THE YOU'RE IN MY HEART SERIES KISS THE SKY By JoLayne and Susan RATING: R (To be in the safe side. This piece has sex, drugs, rock and roll, and a little bit of cussing) CHARACTERS: Methos, Amanda, Fitz, Luther, others SUMMARY: Methos and Amanda partake in the Woodstock Art and Music Festival DISCLAIMER: Jo and Susan do not own the Highlander concept, Methos, Amanda, Fitz, or Luther, and will try to live with that fact. We also do not condone the use of drugs. We use real people here, something both of us find yucky in fanfic, but had to for story purposes. We hope they were used with great care and affection, which was our intention as fans. NOON, THURSDAY, AUGUST 14, 1969  Amanda plucked a yellow flower from the weeds and stuck it in the disheveled, naturally wavy, shoulder length hair of Methos, just above and behind his ear. "Flower power, baby," she cooed as she leaned in to kiss him. Methos knocked over his beer bottle when he pulled Amanda into his lap, and then back onto the grass. After enjoying a long kiss, Amanda smiled and brought the lit joint to her lips and inhaled deeply, keeping the smoke in her lungs. Methos took the roach clip from her and took two quick tokes of his own. After he exhaled, he laid his head on Amanda's long brown hair that covered her chest and was ready to take a nap after the large picnic dinner of fruit, a loaf of french bread, Oreos and beer. Amanda nudged him. "We have to get going," she said when a juiced up Camaro roared past them on the makeshift road the migration of vehicles had made on the farmland of New York state. "We don't have a schedule," he murmured, half stoned and half asleep. "We here." "We've got free tickets, Methos," Amanda said, sitting up, disturbing Methos' soon to be slumber. "And I want to see the Who." "They aren't supposed to show up until Saturday. It was your idea to bring Mary Jane along. You know it makes me sleepy." "You're lucky. Just makes me hungry." "Well, you cleaned out the picnic basket." "What I'd give for some brownies right now." "Give peace a chance. Never trust anyone over thirty. Make love, not war," Methos rattled off the catch phrases of the day, then laid his head back on his arms. "Right now, I just want to take a nap." Amanda stood up when three motorcycles rode past. She threw their things into their backpack and gathered the trash. She rolled Methos off the blanket, threw the trash inside and rolled it up. "Come on. You can sleep when we get there." She saw that vehicles were starting to park along the road about a mile down and said, "Where did they all come from? They weren't there when we started eating." By the time Methos made it to his feet, Amanda was stowing their things in the back of his light blue and white VW van. She slammed the back door shut and held out her hands. "Gimme the keys. I'll drive." Methos patted the pockets of his jeans and the flower fell from his ear. "I don't have them." Amanda groaned. "You better have left them in the ignition, luv, or you're going to spend the weekend looking for them in the weeds while I enjoy the concert." Methos, in slow motion, looked around his feet for them, and tried to salvage what little was left in the overturned beer bottle. Damn he had cottonmouth! The van started up and Amanda yelled, "Come on, old man!" "Damn, kids," he muttered to himself as he lopped over to the van. "Where do you think you're going, Amanda? You're not going to get any closer." "Are you sure about that?" Amanda ignored the parked vans, cars, motorcycles and crowds of gathered people, ignoring their jeers, and eased the van through the maze to get closer to the festival site. "Never underestimate the power of a woman." Somehow, she managed to arrive at what was going to be the main gate, as soon as it was completed. Thus far, it only consisted of a gap in the chain link fencing and a pile of planks that would probably be the ticket booth. A burly looking man with long hair, wild bangs and such a full beard that all she was able to plainly see was his nose, approached the van. Amanda smiled her best smile as she rolled down the window. The giant of a man returned her smile with one of his own as he took in her halter-top and jean shorts as he rested against the door. "Only workers are allowed past this point, sugar," he apologized. Methos threw her a smirk as he crossed his arms in an all-knowing manner. Amanda assumed that the world revolved just to fulfill her wishes. It was about time she figured out that it didn't. He hoped the line of cars hadn't grown much while she wasted their time on this nonsense, because he knew they would have to turn around. "Cool! This is where we should be, then." Amanda grabbed her macrame purse from the floorboard. "Hold on just a sec, ok?" She proceeded to empty the contents of her purse on the dashboard. Her wallet, a brush, a tube of lipstick, a bag of marijuana, papers, a roach clip with not only a rabbit's foot attached, but also a dream weaver adorned with goose feathers, were cast aside as she rummaged deeper into the voluminous handbag. Methos cleared his throat, but she would not be distracted from her task. "Just one more second," she begged the man with a smile. "There they are! I was afraid I'd lost these silly things." She proudly handed him two plastic covered passes. "Have fun," he told them as he handed her back the passes. "The workers' campground is near that white tent with the peace sign. Amanda smiled sweetly and said, "Thank you. Peace." "Peace," he replied as if it was a secret code and waved them through. Amanda continued on across the field to the left of the stage area and parked the van near the white tent. Some young men and women were already camped there, but not working. Three retooled and painted school buses were arranged in a three-sided square and a bon fire had been started in the center. She turned off the van and turned to