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THE YOU'RE IN MY HEART SERIES KISS THE SKY - Part Two 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.
HOURS LATER Methos was leaning back against a wheel of the van with his last beer bottle in his hand. He had only experienced one acid high in his life and that was enough. He preferred to see the world in it's true form, not in some psychedelic faze. To be so out of it only meant that you were an easy target. Just after moving to Berkeley and deciding to accept a position as Latin professor, he had heard through the immortal grapevine that one of them had been taken while tripping. The way Methos had heard the tale, the loser had actually decided to experience death and bent over for the victor and begged him to take his head. Amanda had been skirting between consciousness and nightmarish visions as she was tied down on the mattress in back of the hot van. Methos would talk her through the maniacal moments, and would leave her in peace when she was quiet and went back outside for some fresh, but stagnant air, all the while listening to the happenings on stage in the distance. Now that it was getting dark, the air started to thankfully cool down. Methos had been used to people walking past the opened up van to allow air ventilation for Amanda, and would ask what she was on, then peacefully go about their day, but when he felt an immortal approach, Methos tossed the empty beer bottle aside and snapped to attention. Fitz walked out of the crowd by one of the art booths with their blankets and said, "There you are. I figured it wouldn't be a major task finding you by feel. Do you know how many immortals are here?" "A few," Methos said, looking into the van to see how Amanda was doing. "There's a really scary looking black guy I steered clear of, but there were a couple of free spirited ladies I settled my attention on. How's this lady?" "Fine, no thanks to you, Mr. 'Here let's drop some acid, babe'." "That wasn't exactly how it happened," Fitz said. "I don't recall twisting her arm." Suddenly, there was a great intake of breath from inside the van and Amanda bolted upright. She was dripping with sweat and it took her a moment to get her bearings. What she saw was Fitz and Methos looking in the open door at the back of the van at her. "I think I died," she said, matter-of-factly. Methos smiled. "Oh, that's why you were so quiet for a while. Welcome back to the land of the living." She realized that she her hands were tied with T-shirts to steel loops on the floor of the van. "What is this all about?" Methos climbed in and untied her wrists. "I got tired of being a punching bag. You know, it's a very good thing I didn't just leave you here and drive away." Fitz said, "It's not like you could drive this van anywhere," as he looked at the things and people in the way. "It's the principle." "Did I miss much?" she asked. "Just an afternoon of your life that you'll never get back," Methos joked as he pulled her close. "If you promise to be nice, I'll forget the silly things you did." "I'm hungry," Amanda moaned. Fitz said, "The Monticello Jewish Community Center has sandwiches for everyone. Should I get us some, if they're not gone already?" Methos handed her a bag of potato chips. Amanda thanked him and ripped open the bag. As she was shoveling chips into her mouth, she asked, "Who's on stage?" "They play tomorrow night, Amanda," Methos laughed. "You haven't been out that long." "Ha, ha," Amanda replied. "I know that, doofus. Now what performer is on stage?" She reworded her earlier question. "Ravi Shankar," Fitz said. Just as he said that, thunder started rumbling in the distance. Within a few minutes, raindrops fell. The moon did its best to illuminate, but the clouds had already begun to roll in. Methos cast a leery eye to the heavens. Amanda looked up to the sky. "Maybe it will just be a little shower, you know, enough to cool things down some." "Or we might get flooded," he noted. "Oh, well, you feeling better?" "Much. Let's see if can get our seats back," Amanda said as she linked arms with the two men. "I'm ready to party." The trio managed to make it back to their earlier location. However, this time a group of people had converged on their spot under the large tree. "Just great," Amanda pouted. "Now we'll have to sit out in the rain." Methos rubbed his chin. "Or maybe not." He looked over to Fitz. "Roger, I think you're fans would like say hello." "For God's sake! Did you drop some acid, too?!" Fitz yelled in frustration. "I am not Roger freaking Daltrey!" Methos rolled his eyes. "Just play along, got it?" The gist of what Methos was planning finally dawned on the Englishman. "Got it! Send in the adoring throng." Methos grabbed Amanda's hand and led her over to where the group of kids sat under their tree. He leaned over and whispered some instructions into Amanda's ear. She nodded her head in understanding. Methos allowed his posture to slouch and lowered his eyelids. Amanda put on her best dazed expression. "Dudes," Methos slurred, "you'll never believe who's here." Methos swayed a little as he pointed to where Fitz stood. "It's Roger Daltrey from the Who, man. He's looking for some cats to party with; he's got some killer weed." The young men in the group perked up. Surely, a famous dude would have some really good shit. The girls in the group looked a little less enthused with giving up their shelter. Amanda did her part. "He's one amazing man, so giving," she leered. "Righteous!" one young man nodded. He looked around his group of friends. "Let's spilt for the party, guys!" "Cool!" Methos nodded with exaggerated youthful glee. "He's hanging by that tent." He pointed of into the distance. "The secret password is Zanzibar," he informed them. "Rog will be there as soon as we round up some more dudes." The ragtag group headed off in the direction Methos sent them. Amanda threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. "My hero!' "You are one devious son of a bitch, Noah," Fitz remarked as he joined them on the blanket under the tree. "I hope we don't run into them later." "They were so stoned they won't remember a thing," Methos reasoned. "Besides, they're young, they'll get over it." "The follies of youth," Fitz agreed. He reached inside his vest and pulled out a pipe and a nickel bag of weed. He expertly filled the pipe and lit it. Taking a deep draw, he held the smoke in his lungs and then slowly exhaled. He passed the pipe to Methos. "Have a hit, Noah." Methos took a hit on the pipe. "Good stuff," he wheezed and gave Amanda the pipe. She pushed it back at him and shook her head. "Whoa! I don't think so. I've had enough drugs for one day." Methos took another hit. "More for us, eh, Fitz?" Amanda watched the two men finish off Fitz' bag of pot while the folk music helped keep the crowd mellow, which was a good thing since as the night progressed the rain grew heavier. By the time Joan Baez took the stage and reported on the state of her husband that was arrested for protesting, the light rain had become a full-fledged thunderstorm. Thoroughly soaked to the skin, Amanda began to gather up their belongings as the opening strains of 'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot' wafted through the rain and thunder. "Come on, Noah. I have had enough of the great outdoors," she poked the completely relaxed immortal. She stood up and waited for him to do the same. Carefully he levered himself up then draped a long arm around her neck. "I thought you wanted to sleep out under the stars." "Yeah, well, not when it's raining." She looked down at Fitz. "You can sleep in the van, too." "Go on, mates," he told them. "The night is still young." "Whatever floats your boat," Amanda said, pecking him on the cheek and twisting his long locks for good measure. Fitz never looked cuter to her, after the nineteen years they had known each other. "See ya in the morning." By the time they got back to the van, the rain was coming down in torrents. After Methos opened the back door, three teens tried to crawl inside. Amanda grabbed them by the hair and pulled them