave her a little card and stubby pencil that he had gotten from a glass by the barrels at the bar. "Aye, aye, commandant." John continued finally, "The twinkle of your eyes calls me to you." Methos humphed. "There's no alliteration, no assonance. It is blank verse without iambic pentameter. His diction is a mess. Not quite an epic, hm?" "Will you shush?" "I will not shush, Amanda." Methos pulled himself straight in his chair. "The man is not a poet." "Just because you don't care for his style doesn't mean other people won't." "You like this drivel?" Methos didn't hide his astonishment. "Egads, Amanda, you truly have dreadful taste." Amanda sipped the beer marked "California Kiss" casually. "Oh, that's right, I forget you're the resident expert on literature and the arts." "I do read," Methos said superiorly, "and I've been the muse for several epics." "So you keep telling me," Amanda snickered. "Byron did find you quite amusing." "Jealous?" Methos crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow. "Don't think I didn't see the looks you used to give him." "Now, whose the one that's jealous?" Amanda purred, her eyes gleamed in the dimly lit room. "You gave him some looks yourself." Methos ignored her comments and picked up another tester glass of beer. When Amanda put the glass down, her entire body shook after tasting "Wild Fire". "That tastes like spiked piss." Methos nonchalantly pushed the comment card to her and said, "I don't want to know how you know what that tastes like." "I'm not writing out what I think of that crap. Really, asking customers to comment on their merchandise? I've never heard of such a thing." "Harry's a visionary." Methos finished the glass to say, "I do believe I have now found a new favorite." "He could have done the dirty work of throwing out beers that don't work before pushing them off on his customers." "I'm getting a mug of this, you want one?" He raised his hand to get the bar maid's attention. "No. I would like a glass of Chardonnay." "In a beer garden?" He held up the card indicating his now favorite brew, "The Devil's Pitchfork", and two fingers. "You'll like it once you try it." "Not bloody likely," Amanda said, again trying to focus on the poet on stage. Methos grimaced and pointed to the stage. "Someone should really shut him up." A snide woman at the next table leaned over and retorted, "If you don't like it, leave." "Why don't you take a flying leap off the Golden Gate?" Amanda threatened. While it was perfectly acceptable for her to tell Methos to shut up, it was another matter altogether for someone else to. "Pipe down, bitch." The woman's boyfriend flipped her his middle digit.  "Did you hear what he said to me?" Amanda pulled Methos' attention away from paying the barmaid for the beers. "He called me a bitch!" Methos smiled evilly as he took hold of one of the mug's handles. "And your point would be?" "Ugh, you are such a bastard sometimes." Amanda slugged him in the arm causing his beer to slosh out of the glass and onto his shirt. "Are you gonna let him get by with that?" Methos slammed the mug on the table. "Listen, Amanda, I came here to drink the beer not to wear it. Fight your own battles." The man heard Methos' comments and snickered to his girlfriend. "Looks like we've got a pansy on our hands, Trish." "Yeah, Mike, afraid to defend his lady's rep," Trish said loudly in Amanda's direction.  Amanda fumed as she watched Methos continue to just sip what was left of the beer. She was ready to tear the irritating woman's hair out, while Methos remained the epitome of serenity despite the disparaging comments still coming from the table next to them. Amanda wished just for once that Methos was a bit more like that other immortal which she had an off and on relationship, Duncan MacLeod. The Scot would have already wiped the floor with the loud mouth for insulting her, but Methos seemed totally disinterested in the situation. "Probably one of them hippies all into free love and afraid to fight," Mike sneered. "Damn freaks." "That's it!" Amanda yelled as she turned in her chair to face them.  Methos grabbed her before she could leave the chair. "Knock it off, Amanda. Harry's obviously just letting anyone in these days." The ruckus was beginning to draw the attention of those around them. Nasty looks and admonishment to be quiet were sent their way. Up on stage, John struggled to be heard over the increasing noise in the crowded room. "I'd watch what you say, buddy," Mike threatened, "unless you want your ass kicked." This is finally getting somewhere! Amanda brightened at the thought. Methos will only take so much before he gets really pissed. Maybe this night would be interesting after all. Continued in Part Two