beam at Methos, who could only stare at her. "I told you," was the only thing she said. "It's who you know, and how you behave that gets one what they want." "How in the bloody hell did you get those passes, Amanda?" "Remember when I went in the bushes to relieve myself before we pulled into Bethel?" Methos nodded his head. "Well, while I was there, I saw some people skinny dipping in a pond. I wasn't gonna steal anything, I was just investigating when I saw those passes laying on top of their clothes. I figured they might come in handy so I took them." "Your resourcefulness never ceases to amaze me," he laughed. "At least we'll be close to the stage and we won't have to hike across the back forty every morning." He leaned over and slipped one of the passes attached to a long black cord over her head. "I'm glad I decided to bring you along." He opened up his door and went to the back of the van. "What do you mean you're glad you decided to bring me along? They're my tickets!" She slammed the driver door then met him at the back as he opened the back. "Hey, easy on the van! It's new," Methos said with a glare. "As I recall, they were a gift from Rebecca and Thomas to the both of us." "Ugh! You are such a pain in my ass." "I'm having a hard time feeling the love, Amanda," Methos said as he returned to his task in the van. The sounds of last minute construction rang through the air. Amanda got a look at the stage that was still being built. It was a gigantic. The thought of all the bands who would take the stage made her shiver with excitement. The event wouldn't officially begin until the next afternoon, but the area was bustling with activity. First aid and food tents were still being erected on the other side of the stage. Port-o-San toilets were being installed in various strategic places around Max Yasgur's dairy farm. His cows were grazing in another pasture across a pond. From all the political movements in the past months of where the concert could legally be held, it was awesome that the quiet diary farmer had offered his land to the festival of youth, peace, art and music. Vendors of various booths were setting out their wares, both of the legal and illegal variety. Some people had already started to party and the sickly sweet perfume of marijuana wafted along the afternoon breeze. "Wow! I can't believe there are so many people here already. I'm glad I decided we should leave early." Amanda shaded her eyes against the sun as she looked around. "Methos, this is gonna be huge." Methos was still rummaging in the van. "What are you doing?" she asked him. Methos was wearing only dark brown, beat up, skin tight jeans and a black belt. Black sandals, which had to have walked a thousand miles already, were on his feet. "I'm trying to figure out where and how to hide my sword." "There's no swords here, fella," Amanda said with a laugh. "This is a weekend of peace and harmony." "I feel more harmonic with my sword. You should also." "You'll stick out like a sore thumb if you walk around with that old duster of yours, just to hide your sword. I thought you liked to blend in." Amanda smiled and kissed his cheek. "There's only going to be young, high, music lovers here, Methos." Just then, they both felt a buzz, not of marijuana smoke or electric saws used to construct the stage, but the good old fashioned warning that there was another immortal in their midst. "Young, high, music loving immortal apparently," Methos said tightly. Methos wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword that was still hidden under a blanket in the back of the van as he and Amanda both searched for the source of the immortal sensation. Much to their mutual disbelief, a large black man was walking toward them. To make matters worse, they both knew that black man. Even Amanda was nervous, and felt comforted when she saw that Methos had his sword ready for any upcoming altercation. Luther, dressed head to toe in black, complete with a long black trench coat, stalked toward them, his hand in his coat. Amanda couldn't believe that the son of a bitch had actually encroached on not only them, but the gathering to come. Methos pulled his Ivanhoe out of the back of the van and held it down, waiting to swing if Luther's sword saw the light of day. He had figured that he should have taken care of Luther earlier. Luther could only come to no good, but he hoped that Luther would just remain a bad memory. Amanda sidled back behind Methos and also took note of the amount of witnesses that would see the fight, if it came to that. Luther spotted Methos' Ivanhoe in his hand, and for the first time, his glowering face softened and Amanda thought she actually saw an expression that could be construed as a smile. When Luther took his hand out of his coat, what he produced was a four inch square card. He held it out to Methos, who flinched back from Luther's fast maneuver. Luther stuck the card in the top of Methos' pants and said with a nod, "Rock on, brother, sister," then continued walking past them. Methos took the card out and they both saw that it was adorned with a drawn flower and read, "Smile." They both rushed to the side of the van and saw Luther arrive at one of the set up vendor booths. A beautiful black woman welcomed him with a long, steamy kiss. Luther hiked her up in his arms and carried her off into the trees. Peace and love, brother," Amanda said. "Rock on, sister." Methos returned his Ivanhoe to its nest in the back of the van and said, "If Luther's attitude is any indication, I would say this thing won't be used for a couple of days." "No kidding. He's mad enough at you to split you right down the middle." "I'm not the only focus of his anger, need I remind you?" Methos said with a smile. "But if Luther or any other immortal make a move for their swords, then bugger peace and love, got it?" Amanda shrugged. "That's such unpleasant talk. We have safety in numbers here. If there are more immortals coming here, no one is going to fight with 25,000 mortal witnesses." "Twenty-five thousand?" "That's what I heard was the amount of tickets sold." He slipped his shades and pass on. "Let's check this out."  