out, then crawled in herself. When Methos and Amanda were sitting on the mattress, the door shut, people pounding on the outside of the van, and the rain pouring, they realized that they were dripping wet. Their bare feet were full of red clay. Their bed was beyond soiled. Amanda looked toward Methos, who had meticulously kept it clean since they had peeled out of Berkeley a couple of weeks before. "We can turn the mattress in the morning," she offered. He was so stoned; he just lay down on his stomach. Before long, he was snoring. ~~~~~ MORNING, SATURDAY, AUGUST, 16, 1969 Amanda opened the back of the van to squint at the bright sun. Across the way, there was a new white tent that had been erected with a sign that read "Medical Tent". There were a couple of women in nurses garb that could be seen inside the tent, one was listening attentively to a stoner, while the other was taking inventory of what was on the table. Just across from the van was a newly built booth being decorated. A fresh sign was posted. "RAINCOATS $5" Down the way, a guy was standing on the top of a converted school bus yelling, "Mescaline! One dollar! Mescaline! One dollar!" Amanda crouched back inside the van and nudged Methos' shoulder. "What's Mescaline used for?" All she got was a grumble in return. Because she was cramped from being in one position most of the night, she stepped out of the van and stretched. The dirt on her arms and legs were starting to itch. She knew that Methos had packed the bar of soap somewhere, and sifted through the backpack for it. She took that, a pink tank top and a pair of hip hugger jeans and nudged Methos again. "I'm going to find a shower." All that moved was his foot when she tickled it. "Remind me to keep him away from the Mary Jane," she said to herself and slammed the van door. Carrying her clothes and the soap in a plastic baggie, she walked through, what seemed to her to be knee high garbage. The red mud smelled like hashish as her feet sunk at least two inches down into it. Wet sleeping bags littered with cigarette butts, cellophane, discarded clothes and sleeping people were everywhere on the field between the camp site and the stage. The puddles from the rainstorm were still standing, and were steaming in the hot morning air. It gave an eerie fog to the setting, which now took on the glow of a war field after a battle. Off in the distance, cows were grazing in an untouched field on a hill way back behind the stage. In Max Yasgur's field where the mass of humanity was, a tractor towing a tank trailer to haul away sewage from the Port-O-San toilets. She looked everywhere for a shower set up, but couldn't find one. A couple of times, she was laughed at when she asked people who looked like they were in some sort of charge. She stepped and jerked up in pain. She lifted her foot to see a can pop-top had embedded itself in her sole. A woman watched her with a sympathetic smile. "You'd think people could clean up after themselves," Amanda said. The woman threw up her arms and said, "What can you do? Kids!" "Don't suppose you know where a shower could be?" "No such things provided, hon." The woman walked to her and pointed at the pond nestled between two groves of trees on the back side of the stage and said, "I heard there were some young people swimming. It's fresh water." "Well, it's better than nothing, I guess," Amanda said. "Thanks." She realized that she didn't have her back stage pass, if she would need it to get past the stage area without walking a mile out of the way, so she went back to the van to get it. When she opened the back door of the van, she got the shock of her life. She had thought that Methos was asleep, but then again, he had to have felt her return. She was nose to tip of an Ivanhoe blade just seconds after she opened the back door. "Hey! It's just me!" Methos lowered the sword and covered it quickly when he saw heads turn from her shout. "You could at least announce your approach," Methos said. "What? Whistle a happy tune?" Amanda spit out, rubbing her nose, to see if there were any dripping blood. She looked at Methos again and paused. Then raised her eyebrows. "Um. Noah? You're naked, or are you just happy to see me?" "I was changing my clothes," Methos said. "This place is a pig sty!" "I think we both got up on the wrong side of the van." Amanda sifted through the backpack again and found the two passes. "What are you going to do?" "I'm in search of water. Want to come and take a bath?" Methos perked up. "They have bathroom facilities here?" "Yes. It's called a pond." Amanda smiled and slyly tilted her shoulder. "You wash my hair, I'll wash yours." Methos hurriedly took out a pair of pants from the backpack and said, "You know what? I'm so there." ~~~~~ While most of the people under the age of thirty were still sleeping the morning away, the older people trying to clean up and refill their booths, two of the oldest people at Woodstock dropped their clothes on a rock by the shore and ran into a body of water called Filippini's Pond. After the rainstorm, it could very well be classified as a lake as it was deeper than it had to naturally be. On the other side of it were a couple in the midst of heavy petting, and a guy was laying face up as he was sunbathing in the nude. It was the calm after the storm for Amanda and Methos as they softly poured the waist high water over each other. Methos grabbed Amanda's head and put her under the surface. She came sputtering up to say, "Thanks for the warning," and slapped his shoulder. "See if I be gentle with you." She shoved both hands against the surface, creating a gigantic splash. Methos grabbed her hands, to find them empty. "Where's the soap?" "I dropped it." "In the pond?" "Don't blame me, you surprised me when I was rinsing you." Methos suddenly went underwater, his tush bobbed at the surface for a moment before he disappeared. Suddenly, Amanda lost her footing and went under. Methos broke the surface soap in hand and announced, "Success!" Amanda flipped her soppy wet hair back when she stood again and yelled, "Quit that! I'm sorry I ever brought you along." Methos chuckled and gently pushed the hair and water from her face and kissed her before turning her around. He lathered up his hands with the soap then handed it to her. He massaged the foam into her long hair. Amanda asked, "You're going to at least warn me when it's time to rinse, right?" Methos wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. "I was just having fun." "I forgive you." Amanda leaned back against him and closed her eyes against the sunshine. "I always forgive you, Methos." "That is lovely of you," he whispered. He started to lower them into the water until she was sitting on his lap, the water up to their ears. She twisted in his lap and said, "Do you know how long it's been since we were last together in a pond?" "Boggles the mind," Methos said, kissing her. "At least this water is warm, not like the North Atlantic in April." "Oh, you," she said, snapping out of her reverie. "Don't remind me. That whole decade sucked." "We never did get married." "I said, don't mention that," Amanda said forcefully. "That was then, this is now." She looked off at the shore. "And that is Fitz!" Methos turned in time to see Hugh Fitzcairn with three young females, all holding hands as they ran into the pond, naked as the day there were born. Fitz swam over to Methos and Amanda and asked, "Where's the soap?" "How do you know we have soap?" Amanda teased as Fitz tickled her waist. He patted the lathered top of her head and said, "Your crime of hiding the soap was unsuccessful, luv. Fork it over, Amanda." In the spirit of peace and love, Amanda handed over the bar of soap. "Don't use it all and give it back when you're done, understand, man?" Fitz batted his baby blues innocently. "Sure thing. Ladies, shall we adjourn to the other side of the pond?" The girls giggled. "Until this evening, Amanda, Noah." "He's quite the ladies man, isn't he?" Methos laughed as the other immortal and his harem cavorted off in the distance. "One of a kind, that Fitz," Amanda answered. She held her nose as she