beach

        Two thousand years later, Methos hunted down Helen, and nearly killed her. But the love he still felt in his heart for her after all these years inspite of what she had done urged him to forgive her. It wasn't easy, but he could do nothing else.
          Methos was lying on a beach with Helen, enjoying the sheer beauty of the sea, and the sun, with its golden rays gently kissed her skin. They both were relishing the moment, and all it had cost them emotionally to get to this point.
         "I don't deserve you Methos," Helen said matter of factly.
         "But you have me nonetheless." Methos said. "You need someone on your case. Who better than me?"
        "Why don't you be serious for a change?" She replied, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
        "Ok, let's go get a beer." He said.
         Helen laughed so hard that she inhaled the soda that she was drinking. She began coughing it up and it came out her nose.
         Methos said: "Are you ok?" Even though he knew she could drown in the sea and it would not ultimately kill her. He gave her a towel. "Here."
         "Seriously love." He said. "I don't need a beer. Only you."
         "So, you ready to give it up then?" Helen asked.
         "I wouldn't go that far." Methos said.

         Just as they had done many times previously, Methos and Helen practiced. Methos sliced open her shirt with his sword, exposing the tube top she had beneath it.
         "You jackass. That was fifty dollar shirt." She said.
         "I'll buy you a new one." He said.
         "I liked the one I had!" She said.
         "I prefer it when you wear nothing." He said.
         She punched him in the face. Instead of being angry as she had anticipated, he was only amused.
        "Your lucky I love you ass." She said.
        "I don't know about you, Helen, but I'm famished. Why don't we get something to eat.
         "I think we should definitely shower first." Helen said.
         "Your right dear. The waiter will thank us for it.