Methos linked her arm in his and they walked across the field to get a better look at the festivities to come. Several impromptu jam sessions had sprung up on the lawn. Young voices lifted together to sing. Amanda pulled Methos over to a booth selling vividly colored tie dyed clothing. She lifted up a shirt and held it up to measure against his chest. "If you think I'm going to wear that hideous thing you are sadly mistaken," he warned her. "I've worn some dreadful clothes in my day, but never anything this ugly." "You forget, Methos, I've seen you in velvet and lace." Amanda handed the vendor some money. "Besides, when the sun goes down, you'll wish you had a shirt." "Sure," Methos replied doubtfully.  "I thought you said you weren't going to be such a square, Methos." Amanda threaded the t-shirt through a couple of her belt loops. "Relax, this is gonna be fun. I am so stoked to be here." Methos gave up his pout. "Really, I couldn't tell." "Have I said how much I love the Who?" she giggled as they walked further down the line of booths. "Not in the last five minutes," Methos rolled his eyes. "You just want to see Daltrey strut his stuff across the stage." "And what's wrong with that?" "Nothing, just remember that when Janis and Grace start belting their hot little hearts out," Methos smirked. "I'm only here for the music, too." "Oh, please." Methos grinned widely, "Let's see what other goodies we can find." Amanda stopped and looked out over the fields beyond the fenced in area. Several camping tents had sprung up and on the lawn numerous people had blankets and sleeping bags. "I wish we could sleep out under the stars," she sighed. "Thanks, but no thanks. I told you before we left Berkeley; I've slept 'under the stars' for thousands of years when I had no other choice." Methos kept walking. "Now, I don't have to, but feel free to sleep out here with all these people while I sleep in my nice comfortable van." Amanda grabbed his hand when she caught up with his long legged stride. "I said I wished, not that I was going to. Sleep alone when I have your nice warm body to snuggle? I don't think so." "I thought I could get that nonsense about being out under the stars out of your head. I brought everything we'll need this weekend." "Like what?" "Food, beer, blankets, pillows, a mattress, beer. What did you bring besides pot?" "Myself," she said, smiling at him.  Methos smiled in return and kissed her. "You've come along way since Jack." Amanda's mood darkened and she sighed heavily. "He was a good man. He probably deserved better than me." "Don't do that to yourself," Methos said, brushing her wind swept hair off her face. "I'm glad that I could be there for you after he died, but you could have called and let us know where you went, so I wouldn't have had to look for you and Rebecca wouldn't have had to worry." "I wanted time to be alone." "And I'm also glad that you returned to Berkeley." "I was lonely. Paris was full of snippy people, New York was too busy for my taste, and Miami was too hot." "You don't need an excuse for coming to me, Amanda. You know that I enjoy time that we spend together." "You weren't a standby, Methos." "Noah," Methos said tightly, looking around for eavesdroppers. He was pleased that the electric saws were still roaring loudly. "Why don't you just change your last name, like I do. I can't help but refer to you as the name I first met you by." "Yeah, Methos Smith. There aren't many with my name, Amanda, in fact there are none. My name has died out and I prefer to keep it that way, so I will remind you again, don't use it in public." "Was the name common back in the day?" Methos smiled. "Just like John, Robert, or Daniel is now." "Then pick a first name and stick with it." "I don't like other names as well as my own. Keep with the program, Amanda. Variety makes life interesting." In various places around the as yet spacious field, there were groups of musicians jamming. Bystanders were dancing, swaying from side to side, or just weaving from whatever drug they were on. They got a look at the mass of people outside the fencing. Amanda wrapped her arms around Methos' waist and asked, "You know what? There are a lot of people outside that fence." Because of the hilly landscape, they could see that the ribbon of parked vehicles on each side of the road stretched for miles. They were even starting to park in the middle of the road, blocking it. "You said there'd be 25,000 at least. They just didn't know how to bulldoze their way inside like a certain woman I know." Amanda looked around the field in front of the stage. "It's going to be a tight fit." "Love your neighbor." "This is so bitchin'!" Amanda yelled, her head back, as she gave Methos a squeeze. "It's like a pilgrimage." "A modern Canterbury Tales," Methos said, not wanting to tell her that all he wanted from the weekend was music, beer and a lot of sex. Methos studied Amanda in her halter top and shorts and gave her a hug. It had been so long since they had been together intimately before Amanda had showed up at Methos' loft in Berkeley a couple of weeks before, wanting to leave for this concert. He had bought the VW and they headed out across country, taking time off from his professorship duties. Amanda had confessed to him that it was the first time since Jack died that she had even considered a liaison with another man, and when she had that itch, she couldn't think of anyone better than Methos. He had been surprised by her arrival, having been three years since they spent that month together in Bora Bora and had promised to keep in touch, but what surprised him the most