ducked under water to rinse the suds from her hair. She pushed the wet mess out of her face. "Did I get all the soap out?" "Every bit," he pulled her back onto his lap. "Fresh as a daisy," he declared as he sniffed her hair. They spent a while playing in the pond until it began to get crowded. They held hands as they waded back to shore. Amanda pulled on her jeans and tank top. Methos hadn't dressed yet and was bent over shaking the excess water from his hair. Her gaze was appreciative as she watched the muscles in his back ripple. This scene had been played out again and again over the centuries, but each time she saw him this way she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. No Greek god had ever looked this good. Methos was not oblivious to his effect on the opposite sex. More than one young woman had stopped to stare at him on their way into the water. "Are you sure you didn't pose for Michelangelo?" she asked. Methos stood up straight. "Huh?" He tugged on his jeans and shirt. "Nothing," she replied. "Drats! I left my brush back at the van." On their way back to the van with their dirty clothes in hand, they began to hear rumors of some kind of accident involving a tractor and a concertgoer. A young woman stood crying amongst a group of friends. Amanda stopped long enough to ask a nearby woman what happened. It seemed that a young man had been inside his sleeping bag when the tractor Amanda had seen earlier in the morning ran over him. Unfortunately, the young man was now dead. They continued on to the van in silence. Some of the innocence had gone out of the weekend upon their hearing of the senseless death. Amanda was quiet as she sat on the grass brushing her hair while Methos did his best to clean out the dirty van. After deciding not to flip the mattress over, as it would only get both sides dirty, he had set the rest of the van back in order then he sat down next to her. She had quit brushing her hair and sat staring off into space. "Amanda?" He stroked her cheek. "Something wrong?" He took the brush from her hand and began to braid her hair. "It just awful. That poor boy just came here to hear some music and now he's dead." Methos worked a yellow ribbon into the braid. "You still have that tender heart." "His poor family," she sighed. "So very tragic." "Yes it is," he expertly tied the ribbon when he was finished braiding, "but, unfortunately, tragedy is all too commonplace in the mortal world." "So is disease," she muttered. Methos put his arm around her and said, "Yes." He watched her face set in stone as she pulled at blades of grass. "You're only three years removed from Jack, how are you really doing?" "It's hard. He would have loved this weekend." "All you can do is remember him and move on, Amanda." "I know that. I'm existing, he wanted that for me. If he would have known that I not only have lived for a thousand years, and hopefully had another thousand to go," she said, before stopping. Amanda looked over the sea of humanity gathered in Max Yasgur's field. "They're so young and full of hope, Methos." She leaned back against him. "Were we ever like that?" Methos closed his eyes and tried to remember, but that black wall that shrouded his mortal life refused to reveal any secrets. "I suppose hope and youth go hand in hand. I remember a certain immortal that was overflowing with hope and youth," he kissed her cheek. "She still does." "Such a charmer," she returned his kiss. "Maybe this will be the generation that gets it right." "Maybe," he offered. "You don't think they will?" Amanda asked him. Methos thought about his answer for a minute. "It's not a matter of will, but it comes down to 'can they?'. Will they put an end to this war? Probably. Will they never declare war when their generation attains power? I doubt it. I've seen five thousand years of wars fought for the most asinine reason. Will they forge a civilization based on equality? Not as long as there are power hungry people in this world." Amanda listened intently. "Those things will never happen; it's against human nature." "It's a shame," she replied. "Yet they keep trying." Methos smiled, "Yes, they do. That's the beauty of the mortals, Amanda. Despite tremendous odds, they continue, they persevere. They may not change the world, but they change their small corner of it." "You're very philosophical today, Noah." "Blame it on the kids, makes us old guys feel our age." Methos stretched in the sun. "Or maybe it's the pot." Amanda burst into gales of laughter. "You are incorrigible!" "And I'm about to take to nap," he stretched before he walked to the van. "A nap? We just got up!" "So?" Methos sprawled loose limbed on the mattress. "There are too many good bands playing tonight and I want to be awake for all of them. I'm not as young as I used to be." Methos patted the mattress. "Care to join me?" Amanda pondered her options for a time. She could wander the grounds alone or get some rest and be fresh for tonight. Not feeling like being alone she decided that a nap couldn't hurt. Before she drifted off to sleep, she laughed. "This van reeks!" "Thanks to you," Methos muttered, turning on his side. "Do you have any residuals effects of yesterday afternoon?" "Not at all," Amanda said. "I don't remember anything, except I died, and you didn't even know it. Thanks a lot." Methos gathered her into his arms and chuckled. "You move well." "Of course I do." Amanda settled in clasping his hand between her cheek and the pillow. "What do you mean?" "What sultans did you know?" Methos started laughing. "Sultans? A couple, why?" "I've always flirted with the thought of having a harem." "You?" Amanda lightly laughed. "You focus on only one person at a time. That's why I do like you, Methos." Amanda turned to kiss him and softly said, "That's why I love spending time with you." "Until we start to annoy each other," he offhandedly commented. She shrugged. "Absence does make the heart grew fonder." "It does make experiencing another initial encounter with you that much more satisfying. I tend to miss you when you're not around." "I'm here now." "Yes. That you are," Methos said, "That you are." ~~~~~ When the music was ready to start on Saturday afternoon, Amanda wasn't going to have anything to do with trees or shelter. She told Methos, "I lifted these backstage passes, I'm going to take advantage of them." As soon as they arrived at the stairs and flashed the badges, Amanda and Methos were both given the mandatory blue button up shirts with the Woodstock logo on the back. Amanda put hers on over her tank top and tied the front tails at her waist, while Methos decided it was too hot for a shirt and just tied the arms around his waist. Once in a while they were pointed out to do something, be a gopher, plug in that speaker if it needed, bring water to the singers between songs. The catered affair for the performers was too tempting for Methos and Amanda to resist. It was the first hot meal they had since stopping at a restaurant in Bethel last Wednesday night. Standing backstage and rubbing elbows with Santana and Canned Heat before they took the stage was one thing, but Methos got more than bored during the rest of the acts. To make matters worse, the free beer was gone. He looked at the play list and saw that the next performer he was interested in was Janis Joplin and she hadn't even been choppered in yet. He left Amanda to go find himself a beer after the cooler backstage was empty. Even though his stash he had brought was gone, and all he could find at Woodstock was Budweiser, it was better than nothing. He walked around the edge of the congregated crowd for the music and finally made his way to one of the many camps that had been set up alongside the line of wooden and fabric art booths. He heard manic screaming and looked into the Freak Out Tent to see that the Hog Farmers manning it were more than busy. He kept on walking, ending up in the half circle of psychedelic school buses in yet another camping area. There were people sitting at attention to a young blond man who was leading them in a yoga session. Methos leaned against one of the buses to