was that all his advances hadn't been accepted by her as of yet. She couldn't have picked a better time to reenter his life; he had just been dumped by one of his students who, turned out, just wanted to pass Latin. That was all right in the long run. There wasn't much to talk with the girl except for the latest rock songs and The Beverly Hillbillies. "I'm really glad you wanted to come. When I was in New York and saw the ad in the Village Voice, I just knew I had to be here." Ah, to be back with Amanda, for a while. She read the Village Voice. Once again, Methos smiled and hugged her. He whispered, "We'll have to remember to thank Rebecca and Thomas for these tickets. I can't imagine being here with anyone but you." Amanda smirked at him. "Are you on something, Noah? You're being so agreeable. What do you want?" Methos laughed. "Nothing. I just want to relax, listen to music, be with you." "In that order?" "Mm, I think that being with you may not be all that relaxing." ~~~~~ EARLY MORNING, FRIDAY, AUGUST 15, 1969 The stillness of the quiet country morning was broken by the rather raucous vocal stylings of the Yasgur's handful of roosters. A late night of impromptu music and partying had waylaid most of the revelers. Methos and Amanda had staggered back to the van and passed out fully clothed. Just as Amanda had predicted, the cooling temperatures had convinced Methos that the shirt was a good idea. The ogling stares of several young ladies had cemented the thought in his head. Amanda had possessively perched on his lap warding off any interested parties with a withering glare. By mutual avoidance, they and Luther had given each other wide berth the whole night. Amanda stretched and yawned. The morning sun had already made its presence known, shining through the thin floral cotton curtains that hung in the van's windows. After being closed up all night, the van had begun to reek of pot and body odor. Amanda wrinkled her nose at the smell. Throwing Methos' arm and leg off her, she sat up and popped open a couple of the windows. Fresh air flooded in and lifted the stench out of the van. She looked over at the sleeping man sprawled face down in the cocoon of sleeping bags and blankets. The material surrounding his face muffled his light snoring. Her hand reached out and toyed with curls that tickled the nape of his neck. She had meant it when she had told him yesterday that he was not a standby. He never was just a quick roll in the hay; he was a constant in her life. He was the stray cat that wondered into your life and you grew to love, never realizing how much you enjoyed its company until it wondered back into your heart. Amanda grinned at the visual her analogy presented; Methos was very much like a feline. He was all easy grace and heaven knows that he purred when you rubbed him the right way. "Lay down, Amanda, it's too early to get up," Methos slurred sleepily. "But there is so much to see and do," she protested. "Yes, and it will still be there later," Methos reminded her. "Lay down." Dutifully, Amanda stretched out beside him. He once again sprawled his leg and arm across her. His easy breathing signaled his return to sleep. Amanda, on the other hand, was still wide-awake. Time passed so slowly when you were the only one awake. She watched the curtains billow in the gentle breeze. She wished she had a book handy; at least she could do something constructive with her free time. Her fingers drummed lightly on the blanket. What am I thinking? I have a perfectly gorgeous man within reach. If he wants me to stay in bed, he should provide the incentive. Amanda giggled softly. It was time to explore carnal knowledge once again with that man. Where's that feather? Amanda spied the roach clip from the night before and untied a goose feather from the dream waver that was attached to it. She carefully rose up on her side and elbow. This was going to be fun. Methos swatted at his nose when she tickled the feather across it. She covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing out loud. After making sure that he was asleep again, she ran the feather along the edge of his ear. He mumbled something and turned over on his other side. When he was asleep, he was asleep. The feather targeted the back of his neck and then teased along his jaw line. Amanda giggled out loud when he rolled over on his back, still asleep. Apparently he wasn't kidding about pot's effects on him. Subtlety was out of the question. Her hands worked their way under the blanket and up to his waist. One by one she popped the buttons on his Levi's, this was better than sleeping anytime. Suddenly, there was a knock on the van door. Amanda couldn't believe that they would be interrupted again. Just as they had started to get the love machine rolling last night, some pothead wanted to know if they had a lighter. By the time Amanda told him to screw off, Methos was already sacked out. Methos now didn't even stir. Amanda pulled at the latch and the back van door swung open to reveal a shaggy haired, burly man with wild curly blond locks. His face revealed that he was on the verge of either crying or exploding, Amanda couldn't tell which. "What do you want, man?" Amanda abruptly asked. "I need my lighter, so go look somewhere else." "No," the man said. "I need your help." "How in the world could I help you?" "No, what I mean is, I need his help." The man pointed at the dormant Methos. The man even started to nudge Methos' shoulder. "Hey, hey," Amanda said, flinging the man's hands off her man for the moment. "Back off, brother." Methos finally opened his eyes and looked up at the stranger. "Whadda ya want?" "I'm Wavy Gravy, man, of the Hog Farm," the man introduced himself as if everyone knew who he was. "We talked last night." "Look, Mr. Gravy," Amanda said forcefully, pushing Wavy back out of the van. "We were in the middle of something..." Methos asked, "We were?" Amanda slapped Methos' shoulder and said, categorically, "Yes." "But, you're responsible looking," Wavy said. "We need help man!" He indicated the area around them. Amanda and Methos both stuck their heads out of the back of the van and squinted at the bright sunshine. People were everywhere. All the art and retail stands had been set up with counter-culture souvenirs such as hand-woven belts, bead necklaces, peace signs on various articles of clothes and posters, headband, and of course, drug paraphernalia. Christmas tree lights had been strung in the trees. Sawdust was strewn along the paths that were crowded already. In the distance, they could hear carpenters still constructing the main stage. From the look of things, there was general chaos. Methos sighed and lay back down. "Go away," he said lightly. Wavy said, "Here," as he handed a white armband to Amanda, and tossed another on Methos' chest. "These are badges of honor, man. You're now recruited as security guards. Woodstock is now a free concert, what can we do? But the people... man, the people are coming out of the woodwork. You gotta stand at the gate and only let in cats with the right password." "Password?" Amanda asked. "Yeah, 'I forget'." Amanda asked, "You forgot the password?" "No, the password is 'I forget'. You aren't stoned too, are you?" Methos laughed. Amanda looked at Wavy and said, "He's stoned." "Well, chick, how about you?" Wavy took her arm and said, "Only people that belong in this area should get into this area. Help me out? The Hog Farmers are going to clear out a little bit, but once we get some order, you make sure--." Amanda pulled her arm back and said, "When you've restored order, let me know. Until then, I'm busy." She opened the back of the van again and turned back to Wavy. "In fact, after you've restored order, I'm still busy." Before she stepped into the van, she took another look around the vicinity. All she saw were cars and people. She heard Methos mutter something inside and asked, "What?" Methos pulled her arm and soon, she was lying on top of him. "You were saying?" "I was saying a lot of things, be more specific," Amanda teased, kissing his nose. "I recall you mentioning something about us being in the middle of something?" "We were on our way to the moon, Methos, but you were asleep!" Amanda's smile was bright and sly. "I'm awake now!" Methos flipped her over and crawled on top. He felt a little dizzy, but that just added to the moment. He flipped his hand under her lemon yellow gauze shirt and said, "Neil Armstrong, eat your heart out." He reached behind her head and untied the bow. "One small step for mankind, one giant leap for me," he improvised. "I've always wanted to be an astronaut." Amanda grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and yanked it over his head. "I'm just waiting for the Eagle to land." Methos helped her ease his pants off and made short order of her shorts. "Houston," Methos said, rubbing his hand lightly along Amanda's side, "The surface is...luscious." "Enough of the space talk, luv, and get down to business here on Earth." He ran his hand down her leg. "It's been a long time, Amanda," he whispered as her foot glided up and down his leg. "Let's see if we remember how this works." Amanda's nails lightly slithered along his rib cage. His breathing grew rapidly along with his desire. She smiled in satisfaction; she could still drive him to distraction. The best part of their lovemaking was the sheer fact it could be a savage no holds barred romp or so exquisitely tender she could cry. The way he was nuzzling her neck indicated he was feeling a little savage. His large hands were pulling her in for a kiss. God, he had a way of touching her soul when he kissed her. It was if the only thing that mattered to him at that moment was his lips on hers. Now she was breathing as hard as he was, he could turn the tables on her quicker than anyone else. "I think we remember just fine," she panted. "This beats the hell out of playing security guard." Methos stopped his assault long enough to laugh. "I can get into this whole summer of love trip." He dipped his head and kissed her lightly on her collarbone. Her fingers slid up his back and into his hair guiding him to the places he knew so well. As his tongue trailed down her stomach, he looked up and met her stare and smiled like the Cheshire cat. Amanda threw her head back and grabbed the blanket beneath her. He meant to ravish her thoroughly and she wasn't about to argue with five thousand years of experience. Instead, she relished the fact that she got her way regarding the whole sleep issue and she was no longer bored. Unable to keep a clear thought, she decided that two could play this game and began an assault of her own. An hour later and a lot less bored, Amanda convinced Methos to go exploring with her. The already warm and humid morning promised to turn into a sweltering afternoon. Amanda had donned a loose mini dress and sandals. Her long hair was braided and hung down the middle of her back. Methos ditched the brown jeans from yesterday and slid into a low-slung pair of blue jeans and a brown suede vest. He reluctantly let Amanda tie a thin headband around his head. They were just about to the main stage when they noticed people laughing and pointing to what was supposed to be the main gate. Part of the fence had been rolled back allowing people to flood into the area. Groups of people were standing a round arguing heatedly about something. "Come on, this looks interesting," Amanda observed as she pulled Methos along. Amanda got them close enough to hear what was being said. "You have gotta be out of your mind!" A man with a security armband yelled in the face of a man wearing a bright orange vest. "There's no way in hell, that will work, freak." The man in the orange vest yelled, "Get these people rounded up and have