watch them for a moment, then noticed a Styrofoam cooler by the bus door. He nonchalantly lifted the lid to see cans of beer. Bingo! He looked around and all eyes were on the yoga master, so he pulled one out and pulled the pop top tab. Tossing the tab over the top of the bus, he downed half the can in no time. The next screaming he heard was more of a cry of pain. He looked into the woods to see a woman jump out of a green tent, and holler, "Somebody help! She's having the pains!" Some of the yoga pupils had rushed over, and Methos stayed back where he was, until he heard the call from one of the guys after assessing the situation in the tent, "Get a doctor! There's a pregnant chick in there!" Having expected another bad trip one, Methos's interest was perked and finished the beer, then burped, crushed the can in his hand, tossed it on the ground, cracked his knuckles and walked to the tent. A couple of guys pushed him back, wondering who he was and what he was doing, Methos said, "Back off man, I'm a doctor." A young hippie blocked his entrance. "You don't look like any doctor I've ever seen, man." "I've delivered more babies than anyone else here," he stated as he pushed the boy aside. He knelt down by the heavily breathing girl. "I see this baby is ready to make its entrance." The girl nodded her head. "I'm really scared," she admitted although the tears that threatened to fall already told Methos that. "Its ok to be scared, but I promise everything will be fine," Methos smiled at the girl, "What's your name?" "Kimberly." "Well, Kimberly, my name is Noah," he informed her. "I'm going to help you deliver this baby, alright?" She gave him a tremulous smile. "Ok." Methos directed the young man to find some clean material to wrap the baby in and ordered a couple of girls standing around to find him some clean water in order to wash his hands. Giving Kimberly a quick pat on the shoulder, he went to work assessing the situation. She would be delivering this baby soon from what he could tell. The girls returned with a couple of jugs of water and handed them to Methos. "This was all I could find, man," the young man said as he held out a large tie-dyed pillowcase. "That will work." Methos ripped the pillowcase open to enlarge the surface area. "Are you with her?" "Yeah, she's my old lady." Methos stifled a laugh. The girl looked all of nineteen, twenty at the most. Now Amanda was an old lady. "Your name?" "Josh." "I'm Noah. Now I need you to sit behind Kimberly and prop her up so she can push. Hold her hand and try to keep her calm." Josh had the deer caught in the headlights look. Methos cleared his throat and nodded his head towards Kimberly. "Look, Josh, you helped make this baby and you will help bring it into the world." Josh looked as if he was going to start crying. "I didn't make the baby, man, she was knocked up when we met." "When did you meet?" Methos asked as Josh scurried to sit behind his girlfriend and carefully lay her torso against him. "Last Tuesday," was Josh's reply. "Oh, God this hurts," Kimberly's hands clenched the blanket she was lying on. "Just take some deep breaths and concentrate really hard," Methos advised. "It won't stop hurting but if you do as I say it will be easier to take." For the next half an hour the girl made steady progress. Methos checked her one last time and discovered the time to push had come. He told her when to push and offered words of encouragement. The birthing experience always fascinated him. It was one of the few miracles in this world he hadn't become jaded to. "I can't do this," Kimberly cried. "No one said it would hurt this bad." "You can do it. Just one more push," Methos encouraged. "Yeah, you can do it, babe," Josh agreed. "I love you, Kimmy." Kimberly gathered her strength and pushed with all her might. Methos caught the baby as it slipped from its mother. He grabbed a shirt from a pile of clothes and cleaned the baby, then held her up for her mother's inspection. "She's beautiful," Kimberly laughed through her tears. "Isn't she, Josh?" "Can we hold her?" Josh asked awe clearly written on his face. "Of course, you can," Methos told him. Wrapping the little girl in the tie-dyed pillowcase, he gently laid the baby in her mother's arms. "I'll be by to check on you guys tomorrow." He stood to leave. Josh walked with Methos out of the makeshift tent. "Thanks for helping us, man." He pulled some money out of his jean pockets. "I know its not much, but&ldots;" Methos shook his head. "Keep it. Peace and love." He turned and walked back towards the stage. "Peace, brother," Josh called out to his retreating back. Amanda felt his buzz approaching before she saw him and waved him over. "Where in the world have you been? You've been whining about seeing Janis and she's just about to take the stage." "I was just delivering a baby, that's all," Methos shrugged, but had a proud smile on his face. "You're kidding?" "Yeah, I just pulled that out of thin air," Methos replied tartly. "Don't be such a grouch." "Let's see if we can get any closer." Methos grabbed her hand. "Janis is who I've been waiting for." The found a relatively empty area off the right hand of the stage with a good view of the wild haired singer stepping up to the microphone. She held her head down for a moment then launched into her first song. Methos stood with his arms around Amanda and swayed them to the music. They heard a couple of the guys talking behind them. "You got her cash? You were able to get more cash at the bank?" one who looked to Methos to be about fifteen years old, with a baby face, curly shoulder length hair and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "I already made a withdrawal to cover the Who and the Dead." Then he pouted and looked toward the stage. "Who would have thought that Janis' manager would have wanted money up front, man? We're footin' this bill, the least the entertainment can do is wait until next week." "Charlie was a prince at the bank, man," the other guy said. "Don't sweat it. There's a little bit more in the account. Not much, but a little bit." Methos turned back to the show as the Pearl had already sailed through "Raise Your Hand" and "As Good As You've Been To This World" and the opening strains had started on "To Love Somebody". Methos had seen her perform in California. Even though he had never met her, to see her perform live was an experience no one could soon forget. It was as if every fiber of her being lived for each note she sang. Her whole body moved in a way that would force each syllable up and out of her mouth in full force. Janis could be hard and driving on certain songs, but she could also sound so vulnerable that you just wanted to take her under your wing. She could also bend a song on its ear. She could take a power ballad and make it a hard rock song. She could take a sweet love song that everyone knew and turn it into a heart wrenching torch song that makes one know, up close and personal, the agony of unrequited love. The woman was amazing. So much energy pent up in an extremely small frame. Her hair overtaking her head, shoulders and almost her entire body down to her waist. The high heels, the skin tight striped pants, the feather boa, the leather-suede vest, the frilly white blouse all meshed together to make Janis either the coolest chick on the earth, or an alien. Whatever she was, Methos needed to meet her. After she finished "Ball and Chain", she bowed to the crowd, teetering on her feet from exhaustion of having just bared her soul to the audience that had consisted of 150,000 to 500,000 people, depending on who you talked to. She has been so gigantic taking command of the stage, the crowd, and the festival, but as she walked unsteadily to the back of the stage, she resembled a young girl who was dressed clothes from her mother's closet. Methos made his way to intercept her, but was too late. The promoters were giving her the business for not playing long enough. "We had an agreement," one said. Janis took a lit cigarette from the female friend she had arrived with in the helicopter and took a long drag as she swayed backward. She scowled