them come back in with their tickets." "Do you want to start a riot?" The security guard stood his ground. "These people aren't gonna budge for you or me. Just chill, dude." The argument continued to rage on while Methos shook his head. "Someone better do something quick or riots are going to be the order for the day." "I'm sure it'll be alright," Amanda told him. It wasn't long before Michael Lang, one of the festival organizers, announced that the festival was now free. Amanda stopped in front of one of the art booths and spotted the official Woodstock logo of a bird on the head of a guitar. "A dove," Amanda cooed. "That's fitting for what the weekend is about, Noah." "Where's the dove?" Methos asked, teasing, looking at the same sign she was. She pointed at the white bird on the logo and Methos laughed. "That's a catbird, Amanda." "No it isn't," Amanda said. "Don't be silly. Why would they have a catbird as the symbol for a peaceful gathering?" "I know what I'm looking at and what I'm looking at is a catbird." "No, it isn't." "Yes, it is," a man said from behind the booth. "Groovy, huh?" "That's a dove," Amanda was adamant. "It's a catbird," both Methos and the man said. The man continued, "I should know, I created it." "Why the hell did you use a catbird?" Amanda asked, or actually demanded. "It's my favorite bird," the man said, then smiled at her, looking her up and down. "Except for you, luv." Amanda's neck was suddenly in the hull of Methos' elbow as he steered her away. "It's a nice looking bird, Amanda. You are, too." "You'd think the pothead would have gotten that right at least." "It's a bird. It's a fine representation of this weekend," Methos said. "The catbird belongs to the mockingbird family, the singing birds. Catbirds belong to the family Mimidae of the order Passeriformes. The black catbird is classified as Melanoptila glabrirostris and the gray catbird as Dumetella carolinensis. The name catbird refers to their call that sounds like a meow. Catbirds have a large vocabulary and sometimes mimic other birds. The gray catbird breeds in the United States and southern Canada and winters from the Gulf states to Mexico and the West Indies. I've seen black and gray ones, but never a white one." "Is the ornithology lesson over, teach?" "I take it that you don't want me to cover the origin of the phrase 'in the catbird seat'?" Amanda glared at him. "You know, I like you better drunk, or even stoned. At least you're quieter." Methos looked at a tent that had beverages for sale and almost put his hand on a can of Budweiser, then realized what he was doing. He had his favorite, in bottles, in a cooler in the van. Then he looked at the price they were asking for that watered down, canned crap. "Two dollars for a six pack? Are you insane?" "What does a six pack normally cost?" Amanda asked, as she always had been and always will be, a wine drinker. "A dollar, ninety-five." Amanda laughed. "A nickel? You're making a fuss over a nickel?" Methos grumbled, "It's better in my pocket then theirs. I was under the impression that this weekend was about peace and giving." "Let's get a place to sit," Amanda suggested.  People had already started staking claim to areas just in front of the stage. Amanda, with her backstage pass, was going to head in that direction, but Methos steered to toward a couple of trees to the left edge. "You'll thank me by the time the sun is really hot this afternoon." "But you can't really see anything here." Methos pointed to the stage, and a mega speaker system facing their direction. "I think we'll experience it. It's August, Amanda. It's probably going to be in the 90s and we'll have a lot of bodies around us." Methos sat her down on the ground, other couples were instantly sitting around them. "Stay here. I'll go back to get us supplies." Before Amanda could say or do anything, Methos had been swallowed up by the swarm of people taking their places on blankets. A couple of teenage girls stood up and took their shirts off. They started dancing in a stupor to the Beatles' "She's Leaving Home" that blared from transistor radios all around them. Amanda wished she was closer to center stage, or at least taking advantage of the passes, but she didn't have time for it to fester. She felt the buzz of an immortal. She looked all around her for a sign that Methos had returned, but there wasn't any way he could have gotten to the van and back in that short of time. A couple of topless girls wouldn't be anything that would make him forego beer, would it? She smiled at the thought, then darkened. Luther?! Was he just waiting for her to be alone? Suddenly, she heard, "Smile, luv," in a clipped British accent.  Amanda stood up and looked behind the tree. "Fitz! Is that really you?!" "The one and only, my dear," Hugh Fitzcairn said as he swept Amanda into his arms and twirled her around. "Fancy seeing you here." "This is so great!" Amanda said, looking him over. His curly hair was long once again, almost to his waist in perfect ringlets. He was wearing Union Jack boxers and a tapestry vest. "Awesome," one teen said, looking up at them. "Roger? Man, you aren't supposed to be here until tomorrow. Far out, man." Fitz looked at the boy and then looked at Amanda. "I get this all the time in recent years, everywhere I go." He told the teens gawking at him. "Just give me space. I gotta perform tomorrow." "Far out!" the teens all agreed. One lifted his hand. "Want to drop acid, man?" Fitz took the tabs and nodded his thanks. He went with Amanda to return to their spot and said, "Want to drop acid, babe?" Amanda looked at the brown tabs and paused. "I've never done that before. Have you?" "Sure. It's quite a trip. Just take one. You'll be fine," Fitz assured her. "Just don't overindulge, as you usually do." Other people had started to recognize him as the lead singer of the Who. Girls wanted a kiss and guys wanted to just touch his hand, or slap him on the back. Fitz was more than happy to oblige, except that some of the slaps were quite hard. Fitz' mood changed when he felt the presence of another immortal. He squat back down and looked at all the faces looking at him. He knew there wouldn't be a challenge, as he had met a few immortals already and all seemed to have put the Game aside for the weekend. Methos walked with a Styrofoam cooler and a couple of blankets when he was alerted by the feel of an immortal. Not thinking too much about it, as he assumed it was Amanda, he wove through and over various bodies on his way back to the trees. It was only when he saw Amanda face down on the ground, seemingly not breathing, and another immortal crouched down near her, that Methos went into action. He dropped the cooler and blankets and lifted the long haired hippie by the tapestry vest and yelled, "What did you do to her?!" "Who?" Fitz excitedly said, scared shitless. "Great band!" the crowd yelled. "Amanda!" Methos yelled. Fitz nervously pointed in her direction. "She's right there. Tell this person, Amanda, that you're right there and that you're fine!" Methos threw Fitz back and went to her. He had returned to his senses, seeing that she wasn't covered with blood and that there was a crowd around so they couldn't have gotten into an immortal row. Methos turned her over and she looked up at him in a daze. Her wide eyes were crossed and her mouth was full of grass and dirt. Methos lifted her up and took as much crap out her mouth as he could. "Amanda? What are you on?" "Big old bear," she muttered. She lifted her hand to his hair and pulled. "You big old bear." Then she gasped and stared at her hand as she brought it closer then farther away from her face, then slowly spinning it around. "Pink! Ooooooo." Methos glared at the other immortal. "What did you give her?" "Whoa, man, just a little acid," Fitz told him innocently. "And what color was the acid, may I ask?" Methos asked him quietly.  Fitz scratched his head for a moment. "Brown, I think. I don't know, I got it from a fan," Fitz said, beaming. "Some fan," Methos said, watching Amanda curled up like a baby. "A fan? You got it from someone you don't know?" Methos watched Fitz's head do a little shake, and then shrug. "Shit!" Methos yelled. "Didn't you hear the announcement telling people to steer clear of the brown acid?" "Well, we are immortals. It's not like it'll kill her," Fitz reasoned. "Even if she did, she'll wake up. In a bad mood, and maybe with a spot of a headache, but Amanda will be fine. Chill out." Methos took a deep breath. There was no need to get pissed now that the deed had been done. "Since you feel that way, you can help me take care of her." "I have&ldots;." Fitz started to protest, but when he saw the glare Methos was giving him, he quietly grabbed one of the blankets and spread it out on the grass. After he helped Methos settle the disoriented Amanda upon it, he stuck out his hand, "Hugh Fitzcairn, but everyone calls me Fitz." Methos shook his hand. "Noah Michaels. Everyone calls me Mr. Michaels." He stretched out on the blanket next to Amanda. "Have a seat, Fitzcairn." Fitz settled on the spare blanket and waited for the other immortal to start a conversation. He smiled as he watched the parade of lovely young women. Some waved, others blew kisses. This weekend kept looking better and better. Amanda rose up and looked around her. Seeing Fitz just a few feet away, she started nudging Methos and whispering quite loudly, "Look, look, it's Roger Daltrey," then smothered her mouth to conceal a giggle, the process of which made her conscious of the sensation that came with touching her mouth, then her whole face. She winked at Fitz as she leaned on Methos. "Isn't he absolutely dreamy, Noah?" Methos finally smiled. "He's adorable."  Amanda sat straight up and gaped as she stared at Methos, then crooked her finger at him wanting him to lean closer. She mumbled something unintelligible into his ear. "Say again, Amanda?" She slapped him hard across the face. Methos grabbed her jaw and yelled, "What was that for?" Amanda slapped him again, and again, before Methos was able to grab hold of her hands. "Get it off!" she screamed. "How can you stand it?" Her hands were still flying when she had the strength of ten men and got free. "The spiders! They're all over you!" she screamed again. The crowd around them started to stare. One dude moaned, "Bad trip, man," but other than that, none of them moved a muscle to come to her or Methos' aid. Methos asked Fitz, "You were going to help?" as he was trying to trap her hands to save himself from a broken cheekbone. Fitz grabbed one of her hands and laid it on the ground and sat on it. Methos, seeing that it had worked, sat on her other hand. Amanda laid flat and stared up. "Wow," was all she said. "Thank you, Fitz," Methos said, then kissed the top of Amanda's head now that she had calmed down. "Just lay down and relax. Things will sort themselves out shortly." Amanda smiled as her head rolled easily from side to side. "Look at the colors," she gleefully screamed, then just grinned as her neck muscles lost control in her drug laced stupor. Methos looked up to where she was staring and only saw green leaves of the trees swaying in the breeze. Fitz laughed. "She seems fine now, old chap." When Fitz stood up, Methos gauged her reaction to a free hand. Amanda only pointed out the hues that she envisioned. "Blue, purple, green, pink. Oh, look at the cute pink leaves." "Perhaps we should take her to the Freak Out tent," Fitz offered. "Nah, she'll be alright," Methos said, opening her eye wide to check her pupils. "We just need to keep her calm and by this evening she'll be up and at 'em." Amanda swatted Methos' hand away, and then grabbed his hand to get his attention and stared deeply into his eyes. He leaned closer to her