at him and steadily blew smoke in his face. "You're invading my space, man!" she accused, and wanted to keep on moving. "If you're not going to fulfill your end of the bargain, we want our money back!" the guy wouldn't let up and kept walking with her, up to Methos. Janis turned to the guy, and yelled at anyone within listening area, "Hey, fuckface! My manager told me, 'Janis, knock 'em dead, play five fucking songs and then get your fucking ass back here so we can continue the fucking tour." She thrust a finger in his face. "I knocked 'em dead! Now I'm getting my fucking ass on that fucking chopper and you can go fuck yourself!" "You played five fucking songs," the guy yelled back. "That's like... two fucking thousand dollars a fucking song!" Janis looked back at the guy, giving him directions of what to do with himself, and walked right into Methos' arms. She turned to accuse another for intruding on her space, but she saw a kind face and smiled up at him. "Ten thousand dollars? For a Pearl as unique as you, it was worth the price," he lightly said. Janis glared back at the guy and then handed the cigarette to her friend, grabbed Methos by the cheeks and pulled him in for a long, savory kiss. "Thanks, man," she said, then took her cigarette back and turned to the promoter. "My fans love me." After Janis and company walked back to the helicopter pad, the promoter slapped Methos on the arm. "What the fuck did you tell her that for?" Methos tore his eyes off Janis to scrutinize the guy. He felt for him, after all, the couple million-dollar enterprise was a bust in the way of recouping money, but was offended by the nudge. "You're intruding on my space." "Who the fuck are you, anyway?" Methos grabbed his t-shirt and shoved him back against a speaker. "Someone whose just a little more of a bad ass than you, buddy." He pinned the smaller man with a glare. "So I'd suggest you'd better back the fuck off." The man threw up his hands in surrender. "Chill, man." Amanda touched Methos on the arm. "Come on, the Dead are next." After the Dead played a psychedelic set that sent their fans spinning and twirling, Creedence Clearwater Revival took the stage opening with "Born On the Bayou". "Jack and I used to go see these guys all the time back in Berkeley when they were still the Golliwogs. He said they'd make it big someday." Amanda smiled. "They were one of his favorite bands." "They're pretty good," Methos said. "The lead singer can really play the guitar. He's got an interesting voice, too." "And he's pretty cute," Amanda laughed. "Hey, don't look at me like that, Noah. The way you were drooling over Janis just a little while ago&ldots;." "Ok, ok." They continued to listen and dance to CCR. Halfway through their set, they broke into an infectious song. Amanda grinned when she noticed Methos was starting to get into the song. The crowd had begun to sing along with John Fogerty. The second time they made it to the chorus she happened to notice what Methos was singing at the top of his lungs:
Amanda burst into fits of laughter. Methos raised an eyebrow and continued to sing along. He stopped when he saw that she was just laughing hard. "Problem?" Amanda used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears of laughter that streamed down her cheeks. "I haven't laughed this hard in years!" She took a deep breath. "Babe, you got the lyrics all wrong." "Says who?" he protested. "Says me! I own the eight track," she told him. "It's 'there's a bad moon on the rise', not 'there's a bathroom on the right'. That doesn't even make sense." Methos defended, "I like my version better." "You would, Mr. I'm Obsessed with the Bathroom." "Once you've spent a month on the open sea in a boat with monks," he started. "I know. I know. No facilities. Been there, done that. I had to forage in the woods too, luv. But I can still make out lyrics. Besides, there isn't a hot water tank around that you couldn't drain." "As I recall you've helped me drain a few," Methos rubbed suggestively against her. "I wish there was a shower around here so we can reminisce." "OH. MY. GOD!" Amanda shouted, ignoring Methos and excitedly pointing at the steps leading to the path to the helicopter pad. "There's Daltrey, Townshend, Entwistle, and Moon!" As they walked up the steps, Amanda screamed, "I can't believe we're on the same stage with them!" "Technically, we're not," Methos told her. "Gods, Fitz does look remarkably like that Daltrey fellow." Amanda was bouncing with excitement as the band trouped past them on their way to the stage. As it was the moment she had been waiting for. She saw Roger walk past in a brown suede opened jacket with long white fringes on the chest and arms, shirtless, and skin tight pants. She almost hung onto him and would have never let go. Now that she was so close to the man, she realized that he did indeed bear a striking resemblance to a certain immortal she had known for almost twenty years. It would be interesting for Fitz to cut his hair and have them stand alongside each other. Peter Townsend walked past, business on his mind, wearing a white jumpsuit. Keith Moon was only wearing shorts, taking in the scene, smiling, then scrutinized the contents of a hand of a roadie. John Entwistle, wearing something resembling a business suit, walked past them with his bass already strapped around his neck. When Keith did move on to take his place at the drums, he caught sight of Methos and smiled. "Hey, Noah!" Methos nodded in acknowledgment and noted the confused look on Amanda's face. When he didn't say anything, Amanda asked, "You know him?" "We were partying together in San Fran about a year ago." "Why didn't you say anything?" Methos shrugged. "Moon could out drink me." Then Methos chuckled as the intro synthesizer announced the opening song, "Heaven and Hell". "Keith had asked me to take them to the airport and I pulled out from the lobby, then Keith starts yelling, 'Stop! Stop! I forgot something!'. I stopped short, backed up, Keith runs into the hotel. The other guys were half asleep and didn't seem to think anything of it. Keith comes back about twenty minutes later, relived. I thought he had forgotten some clothes, his drugs, a bottle of scotch, he was pretty shook up. After I started driving, I asked him what he had to go back for and he said, 'I forgot to pitch the TV over the balcony." Methos put his arm on Amanda's shoulders and said, "You know, it's hard to maintain an image." They found themselves a better view to the stage and were as enraptured as the rest of the crowd. Keith's manic beats on the drums, Pete's windmills and jumps, Roger's swirling white fringe framing his silhouette against the midnight sky. Methos and Amanda both regarded John Entwistle's staid manner on bass. Even though he rocked with that instrument, he sure didn't expend any unnecessary energy. The Who started their Tommy repertoire, since the Rock Opera had just been released that year. It was one of the many 8 tracks that Amanda had brought with for them to listen to on the drive across country. They both sang along to Roger's vocals. There was a commotion on the other side of the stage, but they didn't pay attention to what it was. After finishing Pinball Wizard though, a wild man strode to the microphone that Roger had placed on the stand in order to go to the base of the drum kit to take a drink of water. No one on Methos and Amanda's side of the stage knew who he was, and certainly the Who didn't. It was only when Abbie Hoffman started to speak about the plight of John Sinclair, a teenager busted for possession of two marijuana cigarettes shortly before the festival. A roadie backstage moaned, "Oh Christ," causing Methos and Amanda to look where he was. Peter Townshend had just finished putting a new guitar strap around his neck and walked up behind Hoffman at the mike, and head butted him with the other guitar. Without missing a beat, Keith started the opening down beats to "Fiddle About". Men ran on stage to wrangle Hoffman, who was fit to be tied, from the head butt, and the acid he was probably high on. As soon as he was off stage, still fighting and