to ask, "Feeling better now?" "Doesn't that hurt?" she asked with great concern. "What?" "That spider is boring into your eyeball. That's gotta hurt," Amanda said, grimacing, and then turning away from the gruesome sight. "I meant no harm with the acid, really, I didn't." Fitz apologized. Methos watched Amanda being extremely interested in a blade of grass on the edge of the blanket and shrugged his shoulders. "Live and let live, I suppose." A young girl in gauzy caftan ventured over and sat down beside Fitz. She pulled a marker out of one of her dress pockets and handed it to the blonde man. "Can I have your autograph? I just dig your music." Fitz gave her a cheeky smile. "Sure, luv, where's your paper?" The girl patted her pockets and frowned. The frown was replaced with a smile as she pulled the neck of the paisley dress down and revealed her bare chest. "This will do," she replied. Fitz shrugged and scribbled 'his' name across her breast. The girl pulled him close for a lengthy kiss and danced off to join her friends on their blanket several yards down. She pointed back to Fitz and giggled. Her friends gave him the peace sign and nodded their approval. "Pretty good racket you've got going there, Fitzcairn," Methos allowed. "When in Rome," Fitz waved back at the girl. "Personally, I don't see it. That Daltrey bloke isn't nearly as tall as I or as handsome." He grinned at Methos. "Besides, it would be a terrible shame to disappoint these lovely ladies." As the afternoon sun rose higher in the sky, so did the crowd and the temperatures. In between Amanda's bouts of delirium, Methos and Fitz gradually became acquainted. They discovered they both not only knew Amanda, but Rebecca and Darius as well. Fitz had wondered how they had managed to not have crossed paths in the past. Methos answered, "I'm just lucky, I guess." Fitz, offended, said, "Are you sure that you aren't on anything? No one can be as naturally grumpy as you." "I'm without beer," Methos grumbled. He pointed at the overturned, empty Styrofoam cooler. "There are some sticky fingers around here," Methos accused everyone in the vicinity. "And I'm not just talking about this one." He pointed at Amanda. She had gotten too quiet lately, so he nudged her with his foot to see if she was still in the land of the living. He was flirting with the idea of getting her more tabs to lick so she'd overdose. By the time she would have revived, she would have been over it. "Hopefully, this stuff will be out of her system soon," Methos muttered as he removed her hand from his hair. "She should recover from this sooner than most, I'd think." "Looks like this is about to get under way," Fitz pointed to the stage. A black man wearing African dress, toting a guitar took the stage and began to furiously strum. "He's good. Who is he?" Methos pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket. He read from the advertisement from Rolling Stone magazine and said, "He must be Richie Havens." The gradual intensity of Havens' guitar solo woke Amanda from her daze. The steady, increasingly faster strums made her sit up. The crowd reaction to the show finally beginning made her think she was the star. The swells of applause and calls from the audience made her stand up. Looking out at the mass of people before her, who looked like they were in 3-D and each face stretching and weaving, she started to move her head with their contortions. Soon her whole body was moving in slow motion to music only Amanda heard. Suddenly, as if she was back in 1753 Constantinople, as a courtesan in the sultan's harem, Amanda started grinding her hips to the blistering beat like a hula dancer on speed. She went through the motions as if she had scarves in her hands, playing peek a boo with the sultan's guests, all the while her hips moving expertly from side to side. Fitz ignored the Daltrey fans who were still coming to him, to touch him, or kiss him, to concentrate on the sight before him. Amanda had focused in on him as the sultan's guest to please. When she realized that she didn't have material in her hands to drape over his face and pull, completing the maneuvers she had been taught 200 years before, she figured any material would work and started to pull up her mini dress. Methos had been watching the proceedings, sitting back against the tree trunk and taking in Amanda's dance. Her body had moved like a reed in a soft wind and for the moment, he set aside the fact that it was hot outside and he hadn't had a beer in hours. As soon as her dress cleared her neck and the guys within eye shot started to clap for her to take it all off, Methos stood up and lowered her dress, saying, "That's only for me, luv," not wanting to attract more attention that he had tended to avoid in recent centuries. When she fought him off and screamed, "Sultan! Chill out!" Fitz stood up to play backup and tried to wrangle an arm. Amanda jerked back from him, "The monkeys! They're all over!" The crowd groaned. One girl yelled, "Bad band!" amidst more booing.  Fitz asked Methos again, "Should we take her to the Freak Out Tent?" "I have a better idea," Methos said, then grabbed Amanda around the waist like a football player going to tackle and flung her up over his shoulder. Amanda screamed and pounded on his back. "Let me go, you big hairy ape!" Methos slowly but surely made his way through the masses with Amanda over his shoulder. Fitz hurriedly gathered their things and trailed on after him. On the way, more audience members caught a look at him and flashed the peace sign with a smile or grabbed his leg, screaming "ROGER!" Methos turned around to see the commotion the Brit was causing and yelled, "Stay and enjoy the show, Fitz!" Fitz didn't need his arm twisted, and sat with a group of lovelies he was standing in the midst of. Soon he was swallowed up by Daltrey fans like piranhas with fresh meat. Continued in Part Two