yelling, John took center stage and started singing the only vocal solo he had during their stage show. The crowd, the stage hands, the promoters, Methos and Amanda loved the Who's long performance. After all, they had played 23 songs, all crowd pleasers or riveting ballads. It was almost three in the morning when they finally made the way off stage to the waiting helicopter to take them to their hotel. They could hear people congratulating them on a show well done, but Amanda could hear Roger say, "It was the worst gig we ever played." Amanda's jaw dropped. "How can he say that? They were incredible." Methos shrugged his shoulders. "They have very high standards." "Well, all I can say is, I wasn't disappointed." "Good." Methos laughed. "I didn't want to listen to you bitch if they weren't." He rested his chin on her shoulder and purred into her ear. "You ready for bed?" "I thought you'd want to stay for the Airplane," Amanda leaned against him. "A little drooling over Grace and all." His hips rubbed against her back. She smiled when she felt his arousal. "Or maybe not." They both laughed as they hurried through the crowded area behind the stage. Someone yelled for them move some equipment, but the shouts were ignored as they nearly ran from the stage. Methos reached the van first and felt an immortal presence. He picked up a stick from the ground and motioned for Amanda to stand opposite the double doors at the back. He signaled to her to be ready when he throw open the door. She nodded her understanding. Methos threw up in door hoping to catch the other immortal off guard, knowing both his and Amanda's swords were in the van. "Bloody hell!" came the startled exclamation of a masculine. Methos dropped the stick and shook his head. Amanda just laughed. Fitz held his hand over his pounding heart. "Give me a bleeding heart attack, would you!" "It's not like it'll kill you," Methos laughed reminding Fitz of what he had told him during Amanda's acid trip. "What are you doing in our van?" Amanda questioned. Fitz jumped out of the vehicle. "Just laying low until you know Who were finished; I didn't want to disappoint my audience." He bowed gallantly to Methos and kissed Amanda's hand, then placed the used an dried bar of soap into it. "You have a nice evening." He gave them a jaunty wave and departed for the stage. "He's quite a character," Methos observed. Amanda tossed the bar of soap into the backpack and then took Methos' hand. "I don't want to talk about Fitz." "Me either," Methos grinned. He followed Amanda inside the van. "Have I told you how beautiful you look?" he asked as he pushed one strap of her tank top off her shoulder. His lips trailed light kisses along her neckline. "It seems we've spent most of the weekend in here making love." Amanda leaned her head to one side allowing him better access to her neck. Methos hand cupped her cheek as his other hand began to free her hair from the braid that hung down her back. "What better time than the summer of love, Amanda." His long fingers fanned her hair out allowing it to cascade against her tanned skin. She began to take her shirt off for him, but he smiled and moved her hands away. Instead he gently pushed her back against the mattress. She sighed knowing she was about to experience the heartbreakingly tender side of his lovemaking. She closed her eyes and allowed him free reign over her body. His hand and mouth roamed leisurely over her starting small fires everywhere. During these wonderful times of lovemaking she felt like a goddess being adored by her devotee. Just when he would drive her to the point of abandon, he would whisper bits of poetry or song in her ear. Sometimes she understood the language other times it was only the tone of the words that she understood. He never rushed; his only goal was her pleasure. She'd had many lovers during her life, but somehow being with Methos was different than any other she'd ever experienced. She'd wondered where and when he had learned his technique. He had joked about having a harem with her and she speculated if he'd ever been part of one himself. In his five thousand years, he had been many things, maybe a professional lover was one of them. Her attention turned back to her lover when she felt his knee slide between hers gently urging them apart. His eyes were heavy with passion, she noted with approval. She allowed him entrance and he slid with a sigh into her. His hips coaxed her into an undulating rhythm, one their bodies had played many times over the centuries they had danced this danced. Amanda's body responded to his gentle lovemaking and soon her fingers clenched along his strong back as she reached her climax. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and she felt him reach his own. She held his still shuddering body close thoroughly enjoying the weight of his body on her. He raised up and kissed her on her forehead when he noticed a tear escaping from her closed eyelids. "Did I hurt you?" His voice was full of concern. He lay beside her and wiped away her tears. She opened her eyes and reassured him. "Sweetie, you would never hurt me." She was relieved to see the worry fade from his features. "It's just that I forget how good it is to be with you like this." Methos relaxed beside her. "I love you, you know." "I know." Methos smiled. "I love you, too. We've had some adventures, haven't we?" "Yeah, some I'd rather forget," she replied. "I'm gonna miss you when we leave here." "I know, but let's just enjoy the rest of the weekend," he advised. "Besides, its not like we won't see each other again." "That's true," she agreed. As long as they could keep their heads attached to their necks they had all the time in the world to live separately, then find each other again. "Now, go to sleep," he admonished as he tucked her body against his. ~~~~~ NOONISH, SUNDAY, AUGUST, 17, 1969 The familiar sound of thunder and lightening woke Amanda from her sleep in late morning. She found Methos eating a sandwich, reading a book, in the driver's seat of the van. She tapped him on the arm and he handed the half sandwich to her. She scrutinized it. "Tuna? Is it safe to eat? We ran out of ice yesterday."
"I got it from the Monticello Jewish Community Center booth. They're making free sandwiches for everyone." "How nice," she said, taking a bite, then slipping on the nearest piece of clothing, Methos' t-shirt from the day before. She climbed into the passenger seat and continued eating the sandwich. "What you reading?" "The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test." "Groovy," she said, smiling. Then she looked out at the gray sky, the beating rain, and the mounds of humanity under tarps and ponchos, or lively dancing in the open. Methos dog eared the page and tossed the paperback on the dashboard. "Well, what's next?" "Wait out the rain, I guess," she said, "then maybe take another bath." "Who's on the schedule today?" "Joe Cocker, The Band, I don't remember who else." She turned to the back to sift through their things to find the play list. "They all pale after the Pearl," he said smiling. "Have you had enough of the Woodstock Art and Music Festival?" "You want to leave?" "I'm out of beer, Amanda. I can't continue drinking the overpriced piss water they have here." "I wonder why Dylan didn't perform. He lives here, after all." "They probably didn't want to pay him enough. It's sure of a let down to think that they were all only in it for money." Methos looked at the teenagers huddled under one of the trees in their view. "These kids came from all across the country, you also, because this weekend was supposed to be a peaceful gathering, to protest the war in a passive manner, and all the entertainment wanted was money." Amanda smiled. "Money makes the world go round. One day these kids will know that." Methos nodded. "They may be proud of their anti-establishment mentality now, but I bet you everything I have, and I have a lot, that when they graduate from college and get out there in the real world, they'll be concerned about their bank books, and vote for those who will protect it." "Like Goldwater in '64?" Amanda asked, unable to accept that was the sort of person Methos meant. "No. Goldwater just wants to blow them all to kingdom come. But if he didn't want to blow them off the face of the earth, mark my words, they'll end up voting Republican." Amanda chuckled. "The Democratic Convention last year meant nothing to you? Never trust anyone over thirty?" "They'll think differently when they turn thirty. I'm talking economics." Methos straightened, completely into the conversation, even turning to face her. "Look at this weekend, Amanda. They advertised the concert with the dream cast of characters on stage in nationwide magazines, charged a fee for people to get in, then are amazed that so many people turned out. It's only a free concert because they were naive enough not to know how to maintain crowd control. They inherited every penny they have and lost a lot of it. But look at the price of the damn beer. Look at how much you have to fork over for a stupid t-shirt and some of the so called 'art', not to mention the drug dealers. This was a money making proposition from the word go, not a love in." "It was from our side, hun," Amanda cooed in Methos' ear, liking it when he talked finance. It was due to Methos that the money she had worked for her instead of the other way around, although it was still a satisfying means of employment for her. Methos kissed her lightly on the nose and said, "Let's go for that swim." "It's pouring out there." "I'm not an old fogey, contrary to the view I just spouted. The water's warmer while it rains, and I have a feeling we'll have the run of Filippini's Pond. Grab that bar of soap." Before she could complain, he was outside. Rain poured onto the driver's seat. "I'm only half dressed," she yelled at him. All she got in return was a smile as he stood in front of the hood. He opened his mouth and laid his head back and drank the rain. When she started to crawl into the back to get some pants on, she groaned from the fact that her butt and legs had stuck. "Damn humid heat!" ~~~~~ Methos had been wrong. They didn't have the run of Filippini's Pond as Fitz and his chosen lady were already frolicking. As soon as he spotted the new comers, he smiled with the lady on his lap and waved them in. "The water's warm!" Methos said under his voice, "He knows that truism also." Even though it was still raining, Methos and Amanda could hear the tell tale clash of swords in the midst of battle, even though the only immortal presence they felt was Fitz. All three eyes floated to the trees at the edge of the water. Methos said, "I thought we all agreed to lay down our swords." "I did, too," Amanda said, slowly moving toward the trees to investigate. Methos held her back. "Are you insane? What will you defend yourself with, that bar of soap?" "I'm just going to find out who the fascist pig is that's going against the rules." "You've just been waiting to use that word, haven't you?" Methos said as he walked behind her. He looked over the territory that he'd have to cover if he decided to run to the van and make a clean getaway. Even though the prospect of getting the van out of the campsite anytime soon was dim at best, Methos could always think of something if push came to shove, Ivanhoe in hand. It was after a couple of steps that he saw Fitz was following him. Well, safety in numbers. Methos even allowed Fitz to go ahead of him, even as Fitz was still buttoning his jeans. "Having my sword would be lovely, wouldn't it?" he asked, and Methos only nodded. After starting to feel the immortal sensations of the combatants, the clashes became more clear the closer to the fray that they got. Amanda, stopping Fitz and Methos, yelled, "That bastard! I knew he was acting too good to be true!" The fighters stopped when they realized that there were witnesses. A short white man had been having quite the time with the large black man with a bad attitude and a long blade. "Whatever happened to sharing," he yelled at the black man, just before pushing him back and taking a swipe of his blade.
Luther never lost his step when he lunged in and stabbed his sword into the white man's gut. With a savage jerk, Luther pulled his sword out and launched into a vicious backhanded swing that sent the smaller immortal's head rolling along the muddy ground. The victorious immortal threw back his head and screamed, "There can be only one!" The hazy blue mist rose out the fallen body and crept along the ground before it rose up and assailed Luther. The trees began to bend under the increasing wind and dark storm clouds began to congregate over the wooded area. Methos pulled Amanda away from the increasingly turbulent area. "Come on, let's go!" "He lied," Amanda protested. "And you're surprised by that," he asked. "He can't get away with it, Noah!" Amanda jerked out of his grasp. "This weekend was supposed to sword free." Fitz looked around and was glad to see no one seemed to be paying any attention to them or the gathering storm. "All's clear." He shook his head sadly and headed back to his lady friend. Methos continued walking back to the pond. Amanda looked from Luther to Methos' retreating back. She stomped angrily after him. "He's just going to get by with it?" she yelled at him. "Get by with what, Amanda?" Methos yelled back. "As far as we know it was a perfectly valid challenge." "This was supposed to be a chance to escape from the Game." "Wake up! No matter where we go the Game always follows, you know that!" "I hate the Game!" Amanda shouted. "Damn it, I hate this blasted Game!" She railed to the man standing in front of her. "I hate it!" Methos tried to take her in his arms, but she turned and walked towards the van. She began to walk faster and then preceded to run. He followed slowly behind her. Maybe by the time she got to the van some of her anger would be gone. The van was closed up tight when he got there, but her buzz could be felt as he approached. He took a deep breath and carefully opened the driver's side door. Amanda had flung herself face down on the mattress and started crying. Methos eased between the seats and sat down beside her. He rubbed her back. "Go ahead and cry. Sometimes it's the only thing you can do." "Leave me alone," she choked out between sobs. Methos pulled her over onto his lap. "Why?" was the only thing he said. Amanda tried to get free again. Methos had a better grip on her this time. Amanda's chin thrust out and she turned away from him in defiance. Methos sighed and continued to hold her. If it was a war of wills, she wanted she had picked the wrong person. They sat in complete silence for a better part of an hour. Methos' arms were starting to cramp from holding her and Amanda's foot was twisted under them both and was tingling from being asleep. "Talk to me, Amanda." Methos broke the silence. "I want to go home," she muttered. "And how do you propose we get out of here? In case you hadn't noticed, its muddy and just a tad crowded." Amanda elbowed him hard in the ribs. "I hate you sometimes." Methos rubbed his sore ribs. "Why do you want to go home, Amanda?" She spat, "Luther's little display sucked the fun right out of the weekend for me." "So you're going to let that bastard dictate how you spend your time?" Methos asked. "I've had a lovely time here with you." Amanda relaxed when he loosened his hold on her. "Me, too. It's just seems like the damn Game is everywhere." "It is, Amanda," Methos told her gently. "Even as hard as I try to avoid it, it always finds me." "It's not fair." "Nothing in life rarely is, luv," he said. "It's our lot in life, whether we like it or not." "I know that, it's just sometimes it gets so overwhelming," Amanda sighed. "It always seems like we're saying goodbye." Methos kissed the top of her head. "Which means we have to say hello eventually." "That's true," Amanda considered the thought. "Maybe I just needed a little pity party." "Oh, poor little Amanda," Methos did his best dramatic voice. She laughed at his efforts. "That's better. Now why don't we wait until the rain lets up and enjoy the rest of this epic?" ~~~~~ The rain did let up eventually and they were almost like bystanders during Sunday's acts. Everywhere Amanda went, she was looking over her shoulder for Luther, or any other immortal who was wielding a sword. She was certainly in the Game, but hated when it intruded on her life. The fact that Methos had bought a rain poncho and was armed from then on didn't make her feel more safe with the mass of humanity in Sullivan County, New York. Some of the people had started to leave by Sunday, but there were still around 100,000 people still enjoying the music, the experience, each other, all caked with mud. Methos had been looking all over for her after she said she was going to the Port-O-San toilets, but hadn't returned to the circle of buses in the campsite, over an hour later. He finally found her leaning against one area of the barbed wire fencing that was still standing. He stood behind her and looked off in the distance, along the road, along with her. "Some of the cars have left. I'm sure I could weave us out of here if you really want to go. If anything, I'll drive on fields. The van might make it." "I had a great time, Methos," Amanda said, leaning her head on her hands, clutching the fence. "But I'm ready to leave." "Why didn't you come back to the camp to tell me?" "I ran into Fitz. He was taking off too. I think he already left." "Alone?" Amanda chuckled. "Yeah, right," she said dryly. "Where did you meet Hugh Fitzcairn?" "In Scotland. On the golf course," Amanda said, not wanting to get into explaining another certain immortal she had also had off and on flings with. It was at that moment that Amanda wondered if Methos had regular flings with other immortals. She looked back at him. His face was wistful, more than likely thinking of being able to get some decent beer. She smiled to herself and took his hand. "Let's blow this pop stand." After having that thought, and not being able to let it go, Amanda finally had to ask Methos while they were collecting their things and packing it for travel at the van, "Methos? Do you have any other immortals on the side like me?" "There is no one like you, luv," Methos said, a little distracted. "I mean it. You and I have this relationship that... is hard to explain, sometimes even to myself. I mean, I know that you have other lovers, and will again after we return you safely to Berkeley and I get back to Paris." She studied him as he finished zipping up the backpack and looked at her. Methos stated, "None at the moment. Why? Are you on something?" "Not at the moment. Will you have a return visitor like me in the near future?" "There is no one like you," he repeated with a smile. "You mean, immortal?" Methos laughed. "You are on something, aren't you?" "All right," Amanda said, seriously. "I can't keep anything from you long, so I'll just come out with it. I do." "You do what?" "I have another immortal off and on lover." "Anyone I know?" Methos didn't seem to be bothered by it, only scratched the stubble on his chin. "I don't know everyone you know. You don't seem the least bit bothered by this news." "You're a free woman, Amanda. I think you stated that loud and clear on a dark night while we were both hanging onto wood paneling in the North Atlantic in 1912." "Sometimes I wish we had gotten married, Methos." "It would only have lead to trouble." "It did! Just the prospect of our getting married... the ship sunk! The unsinkable ship sunk, Methos!" "But we survived. You're not going to ask me to marry you again, are you? My foot is down, Amanda, that's not going to happen." "I know. In fact, when I leave you in California, we may never see each other again." For the first time, Methos reacted to her words. "Because of this other immortal?" "Maybe," Amanda said as she climbed out of the back of the van and slammed the door. Immortality was so hard to deal with sometimes. Mortals die on you, you live forever if you protect your head. It was getting to her that she kept losing people in her life. When she realized that her behavior might be pushing Methos away, maybe forever, she shook with fear and leaned hard against the van. Methos appeared in front of her and tipped her head up to look at him. "Who is this immortal?" She shook her head, and wiped away another tear, damning herself for crying again. He said, "Tell me who my competition is, for Gods' sake." "Competition? From how you sound, you don't want to marry me, so..." "Is that what this is about? You really want to get married?" "No!" "Thank Gods! I care too much about you to try to tame you." They stared at each other, then started laughing. Amanda put her arms around Methos' neck and held him close. "I love you, Methos, but I know we wouldn't last long if we were stuck with each other. I like going to you, or welcoming you once in a while." "And I you." He kissed her cheek and squeezed her around the waist. "Who is he? Fitz? Is that who it is?" "You really want to know?" Methos looked at her and nodded. "If you're going to be tied to an immortal, I want to know about it." "Why would it make a difference?" "He may not die in a couple of decades. A couple of decades is all I can stay away from you." Amanda smiled, comforted, but didn't speak. Methos told her, "I would like to know who he is so I know that you're taken care of." "You do a background check of all my men?" "Of course." "You do?" "Of course." Amanda laughed in disbelief. "You're kidding." "I need to know if I need to really stay away from you or not, depending on the company you keep. I intend to keep my head attached to my body." "You don't have to worry about this guy. He's Scottish. Upstanding. A very good man. Probably too good for me." "What if he knows about us and made friends with you to get to me?" "You're that paranoid?" "It's happened before." "He couldn't be interested in me, just me?" Amanda said, ticked off, placing her hands firmly on her hips. "He's Duncan MacLeod and probably doesn't know you from Adam!" "Never heard of him." Methos said. "But I will." "I don't know if or when I see Mac again, but there's always that possibility, and this whole conversation started because I wondered if you had someone else. Like me." "There's no one like you, Amanda. No. Immortals are too much work." "Hey!" "But one in particular can recharge my batteries like no one I have ever met in my 5000 years," Methos whispered into her ear as he nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck. "That's nice to know." She stroked his hair. "I just hate saying goodbye." "Then don't." Methos went back to packing the van. "Stay with me for a while when we get back to Berkeley. You can leave whenever you're ready." "Can you stand me that long?" she teased. "I'll manage somehow," Methos sighed. "You have to behave yourself, though." Amanda laughed, glad that everything seemed to be back to normal. "When have I ever misbehaved?" "Would you like dates and descriptions?" "Ha, ha." Amanda opened the passenger door. Before she got into the van, she turned a looked back over the sea of humanity. "Aside from Luther, this has been one of the best weekends in my life." "It's definitely been interesting." Methos allowed. "You're sure you want to leave?" "Yeah, I'm looking forward to a nice hot bathtub with bubbles and a comfy bed." "That can be arranged," Methos took over the driver's seat. "All we have to do is get out of here." Methos eased the gearshift into drive and carefully steered though the other parked vehicles. He hoped that the mud wasn't deep enough for them to get stuck. The prospect of pushing it out while Amanda complained did nothing for him. He held his breath as they bumped and bounced onto the dirt road that led to the main highway. When he exhaled loudly with relief, Amanda gave him a curious look to which he just smiled. Thankfully, they had timed their departure when the traffic back to civilization had ebbed a little. Amanda rummaged through the glove box and stuck an eight track in the stereo. She looked over to Methos and grinned. He reached across and took her hand and gave it a squeeze. When 'Purple Haze' came on and they both began to sing along. "'S'cuse me! While I kiss the sky!" Life was good! THE END |